A/N #1: I do not own Star Wars, but I do so enjoy playing in George's Galaxy.

A/N #2: This story would not be what it is without the help of my very competent beta reader, "Deja Know I Been Lookin For Vu." Her invaluable critical eye, suggestions, and patience are truly appreciated.

A/N #3: Yes, I know that it has been near shy of forever since I posted the last installment, and I am truly sorry. It seems that while my muse was taking an extended Christmas holiday, she accidentally wandered beyond the Dune Sea of Indecision and into the treacherous Procrastination Wastelands. Becoming hopelessly lost, she accidentally stumbled and fell into the Pit of Writer's Block. Thankfully, she did have her comlink with her. After taking an exorbitant amount of time to figure out how to make the blasted thing work, she did manage to call for help and was finally rescued by the Knights of Inspiration. I am happy to report that she is recovering nicely from her harrowing ordeal, although she remains in an undisclosed location (I believe she is hanging out with the Knights). Fear not. She has promised to be back hard at work in the near future. At least she has managed to take the time to send a few postcards. That has enabled me to finally complete this chapter and make significant progress on the next few. I hope that you will not be disappointed...

Chapter 21 – Into the Rancor Pit:

Luke dropped his head and let the constant stream of hot water continue to pelt the tense muscles of his shoulders and back. Long showers had always helped him to organize his thoughts, but he knew he was pushing the envelope with this one. He had been in the shower for nearly a standard hour. With the persistent throbbing in his head only increasing by the minute, it was becoming pretty clear that the only thing he would accomplish by remaining much longer was to enhance his already impressive impersonation of an Iridonian prune.

It wasn't just the task of sorting through the jumbled mass of his own thoughts that troubled him. He was also trying to make sense out of the slew of hurtful remarks and outrageous accusations that had been hurled between his father and former Master. He would have never expected to overhear such a heated confrontation. And even more distressing were his father's unsettling comments that what had transpired was a typical interaction for them. Luke shook his head. He had been hoping to enlist the man he had known as Ben Kenobi to help him with his mission. It was a good thing that he hadn't had the opportunity to pursue that path. His father was right; it would not have been wise.

Luke had never expected that Ben—no, make that Obi-Wan—would be so different from the man he remembered. The wise, contemplative hermit whom he had met in the deserts of Tatooine was nothing like the offensive, condescending man who had burst into the apartment and furiously argued with his father. Luke surmised that twenty years of introspection and remorse had drastically changed the weary Jedi. It was another tragedy to be included on the long list of future events which he needed to alter.

What was even more troubling to Luke was that he doubted Obi-Wan had even perceived how his devastating words had affected his former Padawan. What was he thinking? Luke wondered. Anakin may have managed to project a facade of strength and defiance to his former Master, but it hadn't taken Luke much of an effort see beyond it. To say his father was troubled and vulnerable was an understatement. Stepping back from the situation as he was now, Luke was coming to realize that Anakin's emotional outbursts were eerily similar to what he had experienced with Jacen just before his nephew had stormed out of the Temple. It was painfully clear that Anakin was currently in a very precarious position, much like Jacen had been. It worried Luke immensely. He had not been there for his nephew when Jacen had needed him the most, and he doubted that Obi-Wan would be there for his father. He wasn't sure what he could do about the situation, although he felt pressed to intervene.

There was just so much to contemplate. All of this mental-upheaval—put together with his exhaustion due to a long, sleepless night—meant there was little wonder he had developed a headache the size of a bantha. Left to his own devices, Luke could have eased his suffering with the Force. But the protective shield that Anakin had placed around him to hide his presences was hampering his ability to sense that mystical energy field. It was impossible to connect to it in the degree necessary to eradicate his discomfort.

Although Luke was rather impressed by Anakin's skill in maintaining his ministrations at such a distance, he was still resentful of his father's overprotective actions. It also didn't help that he sporadically sensed Anakin checking up on his whereabouts through the familial bond that had apparently formed between them. It made him feel like an errant teenager suspected of sneaking out past curfew—not that he would admit to having any experience with that sort of thing...

