Chapter 53: And It All Ends Here

Dooku waited.

Once he knew Qui-Gon was out of range, he gently unwound the padawan's sleep suggestion, guiding the boy out of his subconscious to the waking reality. The boy was as Qui-Gon described. Strong-willed and powerful in the Force. The padawan refused to be ripped up from the Force's embrace. Or, maybe, the Force refused to let him be taken. In either case, Dooku exerted more power until he sensed the young padawan stirring awake.

Pitter-patter of feet fell against soft carpet, inching closer to where Dooku stood in wait. Minutes ticked by before a bed-headed appearance of a young boy came into sight.

Obi-Wan Kenobi was smaller than Dooku expected. He had yet to reach full puberty, still morphing out of his baby fat to shape into the more angular form Dooku was familiar with. Auburn hair was redder than usual. Perhaps it always was that red until he became master to Skywalker. Blue-green eyes hooded from weariness, but widened at once when spotting Dooku in the middle of the common room. The boy halted in his procession.

"Who are you?"

The corner of Dooku's mouth twitched in repugnance at the boy's suspicion. "Qui-Gon failed to instill manners in you," he remarked, which garnered a subtle reaction from the boy. He swept his cloak aside, pulling himself up to tower the padawan. "I am your grandmaster."

The boy's brows knitted in mistrust. "Master Yoda is Grandmaster."

Another muscle twitched in Dooku's jaw as he reined in his frustration at the boy's temperament and his already dying loyalty to that troll. "Master Yoda is the Grandmaster of the Order," he clarified, meandering closer to Kenobi. His eyes never left the padawan. "I am the grandmaster of our lineage. I'm Master Dooku, the master of Qui-Gon Jinn."

The padawan tensed up, feet rooted to the floor as his checks turned velvet. It appeared the boy recognized his name and stature within the Order. The padawan shook away the last vestiges of his sleep, becoming alert and proper like any normal padawan. "My deepest apologies, Master Dooku," he bowed deeply, his nose almost touching his knees. "I meant no offense."

Dooku swept the apology aside with a tolerant hand gesture. "Forgiven."

Kenobi's eyes raked the apartment. "Where is Master Qui-Gon?"

"He was called away by the Council."

Kenobi stiffened. "Is everyone okay? Do you know what happened? Did he say anything?" the padawan queried, his words as stressed as his face. Kenobi glanced to the door. "Should I be there? I should be there—"

"If you were wanted," Dooku said to the boy. "I'm sure you would be there now."

The words slapped Kenobi in the face. Rejection reeked from the boy. The boy's pride was wounded and his shoulders slumped in hurt. His composure slipped and only the youthful reminisce of an abandoned initiate remained.

"Of course," the padawan finally uttered. "My presence isn't essential in the Council's dealings."

"That is certainly true," Dooku agreed, "nor are many others. Only the trouble-makers."

That earned Dooku a tiny, humored smirk from the padawan. "That explains Qui-Gon's constant appearances."

"Indeed," Dooku responded before he crooked a finger to the boy. "Come closer. I want a better look at my grandpadawan."

The boy obeyed and stopped right in front of him. Kenobi peered up in wonderment and fear. Dooku couldn't stop the raptor-like grin from spreading on his face. He narrowed his eyes, mentally cutting into the padawan. At first, the boy resisted. His face scrunched upon impact, building a strong shield along his mind that nearly blended in with the Force itself. It appeared his instructions with Yoda have yielded results.

However, Dooku was stronger. He pierced through the boy's shield. Delicate as to not make Kenobi flare up in distress, he shuffled around the boy's head. He saw all that he expected. Memories of his past and emotions tied to such moments. Most contained of Qui-Gon, followed by his interactions with Skywalker and his older counterpart. Strong emotions tethered him to those three individuals. A knot well done only to be snipped soon enough. Pointless. Sentimentally only weakened one's resolve to do what must be done.

He pulled out of the padawan's mind. "You are particularly strong in the Force," Dooku appraised. "I see now why Qui-Gon wanted you as his padawan. You show great promise."

The reaction was perfect. The boy humbly lowered his head. "Thank you, Master," he said. "I do the best to my abilities."

