The Jedi Change
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars. Any errors and omissions are my responsibility in this alternate universe story.
Chapter Thirty-Six- Not Was
"Are you real?"
The question was pushed out on a harsh breath. Anakin was awed. He was afraid to even blink for fear the apparition would vanish and leave him alone. He had wanted this time to himself. He had wanted privacy to think on his actions but not at the expense of losing this most welcomed dream. He felt himself grow warm all over. It was wonderful, and he was filled with such joy that it clogged his throat.
"Be real," he pleaded. "Be here. With me."
"I am as real as you are," his old friend told him. "I am here, and I am with you."
In two strides, Anakin clasped and held on to his former master as if the veteran Jedi were his life preserver. He was a small boy again. His exuberance was probably crushing the man, but he didn't care.
Qui-Gon Jinn hugged him just has fiercely. "It is good to see you, Anakin."
Anakin reluctantly disengaged himself and just looked at him. He had not changed. He looked exactly the same as he did the last time Anakin had seen him.
Qui-Gon was studying him as well. His expression was one of thoughtful disbelief. His hands squeezed Anakin's solid shoulders.
Anakin grinned. While Qui-Gon had not changed for him, he knew there were marked differences in his own appearance.
"You…" Qui-Gon was uncharacteristically inarticulate. He tried to smile through his…Anakin didn't know what. "Forgive me, Anakin. I'm afraid I have held the memory of you as a little boy for too long."
"You can think of me any way you wish, Master," Anakin told him.
Qui-Gon continued to incredulously stare at him, and Anakin felt something in his beloved savior break and saw his face cloud.
Anakin bowed his head, misreading him. "You know why I've come. You know what I have done, don't you?"
Ah, yes, Qui-Gon thought, dropping his hands from the boy's—the man's—shoulders. Anakin's pain had transcended the Force. His confusion made him weak and far too vulnerable for Qui-Gon's relative peace of mind.
He folded his arms across his chest, his hands tucked into the sleeves of his cloak as his habit when he considered a situation. Remembering the stance, Anakin could not resist his smile.
"You seek understanding," Qui-Gon said.
"Yes."
The truth was in Qui-Gon's response. "I am not certain I am the one to give that to you."
Anakin voiced his disagreement. "I learned more from you in three days than in all the years I spent at Temple."
"With respect to Obi-Wan, of course."
"Of course." Anakin was adequately contrite for the omission.
"Come. We shall talk, and together perhaps we can clear the air and make sense of your dilemma."
Anakin followed close to his side and looked around the peaceful meadow. "Where are we?"
"Force-plain. It's lovely, isn't it?"
"Force-plain?" Anakin stopped and goggled in petrifaction. "Am I dead?"
Qui-Gon quirked a brow. "You placed yourself here in your meditation. You are quite well, Ani. Do not get so excited."
His steps became leaden with trepidation. "My death would logically explain why you are here."
"How so?"
"Well…you are, er, one with the Force, Master. I lost you long ago…"
"You will never lose me, Anakin," Qui-Gon told him flatly, his eyes ahead. "Let that be your first evidence of truth for the day. You will never lose me."
There was something about Qui-Gon's manner that puzzled Anakin. The tone he used was filled with emotion. His aura that of immense affection. These were two attributes that Anakin had known by experience and by the numerous stories that Obi-Wan had told him as a child Qui-Gon never outwardly practiced or even condoned. His compassion for what Obi-Wan referred to as 'pathetic life-forms' bespoke his renegade persona separate from the Jedi Order, but he had never been one to offer it so easily for anyone else to hear or watch.
Were it not for the particular sensitive intuition of the Jedi, one could have labeled Qui-Gon Jinn as rather cold.
"I certainly hope not," Qui-Gon said.
Anakin glanced at him sharply. "I suppose your place here has not hampered your abilities."
"Not at all. If anything, it has sharpened them. This place is a sanctuary for those of the Light Side of the Force, Ani. You will find only strength and spiritual nourishment here. Should you choose to embrace it. The choices are yours alone. "
They stopped before a flower-adorned arbor. Qui-Gon turned to him. "Starting now."
