Chapter 52: Death Is Only the Beginning

Qui-Gon followed in after Anakin, blinded by the dust cloud. He lost track of the young knight, but he maneuvered his way through the wreckage. What happened here? Qui-Gon wondered as he climbed over the fallen pillar. Landing unsteady on his feet, he looked across the clearing. His heart stopped.

Anakin was on the floor, cradling Jedi Kenobi in his arms. Soft murmurs slipped from Anakin's parted mouth. Tears trickled down his cheeks, hands clutched in a tight grip on Jedi Kenobi's arms.

And then, a terrible scream pierced the room. A scream full of force and wrath and pain that it flooded Qui-Gon in agony. A loud crack followed by a snap distracted Qui-Gon. He craned his neck and looked up.

The ceiling broke and stone rained upon them. Qui-Gon's first act was to run to Anakin and Jedi Kenobi, but strong hands lurched him backwards. The floor shook on impact, throwing Qui-Gon off his feet. He landed awkwardly on a broken training droid, his spine spasm on impact.

Groaning, he rolled off the droid, eyes fluttered up to see chunks of the ceiling come barreling straight to him. On instinct, Qui-Gon threw his hands up as a quick shield, expecting the sharp jab of debris impaling into his gut.

The falling debris never reached him. No stabbing pain. Not even a drop of a pebble touched him. Qui-Gon lowered his hands. A small chunk of the ceiling levitated a few inches away from his face. Slowly, it floated away, sparing him from further injury. More pieces of the ceiling never reached the floor. All sailed off to the side, away from him.

Qui-Gon pushed up to his elbows, watching the ceiling's pieces part to the sides of the destructed room. He looked over his shoulder and saw Master Yoda, his claw stretched out and controlling the falling debris. Another wave of his hand and the remaining pieces of the ceiling settled aside.

Standing beside Master Yoda were Master Windu and Master Ki-Mundi Adi. The two of them surveyed the damage in unspeakable silence. A hand stretched into Qui-Gon's view. His eyes trailed up and saw Master Sifo-Dyas standing above him, offering him assistance. Qui-Gon accepted, taking the Shadow's hand. Hoisted off the ground, Qui-Gon steadied his limbs as Sifo-Dyas quickly scanned him for any injuries.

"Any pain?" the Shadow asked.

He shook his head. No pain. Not yet. It would come later.

Qui-Gon removed himself from Sifo-Dyas, looking back to where he last saw Anakin and Jedi Kenobi. He feared the ceiling buried them. He stumbled over the small pieces of concrete until he could no longer move. Feet welded to the floor, his eyes fixated on the scene before him.

Not a single piece of ceiling hit Anakin or Jedi Kenobi. Almost like there was a circular Force shield that sheltered them from the raining stones. In the center, Anakin hugged Jedi Kenobi close, forehead resting on Jedi Kenobi as tears streamed down his face. Listening close, Qui-Gon heard Anakin's muttering pleas for Jedi Kenobi to stay.

Qui-Gon's heart tore in two. Cold swept over him, all the blood flowing out of him. His lungs burned, choking as the Force's trepidation warned him of the awful truth. Anakin crying. Jedi Kenobi not moving. All evidences pointed to one conclusion.

Qui-Gon's knees shook. This was not right. Jedi Kenobi—he's only injured. Not dead.

The Force did not lie. A rage swept over the Temple. An incredible howl echoed in its waves, dragging everyone in its despair. No, the Force didn't lie. A wound cut it open, leaving it to bleed and weep. The Force lost something precious. So did Qui-Gon.

A remorseful sigh distracted him. Master Yoda stood next to him, ears curled downward in deep regret and sympathy. Future or not, Jedi Kenobi was one of them. And, he died for the Jedi Order.

Master Windu whispered to Master Yoda. "The medical droids are here for the body."

That quickly? Qui-Gon spun around, spotting two droids that transported a medical capsule to carry away Jedi Kenobi. Qui-Gon's chest tightened. Too fast. Happening all too fast.

Master Yoda bowed his head in permission. Master Windu directed the droids to Anakin.

The two droids tweeted their response and zipped over to where Anakin still mourned over Jedi Kenobi's body. Qui-Gon watched with hesitation, not believing that droids should handle his old padawan's body. He frowned, scrutinizing as the droids drew closer to Anakin and Jedi Kenobi. Anakin lifted his gaze upon hearing the affirmative beeps from the droids. He glared at the oncoming droids, eyes burning as he muttered. Qui-Gon barely heard it. Anakin's voice was barely a whisper. Qui-Gon focused harder on Anakin as the young knight drew back his shoulders and raised his head.

"You will not take him," Anakin snarled, teeth gnashing as he spat his warning. "You will not take him!"

He screamed that last part, shooting at his hand to the droid. The droids had no chance. The one closest flew off its wheels. It crashed into the wall, shattering into rough pieces in one big eruption. The other droid halted in its procession, reconsidering orders when Anakin rose to his feet, igniting his lightsaber. The droid back-peddled, but it was too late. In one slash, Anakin ended the droid.

Anger contorted Anakin's once handsome features, twisting into a darkness that distorted his youthful appearance. Sheer madness deteriorated the young man's face. Darkness edged his eyes, a man full of uncontrollable rage. He zeroed in on the Jedi as if they were the enemy. Anakin stepped over Jedi Kenobi's body, pacing in front of it, guarding it as he eyed them with distrust and fiery hatred.