"And your abilities far exceed those of your generation," Dooku commented taking a seat on the couch and offering the padawan to sit beside him. "Tell me, what is my old padawan teaching you these days?"

Obi-Wan listed off his subjects and the fighting forms Qui-Gon was teaching him. Apparently, Qui-Gon still favored Ataru despite its deficits that would eventually lead the man to his demise. Dooku hummed when he favored certain parts of Obi-Wan's training. He was pleased to hear that Qui-Gon passed on a few valuable lessons that he taught him. Ones the Order found to be unorthodox, but nonetheless, good tricks to have up one's sleeves when needed.

"I've been learning Soresu as well," Obi-Wan added onto his list of instructions.

"I thought Qui-Gon was training you in Ataru?"

"He is, but..." the boy paused, thinking over whether he should release a secret Dooku already knew.

Dooku spared him from the decision to lie. "I am aware of the two knights who are staying with you," he said as Kenobi reeled upon the revelation of the knowledge. "Is one of them teaching you another form?"

Kenobi carefully nodded. "Yes, Master Ben thinks it is a good idea to learn different forms."

Master Ben. That was the alias Master Kenobi decided to use. Interesting name. He had no recollection of him ever using it, but it must have some significance considering it was a name he needed to answer to. Whatever the significance was, it died with the man. The image of Kenobi, gutted and tormented, flared in the back of his mind, but it evaporated in a single thought. He gave Kenobi all those chances to back away. He didn't. It had now come to this.

Dooku studied the boy for a moment. "Have you ever considered Makashi?"

The padawan shook his head. That was not surprising. Qui-Gon wouldn't teach or encourage his padawan of a form related to him.

Dooku, however, didn't digress from the matter. "No? How disappointing. Makashi is a form of precision and elegance. Only wielded by true swordsmen. Once mastered, you have no need to learn the others."

The padawan grew interested. "Why doesn't the Order emphasize on the form?"

"It, unfortunately, faded into relative obsolete when people prefer to cowardly fight with blasters than face one's opponent equally," Dooku commented. "It also requires a great deal of fortitude that many younglings fail to obtain. They rely too much on their strength rather than precision." He took a pregnant pause. "I believe the form would suit you and your talents."

"It would?"

Already enticed. It was all too easy. "Would you like me to show you?"

The boy then hesitated. "I think it may be best that I wait for Master Qui-Gon's permission."

Dooku was not easily dismissed. "Nonsense," he said. "You are a man of your own mind and choices, correct?"

"Yes, but—"

"Then you can make your own decisions," Dooku concluded, getting up from his seat. "Tell me, young one, how often are you allowed to make decisions?"

The boy contemplated. "Um... well, loads of times."

"So—you decided to learn Ataru and Soresu?"

"Well," Kenobi started. "I mean, I wanted to learn them."

"And does the Council ever consider your opinions?"

Dooku watched the boy squirm, eyes shifting. Kenobi scratched the back of his neck. "Not… always. I mean, they are wiser than I am," the boy expectantly defended the content Council. "I still have much to learn."

Dooku chortled at the boy's weak reasoning. "Indeed you do if you believe in such lies."

Kenobi became indignant. "It's not a lie!" he argued. "The Council is full of experienced and respected members of the Order. They know what's best!"

"They know what is easy," Dooku said. "They are assisting in the deterioration of not only the Republic, but the Order as well. Twenty years from now, all of it will be gone because of their failure to take action." He watched self-doubt settle within Kenobi, eyebrows knitted as he mulled over such accusations. "Padawan, listen carefully—"

A ring at the door rudely interrupted Dooku's speech. The boy's attention diverted away, looking over his shoulder to the sealed door. Dooku narrowed, not pleased by the interruption.

The young padawan excused himself. "I'll answer it, Master."

He moved away from Dooku as the Sith Lord, reached for his blade at his belt. Kenobi stood on his toes and checked the peep-hole. His hand reached down the keypad and unlocked the door.

Dooku nearly lifted the lightsaber off his belt when he spotted a senior padawan standing on the other side of the door. He held a large box, peaking over it to look at Kenobi. "Thank the Force I got the right apartment!" the senior padawan said, relieved. "I was ordered to return these items to Jinn and Kenobi."

