The Rebel base was buzzing with activity. After their successful attack, celebrations had been rampant, but there had also been a lot of mourning, planning, and rearranging. They had lost many people in the fight, including the Jedi Council's leader, Mace Windu. The sadness was heavy in the air, and it muted the celebrations somewhat. However, now was also the best time to take the offensive against the Empire since there would no doubt be a power struggle for the throne, but they still weren't entirely sure they had enough manpower for that. More importantly, a reinforced cell had to be built within a few hours to ensure their new prisoner didn't try anything.

Their new prisoner. Obi-Wan still couldn't believe it. Of all the different scenarios he'd come up with, this had not been one of them. He was still reeling from the fact that the emperor was dead. Everything had happened so quickly, from constructing his lightsaber to all the insanity that had occurred over just a matter of a few hours. A very small part of him wanted to hope that this meant they were one step closer to defeating the Empire, and though he normally didn't indulge in false optimism, the Empire's fall seemed within reach now that Palpatine was gone.

Gone. The emperor was dead. He couldn't believe it. And Vader…

Siri was still shocked and a little angry at Qui-Gon's decision, but she didn't voice it to the Jedi Master himself. In fact, Obi-Wan was surprised to notice that she hadn't really voiced it to anyone apart from her initial reaction with Al. Instead, he sensed her irritation simmering under the surface, and he continuously tried to subtly remind her that she should release that anger. After a few failed attempts, however, Obi-Wan reluctantly broached the subject, knowing that with Siri he sometimes had to be more direct than he preferred.

At the moment, Siri was pacing restlessly in front of the duraglass window that showed the interior of their new makeshift cell. Vader was tied to a seat, and interrogators were preparing different drugs. A few of the Jedi were there as well, some watching Vader, some watching the interrogators. The Force rippled with a sensation that made Obi-Wan uneasy, and it felt about ten degrees colder here than in the rest of the base. Just looking in Vader's direction gave him a headache.

"I can't believe the emperor's dead," Siri remarked before Obi-Wan could say anything. "I mean… as much as I wanted it to happen, I… I guess I never considered it actually would. Stupid, huh?"

"He seemed untouchable. I feel the same way." Obi-Wan replied as he approached her.

"What do you think the Jedi are going to do?" Siri asked. "They… we lost our leader. We lost a lot of people."

It was still a little strange viewing the Jedi as part of their own now, but Obi-Wan was steadily growing more accustomed to it. "I suppose the Council will do whatever the Rebels decide to do."

"And what will that be, I wonder?" Siri muttered, leaning against the wall.

"For now, I don't think we have enough people to attack the Empire directly." Obi-Wan surmised. "We'll probably lay low and just watch the chaos unfold. You know Imperial Center will be a warzone because of this."

"Padmé would have loved to see this day," Siri suddenly said, her eyes glazing. "She would have…"

Obi-Wan felt his stomach clench a little, but not nearly as much as it used to. Instead, he just sighed and nodded. "I suppose, though with our current guest I'm not so sure."

Anger spiked through the Force. Obi-Wan used it as his opportunity. "Siri… you're a Jedi now. You have to let go of your resentment towards Vader."

"I don't—" Siri began, but she stopped herself; they both knew she couldn't lie to him about this. Siri took a slow, calming breath. "I know I'm supposed to release my anger. I know that. It's just… not as easily done as it's said. He corrupted her."

"Only temporarily." Obi-Wan tried to assure her and himself. "She'd gone on to her next insane plot by the end of it."

Siri laughed, and the tension in Obi-Wan's chest eased a little, indicating that she was relaxing. "Yeah, you're right. Blast, I never thought I'd say this, but I miss her crazy stunts. I still can't believe she proposed to Éothen."

"Well, it did open up the doors to Salkende, even if it was questionable," Obi-Wan smiled. Based on what he could sense, the conversation seemed to eliminate Siri's anger altogether, so he was content. At least until he thought about all the other issues with which they had to contend… but it would come in its own time. There was no sense in worrying over what he couldn't control. All he had to do right now was report to Qui-Gon and watch the interrogation, if he so desired.

"Obi?"

Obi-Wan looked at his wife, a little surprised at how soft her voice had become. "What is it?"

"I… thank you." Siri crossed her arms tightly, taking on a defensive, slightly insecure posture. Seeing her that way worried her husband slightly, who took another small step towards her. "Thank you for now and… for earlier. I… all those people who died… all those Jedi… I knew it would be a tough battle, but I… I didn't expect it to be so costly. I would've been in that casualty count if you hadn't stopped me from going."