Luke pulled his head back to let the steamy water splash onto his face. Maybe he should just surrender to the inevitable and get out. He was beginning to feel a bit guilty, after all. Although it had been years since his upbringing on Tatooine, deep in the recesses of his mind he could still hear his Uncle impatiently urging him, "Just get on with it. You can't be that dirty!" At least he didn't have to worry about running out of hot water. Luke knew from his experience in the restored Temple that it was not a concern. However, there was the problem of each dormitory room having its utilities individually metered. He may not need to explain the spike in water usage and a higher than normal energy consumption, but Anakin probably would.

"Serves him right," Luke grumbled to himself. He may have been concerned for his father's future well-being, but he didn't feel very magnanimous towards him at the moment.

Realizing that his mind had once again wandered away from matters at hand, he dropped his head and closed his eyes as he made another attempt to sort through the chaos.

His father was a slave...

When Luke had initially heard the revelation, it had struck him so profoundly that he had been unable to resist questioning Anakin about it the moment they were alone... An action he was still regretting. Luke was thankful that his blatant ignorance of Anakin's past had not raised his father's suspicions. Apparently, his father had planned to keep that chapter of his life deeply buried away.

Although Luke had finally gotten over the shock of learning about his father's enslavement as a child, he couldn't seem to prevent his mind from circling back to it. At least he now had a pretty good idea as to how Anakin had received his scars.

Growing up on Tatooine, Luke had been well aware that slavery was prevalent on the planet. But since the small farming community in which he had been raised was so isolated, he had not been exposed to it. As a result of his sheltered life, it had been difficult to comprehend the concept of sentient beings bound unwillingly into forced servitude. The subject itself was rarely discussed at the homestead—especially when his Uncle Owen was around. The steadfast farmer would become absolutely enraged if he even heard the word "slave."

It had finally struck Luke just why that was. If his father had been a slave, then it was reasonable to assume that Anakin's mother—Luke's grandmother—had shared his misfortune. Luke barely knew any more about "Grandma Shmi" than he did his father. All Uncle Owen had ever said was that she had come to the farm to help his dad with the daily chores and to take care of their family. It was Aunt Beru who had explained that Shmi and Cliegg had eventually fallen in love and married. It was apparent by how emotional his uncle would become whenever he spoke of her that Owen had deeply cared for her as well.

Just as he had his father, Luke had always wished that he had known his grandmother. She had sounded like a very special person. Although he had never been told what had happened to her, ominous words gleaned from hushed conversations had hinted that her untimely death had been both senseless and brutal. He had also come to understand that losing Shmi had devastated his grandfather, Cliegg, who passed away a few months later. From the distant expression that had fallen over his father's face earlier, Luke was sure that Anakin was aware of what had happened to Shmi. Just the memory of his mother had appeared to cause Anakin immense grief. It was clear that this was another subject into which Luke could not heedlessly delve.

The revelation of his father's enslavement had also caused Luke's mind to drift back to another time in his past—to distant memories of standing alone with Darth Vader in an empty corridor below an Imperial landing platform. It was one of the few conversations that he had had with his father. And although at the time his hands were bound and he was a prisoner in the Dark Lord's custody, it was the only occasion in which they had spoken at length without at least one of them pointing an activated lightsaber at the other.

Luke could still remember how passionately he had pleaded for his father to turn back to the light, telling him that he had faith in him to do so, and how he had invited him to walk away and leave the Empire behind. Luke could also remember how devastated he had felt when he heard his father's reply: "It is too late for me, son."