Dooku relaxed, letting the lightsaber slip back onto its hook. The senior padawan passed off the heavy box to Kenobi with haste and parted with a swift goodbye. Kenobi closed the door and Dooku heard it automatically lock.

Kenobi carried the box to the table, looking inside with interest. He lifted a few things out, checking out the objects. His mouth thinned in concentration, pondering what it all was when recognition eased the tensed facial muscles. "Oh... it's their stuff."

"Excuse me?" Dooku asked, peeved that the padawan was dawdling.

"I didn't know what the box was," Kenobi elucidated. "It's just Anakin's and Ben's stuff. They must have left it back at the old apartment."

He kept rummaging through the belongings, pulling out a single piece of armor. Kenobi looked it over. "Master? Do you know what this means?"

The boy held the armor higher for Dooku to see. It was a painted symbol. A circle split in the middle. Two halves making a whole. Dooku knew very well what the Open Circle represented, but he merely signaled his ignorance on the matter. "Looks like a child's drawing," he remarked. "Now, put that away."

The boy looked a bit downtrodden. "Yes, sorry." Kenobi dropped the armor back in the box. He carried it off the table and placed it on the ground behind the sofa. "What was it you wanted to say, Master?"

Dooku's grinned at the prospect of what developed before him. He took Kenobi by the shoulder and led the boy away from the box. "Actually, padawan, I have something else in mind."


Anakin punched the button repeatedly, mentally imploring the turbolift to arrive. How did he not sense Dooku's presence? Is the padawan even alive? Anakin, in his nervous wreck, sensed for the padawan, reaching deep through the bond he developed with the younger Kenobi. It glowed and the end of the thread pulsed. He was alive, but for how long?

The turbolift's door had yet to open. Anakin pounded on the door. "Damn it!"

The High Council chamber opened once more with Qui-Gon hurrying to Anakin's side. "Anakin? What's going on?"

Anakin didn't answer. He didn't know how to answer. He recalled Obi-Wan's warnings on withholding the truth from Qui-Gon, but the heightened danger gave Anakin pause. He kept his mouth pressed in a firm line as a cold lump burned inside him. The longer he waited, the stronger the sting.

Qui-Gon grew more disturbed. "Anakin? Anakin! What's happening?" he implored, grabbing Anakin's shoulder. "Talk to me!"

He couldn't tell Qui-Gon the truth. It would destroy him. But, would it matter anyway? If Dooku kills the padawan, would it even matter at all? They should have told Qui-Gon from the beginning to avoid the predicament in the first place.

Qui-Gon's patience thinned. "Anakin—"

To hell with all the promises and secrecy!

"Dooku's the Sith Lord!" Anakin spat.

Qui-Gon's face pinched, almost befuddled and humored at the truth. "No… that can't… that's not right," he shook his head as if Anakin was a toddler. "I spoke to Dooku. He didn't—"

"It's true!" Anakin affirmed. "He's Darth Tyranus! And he has Obi-Wan."

Qui-Gon expression waived. A haunted ghoul of grey skin replaced him. "You're mistaken. He wouldn't—"

"Fine! Don't believe me," Anakin snapped just as the turbolift finally arrived.

Anakin ignored Qui-Gon's dumbfounded look and jumped into the confined space. No hesitation, he pressed for the apartment floor, smashing the button to get the door to close. The doors started to come together when Qui-Gon jumped into action. He lunged between the doors and landed next to Anakin. The turbolift fastened its lock and plunged down.

"I don't understand," Qui-Gon confessed. "Why would he want to kill my padawan?"

"Many reasons," Anakin rejoined, watching the descent, but it didn't match the speed he wanted. It was still too slow! "Kriff this."

Anakin whipped out his lightsaber and ignited it. Qui-Gon leapt to the side as Anakin stabbed the floor of the turbolift. Automatically, the turbolift screeched to a halt, giving Anakin the proper steadiness to cut a ring around him.

The floor of the turbolift disappeared underneath Anakin's feet. He dropped. Free-falling down the shaft as he heard Qui-Gon's voice call after him. Anakin didn't hear him. The overwhelming, impending doom distracted him from all else. His only concern was saving the padawan from a great evil.