A small shiver ran down his spine at the thought of losing his wife and child, and he felt nauseous for a second, but Obi-Wan pushed it aside. It hadn't happened, and there was no purpose in dealing in what if scenarios, as Qui-Gon had taught them. It wasn't the Jedi way. Instead, he smirked. "You can thank Qui-Gon, not me. He's the one who ordered both of us to stay. As I recall, we should be meeting him now, anyway."

Siri rolled her eyes, insecurity and concern gone. "Great. More meditating."

Obi-Wan smiled cheerfully. "Ah, yes, our favorite pastime."

"Don't make me hurt you, Obi."

"Well, if you do, I'm sure you can explain your outburst to our master."

"You can't hide behind Qui-Gon!" Siri snapped jovially, and the chill of the room seemed to dissipate a little.

"It wouldn't be hiding," Obi-Wan rebutted with a shrug, motioning that they leave the area. "It would simply be doing my duty as a Padawan; I would bring the grievance to my master."

"You sound like some teacher's pet," Siri grumbled, following her husband's lead.

The couple walked through a few passageways before reaching an empty hangar, which served as a training room for the Jedi. Qui-Gon was sitting on a crate, legs crossed and eyes closed. He sensed their approach, raising his head in acknowledgment as they arrived. The first thing they immediately noticed, that Obi-Wan had completely missed when he saw Qui-Gon at the end of the battle, was that the Jedi Master's right hand was wrapped tightly in a bandage.

"What happened?" Siri asked, motioning towards the extremity.

Qui-Gon glanced at his hand before looking at his pupils once more. "Lord Vader wasn't very happy with me when I tried to disarm him."

"Why did you take him alive?" Siri pressed before Obi-Wan could stop her. He sighed inwardly; he'd thought their conversation had helped, and after a moment he realized it had – Siri no longer felt angry so much as baffled. "The mission objective was to kill the Sith."

"Lord Vader was… different than expected," Qui-Gon answered. "He presents a unique opportunity."

"Does the Council approve of this decision?" Obi-Wan questioned, making a point that Qui-Gon had gone against orders but also genuinely curious. After all, he hadn't heard much from the other Jedi, so he wasn't sure what their opinion on the matter was. The Rebels were eager to tear into the Sith and get as much information out of him as possible, but Obi-Wan figured they weren't likely to actually succeed… at least not without the Jedi's help.

"The Council trusts my judgment, young Padawan," Qui-Gon replied, raising an eyebrow. "You should too."

Obi-Wan took the rebuke for what it was, bowing slightly in deferment.

Siri, however, wouldn't simply be chastised. "So let's assume they're okay with it, then. What do you mean he was different than expected? I mean, whenever we were with him, the Force made us uneasy around him, like he was, I don't know, off in some sort of way. Wasn't that the Dark Side? Isn't that expected of a Sith?"

"What do you sense from him now?" Qui-Gon inquired calmly, leading them to some sort of conclusion.

Obi-Wan and Siri paused. He wasn't sure how to feel Vader out through the Force, though when Obi-Wan closed his eyes and concentrated, it became fairly obvious which pulsating signature belonged to the Sith Lord. It was… he wasn't sure how to describe it. It felt like a blizzard, stormy and cold, but it would erupt like a volcano, sudden and searing hot. It drummed in his mind and left him with a headache, and it trickled everywhere like blood from a wound. It made him sick. This… was not what he felt the last time he'd been with Vader.

"I don't know." Siri eventually answered, recovering from the sensation faster than Obi-Wan… or perhaps she just didn't sense what he had. "It's all over the place…"

Qui-Gon nodded. "Lord Vader is widely known for his emotional control, is he not? Something has changed. What do you think that is?"

Obi-Wan and Siri exchanged bemused glances, and Obi-Wan shrugged, offering a suggestion. "I presume… his master's death?"

Again, the Jedi Master tipped his head, still guiding them. "Let's say this is the case. If his master's death caused this newfound emotional turmoil, then what would that suggest?"

"He's angry we killed him," Siri immediately surmised. "He wants revenge."

"He is indeed angry," Qui-Gon acknowledged. "And he no doubt wants revenge. But there's more to it than that. Anger can lead to many things, can feel like many things in the Force… but this isn't just anger. This is sorrow, fear, anguish… the emperor's death didn't make that boy angry. It destroyed him."