"You will not take him from me!"

The blast of anger nearly bowled Qui-Gon down again. The fire in Anakin's voice brokered no concession. The pain of loss blinded him. His grief devastating him to the point his control broke and all he knew was to lash out in despair. But the Councilors didn't see a grieving young man. They saw a dangerous Jedi, armed and threatening.

Qui-Gon caught the slight movement of Master Windu's hand reaching for his lightsaber. The Master of Vaapad was preparing for a fight. The other masters followed, drawing out their lightsabers. Only Qui-Gon and Master Yoda remained weaponless. The scene unfolded. The Force grew heavier. Darker. A great disturbance disrupted the peace and it led in a direction Qui-Gon did not like.

Anakin stood across, legs shoulder-width apart. A slight, feral growl passed on the young man's lips as he stood his ground, ready for action.

Time dwindled. In a matter of seconds, blades would strike and more casualties would pile on top of Jedi Kenobi. More destruction. More deaths. More darkness. Qui-Gon was adamant to not let that happen. Jedi Kenobi wouldn't have wanted that and Qui-Gon was sure as Sith's hells would not let his old padawan's death be used as a weapon for chaos. Qui-Gon needed to stop the Dark Side building in the room, a task he gladly accepted if it meant less suffering.

As the tension between Anakin and the Councilors heated, Qui-Gon stepped forward. "Anakin."

Anakin's vivid eyes shot to Qui-Gon and, immediately, his expression wavered. The fire in his eyes flickered, momentarily clearing of all hatred as he recognized Qui-Gon. "I won't let them take him!" he yelled, but his voice cracked as he spoke. Broken. Afraid.

Qui-Gon tentatively nodded, hands raised to show Anakin he meant no harm or tricks. "I know," he replied, softly. His eyes drifted from Anakin to Jedi Kenobi. "May I hold him?"

Anakin didn't slack in his defense. He eyed Qui-Gon, unsure if he was being genuine. Qui-Gon remained calmed, not wishing to spook Anakin into something everyone would regret. "Please, Anakin," he beseeched. "Let me hold my padawan."

Anakin looked down to Jedi Kenobi before returning his hurt gaze back to Qui-Gon. His cheeks shined from the tear tracks. The young Knight swallowed and tentatively, he nodded his permission. Qui-Gon breathed out a sigh of relief. He gestured for the remaining masters to not initiate anything. Best not to startle Anakin into lashing out while he's in close proximity. Not that he thought Anakin would kill him, but grief often blinded one's moral senses.

He approached the duo. The closer he got, the more heart wrenching it became. A pungent smell stung his nostrils. He followed the smell and his chest collapsed at the sight of the charcoaled hole in the middle of Jedi Kenobi's chest.

Qui-Gon collapsed on his knees. An unbearable pain twisted his guts as if he was tied to comet and burned in the stars. He forced himself to swallow the vomit rising up in his throat. For a split moment, he thought he died too. He never experienced such pain before. Not even when Xanatos betrayed him. Or even Tahl.

Jedi Kenobi looked at peace, almost like he was sleeping on the floor. But, the gaping, charcoaled hole in his chest told Qui-Gon otherwise.

It happened again. He lost another padawan to the Dark Side.

With an unsteady hand, Qui-Gon gently brushed back Jedi Kenobi's bangs. A few strands still fell across the Jedi's forehead. He brushed it one more time before his hand dropped to cup Jedi Kenobi's face. His thumb brushed along the cold cheek. No reaction. Not even a stir.

Obi-Wan Kenobi was dead and Qui-Gon felt the galaxy collapsing around him, the weight piling on top of his already weakened heart. He wanted to give up. To mourn over his dead padawan. But, as Qui-Gon choked back the rising tears, he remembered his last promise to Jedi Kenobi. He promised to look after Anakin if anything ever happened to Jedi Kenobi. He broke his first promise, but not the second. To keep his honor to his old padawan, he needed to be strong for Anakin.

He smothered his own anguish, swallowing back the tears. "We need to move him."

A shadow crossed over and Qui-Gon heard Anakin's haggard breath from his sobs. "He doesn't like the healers."

No. Neither Kenobis enjoyed the healers. "I know," Qui-Gon answered quietly. Barely above a whisper, but he knew Anakin heard. "But he cannot stay here, Anakin. Not here."

Carefully, Qui-Gon gathered Jedi Kenobi in his arms and rose to his feet. Jedi Kenobi's head fell against Qui-Gon's chest, his legs dangled over as the older Jedi Master adjusted the body. Jedi Kenobi was light. Lighter than he expected and yet, heavy all the same. Qui-Gon held tight, much tighter than he expected as he moved away from the center of the room. Jedi Kenobi didn't deserve to stay any longer in the room he died.

Anakin trailed him, not leaving his master's side. Qui-Gon didn't care. If Anakin hadn't followed, Qui-Gon was going to command him to follow anyway. He too did not deserve to stay in the destroyed dojo any longer.

As they passed Master Yoda, the old Jedi Master tilted his head in respect to Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon didn't return the gesture, too focused on keeping Anakin under control and wanting to get Jedi Kenobi away from the destruction.