Anakin peered through and could not see beyond the entry. He looked at the archway and recognized that it looked exactly like the one leading to the veranda of Padmé's safe house in the lake country of Naboo. The pull of it was strong and rich with memories. There was something in there not of what had happened, and the sensation made him naturally suspicious.
He looked at Qui-Gon. "I made Padmé my wife in a place like this one."
Qui-Gon remained silent, his stare unreadable.
"Do you send me back in time?"
"No. I am but your host. You wanted your questions answered, Anakin. This step is the first of many that you—only you—have designed."
There was a physical energy beckoning Anakin inside, and he looked at it once more. "What's in there?"
"Only what you take with you."
Anakin instinctively reached for the lightsaber on his belt. His hand came up empty but all Qui-Gon said was, "You do not need it."
Perhaps not but as always, Anakin would have preferred to have his weapon on hand against the unknown.
"Go inside, Anakin, and then decide what is preferred."
Determined not to let him down, Anakin walked in and immediately came to a halt.
It was not the lake country but Theed. It was twilight and there was a large crowd of Naboo citizens donned in black lining both sides of the main drag outside of the Palace Plaza. Their expressions—every last one of them—were grave. There were men with their heads bowed and women weeping. Small children held their mothers' hands, not knowing what else to do. There were scattered whispers around him. He listened only partially, his attention focused on the road, trying to see what everyone was mumbling about.
Anakin moved through the throng slowly, his presence ignored if it was even felt at all.
"I don't understand…" he heard someone say. "She was so beautiful…"
"How could anyone do this to her?"
Anakin's curiosity was definitely piqued. He moved quicker toward the street, toward the lanterns staked along the drive. He needed to see what was happening. The closer he came, the thicker the crowd. He could not move any farther.
"There is talk that it was murder…"
"Sith? The Sith have returned…?"
At the last, Anakin stiffened. The pall of foreboding came. He looked at the elderly man beside him as the spectator continued to speak.
"The official word is that she was murdered by the Jedi, but…" The old man looked to his left then his right and said in a whisper to the woman on the other side of Anakin. "The rumor is that the Chancellor condemned her. They claim she was a traitor."
The wrinkled old woman scoffed, "That's preposterous! Senator Amidala would never betray the Republic."
Anakin felt his knees give way, and his heart stopped.
"No," he whispered and began to run through the oblivious crowd.
Tears clouded his vision, but he could make out the somber expressions of Boss Nass and Jar-Jar Binks. The queen of Naboo wore ceremonial garbs of mourning, as did Sio Bibble who flanked her. Ruwee and Jobel Naberrie followed solemnly just behind the entourage along with Sola, visibly stricken with grief, and Ryoo and Pooja, her twin girls at each side clutching bouquets of flowers in their tiny fists.
The mournful strains to the dirge honoring the dead and the haunting melody of its voices raised toward a crescendo as the progression moved closer to the Triumphal Arch and the beloved Senator's final resting place.
It was with a painful tightness in his chest that Anakin moved through the barriers like a determined wraith. Incredibly, his steps were slow as he came upon the open casket carrying his adored wife. He had to see her for himself.
They had dressed her for burial in a gown of rich blue crushed silk, making her skin a golden hue—even in death. Her hair was spread over the opulent pillows with sprigs of flowers, making her more ethereal and even more like the angel he had always known her to be. Her beautiful eyes and lush lips were shut, forever closed. Her dainty, deceptively fragile hands were folded under her breasts gently clasping a small snippet of japor of unknown origin to the crowd.
But Anakin knew it was an intensely private memento to a boundless, eternal love that would exist long after she had left this life.
Time stopped. Their movements ceased. Anakin brought his shaking left hand up to touch her cheek.
His reason tried to remind him that none of this was real. This is not what had happened. But the dragon—the dark selfish beast he now knew to be named Vader, relished that it could have. His visions of Mustafar were continuing to plague him with tricks of memory. He could still see Padmé standing in front of him, terrified and heartbroken. He could still hear her begging him to leave with her. They could disappear and none would be the wiser. They could run away and raise their child together with nothing but their love.
But Vader would not hear it. Vader wanted the power. Vader wanted control, and her feelings were irrelevant. He would keep her at his side and he would claim the Empire for himself. For them. They would rule the galaxy.