Obi-Wan immediately understand what he was implying. "He cared about him."

Siri whirled on him. "What? That… Vader doesn't care about anyone."

"You must see beyond your prejudice against him," Qui-Gon insisted, standing. "Obi-Wan is correct. Darth Vader cared about the emperor. That is why I captured him."

Siri crossed her arms, not quite angry, but still disbelieving. "So let me get this straight: assuming Darth Vader actually does have a soul, you went against orders because he showed a little concern for his master?"

"Sith are selfish. Their only concern is power, and how they can gain more of it. It's often typical for Sith to kill their own masters and apprentices. For Darth Vader to show attachment to his master implies that he may not be entirely corrupted by the Dark Side."

"But he is entirely corrupted by the Dark Side—he's a monster!" Siri argued.

The Force rippled slightly at her vehemence, and Qui-Gon eyed her carefully. "Be mindful of your feelings, Padawan. You should feel no hatred towards that man."

"I don't feel hatred towards him," Siri shook her head. "I just find it ridiculous that anyone would have any sort of positive thoughts about him. Look at what he's done!"

"I know what he's done," Qui-Gon said, his voice quieting slightly, and Obi-Wan sensed growing frustration between both of them. "I have seen the destruction firsthand, Padawan."

"Well, speaking of Darth Vader, isn't there an interrogation happening shortly?" Obi-Wan interrupted, clasping his hands behind his back. He needed to distract both of them before Siri pushed Qui-Gon too far. It was pointless to continue this debate.

Qui-Gon sighed, the tension in his muscles relaxing. He nodded and departed, leaving Siri rubbing her face with one hand.

"You shouldn't argue so much," Obi-Wan remarked, watching the Jedi Master leave the hangar.

"I know, I just… I couldn't stop myself." Siri said as she slowly sat on a crate. "I thought we all agreed Vader was a monster. He's a murderer. He's a Sith."

Obi-Wan mulled it over. Yes, Darth Vader was all of those things. According to Padmé, he also seemed to be… brainwashed? Too far gone? He didn't know. Whatever Padmé had thought he was didn't seem to be entirely the case, however, since… well, he just didn't know. No one knew the circumstances of her murder. Only that it was caused by the Imperials and the likely killer was an Intelligence agent. Maybe Vader had nothing to do with it. Maybe. However, it was far more likely that the Sith Lord was fully aware of the assassination, considering he'd been assigned to watch her.

With a bone chilling realization, Obi-Wan concluded that it was actually extremely likely that Vader himself did the killing.

Dizziness overcame him, and he felt physically ill. Leaning over, Obi-Wan heard Siri ask what was wrong as she rose and took him by the shoulders. He wasn't sure he could even look at the Sith after that sickening conclusion.

"Is he alright?" Several other Jedi who had been training took notice of Obi-Wan's reaction, approaching him and Siri.

"I'm not sure," his wife replied, still trying to get his attention. Obi-Wan felt her prod his mind through their bond. "Obi?"

"I… I'm fine." He eventually said, shakily sitting where Siri had just been.

His wife eventually shooed away the other Padawans and she knelt in front of him. "What was that all about?"

He wanted to tell her, simply to get it out of his head and into the open air, but he couldn't. Siri had enough prejudice against the Sith Lord, and this was only a possibility, not a certainty. Nothing good would come of telling her that he might have been the one to kill Padmé. Obi-Wan closed his eyes for a moment, relaxing and releasing his stress into the Force. He acknowledged it and then acknowledged that unless he had proof, there was no more reason to concern himself about it. They had an interrogation to watch. "Sorry. I think it's just everything going on—caught up with me."

Siri furrowed her brow. "Obi…"

He looked her in the eye, emptying his mind of anything pertaining to it. He opened himself up to her and the Force, and he let it calm him. "Come on, Siri. Let's go before the interrogation starts."

His wife continued to watch him suspiciously, and he knew she'd continue to harp on him until he'd revealed what had bothered him, but she at least had the courtesy to delay that conversation. Sighing heavily, she nodded and stood, offering him her hand. Obi-Wan took it and let her help him stand, and the two headed back towards the Sith Lord's cell.

"You have to tell me what's going on!"

"You'll find out soon enough. I must go. Make sure things remain secure here."

"What about my husband?"