But, before departure, he gave one last statement to the Jedi Masters. "I do not want word of this getting out," he said. "I cannot let my padawan know about this. Not yet."

Master Yoda nodded in agreement. "Secret, we will keep."

And, with their affirmation, Qui-Gon secretly carried Jedi Kenobi away from the scene of the crime with Anakin solemnly following.


Qui-Gon rested Jedi Kenobi's body in one of the Halls of Healing capsules. A healer checked in, doing the normal procedure, but Qui-Gon shooed her away. It was not the time. Anakin needed to be alone with him. They both did. Not knowing what else to do, Qui-Gon tucked Jedi Kenobi's body under the blanket. He didn't know why he did it. Thought it was the thing to do.

Anakin was shaking. Not in anger, but in devastation. His lips trembled, pressed tightly down to restrain any cries. He had been silent since they left the dojo. Not a single word passed his mouth. He left only tremors in the Force, a wake in his grief.

Qui-Gon thought best to leave Anakin alone with the body. Give him his final moments with the Jedi Kenobi. Qui-Gon needed to see the other Kenobi. The padawan living in the apartment, waiting for them to return.

He trudged back to the apartment. There was no one around him. Almost as if the Temple was deserted, everyone fleeing from Anakin's Force scream. Only thing left was Qui-Gon and the sadness that suffocated his heart. He dragged his feet up the staircase, thinking of how to relay the news to his padawan. How does one explain the death of a future incarnation?

He drew in an uneasy breath. He willed his mind to think of a way to ease into the conversation. Surely Obi-Wan sensed the dark rage, which flooded the Temple. The boy would know something terrible happened. Questions would be asked and Qui-Gon must be ready with answers. No matter how sharp the pangs in his chest were.

The corridor was quiet. Not a single sound. That was expected, considering all the Councilors were dealing with the aftermath of the duel. Qui-Gon's job was to inform his padawan.

He arrived at the apartment, entering to find Master Dralig sitting nervously on the couch. It was unlike the master duelist to jiggle his legs in rapid fire. His eyes round as he fixated on the wall ahead of him until Qui-Gon distracted him.

Master Dralig promptly rose up from his seat and headed over to meet Qui-Gon. "What happened?" he asked, stressed lines embedded deep in his skin. He too must have sensed the despair in the Force. "I never felt so much power in my life. Is everything alright?"

Qui-Gon shook his head. "No," his voice croaked. "No, it's not."

Dralig blinked, unsure what to do with that answer. "What does the Council—"

"I can't, Cin. I can't," Qui-Gon searched the apartment's common space. He didn't see Obi-Wan anywhere. "Where's my padawan? Is he here? Is he safe? Where—"

"He's in the bedroom," Master Dralig answered, nudging to the corridor. "I didn't know what to do. He freaked out when the Force split open. Couldn't get him to settle down. Had to use a bit of drastic measures, but…"

Qui-Gon stopped listening and ran down the corridor to the bedroom. He burst through the door and found Obi-Wan tuckered out, asleep on the bed. Blissfully unaware and innocent of the world around him.

He was asleep. Safe. Alive.

Dralig came up from behind. "I may have overdone it," he said to Qui-Gon to explain the reasoning for the padawan's state. "He should wake up in a few hours or so."

Qui-Gon nodded, too thankful upon seeing his padawan alive to really care that Dralig used a strong Force-suggestive sleep on him. He backed out of the room and closed the door, deciding it would be better to wait when Obi-Wan woke up naturally.

"Thank you Cin," Qui-Gon said. "You have my deepest gratitude."

Dralig bowed. "If you need anything else," he said, turning away to the front door. He paused. "Qui-Gon? I am sorry for whatever happened tonight."

Qui-Gon weakly nodded. "Thank you."

Cin Dralig exited and Qui-Gon locked the door. When the click resounded, Qui-Gon's legs broke and he fell against the door. All alone, he unloaded the torrent of sorrow. Tears exploded. A burst of sobbing wails overcame him. Qui-Gon collapsed his head in his hands. Every single memory of Jedi Kenobi came rushing at him and each flash of image knotted his heart tighter and tighter until his chest could no longer bear the agony.

He wept, burying his head in his arms as he sobbed over the loss of Jedi Kenobi. He never got to say goodbye. His last moment with his old padawan was a fight. An argument. Jedi Kenobi yelled at him and left. Left for good.

He stayed on the floor for a long moment until he felt strong enough to get up. He came shakily to his feet. Still in disbelief, he ghosted to the end of the corridor and opened the door. Obi-Wan laid deep asleep, spared of the unfathomable misery Qui-Gon endured. His padawan looked like Jedi Kenobi. Not a surprise. They were the same person after all.

Except Obi-Wan didn't have a lightsaber burn through his chest.

Qui-Gon caressed his padawan's cheek. It was warm. Much different than Jedi Kenobi's cold touch. Soft breaths tickled the tips of his fingers. A good sign of life. Qui-Gon exhaled as he tucked his padawan underneath the blanket. Obi-Wan didn't react. Too deep in his subconscious to be aware of Qui-Gon's somber presence.

Looking over him one more time, Qui-Gon retreated from the room, lights out. He returned to the common space, spying the couch and cot. He needed to call the quartermaster to remove the cot. They… they no longer needed it.