It is what Vader wanted. It was what Vader wanted, and Padmé had paid for it. He could hear the hateful accusations he had spat at her, believing she had deceived him with Obi-Wan, whose presence he distinctly felt hiding within her skiff.
Anakin, a faint prisoner of himself, knew better than to think of anything untoward between his wife and his mentor. It was of no consequence to Vader. The seeds were planted, and he would take what he wanted whether Padmé wanted it or not and would use any means necessary to attain it. His greed was stronger than the bonds of love.
Vader was without the heart to appreciate the depth of Anakin's worship for the tiny woman who held the good of his soul within her chest.
"Your visions of Mustafar…the story it tells you…what would have been your mistake leading to this?" he heard Qui-Gon ask him.
Anakin touched her brow lovingly. "Letting Vader rise. Choosing the dark side before Padmé."
Qui-Gon took the place next to his shivering padawan. He looked down at the sad commentary of loss and said, "What would have been the chain of events to follow?"
Unbelievably hurt, Anakin leaned down to rest his cheek against her forehead. "My child would have been…Obi-Wan."
He closed his eyes with misery. "I would have lost Obi-Wan, too. He would have kept my child hidden from me. It would have been the only thing he could do to keep the baby safe."
"What else?"
"I would be nothing but Palpatine's enforcer, a shell of what I was. The galaxy would have fallen to ruins. By my hand."
"For what?"
Anakin brushed his lips reverently across those of his love. "Nothing."
"The boy who was going to free the slaves and champion the Republic and democracy would have been lost forever with Padmé." There was touching sympathy in Qui-Gon's voice. "Such is the cost of acting on your self-indulgences, Anakin. You would have made a terrible choice, and it would have cost you everything you hold dear. It would have destroyed the very things you sought to preserve…and to protect."
"But I did not make the choice." He straightened but kept his hand over Padmé's. "What is the lesson from showing me this? I want to understand, Master."
"You must control your emotions, Anakin. You must learn to think before you act. It is one thing to bring balance to the Force, but you must master it for yourself as well. You have to learn to balance the good from the bad else the first will surely lead you to the second."
Qui-Gon continued benevolently without judgment. "Your feelings for her are sincere and incredibly pure. It's a wondrous thing, your love for Padmé, and there is much value in it. I would not know how to admonish you for it. Even if I meant to do so. But, as you can see, there is danger in lack of temperance. You must learn to…"
"Lead with my heart but act with my head," Anakin finished.
Qui-Gon nodded. "Know when to put your feelings aside—and hers. Learn to logically evaluate a situation and its repercussions before you raise your hand against another or seek to obliterate an opponent."
Anakin was skeptical. "Even when the opponent is me?"
"Look at her again, Anakin," Qui-Gon replied gently.
The sorrow in Anakin's expression confirmed what Qui-Gon suspected. "You think Anakin Skywalker could ever fall to the Dark Side as long as he knew this was the consequence?"
"Learn when to hold on to her and when to let her go," Anakin whispered.
"Yes."
"And trust in the Force to help me make the right decision."
"Listen to It when It calls you, Anakin. Listen to you."
♦
The fight within Palpatine's bunker took place with a virulence yet unheard of in the sordid history between Jedi and Sith. Neither combatant seemed to relent in their advance or deplete their energy. They came at each other with equal ferocity. The Sith used the Jedi's emotional distraction to impress upon him the speed of his assault. The Jedi let his anger feed the renewed aggression, and he practically spat his rage.
Anakin could see his rival's gnarled teeth. He backhanded him, loosening his assailant's hold on the replica of a lightsaber. He clenched his gloved mechanical hand.
The cur had not expected the fist that plowed into his face, and he flew back with a grunt. The cowl had dislodged from his head, and the Jedi saw a full crop of lustrous red hair. His youthful face was twisted with pain, and Anakin watched with satisfaction as the would-be Sith hit the floor.
So Sidious was not Sidious. Ice-blue eyes fumed at Anakin, and he flew to his feet.