"As I said, you'll find out soon enough."

"I demand answers now!"

What the blazes…? Where was…? Who was yelling? What was going on?

"You will have your answers soon. I have to leave. Now."

Everything hurt. Everything was so foggy… nothing made sense…

A blurry figure of some woman stood off in the distance, looking elsewhere. The woman wasn't familiar at all. Nothing about this place was familiar.

"Watch her."

The world dissolved into darkness.

Erwyna gritted her teeth as she took another painkiller. This was going to be a long trip to Imperial Center with the way she was feeling. The base was far calmer after a memorial service and a few zealous celebrations. Erwyna was tempted to stop by the prison to see if they had Darth Vader under control, but she decided to avoid the area; he was their responsibility now, and she wasn't in any shape to take him down if he did manage to escape, anyway. Now she had her own mission to worry about.

Stiffly walking towards one of the lounge areas provided to the soldiers, Erwyna caught sight of the smuggler who served as Salkende's liaison. He had plenty of underworld contacts and knew Imperial Center well, so he would be of great help in this endeavor. Erwyna approached him and cleared her throat to get his attention.

The Zabrak, who had been reading a report of some sort, glanced up and raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. "Lieutenant?"

"Captain," she acknowledged with a tip of her head. "Look, I… need a favor."

The smuggler grew confused. "A favor?"

Erwyna sighed, trying to find the right words. She supposed it didn't matter if he knew what she was doing or not, but she didn't like sharing her business with others. What if he told Éothen? To be honest, the smuggler would have no reason to tell him, but she still wondered. After all, Brek had known Amidala, hadn't he? She'd been the one to call him on the op they'd worked on together. Well… she had to tell him enough to at least get the help she needed. She'd leave out anything she didn't think was absolutely necessary. "I'm going to Imperial Center to investigate the circumstances of Amidala's murder. I could use some help doing that."

Capt. Brek stood slowly, even more baffled and starting to grow slightly apprehensive. "Padmé's murder? What's there to investigate?"

"Well, does anyone know exactly what happened?" Erwyna asked, shifting her weight to ease the pressure on her chest and arm. "Apart from being shot, it's pretty vague."

Brek furrowed his brow and shrugged. "We know the Empire is responsible. There were Intelligence agents everywhere, so we assumed it was an Intelligence job."

"Assumed. So there's been no formal investigation?"

"No," the smuggler replied, crossing his arms. "We haven't exactly had the luxury of just hopping on over to Imperial Center and asking around."

"You're right. You don't have that luxury." Erwyna noted pointedly. "But, as of now, I do. She was the warlord's son's fiancée. Salkende has a right to know what actually happened."

"Not sure what else there is to know, but okay," Brek muttered. "So what do you need?"

"I need some contacts. Your slicer, for one." Erwyna answered. "What was her name again? Okima-something?"

"Okima'yak," Brek corrected her. "Yeah, sure, I can get you in contact with her. And… there's another guy, but I wouldn't use him too much; he's a little… jumpy, and his priority is to report to me on Intelligence activity."

"You've got an in to Intelligence?" Erwyna raised her eyebrows, surprised.

"Yeah, but like I said, his priority is the Rebels, not investigating something that's already happened." Brek insisted. "So use him sparingly. I'll give you his information alongside Okima'yak."

"Fine," Erwyna acknowledged, receiving a piece of flimsiplast with comlink frequencies and instructions on it. She offered a small smile and another nod in thanks before leaving; she'd use her own transport to get to Imperial Center. Reading the flimsiplast, Erwyna felt her pain dissolve (though that might have been the painkiller too) and she blew out a sigh of relief and purpose. This would help her get a good start, and she would figure out what Amidala had been trying to convey through the shoto. The woman at least deserved that much, as did Éothen.

It was sunset when the fleet finally returned to Imperial Center. Tarkin took a shuttle down to the surface, feeling electrified and numb at the same time. To think that just a few hours ago he had been lying in his bunk wondering what the emperor was planning for their little vacation was just… he didn't even know how to describe it. It felt like a lifetime ago now. But there was little point in brooding about it, even if he did feel a little dizzy at how quickly events had changed; they had a crisis coming, and he had to be ready for it. The gentle, warm evening air and the stillness of the palace was only the calm before the storm. And Force, there was going to be a hell of a storm.