A bell chime resounded around the common space. The bell surprised him. He wasn't expecting any visitors. Unless it was the Council requesting his presence. Master Yoda warned him that they would call upon him after their initial investigation. How did they finish so quickly?

He dried off his face with the ends of his sleeves as he swept over to the door to unlock it. The door whished open. Qui-Gon froze.

"Hello, Qui-Gon."


Yoda leaned heavily against his gimer stick. Saddened, he was by the death of Master Kenobi. The final gasp of life from Kenobi left a streak of darkness in the skies of Coruscant. The Dark Side claimed a victory. It rampaged through the Force, the light scurrying away from the shadows that smothered it.

Of all his long years, never had a single death of a Jedi gave him a profound affect as Master Kenobi. He didn't know Master Kenobi well. Not like Skywalker or Qui-Gon did. But, he knew of the padawan. Yoda enjoyed his times with the young padawan, sensing a great importance within him, long before the arrival of his time-traveler self. Despite the initial headstrong behaviors the boy displayed, Yoda saw the true nature of young Kenobi's personality. A boy riddled with self-doubt, but deep compassion and grit. Traits Yoda admired and hoped to cultivate toward Kenobi becoming the Grandmaster after his demise.

It shook Yoda to see Kenobi inside the capsule, preserved before cremation. Skywalker stood sat beside it, huddled in his seat in blind pain. Yoda was sympathetic to the young man. The two of them had the strongest Force bond to walk the halls of the Temple. Probably even recorded in history. To have one half be ripped away in a gruesome manner only left deep scars and bleeding wounds in the Force.

Yoda's ears turned downward, a small shake of his head. Skywalker was in mourning, just as much as the Force. Grief drew the Dark Side. It festered in the air, circling over their heads ready to strike and force them to succumb under its suffering. Yoda saw the signs. He sensed the monster brewing inside Skywalker. The rage. The grief. The suffering. It all circled him, consuming him to a point of a possible no return.

If Yoda ever cared about Kenobi, then he could at least do one thing to honor the Jedi. Yoda stepped into the room. Skywalker didn't even look his way. Eyes straight on Kenobi's blank face.

Yoda rested his hands on top of his gimer stick. "Miss him, I will," he started, looking from Kenobi to Skywalker. "A good Jedi, he was."

"A better friend," came Skywalker's faint response.

He hummed in agreement. "Doubt that, I do not," he said. "Your better half, he was. Just as you were his."

That got Skywalker to look up. Yoda saw the rawness in Skywalker's eyes. Red, blotchy and full of pain. The young Jedi looked worse than Kenobi. "Lost you feel."

Skywalker only flipped his eyebrows up in an obvious response.

While not appreciating the knight's impetuous gesture, Yoda decided to not reprimand him at the moment. "Death is a natural part of life."

"This is not natural!" Skywalker snapped. "This is murder!"

"Yes, but death nonetheless it is," Yoda reminded him. "Master Kenobi would want you to mourn for him not. Not in this destructive manner."

Skywalker sneered. "What do you know?" he challenged, pushing out of the chair. The pain contorting into an undisguised monster. "You don't know him. I do! I knew him best!"

"Challenge this, I did not," Yoda said, calmed as to not further push Skywalker down the wrong path.

"No, but you're making assumptions," Skywalker accused, pacing the room. "He was my master! My friend!"

"Doubt that, I do not," he assured Skywalker, attempting to calm the knight down from his bubbling rage. "A Jedi, Kenobi is. Trained you as a Jedi, he did. A Jedi knows to not let grief cloud their judgment."

"I don't care about being a Jedi!"

The room went quiet. The declaration hung in the air like a bad omen. Fear wounded the young knight. Suffering antagonized him, forcing the wound to keep bleeding forever. It spilled into the Force, leaving a black mark in the shroud folding over the planet, over the Temple. Skywalker's face crumbled, fresh tears trickling out the corners of his eyes as he collapsed back on the chair, twisting in the entangled agony.

The knight needed be saved. Yoda stepped up. "If you don't care," he continued, "then forgo Obi-Wan, you truly have."

That got the gut reaction Yoda expected. Skywalker's eyes snapped open. A scowl formed on his trembled mouth. "I would never—"

"You are his legacy, are you not? His padawan? Half of his life, instructing you in everything he knew he spent. ," Yoda listed off. "If you care not about being a Jedi, then you care not for what Kenobi did for you. Yes, hmmm."

A spasm of pain rippled across Skywalker's face as he recoiled at Yoda's comment. "I-I… don't… I didn't say—"

"Acting like it, you are," Yoda interrupted. "Of the Force, Kenobi instructed you in the ways. His time and life on you, invested. Succumb to such dark urges only insults his memory."

Skywalker curled in on himself. He looked from Yoda to Kenobi, eyes softening at his master. His lips trembled again, hand reaching out to touch the glass. It rested there for a moment and Yoda sensed a shift in the Force, all drawing to that one touch.

He waited, observing the moment. He wondered what it was Skywalker was doing. He had a few theories, but none of them seem probable. It couldn't happen.

After a short moment, Skywalker dropped his hand. He numbly nodded. "Yes, Master."

Yoda reached over and laid his claw hand on Skywalker's kneecap. "To honor his teaching, let go of him, you must," he comforted. "Rejoice that, one with the Force, is he."