He drop-landed on the ledge. Delicately balanced, Anakin used the Force to blow the doors wide open. At full-throttle, he sprinted from the turbolift shaft down the corridor, brushing other Jedi aside with less grace or manners than he normally would. He didn't care though. He would run them over if he had to if it meant getting to padawan before Dooku put a lightsaber through his chest as well.

Come on, Anakin urged his legs. Faster! Run faster!


Obi-Wan instantly sensed a great deal of dread and fear. Like wildfire, it spread fast in the Temple, starting from the top and making its way to the bottom. He checked behind him, to the door. No knock. Nothing.

"Is something the matter, padawan?"

Obi-Wan turned to Dooku. His master's master idly surveyed him, pensive in his observation that made Obi-Wan's skin crawl. Ever since he awoke to find Dooku in his quarters, he had the feeling that his grandmaster's presence was no accident. Obi-Wan never met him before. Nor heard much about him. Qui-Gon kept it that way and Obi-Wan knew better than to bring it up. So, to have Dooku here without Qui-Gon was the first sign to Obi-Wan that Dooku manipulated his master into such situation.

For what reason, Obi-Wan guessed it was to evaluate him without Qui-Gon's interference. It was well-known that Master Dooku had… high expectations for those he considered his lineage. He hardly ever engaged with ones he viewed as failures. It gave him an air of superiority that never settled well with Qui-Gon. At least, that was the rumor to explain their distant relationship.

Obi-Wan did his best to impress his grandmaster, despite starting off on the wrong foot by contradicting him on his position. An embarrassing slip that may cost him any favors with his grandmaster. But, Dooku didn't act completely offended by the insult. He engaged in small chat and listened to Obi-Wan talk about his studies. He even complimented him. That had to count for something.

But, Obi-Wan couldn't shake off the ice that froze around his bones. There was something not right. He didn't know what it was. Perhaps it was from his previous encounter with the Sith Lord? It's been only half an hour since he awoke and he wished for some sort of news in regards to the Sith. Did Jedi Kenobi and Anakin stop him? Beat him? Was that why Qui-Gon didn't wake him up? Because he didn't want him to confront the Sith?

"Padawan?" came the soft growl of his grandmaster, clearly not happy at being ignored.

Obi-Wan flickered a glance to the door again. "No, I don't believe so," he concluded. "Where did my master go again?"

"To the High Council chambers," Dooku answered. "He told me he had an urgent meeting with the Council and asked that I look after you while he was away." Dooku studied him. "Why do you ask?"

Obi-Wan wished he didn't bring it up. After all, Yoda warned him to mind his feelings as did Qui-Gon. "Nothing, Master."

His grandmaster didn't buy it. "You sensed something in the Force," he deduced, his glittering eyes peering down at him. "What is it?"

"I sense... pain. Fear. Anger," Obi-Wan listed off, shoulders dropping in submission to Dooku's interrogation. "It's like fire. Burning all in its path."

Dooku facial muscles tightened. He eyed the door suspiciously. "I sense it too," he told the padawan. "Coming this way."

Obi-Wan reached for his training sabers. "You think it's the Sith?"

He glanced up to his grandmaster and swore he saw a hint of sneer on the master's seasoned face. "Get behind me, padawan," he took Obi-Wan's shoulder and pulled him behind. "Do whatever I say."

Obi-Wan nodded as he gripped his lightsaber, raising it in preparation to fight. He glared at the door, readying himself for a fight when the approaching presence cleared. He recognized it immediately. Then a voice was heard from afar. Soft, distant, but clear enough for Obi-Wan to know who it belonged to.

Obi-Wan relaxed. "It's all right, Master," he said to Dooku. "It's Anakin."

He stepped around his grandmaster to head to the front door, but Dooku snatched his robe's collar. "You're not going anywhere."


Anakin sprinted down the corridor, arms pumping at his side as his boots smacked unceremoniously loud on the marble floor. A few Jedi turned in his direction, clearly horrid by the blaring emotions he cared little to hide. No one got in his path as he brushed past and skipped over steps on his climb up the stairs.