Reflecting on their exchange, he realized that he hadn't really listened to his father. Or maybe he had only heard Vader's words from the perspective of an abandoned child. But now, a new understanding was forming in his mind. His father had not been saying that he had chosen his dark fate over his son, but that he had felt irrevocably bound to it. When Vader had told him, "I cannot disobey my Master," he had not used the honorific to denote his mentor, but to speak of his owner. When Anakin Skywalker became Darth Vader, he had not just sought the power of the Dark Side; he had relinquished his free will to it. His father had turned into a slave once more. And if Luke could not discover the reasons behind Anakin's fall and his willingness to pledge his servitude to the Sith, then his father would be chained to that doomed fate once more...

Luke shuddered. The whole idea made him queasy. If the imminent threat of losing his father to the Dark Side wasn't bad enough, the ramification of how Anakin's disastrous choices would affect the future of the galaxy were—along with the prospects of the final option to counteract it.

When Luke had agreed to take up the Guardian's offer to repair the past, he had been so sure he knew what he was to do. But somewhere between being threatened with a lightsaber, taken for a harrowing ride, dangled off a building, and prodded through a ventilation system, he had come to accept that his original plan just wouldn't work. How could he even contemplate killing his father when he was feeling such guilt over asking him one thoughtless question? There had to be another way.

"You already know the right thing to do."

His father's ominous words rumbled into his memory. Luke tightened his jaw and struggled to dispel the gruesome imagery from his vision of Mustafar before it had a chance to solidify in his mind. Of course Luke knew the right thing to do. His ultimate goal had to remain the same. He had to destroy Darth Vader—that was clear. But since he was unwilling to harm his father, he would need to keep Anakin from falling to the Dark Side in the first place. By doing that, the Sith Lord who would ultimately destroy the galaxy would never come into existence. That was a plan he could follow.

But how? It wasn't like he could come out and ask Anakin directly. Although his father had proven to be overbearing, intimidating, and at some times even frustrating to be around, Luke was growing confident in the belief that Anakin was not evil...not yet anyway. Luke sighed. Closing his eyes and drawing on the tempered discipline he had garnered through years of practice, Luke opened himself to the Force in search of answers. After checking to confirm that his own shields were practically nonexistent, he let his mind drift and imagined that the steamy water that continued to pelt his body was washing away his chaotic thoughts—along with the pounding in his head—and taking them down the drain. At the edge of his consciousness, he felt the prickle of another concerned probe from his father. He ignored it and released what tension the intrusion had evoked along with his other unwanted emotions.

Padmé was the key. He could feel it. Even Vader had told him so in their encounter before Luke had entered the present time. Anakin had been willing to break the Jedi Code to marry Padmé in secret. Just by watching his parents together, Luke could see their utter devotion to each other. Somehow, it was no longer surprising to him that one petite senator from Naboo could be the catalyst behind the eventual destruction of the galaxy. He just wished he knew what to do to maintain his mother's well-being and prevent all the impending misery to come... She had looked radiantly healthy—although peeved—when he had met her this morning. But Anakin had expressed concern…

Luke concentrated his thoughts on everything he had ever heard about the fate of his mother. He first sorted through his own memories. As a boy, he had pestered his Aunt Beru relentlessly with questions about his parents. The one and only time that Luke had ever managed to break through her defenses; his aunt had told him that his mother had died in childbirth. Master Cilghal had said that her friend once told her that Senator Amidala had been injured and died on a remote space station. Leia had reported that Padmé's family believed that Darth Vader had killed her... The truth had to be mixed in there somewhere. But at the moment, his connection with the Force was too vague and fragmented for him to figure it out.

Opening his eyes, Luke ran a hand through his hair and pulled out of his meditation. Without answers, all he could do would be to try and stay close to her. Luke smirked at the idea. Considering how his father was currently treating him, he doubted that Anakin would ever allow unlimited access to his mother—especially as there was no way Luke would dare tell his father that she was in danger. He was sure that Anakin would not take the news well.

If Luke could not be with his mother directly, then he would need to do the next best thing. He would have to stay close to his father. At least Anakin had made it clear that he wanted to keep Luke in his sights. Now, all he had to figure out was how to be with his father without making it too obvious that he was virtually clueless about him. Anakin may have accepted who he was, and he may have felt a need to protect him—a bit too fanatically for Luke's tastes—but his father didn't trust him. Luke had to come up with a way to change that. He needed to get past his father's defenses.