"Yes, Master." Skywalker's voice sounded flat. Unemotional. Yoda didn't believe Skywalker's words. Not now, at least. Maybe one day.

Placated by his response for the moment, Yoda slipped his claw away and moved to the door. "Good. Move on, we need to," he said. "Take the body, the healers must. For a proper cremation."

Skywalker's Force signature stirred, arising from the embers in shock and mortification. Yoda knew the young knight would never be ready, but it needed to be done. One last respect to the Jedi Master. Kenobi deserved it.

"Come," Yoda gestured the knight. "Finish what Kenobi started, we must."

Skywalker flickered a worried gaze to Kenobi. Fear blossomed in those blue eyes. Goodbyes were hard, Yoda knew. But goodbyes were necessary to move forward in life. One must walk on their own or else be pushed.

Yoda worried he may have to push Skywalker, but the young knight unsteadily rose to his knees. He unlocked the capsule and the lid slid off, exposing Kenobi to the air. Skywalker reached for Kenobi's hands, holding them briefly before placing them on top of his chest. Yoda relaxed. Skywalker was giving him a final goodbye.

Skywalker's face hardened, eyes wild. "Where is it?" he cried, searching Kenobi's body for something. "Where is his lightsaber?"

Yoda blinked. He checked the utility belt around Kenobi's waist. There was no lightsaber.

The Force tensed again, eruption brewing in the thickness of the flow of the Force. "Bastard!" Anakin spat. "He stole it! That sick, murderous scum!"

Yoda's ears stuck up, appalled by the foul language. But not as appalled by the bulging Force strength in the room. Yoda watched as the objects around the room rose, reacting to Skywalker's rising temper. Even Yoda felt the effects. A pinch in his side, a tremor along his bones in rejection at the soiled presence.

Yoda tightened his grip on his gimer stick and slammed it on the floor. "Control yourself, Skywalker!"

A sharp inhale and all the objects under Skywalker's unconscious control clattered in surrender. Including Yoda's own heart. He fell against his gimer stick, taking in deep breaths to regain equilibrium. Lifting his gaze, he spotted Skywalker rooted to the floor, breath ragged and eyes burned in wild emotion.

There were times Yoda wished he was not right. He warned Qui-Gon Jinn that together, the galaxy would be saved. Apart, the galaxy would fall into darkness. And today, at that very moment, Yoda got a taste of what would happen if they fail.

Skywalker looked to him. A spasm of pain rippled across his face, eyes dying in light of the discovery. Skywalker appeared more in need of the healers than Kenobi. He doubted Skywalker would accept any healer's help.

He needed Skywalker to be away from Kenobi. The first step in his path toward recovery. He reached his claw to Skywalker. "Come, Skywalker," he said. "Been wasted here, too much time has. Do for the dead, no more we can."

A blur in the young knight's eyes as he flickered from Kenobi to Yoda. He swallowed his anger, regaining his strength to fight of the Dark Side's grip around him. Yoda watched the young knight untangled himself from its dark vines, freeing himself, but the vines latched to his feet as Skywalker dragged himself to the door to join Yoda.

Yoda relaxed again, satisfied to reach an agreement with Skywalker. It would be a slow process, but Yoda believed Skywalker would heal. After all, young Kenobi was still alive. As long as the padawan was alive, the Light would survive. Happiness would return. And Master Kenobi would live again.


"Are you going to let me in?"

Master Dooku was the last person Qui-Gon expected to be at his door. It took him a great deal to keep his wits together and sadness at bay for Master Dooku strongly disapproved of indulging emotions and Qui-Gon did not wish to be lectured. Not now.

Numbly, Qui-Gon stepped aside and granted Master Dooku entrance to the small apartment. Master Dooku stepped over the threshold, eyes critically reviewing the home with irk of condemnation. Some things never change. After all these years, Master Dooku remained severely the same. Austere, proud and a hint of condescension as he maneuvered his way around the small, meager apartment.

Qui-Gon hurried to distract his former master. "You look well, Master," he observed, despite the subtle hints that age caught up to him. Dooku's hair was whiter than last time and lines drew more intense around his eyes and mouth. Stress of his last mission must have brought on the elder years of his master. "I must admit I am surprised to see you. I had thought you to be in the Outer Rims."

Master Dooku arched a brow to him, clasping his hands together in perfect posture. "I was until I received news of my old padawan being stalked by a Sith."

Qui-Gon's veins struck cold. News of the Sith Lord's emergence was carefully concealed. No one outside his padawans and the Council were aware of the return of their ancient enemy. And yet, his master managed to shock him by the revelation. It shouldn't have. His former master contained a variety of connections and ears to every communication channel. He missed nothing.

That meant someone within the circle leaked to Dooku and only one person came to his mind. "I see Sifo-Dyas and you still talk," Qui-Gon commented, moving around the table to keep a short distance from his master. "He should not have told you."

"He was smart enough to confide in me," Master Dooku countered, imperturbable as always. "I came here immediately to offer my assistance, but it appears I am too late. I was told the Sith killed another Jedi."

Not another Jedi. It was his padawan. Older padawan, but his padawan nonetheless. Age and time meant nothing. Obi-Wan Kenobi was his padawan. And, he was murdered.

Qui-Gon nodded, not trusting himself to keep his emotions in check if he spoke. Unfortunately, his former master noticed. "You were well acquainted with the Jedi?"