Tarkin walked to his quarters, observing how quiet everything was. The palace felt immensely empty. No one knew what had happened yet, except Intelligence and the fleet's personnel, of course. The military would find out shortly, assuming the captains hadn't already reported to their system admiral. The word would spread like wildfire in the ranks, and the grand admirals and generals would all suddenly vie for power, curry for favor. They would either join up with some regional governor or would step out on their own with their own force's backing. Then the regional governors would learn: the other grand moffs and all their underlings, including senators.

Senators. Yes, the senate would eventually hear the tale, and once news spread that the emperor was dead and his prince was missing in action, all hell would break loose. Would the senate rally against the regional governors? Would they try to elect—elect! As if they could do such a thing!—a new emperor, some sort of figurehead they could manipulate? It was unlikely. Those corrupt wastes of flesh would simply want the safest, best, and surest deal they could get, and that would mean kissing up to their moffs and allying with them; it wasn't like the senators really had any power of their own anyway. They were already slaves to their regional govenrors. It would be a power struggle like no other. All six grand moffs would suddenly arm themselves, and instead of worrying about the obvious threat that the Rebel Alliance presented, they'd only be concerned about themselves and who could sit on that throne. Tarkin had to ensure that the internal war was swift and that he was the winner.

He had a lot of work to do.

First he had to contact all his allies. He'd had no reason to contact his spy; Intelligence would have already recalled her. They were going to be searching within their own ranks, fervently looking for the leak that had tipped off the Alliance. After all, the leak had to be from Intelligence – they were the ones who had arranged the trip. No one else had known apart from the task force. It was possible the spy was in the military somewhere, and Tarkin was certain Intelligence was exploring that avenue as well, but the most likely culprit was an agent. While they were doing all this, however, Tarkin would also ensure that they were searching for the Rebels themselves – while the captain may have been convinced that Darth Vader was dead, Tarkin was sure he was still alive. He wouldn't think any other possibility until he saw the cold, hard proof for himself. Once he'd ensured that Intelligence was doing what he needed, he had to make contact with his new allies in the military.

Tarkin had befriended several moffs and at least two grand admirals, but it wasn't enough to tame the entire Empire. This had all happened too soon – if Vader had been the one to kill Palpatine, then Tarkin would have all the backing he'd need; Vader's claim to the throne would be legitimate, detracting most, and Tarkin's allies would quell any argument from those who were foolish enough to disagree. Once the boy became emperor, he would name Tarkin his replacement and would resume his original position as second-in-command. At least that was how it was supposed to be.

The grand moff swore softly under his breath. He was exhausted, and his head was pounding from the concussion he'd received from Vader himself. Darth Vader had given him a concussion. The boy was a wreck, and now he was in the hands of the enemy. The Empire was on the verge of imploding. He had to bring order to the oncoming chaos. He had to.

What a mess.

The Force tingled with anticipation. Jedi and Rebels crammed the hallways and the room that viewed the prison cell. The area was abuzz with conversations, excited whispers and fears bouncing in the air.

"This won't end well. You know it won't." One Jedi Knight remarked to another. "Master Jinn should have never brought a Sith here."

His companion shrugged. "He must have had his reasons."

"The Dark Side is consuming this place; he brought it with him. It'll corrupt everyone." The Jedi replied, shuddering at the chill in the air.

His companion remained silent, unsure.

Farther into the room, Shaak Ti, the new de facto leader of the Jedi Council and the remainder of the Order, approached Qui-Gon, watching the prisoner carefully. Vader hadn't moved since he'd awoken. He was slumped in his chair, unable to fidget much due to his bonds, and the Force, which had been icy around him, had begun to stir with steadily increasing strength, thought it wasn't focused on anyone or anything.

"The boy is dangerous," she said softly as she reached the fellow Master.

Qui-Gon, who was also eying Vader, remarked, "He's caused no harm here."

"Yet," Shaak reminded him. "He may be searching for an opportunity."

"You sense what I do." Qui-Gon faced her. "He is not wholly corrupted."

"Perhaps," Shaak conceded, looking elsewhere, her mind wandering with the possibility. "But that doesn't mean he's harmless, either. Nor does it mean he can be saved."

"The boy may yet have a chance. The Force works in mysterious ways." Qui-Gon said cryptically. "Would you eliminate any hope the boy has?"