Luke was confident that he was up to this task. It wasn't like he hadn't been in difficult situations before. He had confronted a rancor without the aid of a weapon and walked away from the encounter unscathed. He had fought in the galactic civil war for years and had helped to bring down an empire. He had resurrected the near-extinct Jedi Order and had dealt with more than his share of headstrong young Knights. Luke suspected that he would need to rely on all of his past experiences when dealing with his emotionally volatile father—and then he would still need to tread with extreme caution...and hope for a little Corellian luck. Despite being the focal point of his father's bursts of anger and the recipient of several physical assaults, he was beginning to... To what? Luke pondered. Respect him?...Not yet. Understand him?... Absolutely not. Like him? Care about him? See glimpses of Ben, Jacen, Leia, and even himself within him? ...Definitely.

Luke pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. Confronting a rancor? Where had that come from? And why was he getting a sinking feeling that the memory of that encounter could turn out to be the most helpful of all?

***

Anakin paced relentlessly across the High Council anteroom. His frustration was growing with every ground-eating stride he took. What was the point of rescheduling this infernal meeting if the Council had planned on keeping him out here to stew? Were they just trying to irritate him? Was this some perverse punishment meted out for his tardiness?

He huffed in exasperation. When the Chancellor had first appointed him as his personal representative, Anakin had barely been able to hold back his excitement over his new assignment. Now, he just wanted to get all of this superfluous business over with. The anticipation of what was soon-to-transpire no longer held the same significance to him as it had even this morning. If it wouldn't cause the uproar that he knew would ensue, he would just step into the turbolift right now and get back down to his son.

This waiting around was ridiculous. It was unnecessary. All the Masters needed to do was to allow him to enter, announce his new rank, and then officially appoint him to the Council. It wasn't as if they had much of a say in the matter. As vexed as the Council members no doubt were by Palpatine's heavy-handed decree, there was little that they could do if they did not want to defy the Chancellor openly. Even Anakin knew that the Jedi would never try something like that—it was against their mandate. Besides, it would be treason.

Anakin glanced over at the young Togruta Padawan who had been assigned as the day's ostiary. The unadulterated look of hero-worship clearly tinged the girl's delicate features as she watched him pace impatiently across the room. Anakin absently wondered what possible indiscretion she had committed to have landed her with this disciplinary sanction. From his own experience, he knew that it would have to have been something rather significant. The mischievous glint in the girl's eyes gave him the impression that she had probably masterminded some sort of juvenile prank against a Master. He grinned at the thought. He hoped that she had at least been successful in her antics before being caught. It would have made this punishment far more tolerable.

Pulling his mind away from the luckless Padawan, he halted his steps. He needed to concentrate on regaining control of his tumultuous emotions. The last thing he could afford was to walk into the Council chamber vulnerable and unprepared. He knew that the strain of maintaining his son's protection at this distance was making him edgy, but what could he do? He refused to even think about abandoning Luke now. Inhaling a calming breath, Anakin closed his eyes as he reached out to check once more on his son.

Anakin found him easy enough. Luke was still in the shower. The young Knight ran a hand over his disheveled hair as his anxiety ratcheted up a notch higher. How could anyone need to shower this long? What had it been, an hour? It was obvious that his son had never experienced the harsh restrictions required to survive life on a desert planet. If he had, he would not be so frivolous in wasting water like this. Anakin shook his head. If he didn't know better, he would suspect that Luke was part Nautolan.

Anakin was shaken out of his musings by the sound of the young Padawan hesitantly clearing her throat.

"Excuse me, Master Skywalker," she said as she began to pull on one of the massive doors to the High Council Chamber. "You can go in now."