"He's—was—a good friend," Qui-Gon said. It appeared Sifo-Dyas at least did not blab about Anakin and Jedi Kenobi to his former master.

Qui-Gon turned away from his master, meandering to the common space. Eyes fixed on the thin carpet near the couch. A memory popped into his mind. He recalled a time when Jedi Kenobi flipped the couch to wake Anakin before Anakin turned around to tackle him. It didn't happen in this particular apartment, but the memory came alive to him. He pictured Jedi Kenobi wrestling Anakin right by his feet, both with laugh lines and smirks on their faces.

A soft breath of a voice reminded Qui-Gon that he was not alone. "I am sorry for your loss," Master Dooku said, soberly enough to make Qui-Gon mull over if his master meant it or just saying it out of protocol. "He must have been remarkable to make you cry. Did I know him?"

Qui-Gon shook his head. "No."

"Are you sure?"

Qui-Gon reaffirmed with a nod. "He never mentioned you to me."

His master accepted the response with a slight incline of his head. His boots swept quietly over the thin carpet, almost as if he glided into the common space. He stared, quizzical at the sight of the cot. "Is this where you make your young padawan sleep?"

"No, it was a, um, mistake," Qui-Gon blundered in his attempt to cover up the two time-traveling Jedi's existence. "The quartermaster messed up. Delivered it to the wrong apartment."

Master Dooku waved his hand and the cot slid to the opposite side to nestle against the wall. He pulled on his cloak, moving it aside as it fell fluidly onto the couch when he sat.

"Where is your padawan?" he inquired, dark eyes searching the apartment. "Off smuggling street pups into the Temple?"

Qui-Gon knew he meant it as a joke, but he could not get himself to smile. Not even a little grin. "Contrary to your belief, Master," he said as he took a seat beside Dooku, "my lifestyle has yet to influence his. Nor do I think it ever will. He is far too independent-minded and sometimes, has an intractable temperament."

"Ah," Master Dooku remarked, somewhat amused by the admission. "I now see why Master Yoda praises him then. And perhaps forced him upon you."

"He was of my own choosing," Qui-Gon insisted, not appreciating the jab in regards to his padawan. "Master Yoda may have presented him to me, but I made the choice."

"Yes, well, be as it may, I only heard good things about him. I've been hoping to meet him one day." Dooku's black eyes scanned the apartment, but Qui-Gon knew he was searching for Obi-Wan. "Where is young Kenobi? Is he around? Or is he away as you like to claim?"

Qui-Gon restrained the nervous flicker inside him. "He's asleep," he told his old master. "Drained from everything that has happened."

"He knew the Jedi as well?"

Qui-Gon nodded. "They were… friendly to one another."

Master Dooku plucked up a silver brow. "Interesting," he murmured, a didactic hum in his meditative pause. "You do allow your padawan to engage with others then?"

A Makashi strike against Qui-Gon's tranquility. He inhaled sharply to repress any reaction. "Of course," he said. "He's not a prisoner. He may talk to whoever he wishes."

"Unless you deem them dangerous."

"You think I hold you in low regard, Master?"

Dooku leaned back on the couch, not making eye contact. "I'm aware you harbor a grudge," he plainly spoke to ensure his words were not misinterpreted. "As for what for? I have a few theories. Most of them involving your former padawan, Xanatos"

Qui-Gon closed his hands on his knees. "I have nothing against you."

"Then why do you keep me away from your latest stray?"

"I am not keeping him away," Qui-Gon asserted. "The past year has been busy. Particularly for Obi-Wan. He's got a lot on his plate at the moment."

"If he is looking for guidance, I am more than happy to bestow some wisdom to the boy," Dooku said, meaningful in his offer. "After all, it would be embarrassing to lose another bright padawan."

Qui-Gon regretted letting his master enter the apartment. "Obi-Wan is fine," he said in icy rigidity. "I have great faith in his capabilities."

Dooku lifted a silver brow. "Why… is that bitterness I sense?" he said before dismissing Qui-Gon hurt feelings aside. "Relax, Qui-Gon. I doubt Kenobi is anything like Xanatos. Based off Yoda's report, it appears Obi-Wan is on track to become a great addition to the Order."

"Yes, he will be." Qui-Gon swore to ensure Obi-Wan reached his full potential.

"Which is why I am most interested in meeting him," Dooku continued, turning away from Qui-Gon. His gaze fell about the room. "I am intrigued to meet the boy who pulled you out of your rut after that fiasco with Xanatos."

A muscle in Qui-Gon's jaw twitched. Nothing, it appeared, would deter Dooku. Qui-Gon had an underlying suspicion that Dooku only visited for this reason. For months, his old master was eager to meet his padawan, constantly asking after him. Dooku always held interests in his padawans, analyzing them to determine their worth. His master was particular about who joined their lineage. His vetting process was something left to be desired. He recalled the generous amount of time Dooku spent with his former padawan before his dark turn and Qui-Gon had no interests in exposing Obi-Wan to such influences.

"Perhaps at another time?" Qui-Gon offered, hoping his statement propitiated Dooku for the moment, "When things are not quite as hectic."

Dooku heaved a disappointing sigh. "Another dismissal," he remarked. "Do you truly find me dangerous?"