Anakin side-stepped him, volleying the attack with his weapon effortlessly. His opponent was fast. Very fast. His bruised ego obviously propelled him to assuage the dishonor of being clocked with a fist. Anakin had made him stupid with it.
That was good for a seething Anakin. For every step forward this silly imbecile took to offend, Anakin countered with scathing fury. It was almost as if Anakin played with him. He found his movements well-choreographed. He could have dismissed this as a sparring class at Temple. Only his peers weren't cast with hatred.
That his adversary was not the reanimated figure of Lord Sidious he would celebrate later. For right now, all he needed, all he was using to know was that this hulking slime had thrown his wife across the room like a rag doll.
Anakin took on the role of the initiator. He stalked his prey out of the main room and into the corridor of the archives. The grin on his face was diabolical as he forced the man to retreat.
Good, he mentally congratulated himself. Run from me. He had no other way out of the bunker.
The twit took to the shadows.
You can run, but you will not hide.
He heard the distant but stern call of his name.
Anakin…calm down.
He shook his head against the plea.
Anakin, think! Use your head.
Padmé was all he could think.
Do not believe your anger is scrupulous. Think. Weigh the consequences of your attack.
Anakin felt for Padmé in his mind. He could not afford to glance in her direction.
She was unconscious, but she was not severely injured. She would live.
You must put her out of your mind. Think.
Anakin's eyes blinked heatedly. So he stood in the doorway, his alert gaze into the darkness ahead but his mind on his lessons.
Who was this person? What did he want in the bunker? Had he been here this whole time? Had he anticipated Anakin's arrival? Where and how had he acquired his skills? Where did he learn the Jedi arts? How did he know how to wield them? What did he know of the Sith, and how did he know the style of Sidious' lightsaber?
How did Anakin fail to sense him here?
The conversation with his wife just moments ago came back to him. You believe he sought to clone himself…How can you be certain it is a male? If he had succeeded…if not you, then…
Another man with dark potential…
You could not feel yourself in the Force third person, Padmé had told him.
Sidious was successful in his task to create a Sith.
By the grace of the Force, it was not Anakin.
The profound relief calmed him considerably.
The startling contrast between one minute to the next moved Anakin to focus. The energy was there in the archives. His pulse hummed with recognition of the Force. He did not have to venture any further. He would be patient. He would let the enemy come back to him.
And he would get all the answers he needed.
Anakin leaned against the doorjamb. His breathing evened. Every speck of malice left him. By now, this violent interruption in the Force was felt throughout the galaxy. Temple would be rampant with activity. It was only a matter time before the bunker was surrounded by his friends.
Anakin found something to grin about.
Come out, rodent. Come and get me.
♦
They walked for a long time in silence before Qui-Gon spoke again. The vision at the arbor had left Anakin shaken, and the master had let him take the time he needed to absorb it all. Now, he would get more of the story.
"Dooku." Qui-Gon prompted, "Tell me about him."
Anakin sighed. "I wanted him to die. He tried to kill Padmé. He initiated the war…"
"He had injured you. You murdered him for no other reason, Anakin," Qui-Gon said unequivocally. "You must own that."
"Dooku was evil."
"And the Tuskens? Were they evil?"
Anakin glared at him, surprised Qui-Gon would think they were not. "It's not the same thing."
"You murdered them as well."
"They tortured and killed my mother!"
"They were no match for your abilities and therefore just as defenseless as Dooku, Anakin," Qui-Gon opposed, customarily calm. "What happened to Shmi was terribly tragic, but you did her a grave disservice with your acts of revenge. She would have never approved of such things."
There was no argument for that, and it was not until this moment that Anakin knew true remorse for his deeds. "You're right."
"Anakin, I have no dispute with your heart. It is all too easy to give in to wrath. I may have been guilty of it myself."
"You, Master? I cannot imagine that."
Qui-Gon's expression clouded again, and Anakin didn't press the issue.
"What about Palpatine? What of the wrath in vivisecting him?"
Qui-Gon chewed on that for a moment. "That was an act of self-defense."
"It wasn't me he was electrocuting."
"It was you he was manipulating. You were critical to his plans for the future. There was a great deal of that business that was entirely about you. You are justified in being hurt by the knowledge. In the end, his seduction made your core instincts rebel. And that is why you finished him."