Anakin swallowed with some difficulty. All of his bravado instantly vanished as an unwanted memory of being led into an arena on Geonosis began to rise in his mind. He squashed it down. Anakin at least retained enough higher brain function to respond with a bow in courtesy to the young girl before moving forward. Her reciprocating smile seemed to fill the small room with light. It also appeared to work its calming magic on the young Knight. Just as he reached the door, he paused and extended his arm and gently placed it a gloved hand on the Padawan's shoulder.

"Thank you," he returned with a lopsided grin. He then re-schooled his features into an emotionless mask and stepped into the room.

Anakin moved smoothly to the center of the Council chamber. He purposefully avoiding looking at where he knew Obi-Wan would be sitting as he passed. Although most of the Masters were in attendance by hologram, Anakin could still feel the air thicken around him in anticipation. He took a deep breath and nodded in respect to his superiors. He then focused on the two most powerful members of the High Council.

Master Yoda sat huddled in the back in his oversized chair, his legs crossed in a meditative pose. His clawed hands were clasped before him, and his small chin rested upon them. Although Yoda looked anything but threatening, Anakin had always been wary of him. Even now, he could feel the ancient Master's attempt to probe past his mental shields. Reflexively, Anakin pulled himself to full height and tried to strengthen his facade of calm.

Next to the Grand Master sat Anakin's greatest nemesis. Master Mace Windu was leaning forward from his chair, his weight supported by his elbows, which were balanced on his knees. Powerful, intimidating, and bald—the dark-skinned Jedi was not a man to be trifled with. Anakin had always wondered if Master Windu had ever experienced anything remotely resembling a good mood. Judging from the man's current demeanor and his dour glare, it was definitely not going to be happening today.

"Knight Skywalker," Mace's voice boomed through the circular room. "How kind of you to decide to finally join us."

"Forgive me, Masters," Anakin apologized. "I can offer no excuse for the lateness of my arrival."

"Neither could Master Kenobi," Master Stass Allie quipped.

Anakin didn't bother to turn toward her. She was scowling at him—he was sure of it. It was practically all she ever did.

"Now, regarding our esteemed Chancellor's decree—"

"Another matter there is," Yoda interrupted the Korun Master. He was the only being in the room that could do so without repercussions. "Address it first we should."

Master Windu looked both annoyed and surprised at the Grand Master's disruption. But he recovered quickly. "Of course, Master Yoda. You have the floor."

"A disturbance in the Force there was. Felt it clearly I did during the Chancellor's rescue. An anomaly remained in its wake. Even now, sense this imbalance I do."

Anakin shifted uncomfortably. He concentrated on maintaining an outward appearance of steely calm—while he subconsciously tightened the shield around Luke. Glancing around the room, Anakin noted that the other Masters seemed just as curious about the direction that Yoda's inquiry had taken.

Master Windu took the initiative to continue. "The Council would like to know if you were also aware of such a disturbance."

"I was a bit busy during the Chancellor's rescue, Master," Anakin tentatively answered. "Why would you believe that I would?"

"Long have I meditated on its cause," Yoda answered. "To you the Force directs me to find answers."

"I am sorry, Master," Anakin mouthed the words carefully. He would never be foolish enough to try and deceive Yoda directly. "But there isn't anything that I can say."

There may not be anything he could to say, but it didn't mean that he wasn't aware of the situation. Of course he knew about the disturbance. The cause of it was down in his room right now—standing in the shower—wasting an obscenely extravagant amount of water...

Anakin heaved a calming breath. He could only hope that the vagueness of his answer would be enough to deflect the Grand Master's suspicions.

"Humph," Yoda sighed heavily. The ancient Master's long pointed ears drooped in a display of his disappointment at Anakin's response. He leaned back further in his chair.