Yes, Qui-Gon truthfully thought. Dooku inclination to control all matters, including those in his lineage, rubbed Qui-Gon the wrong way. He thought it would be better to keep Obi-Wan away from all that, let him grow in a healthier space and spread his wings properly rather than be clipped down by Dooku's influences and manipulations.

Qui-Gon was spared from answering when a beep interrupted them. It gave the two occupants pause. Another chirp echoed the room, demanding attention after being ignored. Qui-Gon exhaled out his nose and dug his hand deep in his pocket to retrieve his comlink. He slid it on, "Jinn speaking."

"The Council requests your immediate presence, Master Jinn," came the voice of the padawan on secretary duty.

For the first time in history, Qui-Gon was thankful to be called in by the High Council. "We'll be there soon," he replied, switching off and returning the comlink in his pocket. "I'm afraid I am needed, Master." Qui-Gon rose off the couch. "As always, Master, our time together was eventful. If you excuse me, I need to wake my padawan and be on our way."

"Why wake the padawan?" Master Dooku queried. "The Council did not request his presence,"

"I am afraid I cannot leave him unattended," Qui-Gon said, heading to the bedroom. "Not with the Sith lurking nearby."

"I can watch him for you."

Qui-Gon stopped. "Are you offering to babysit?"

Master Dooku rumbled a dark chuckle. "Don't get too overexcited, Qui-Gon. It's not like your padawan is in the crèche. I am quite capable of dealing with the youth. Even the indocile ones."

A deep cold filled the pit of his stomach. "That's all right, master," Qui-Gon reassured him. "I don't wish to burden you with Obi-Wan."

"Nonsense," Dooku said, rising to his own feet as his dark cloak swayed behind him like a silky waterfall. "He will not be a burden at all. He's asleep anyway. What trouble could he bring?"

Obi-Wan was not the trouble Qui-Gon feared. "Master—"

"Qui-Gon," Dooku said in a tone that silenced Qui-Gon to listen. "I am very capable of handling a young padawan on my own. I have the gray hairs to prove it. Most from you. Now—if you do not find me capable of watching a sleeping padawan, then please inform me now. I may even join you at the Council Chamber to tell them I am no longer fit to be a Jedi."

"No, master… that's not… that's not what I mean," Qui-Gon corrected himself as to not insult his respected, celebrated master. "I know you are quite capable in looking after Obi-Wan."

"Good. It's settled," Dooku declared, ending all possible objections. "You attend the Council meeting. I shall keep guard here."

In the very end, Qui-Gon lost the battle to his old master. Out maneuvered and now forced to leave his padawan behind. Qui-Gon feigned gratitude. "Thank you master," he said, averting his direction to the door. "If he wakes, please contact me. I need to speak to him first. About the whole—"

"I will alert you if he wakes," his old master vowed. "Now, you best be going or else Mace will burst a blood vessel or Master Yoda may die of old age."

Qui-Gon took one last look to the bedroom. Obi-Wan presence was alight, burning in the Force. Alive! Qui-Gon let out a shudder of breath. As long as Obi-Wan remained asleep, he'll be protected from Dooku's interrogation. Comforted by that knowledge, Qui-Gon departed, giving last minute security instructions to Master Dooku.

"You have my word," Dooku said as Qui-Gon bent his tall frame under the doorway out into the large corridor, "I'll take care of him in your absence."

Dooku's promise didn't provide the same level of comfort as whenever he left Obi-Wan with Master Yoda. Not that he believed Dooku would allow harm come to pass onto his padawan. Dooku, despite his strict structures and teaching methods, would not purposefully inflict harm. His padawan was in the safest hands at the moment. Dooku was a skilled duelist. One of the Jedi's finest. He would be safe in his care until Qui-Gon returned.

Qui-Gon arrived in the Council Chamber. The majority of the Council members were already seated. Only a few stragglers were standing in small circles, speaking in low whispers. Qui-Gon walked further into the circular chamber and immediately spotted Anakin sitting in an added chair. There were two seats next to him, empty. One for him and the other for Obi-Wan. He begrudged himself, knowing he should have tagged his padawan along despite his unconscious state.

The Councilors saw him entered and dispersed, returning to their prestigious chairs as Qui-Gon took a seat beside Anakin. The young knight peered around his large frame, hoping to see another trailing behind him. When no one followed after him, Anakin's eyes alit in apprehension. "Where's the padawan?"

"At the apartment," Qui-Gon whispered. "He's fine. I have someone looking after him."

Before Anakin pressed for more details, Master Yoda brought the room to an attention. "Another Jedi lost today," he gravely announced and Qui-Gon's throat constrict in reaction. "Too close was the Sith tonight. Needed, a new strategy to end the reign of terror."

All around, heads nodded and murmurs approved. No more waiting for the next strike. The Order was going to take the offense. But as Qui-Gon listened in to the Council debate and go over the evidence they found, Qui-Gon sadly noted that their efforts were still too late.


Anakin sat with his head in his hands. Voices murmured around him, but he didn't pay attention. His mind was too distraught to even discuss anything else. All he focused on was Obi-Wan. How did it come to this? One moment, they goofed around, playing with their lightsabers. They each won a round, going onto the third to break the tie. Anakin teased Obi-Wan on his age again. Obi-Wan cheeked back his own remark. They both smiled, happy to be on the same footing after years of secrecy and miscommunication. No more hiding. Open and accepted.