Anakin's hand absently skimmed the tall blades of wheat as they walked. "I heard you, you know. That night with my mother on Tatooine."
He bowed his head. "You must be so disappointed in me."
Qui-Gon set him at ease. "Worried, Anakin. I worried for you. You were in pain." Then, on a whisper, "And I could not help you."
"You tried. I wouldn't listen."
"I do not believe I could be disappointed by you, Ani." Qui-Gon stopped to face him. "I feel nothing but pride when I look at you. Even knowing what I do, seeing what I have seen. You may have much still to learn of the Living Force, but you are young. You have plenty of time, and you may call on me every now and again. I will do what I can to assist you with…anything you may need."
His mouth quirked into a smile. "And you are here. That is proof enough that the teachings of my former padawan have not been in vain."
It was meant to lighten the mood. Instead, Anakin looked even more dejected.
"Obi-Wan is a good master, and I have learned a lot from him."
"Yes. That is good."
"I know I have not been the easiest apprentice, and I know that he only took me on as such because of his promise to you…"
"You should not underestimate Obi-Wan Kenobi, padawan. That may have been true in the beginning, but were he opposed to you remaining under his tutelage, he would have brought the matter before Council."
"He and I have been…strained lately. I think he blames himself for my mistakes."
"Yes," Qui-Gon breathed, and they continued their stroll. "He would. That is how he is. You should not take it personally, Anakin. Obi-Wan was always very serious, very dedicated to the Order."
"Is it true you almost didn't take him as your padawan learner?"
"Confided that to you, did he? Yes, it's true. He was almost thirteen years old. They would have sent him…"
"To the Farm." Suddenly, Anakin managed to chuckle. "Farmer Kenobi."
Qui-Gon knew he should not, but laughter escaped him as well. "I can assure you, Obi-Wan was not at all amused at the prospect."
His humor eased, Anakin replied, "That would have a blow to all of us. The Jedi would have been deprived of the best Knight in the Order, and I would have lived without my best friend."
The laughter ceased, but he kept his smile. "He's the only father I have ever known, Master. I cannot imagine my life without him in it."
Qui-Gon sobered. He stared at him, so still and quiet that Anakin was forced to ask, concerned, "What is it, Master?"
Qui-Gon swallowed the answer he wanted to give the boy. Instead, he sighed, "It's nothing, Ani. I was just thinking of the tricks destiny plays on us."
Anakin nodded with sympathy, misunderstanding the reason for his master's abrupt melancholy. "You must miss him terribly."
"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon nodded. "Yes, I do."
"He misses you, too, Master. Every day."
"I have been blessed with two very kind and generous padawans." He bowed his appreciation. "You humble me, Anakin."
"We are so different—Obi-Wan and I."
"Tell me what makes you think so."
"Isn't it obvious? You said it yourself. He's so serious and dedicated. I am much more laidback and instinctive. He says I am a nonconformist for the sake of sheer willful rebellion."
"Have you given him a reason for believing such? Come now, Anakin. You have not been very honest with him."
"How could I be, Master? I married Padmé against the codes of the Jedi. I could not tell him. I would have been dismissed from the Order, and he would have…I could not bear disappointing him. Not really. I love him."
"For someone who claims to love him, you do not give him much credit for knowing you."
"Master, you don't understand. Neither would he. I am in love with Padmé. I have been from the time the two of you walked into Watto's junk shop. Obi-Wan would never understand that kind of attachment."
There were so many similarities the two of them failed to recognize in one another. Qui-Gon regretted the role he may have played in those misconceptions his beloved padawans shared. His guilt with the wreck of emotions and the dissolution of the bonds of trust he may have put on Obi-Wan did not escape him now any more than his suffering with his secret.
"I want you to do something for me, Anakin."
"Sure."
"I want you to trust Obi-Wan to know his own mind. I want you to believe that no matter your differences, you are just as much a part of him as he is to you. He has grown into a very strong, powerful Jedi, but he will stand at your side. There is nothing you have to face, no challenge where he would abandon you."
Qui-Gon smiled. "Where you are concerned, there is almost nothing he would not forgive. He understands you more than you could ever know. I promise you."