Anakin could feel Yoda's misgivings heighten and take shape, assuming a near-physical presence. They crept around him as if looking for access into his mind. Anakin knew his shields were strong. They were practically impenetrable. There was only a pinpoint of vulnerability–one small opening–a necessary exposure to provide a conduit that maintained the protective shield around his son. Anakin kept a steady eye on the small green Master. He tightened his jaw as he felt even more pressure from Yoda's probing. He could feel a concentration of intensity at one particular spot. Anakin blinked. He felt a small shift in the Force and realized what was happening. His stoic exterior facade remained intact even as panic filled him. Consequences became irrelevant as his anxieties took voice and screamed within his head:

"HE KNOWS!"

***

Luke gasped as he felt his father's protection rip away without warning. The intense vacuum that was created in its wake nearly dropped him to his knees. The world tilted. His head spun. He had to reach out to the wall for support. Before he could even manage to take a breath, the Force came surging back to fill him in all its potency and replace the void. It felt as if he had stepped into the backwash of his X-Wing. The impact practically sent him to the ground once more.

This was not good!

Before he could think to do anything else, Luke instinctively reached out to find his father. His attempt was immediately repelled by Anakin's resonating mental shields. Despite the dominating barrier, Luke could still sense the swirling disarray of Anakin's volatile emotions clouding all other insights about his father's current situation. All he knew was that whatever the circumstances had been to cause Anakin to abruptly pull his protection away, they had been altogether unexpected.

Luke closed his eyes and took a deep settling breath as he tightened down his own defenses. Although he welcomed his reconnection to the Force, it had not come without complications. Luke had completely dropped his own mental shields when he had attempted to meditate earlier. Due to his father's suffocating ministrations, he had not bothered to raise them again. With no moderation or control, he was sure that, at the moment the Force once again filled him, his presence had flared brightly. Even now, he was feeling vulnerable and incredibly exposed—far more than his current state of standing naked in the shower would normally dictate. At this moment, he was acutely aware of just how many Jedi were currently residing in the Temple. He swallowed hard as he realized that if he could sense them, then it was reasonable to assume that they would be able to sense him. Already, he could feel one extremely well-disciplined and determined mind focusing toward his direction.

Luke's gut began to tighten. He recognized the owner of that Force presence. The memory of the being that possessed it filled him with both nostalgia and dread. It was Master Yoda.

He couldn't be discovered—especially by him. He needed to hide. He had argued with his father earlier in the day stating that he was fully capable of protecting himself. Well, apparently now he was going to have to prove it. There was one easy way to accomplish what he needed to do, but he wasn't thrilled with the idea. A light brush against his shields by Master Yoda's inquisitive probe quickly convinced him to forgo the consequences and proceed. He had no time to work out another option. Luke grimaced. He closed his eyes and pooled his concentration. Reaching out to the Force, he took a firm hold of it and...tweaked.

***

Darth Sidious stiffened visibly as his head snapped up to peer out the large transparisteel window. His eyes narrowed in suspicion, and he focused on the Jedi Temple far in the distance. Something had happened—something disturbing. A blinding flair of energy had pulsated so powerfully that it had momentarily cut through the smothering blanket of darkness that he had worked so hard to construct. He closed his eyes and pulled strands of tainted Force energy tightly around him. There was no time to waste; he needed to hunt down this disturbance and discover the source...

"Chancellor Palpatine?"

Sidious' jaw tightened as he struggled to control his wrath. He exhaled slowly and let his features relax back into the benevolent facade his doppelganger needed to project. Turning back around, he opened his eyes and focused on the owner of the voice that had so rudely interrupted his ministrations.

"Chancellor Palpatine," Senator Orn Free Taa repeated. "Are you not feeling well?"

"On the contrary, Senator," Palpatine answered tightly. He forced himself to feign a fatherly smile toward the pompous Twi'lek, all the while envisioning himself signing the man's death warrant with a great deal of satisfaction. "I am quite well. Please excuse the interruption."

Unaware of the Chancellor's hidden desires, Orn Free Taa simply returned the gesture and nodded graciously.

"Now, then," Palpatine said as he scanned the handful of other representatives in the room. "Shall we continue?" He turned his full attention to the petite woman who sat directly in front of him. "Your next point, Senator Amidala?"