Shaak smiled at his stubbornness. Mace would have been growing frustrated by now, she mused, feeling a twinge of pain and sadness at the loss of the great Jedi. She then sighed and released her pain; she'd already attended the memorial service arranged by the Rebel leaders to mourn all those who had died. It served her no purpose now to continue to dwell on her friend's death, certainly not at this moment. "No. But tread carefully, Qui-Gon; you don't have many allies in this venture, and I highly doubt the Sith will help your case, either."

"You are the Grand Master of the Order," Qui-Gon said pointedly, holding his hands behind his back. "Do I have an ally in you?"

Shaak considered it. She sensed the same key difference in Vader that Qui-Gon had sensed; she detected the boy's uncertainty, his pain and remorse. He was filled with confusion, regret, and sorrow. He was an emotional wreck, a walking disaster. He was also a murderer, a Sith apprentice, and—now that Palpatine was gone—the new emperor. When she looked at him, she saw all of this, but she also saw one very important fact.

He was a youngling.

Still, she couldn't let her emotions get the best of her. His young age didn't make up for everything he had done, though it might explain it. The boy was obviously still very naïve, and perhaps he wasn't so much an advocate of the Sith ways than a slave to them. But was that really enough to save him? Or was he too brainwashed to be recovered? Shaak understood Qui-Gon's desire to help him, but there was more at stake here than one boy's sanity, and though she was remiss to abandon anyone who could be helped, this person in particular could lead to the deaths of many. Was it possible to have an attachment to the Sith already simply by the mere idea of his redemption? Perhaps Qui-Gon wasn't attached to the boy so much as the idea of what the boy could become. In either case, an attachment was an attachment. She couldn't let that cloud her judgment as it had clouded his, especially since she was the head of the Jedi Order now.

"No," she eventually answered, and she sensed Qui-Gon's quiet frustration at her reply. "But I'm not your enemy, either, Qui-Gon. I will observe and make a decision soon. In the meantime, the Rebels may obtain what information they can from him. I have already spoken to Viceroy Organa about the matter, and the Alliance has agreed that Vader is in the Jedi's custody and therefore bound by our rulings."

Qui-Gon remained silent for a moment, taking in what she had said and leaning away. He returned his focus to the Sith bound to the chair, his eyes clouded. "Who will interrogate him?"

"I've allowed the Alliance to lead the interrogation. Two Knights will be present in the room in case anything happens."

"Knights?" Qui-Gon questioned. "Shouldn't you have Masters in there?"

Shaak smiled at his subtle attempt. "You won't be in the room. At the moment, there is only one other Master, and she is recovering in the medical bay. We lost more Jedi than you realize."

Qui-Gon sighed heavily. "I know how many we lost; I just wasn't aware they were all our remaining Masters."

"Most died on the Dominator," Shaak explained sadly. "You, Mace, and I were all that was left of the Order's Masters before the Purges, and there haven't been many who have reached the rank since then."

The two said nothing for a few minutes after this, watching the Rebels finish their final preparations for the interrogation. Eventually, Shaak changed the subject. "How are your Padawans?"

"They are learning," Qui-Gon answered neutrally before he smiled softly. "Obi-Wan seeks guidance from the Code as if he knows it was missing from his life. Siri seeks focus for her energy and emotion. They will be excellent Jedi Knights."

"And their attachment to each other?"

"Their connection to each other is deeper than any that I have sensed, but they are learning. I think they could teach the other Jedi through their example."

Shaak chuckled. "That would be… interesting. There are some Padawans who find it hard to accept the rule of non-attachment, but others are so adamant in following it they think Kenobi and Tachi shouldn't be trained."

"As I recall, the Council didn't have any qualms with training them," Qui-Gon replied, some force entering his voice as he grew slightly defensive.

"I still agree that they should be trained," Shaak appeased him. "Hopefully the rest of the new Council will also concur, once I've decided who to choose. The offer still stands for you, you know."

Qui-Gon smiled, his eyes sad. "Once the Council would have refrained from offering me a seat for my tendencies. Once I would have been proud of that, proud to be able to do what the Force willed even when it didn't align with the Council's wishes. After Order 66… I… felt betrayed. The Force had seemingly abandoned the Jedi, had left us all to die… I'd thought I could accept anything it gave me, but that… that I could not accept. Not for many years. Now, I feel that I would only hinder the Order's progress by sitting on the Council. I would have never reunited with Obi-Wan and Siri if I had been a part of the Council. No, Shaak; I will remain as I am. It's better for everyone this way."