"Even Padmé."
"Especially Padmé."
"Is there something you're not telling me about this?"
"His stories are not mine to tell, Anakin. I'm sorry." He did add, "It seems we are more human than Jedi than some would believe."
"'We'?" Anakin was itching to know. "Are you implying Obi-Wan…Master…have you ever been in love?"
Qui-Gon saw Tahl's face in his mind, but he masked his features and simply said, "Yes."
Anakin surmised that the subject was off-limits, and he would not pursue it. It was enough to know that it was…
Anakin frowned. He looked again at Qui-Gon and shook his head. No, he thought. Such an attachment for Qui-Gon was utterly impossible
♦
"You are a wonder, Skywalker," Not-Sidious called. "Not at all what I expected."
Anakin didn't answer. He stayed at the opening of the hallway, unwilling to be lured into whatever trap the moron thought to devise.
"From all reports, you have a temper to rival that of my…"
Your father? Anakin wanted to ask. He didn't have to make the inquiry. His feelings were quite sure that this was Palpatine's demon seed.
"I felt your anger when I shoved your sweetheart to sleep. Why do you fight it?"
The slur was meant to upset him, but all it did was make Anakin grit his teeth with impatience.
"My Master would have been so disappointed in you."
I don't doubt it, Anakin thought. Being the victim of his lightsaber would instill that in a person.
"You are nothing. You are a coward. You won't even come in to fight."
Not true. I always R.S.V.P. the affirmative to a party.
He was scolded for his cheek with the mild inflection of rebuke in the call of his name.
Anakin…
He glanced up at the adobe roof as if expecting Qui-Gon to be there. His master's presence could not penetrate the Force to be here. It was a corporeal Sith-rich environment. It would not be permitted. The teachings of the Force dictated that he could not interfere in this matter. As the Sith before this one, Anakin would have to be on his own.
Great, Anakin thought. Now I'm imagining his voice.
"What is it you think to do, Skywalker? Think you I cannot go through you?"
You'll need a lot more than what you've got to do it, dummy.
Anakin wasn't pleased. What was the point of this cat-and-mouse? Did he truly think Anakin would go in there sight-unseen, with no knowledge of the room to give him a plan of defense?
Force! This was ridiculous.
"Tell me," he finally shouted in response. "How long have you been here?"
"Does it matter?"
"No, but I am curious. It was very clever of you to cloak your presence." Anakin gave him that much. Either the man was incredibly gifted in Force-disguise, or he was without true Force-sensitivity. He would not take it for granted that it was the latter.
"I jumped."
Beg pardon?
"I went from body to body. That is something you wretched Jedi cannot do."
Anakin felt his matrix finger twitch. Not-Sidious was moving closer.
"How ingenious of you," he said drolly. "Unsanitary, but ingenious."
"You should have seen the look on Kenobi's face when I stood before him. The stupid man didn't feel me coming either."
Anakin's jaw tightened. Obi-Wan…He could not think about him now.
"Ah," Not-Sidious groaned in triumph. "That's it. There is the anger again. Don't you want to know what has become of your insipid master?"
Come closer, bantha fodder, and I will impolitely ask you.
"I will leave you with nothing, Skywalker." Not-Sidious' voice was flat and without humor now. "I will leave you with nothing as you have left me."
Anakin waited until the last possible second to dive to his right. The Sith's blade missed his head by a foot. His leg swept the floor, but his opponent jumped out of the way and their sabers connected again. He rolled and kicked his leg up. This time he caught his opponent in the back and he stumbled.
Anakin coiled and bounced to his feet. Not-Sidious feinted to his left and easily avoided a blow across his neck. The saber-work was dazzling with its efficient wielding. Unfortunately, it was from the dexterity and talent of both warriors.
They jumped apart to stare at each other with begrudging admiration.
"You are good," Not-Sidious said between heaving breaths.
"You sound surprised." Anakin paced to counter his.
He would keep this away from Padmé.
"My master delighted in regaling me with your stories," Not-Sidious seethed. "He made me listen to them endlessly."
"It's nice to be appreciated," Anakin dug cruelly. Come on. Come at me.