And then, everything happened too damn quickly. The padawan arrived. Followed by Dooku. It was a mess. Running, battling, dodging pillars, blast and doors. There was pain. Lots of pain. Then, at the end, death.

Obi-Wan's death.

In the back of his head, a voice whispered hopes of Obi-Wan's resurrection. Death never stuck to his old master and Anakin clung to that string of hope that his master would make another miraculous return from the dead. He reached for his old master, searching for that familiar Force presence. All he received in return was an empty chasm. No warmth. No gold light. No comfort. Nothing. He felt nothing in return.

Upon his arrival to the Council Chamber with Master Yoda, all eyes swept to him, judging and scolding him through their intense, unnerved gazes. No pity or sympathy. Nothing of the sort. Only distrust. His slip of control became common knowledge among the circle of Jedi Masters. No one asked him questions. Or even his opinion. They ignored him. Like they usually did.

Anakin kept his eyes fixed on the floor, not daring to look up in case he made eye contact with any of the Councilors. No interest in their brand of wary and accusation. Instead, he retreated into his numb mind. Thoughts raced wildly, unable to catch a single one and hold onto it. Most were of Obi-Wan during their years as Master-Apprentice. Young face morphing into the old geezer Anakin teased constantly. Their bickers, smiles, life-threatening adventures and peaceful moments crushed Anakin's heart when his thoughts bleakly turned to that moment. He slammed his eyes shut, doing his best to burn away the image of Obi-Wan's last moment.

"Anak—"

Anakin sucked in a breath. Guilt poisoned him, wringing his gut in painful knots. All he thought was how he should not have abandoned Obi-Wan. He should have told the padawan to run while he joined in the fight against Dooku. Why did he run? Why did he leave Obi-Wan to his death?

Because he asked you to, came the voice of reason.

Anakin's lungs deflated in one long release. Obi-Wan ordered him to get the padawan to safety. Anakin did. He saved the padawan from Dooku. But at what cost? The boy could have run on his own. He didn't need Anakin to carry him to safety. Padawan Kenobi was capable of escaping on his own, freeing Anakin to assist Obi-Wan. If he only stayed behind, Obi-Wan would be alive and...

His fingers curled over the locks of his hair. Obi-Wan would have told him to stop dwelling on it. It happened. It's in the past. Nothing can be changed. But, Anakin desperately wanted it to change. To go back and right his wrong. All of his wrongs.

He wished to speak to Obi-Wan. Or even Padme. They would know what to say. Obi-Wan would offer guidance, help clear his head. Padme would hold him, soothe his pain away with encouragement and heart. Anakin curled onto himself, fingers digging into the muscles of his arm. Where were they? When he needed them the most, they were far out of his reach. Gone. Away. And he… all alone.

Lost and hopeless, he reached out to the Force for one last moment of comfort. Straining himself to find any remnant of his master. The waves of the Force parted for him, ebbing away from his signature as it led him down a stretch of silence. Nothing.

Anakin closed his connection when a spark fluttered in the darkness. He perked, heart racing as he reached for the light again. Warm, but barely glowing. Could it be? Did his master have a trick up his sleeve?

Hope filled him as he touched the light. A renewed sense of relief washed over as he recognized that familiar presence. It didn't belong to Obi-Wan. It was the padawan. He was stirring, coming alive to answer Anakin's call.

Anakin immediately pulled back, removing himself and returning to the present moment. A shiver ran up his spine and he shuddered to throw it off. He was disappointed. It wasn't Obi-Wan. Only the padawan. He hoped… it didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Obi-Wan was gone. Dead.

Only the padawan was left. Not even Obi-Wan's lightsaber was spared. Taken by that accursed Count Dooku. Padawan Kenobi was all Anakin had of his old master.

"We should bring him in," came Master Windu's baritone voice. His voice always had a way to grate on Anakin's nerves. "His insight on the matter will be beneficial."

"There is no need," replied Qui-Gon, his voice was the only one that soothed Anakin's angst. "He already arrived this evening. He's with my padawan."

A stirring in the Force threw Anakin in disarray. Spinning him around as he popped up to breathe. He looked around the Council, eyes following the circled members as they kept discussing without him.

Master Windu looked at Qui-Gon. "I wasn't aware he returned," he said. "In that case, the Shadows should fill him in on what has occurred. Unless, you would prefer to do it?"

Qui-Gon shook his head. "We need a bit more time," he said, casting a sorrowful glance to Anakin. Their eyes met and Anakin dropped his gaze, unable to look at those eyes of pity. He heard Qui-Gon sigh. "It would be better if Master Dooku spoke to the Shadows first."

Anakin flipped back up. Head snapped to Qui-Gon. "What did you just say?"

Qui-Gon, startled by Anakin's sharp reaction, blinked. "Um, my old master," he stuttered to explain, "I suggest he gets his information from the Shadows first."

"No… before that," Anakin said, his mind regrouping as he piled in all the information he overheard. "You said 'He's with my padawan.' Who's with the padawan?"

Qui-Gon's brows knitted in confusion at Anakin's questioning, but obliged him. "My former master," he answered. "Yan Dooku. He offered to watch—Anakin?"

Anakin shot up from his seat and bolted for the doors.