The Togruta Master accepted his reply with respect. She understood his reasoning, even if she thought he would make an amazing councilman. His guidance would lead the Jedi Order to many great things. But she supposed he wished to remain as mobile as possible and not bogged down by the day to day affairs of the Jedi Order. Shaak herself didn't mind the monotony of it; it gave her some sense of stability. She preferred her original position as head of the enclave while the rest of the Council concerned itself with outside affairs, but she knew she would have to make do. Besides, Mace had left a data pad full of information in case he'd perished in the fight, and she'd yet to read it, so it might have some helpful advice that would make this transition easier.

The sound of a door hissing open caught both Jedi Master's attention, and they turned to see the Rebels entering the cell, accompanied by the two Knights Shaak had assigned. The interrogation was about to begin.

Towards the back of the viewing room, Obi-Wan and Siri subtly maneuvered through the crowd to get a better view.

"You think it's starting?" Siri whispered as she stood on her toes over the heads of the other onlookers.

"I believe so," Obi-Wan answered as he saw people enter the cell. Eventually the couple found a spot where they could both watch comfortably.

Darth Vader didn't budge as the interrogators approached him. An interrogation droid hovered around him, and two Jedi Knights flanked the back wall, watching him carefully. Obi-Wan and Siri exchanged nervous glances. The Force trembled with energy, but most of it seemed to be coming from everyone except for Vader. Either that or Obi-Wan and Siri had grown accustomed to sensing the maelstrom swirling around the man.

Despite everyone's apprehension, the inquiry began rather uneventfully. The interrogator first started by simply asking questions. When Vader continued to stare at the ground and remain still as a statue, the interrogator progressed to giving him some truth serums to loosen his tongue. The Sith still said nothing. He didn't even bother looking at anyone in the cell.

"You sure Qui-Gon didn't give him some kind of brain damage?" Siri questioned somewhat sarcastically.

Obi-Wan let out a snort at the remark, but something bothered him. In an instant, something changed. Nothing was different in the cell, and the interrogator was still pumping Vader full of drugs. The other Rebels were still as tense as ever, if not growing a little restless. The Jedi, however, had stiffened. Siri felt it a moment later.

"Obi…?" she muttered, stepping forward slightly.

He didn't reply. He didn't know what was wrong. It felt like the ground had shifted, like the wind had changed directions, like the tremors from everyone around had suddenly been muted. But nothing looked different.

The interrogator started to talk again, but this time he wasn't just asking questions. He was prodding, antagonizing. He remarked about how the Empire was full of corrupt fools who would end up killing each other, how the system could never last. He talked about the oppression and how the people would stand up against it, how they already had stood up against it.

And then he talked about the emperor.

"You may think you're invincible because you have the Force," the interrogator said, pacing in front of the Sith. "But you're not. We all know it. We learned it firsthand today, didn't we? I tell you, when the Dominator exploded, it was the best moment of my life. To think the emperor is—"

It was almost as if lightning struck. Every hair on Obi-Wan's body stood up, his gut was on fire, and his head filled with excruciating pain. He gasped, bending forward, and in the instant it took his breath away, in the heartbeat that he was no longer looking at the prison cell, he heard screams and thuds and the Force filled with so much turmoil he couldn't think straight. Siri doubled over, groaning, and around them the room exploded into motion. Obi-Wan put a hand on his wife's shoulder as they both took a second to adjust to the jarring change, and Siri nodded to confirm that she was fine.

Obi-Wan finally caught his breath and looked up, and he saw chaos all around him. There were bodies littering the floor of the cell, including one of the two Jedi Knights. Vader had somehow broken out of his restraints, and his face was contorted with rage and pain. His right hand was extended out, clasping thin air as the other Jedi floated in front of him, clutching her throat. Rebels were rushing in, and multiple Jedi grabbed their lightsabers, also pushing their way to the small entrance to the cell.

Siri hurried forward. Obi-Wan called out to her, pursuing her. There was no way she could hold her own against that monster, and they both knew it. Why did she have to feel compelled to do something when she knew she couldn't?!