"'Anakin is smart. Anakin is self-possessed. He has a natural athleticism and a keen acumen'. He is…he is natural!"
That was the crux of it. He was constantly compared to Anakin, and he was goaded to perform as desired with the comparisons. Then he was punished for something that he had no say in to start with. He did not choose his conception. Sidious had developed him, and yet made this man pay for it. As if Sidious was not responsible for any flaw in his design.
The third wave was the charm as Not-Sidious bore down on him like a man possessed. He thrust in rapid succession, and Anakin parried each one. They continued this way for several long minutes.
Sweat was forming on Anakin's brow. He'd had enough. He reached out with the Force to hold him off. Not-Sidious deflected it with his own hand out, and Anakin felt the air being sucked out of him.
He began to choke. Not-Sidious laughed uproariously, and his hand curled slowly as if really around Anakin's throat.
"You were going to 'butcher' me?" Not-Sidious taunted with laughter.
Anakin could feel his eyes begin to bulge from his head and struggled to somehow escape the grip. He could not pass out. He fought to keep his gaze from Padmé on the floor. He had to think. He could not leave her to this freak.
He could not leave her. He could never leave her.
He felt his body tense with a foreign vigor. His right hand, the mechanical one, turned to bring his saber up to block while his left reached out…
Not-Sidious screamed in pain as Anakin's Force-lightning streamed in wretched volts square into his chest. Anakin would not question how he had acquired such a method of defense. It was to his advantage as Not-Sidious' hold was immediately broken, and Anakin stumbled for a second, trying to gain oxygen.
He took it in large gulps. Not-Sidious writhed on the floor, momentarily disoriented. He would not let the bastard take advantage of it. He hit him again with the bolts.
Sportsmanship had never been Anakin's strong-suit. A man couldn't change his nature in a single day.
He stomped over to stand above him. He did not have to use the Force to take the lightsaber from his opponent's sizzling hand. He ignited it and pointed the tip at the scum's nose.
"You can't kill me," Not-Sidious croaked, his chest heaving and smoke still rising from him. "You need me. You'll never know the truth if you kill me."
"I have dealt with your ilk a time or two, Sith," he replied calmly. "I know your tricks. You have nothing to tell I cannot discern for myself."
Not-Sidious' laugh was wrought with sarcasm. "Because you've been so successful before now."
"Moderately so," Anakin replied. "I am here to tell my tales. Dooku and Sidious don't have the privilege."
His barb stung, he knew. It was obvious by the flare of the man's eyes.
"What could you possibly have to add that is not etched into these walls?" Anakin watched him glance around the room at the various imprints.
"You think my father a fool?"
"Sidious was not your father!" Anakin hissed impatiently. "He was your donor."
"You dare to mock me?" The prisoner shouted with outrage. "You scorn my existence as an abomination. You believe yours any better?"
"The source of my conception was not a petrie dish, Sith, and I'm not interested in arguing with you about it."
"You were not a immaculate conception yourself, Skywalker. You try to ridicule me with your display of innocence. You are no more holy than I! You're just as unnatural. You are nothing but a mathematical improvisation to equal high midichlorian counts! Your mother…"
The scorching tip of the lightsaber slashed over his lips, and Not-Sidious yelped.
"Be very careful with what you say," Anakin warned. "I could make your demise not only grossly uncomfortable but very much like an accident."
"You are not the fulfillment of a ridiculous divination! Your power is not a miracle. It's the product of its own perverse genetics."
Anakin frowned. He certainly didn't expect the man was telling him the truth, but there was something about the comment that struck him like a blow to the head. He felt…
"What are you talking about?" he muttered gutturally.
Blood seeped from Not-Sidious' lips, and the fury of being bested made him vibrate with self-loathing.
"You are a Jedi."
It took a moment, but Anakin sighed, "Thanks for the recap."
He felt foolish for even entertaining the simpleton.
"Of the Jedi."
Anakin snorted, "You speak in riddles, and you're beginning to bore me."
He stepped back and out of his reach, keeping both sabers pointed at him. "Stand up."
"You are an abomination of the Jedi." Not-Sidious murmured softly, pushing himself upright with difficulty. "That is why they do not trust you. That is why they seek to destroy you."