More soldiers and Jedi fell. One Jedi managed to throw Vader across the room with the Force, but he sent an even stronger wave back, flinging the chair at the people in the entrance. The doorway to the cell was becoming ever more congested, preventing people from entering as the bodies piled up in a sickening barricade. Eventually, a Togruta Jedi Master—the Grand Master of the Order, Obi-Wan realized—activated her lightsaber and sliced into the large duraglass window that everyone had been looking through. She then thrust her hand forward, using the Force to break the window and send the glass shards flying towards Vader. A ray shield covered the area immediately after, a safety precaution installed in case Vader should try to escape, but now it only hindered the Jedi Master's progress. Vader cried out, covered in new cuts and embedded with several glass shards, but it only made him angrier.

By this point both Obi-Wan and Siri had reached the front of the room, and they were just a few steps from the mob of people trying to enter the cell. The Togruta Master rushed to a control panel in order to deactivate the ray shield.

Again, the Force shifted, but this time no one seemed to notice it in their haste to fight the Sith. The intention of every person in the room was suddenly clear to Obi-Wan, and he knew that they would not simply pacify the Sith Lord – they were going to kill him. The bottom dropped out of his stomach, and the noise seemed to grow muffled as his mind lit up with a strange clarity. He was tempted to focus on his wife once more, but Qui-Gon's words echoed in his mind, reminding him to be mindful of the living Force. But he said not at the expense of the moment, didn't he? Was this the expense of the moment? What was he sensing? And why did no one else feel it? Even Qui-Gon was preoccupied, trying to help the others. Was Obi-Wan just suddenly going crazy? Was this some trick by Vader?

The ray shield disappeared. Time slowed. Should he try to stop his wife? Should he try to help the wounded? Should he fight the Sith? Should he simply watch? He was suddenly filled with so many different outcomes, so many different choices and sensations; Obi-Wan didn't know what to do. He released his held breath and closed his eyes, trying to let the Force guide him. He tried to allow it to act through him, to lead him to whatever it was so obviously trying to show him.

Before he knew it, Obi-Wan had leapt through the window. "Stop!"

Darth Vader was in the midst of strangling some other helpless victim, but as soon as he heard the command, he stiffened. For a millisecond no one moved, and for a millisecond the Sith Lord locked eyes with Obi-Wan. A shiver ran down the Jedi Padawan's spine, and he felt as if Hoth's wintery winds had just torn through him, leaving him bare, empty, and impossibly cold.

Vader dropped the soldier, who coughed harshly. In the next second, the Sith was knocked over by at least five Rebels and Jedi, who pinned him to the ground. A Jedi reached for his lightsaber, ready to finish the Sith off, when the Togruta Master called out and prevented him.

"That's enough!" she ordered, making everyone face her. Except for Obi-Wan, at least; he was still standing, frozen in place and panting for air, completely flabbergasted that he'd done such a ridiculously suicidal action… and that Vader had actually listened to him. "Subdue him and restrain him, but don't kill him."

The Rebels hesitated, but the Jedi did not, immediately knocking Darth Vader over the head. The man stopped fighting under their grip, his body relaxing into unconsciousness.

Shortly thereafter, Vader was once again strapped to the chair, looking worse for wear. He was left alone in the cell, and the Grand Master stood in the center of the viewing room, garnering everyone's attention. "He is to be guarded but not interacted with. Qui-Gon, bring your Padawans and follow me."

Obi-Wan jumped, a little startled. Terrific. He wasn't sure what to expect, but it probably wouldn't be good. Nevertheless, he followed his master obediently, and Siri fell in step beside him.

"What the blazes were you thinking?" Siri whispered to him.

"I… don't know. I just reacted." Obi-Wan replied, confused and rattled.

Siri slipped her hand into his, throwing him a half exasperated smile. "Huh. And I thought I was bad at being irrational."

Obi-Wan huffed. "I wasn't—"

"You totally were. Who in their right mind jumps into a room with a rabid Sith Lord and tells him to stop, expecting him to listen?"

"What rabid Sith Lord actually listens?" Obi-Wan rebutted, still shocked over that fact.

Siri sighed, slowing her pace. "I… don't know."

The two pondered the matter for a moment before realizing they'd fallen behind, and they hastily caught up to the rest of the party. Obi-Wan was too worn out from what had just happened to prod the Force for any clues as to how the other Jedi were feeling about the situation, and he could derive nothing from their body language. Blasted Jedi calm – he couldn't wait to master that.

Well, no matter the outcome, this… would be interesting.

So I was going to include Erwyna's arrival to Imperial Center and the beginning of her investigation in this chapter, but I figured after the craziness of the past few chapters it would be too much too quickly. Let me know what you think of the pace. :)

Thanks for all the feedback!