He dusted off his cloak. "You know it as well as I."
He continued to mutter to himself. "Sired by a Master Jedi on a Master Jedi."
He glanced at Anakin while he adjusted his sleeves. "You are nothing but their own cloning experiment."
Finally, he finished putting himself to rights and again faced Anakin. The expression that greeted him made his injured lips part with surprise.
Skywalker looked at him as if he had sprouted another head to pummel.
"You didn't know," Not-Sidious whispered with amazement. "You honestly did not know."
He began to cackle with glee. "You dullard! How did it never occur to you?"
Every moment of his life beginning the day he met Qui-Gon Jinn flashed before Anakin's eyes. Every negative utterance, all the allusions to the prophecy made in his regard and the contempt he drew for it.
"I sense much anger in him…" Yoda forever declared.
Master Windu's, "the boy is dangerous" was another constant refrain and inevitably someone would point out, "He is the Chosen One…"
What if there were no such prophecy? What if that was code for a deception? Could he be the child of two Jedi?
"I assure you it's true, Skywalker," Not-Sidious relished. "My father took great pride in knowing the Jedi's dirty little secret."
His face darkened. "He became obsessed with it. He wanted you more than his own offspring."
He glared at Anakin with loathing. "Who better to train at his side than the son of Qui-Gon Jinn?"
Anakin's gut jolted as if struck. He searched for any sign of trickery from the bogus Sith, any indication that he was lying.
There wasn't any.
"That isn't true," he denied hotly. Qui-Gon would have told him.
But he could not fight the sense that it was fact. Qui-Gon Jinn was his father.
His entire life had been a lie.
Anakin shook his head as though he could make the sinking sensation disappear. He would believe the Jedi. He would believe in Qui-Gon and Yoda and the rest of his family.
His family.
"That's not true," he helplessly repeated. Then he shouted, "That's impossible!"
It was beginning to feel like déjà vu. Only he had not been the original and intended lead in the play to make such an exclamation.
"Search your feelings, Skywalker," Not-Sidious happily rejoined. "You know it to be true."
"You miserable…!" Anakin leaped toward him and was promptly blasted into the wall, bolts of blue light slamming into him.
Not-Sidious had him. He used both hands to cook his nemesis. The lightsabers now lay useless on the ground beneath Skywalker.
He paused in his triumph, and Skywalker dropped to the ground, smoldering, squirming in agony. He Force-swept the weapons far out of reach then added insult to injury. "You lose, Skywalker."
He splayed his fingers again.
Anakin's shouts grew louder as the pain twisted through him. He could feel the powerful zings go up and down his body, making his skin sizzle and his muscles atrophy.
He had lost. He had failed again to use his head. He had let his opponent play with his mind, and now he was going to die. He could not even summon the strength to open his eyes. He wanted to see Padmé. He wanted her to be the last thing he saw before he became one with the Force.
Anakin was too weak to notice at first that the blitz ceased. He tried to brace himself, fully expecting another round. The room grew quiet, or perhaps his hearing was impaired. He was struggling to get his eyes opened when he made out sound.
The low, steady hum of a lightsaber.
His eyelids raised a bit, but his vision was blurry. He willed himself to blink. When he could fully open his eyes, he could clearly make out the sight of Not-Sidous on his knees, a stunned expression frozen on his face and the yellow-length of the blade to Siri's borrowed lightsaber protruding from his chest.
He had been stabbed through the back, his assassin catching him unaware.
Not-Sidious fell forward, his face in the dirt, and Anakin saw his wife pull the lightsaber from his enemy's corpse. The matrix disengaged.
Padmé glared at the Sith with tears in her eyes. She made no apologies. She spoke to her husband in a defiant whisper. "He was going to kill you."
Anakin labored to get on his feet. The look in her eyes frightened him. She spoke as though she was in control of herself, but he knew she was terrified. "I know, angel. You did the right thing. It's all right."
They stared at each other for a moment before she relented and ran into his arms, wrapped by the charred sleeves of his tunic.
She sobbed with relief, and he pressed her tighter.
"It's over now, angel," he promised. "We've finished it."