He reached the High Council's living quarters. Immediately, he sensed Dooku's presence. It was a stench in the air that polluted the senses. An oily spill that spoiled all that glowed. Including the padawan's signature. Anakin flew down the corridor to their apartment door, his blue lightsaber alight. "Obi-Wan!" he shouted, hysteria reaching a crescendo. "Obi-Wan!"

Anakin reached for the door and punched in the code. The door whipped open and Anakin stormed inside, searching madly for the padawan. His searched ended as quickly as it started. Padawan Kenobi stood only a few feet away from him.

The padawan stared at Anakin with a befuddled pout, his lips turning into a questioning expression. He didn't show an ounce of fear at all. Though he should, considering Dooku held him by the shoulders.

Anakin hissed. "Dooku!"

Dooku maliciously grinned. "Skywalker," he addressed. "Wondered when you would stop by."

He thrust one hand out, a streak of blue lightening shooting from his fingertips. Anakin's fear and rage distracted him from preventing the blow. He failed to arm himself against the attack and was struck right in his chest. His feet were lifted off the ground, teeth clattering as a metallic tang filled his mouth. Air rushed around him as he plowed through the doorway, crashing into the wall out in the corridor.

The lightening subdued, but the pain remained. Anakin nerves were on fire and his muscles in his arms kept twitching at the slightest movement. He heard a cry through the crackling of his eardrums.

"Why did you do that?" the voice demanded. "He's—"

The padawan's voice was cut off, replaced by a gasp and then a choking sound. Anakin pulled himself up, looking into the apartment as he saw Dooku's outstretched hand in a choking gesture. The padawan stumbled, hands clasped around his throat.

The Force rang in warning, pressuring Anakin to rise. To do something. Anything!

Power surged within him. Anakin narrowed his energy on the table in the kitchen. He ripped the table from its spot and slammed it into Dooku. The Sith Lord let go of his hold on the padawan upon impact. The padawan sharply inhaled before collapsing in a heap.

Anakin lurched to his feet and dove next to the padawan. The boy was alive. His eyes wide in terror, panting for air in his lungs like a fish out of water, but, nonetheless, alive.

Anakin grabbed his arm. "Run!"

He hoisted the boy to his feet, shoving him back to the door when Anakin sensed danger barreling in his direction. He twirled on the spot. He drew his lightsaber up fast and split the chair flying at him straight down the middle. Dooku recovered from his attack, looking murderous as he shot out another bolt of lightning in Anakin's direction. Anakin dove aside, narrowly missing the electric current that passed his elbow.

He rolled back onto his feet, lightsaber held steady in front as he marched on to duel Dooku. Once and for all.

Dooku met his challenge. He pulled out a lightsaber, twirling it in his hand.

Anakin noticed Dooku's lightsaber wasn't curved. In fact, it was a straight, simple design with no fancy, decorative hilt like Dooku prided himself on. Anakin's intestines twisted into a taut knot when he realized the lightsaber wasn't any ordinary lightsaber.

"Obi-Wan," Anakin muttered at the sight of his late master's weapon.

A twisted smile rose Dooku's cheeks. "I see you recognized my weapon of choice," he said, igniting the blue blade out of the hilt. "He wanted you there with him. Held off death as long as possible just to see you one more time. Tell me, Skywalker… did you get to say goodbye?"

Anakin released a feral cry as he rushed at Dooku. The blue lightsabers clashed together. A shriek reverberating from the center of their shared hatred toward one another. Anakin pressed, but Dooku withstood the might of Anakin's power. His sickly, yellow eyes burned in the light, looking like a monster crawling out from the lava.

The Sith Lord leered across the dual blades. "For the Hero with No Fear, I sense a great deal of fear from you," he said, quickly side-stepping Anakin's attempt to cut off his arm. "Not surprising. Who holds your leash now that Kenobi is dead?"

Anakin growled and lashed out in big strokes. He slashed at Dooku's limbs, his lightsaber whistling in the air as he danced around their living quarters. Dooku kept up with the duel. In his own methodical manner, Dooku outmaneuvered Anakin's strokes with his own parries and jabs.

The duel heated up not only in Anakin's heart, but in the apartment. They resulted in using not only the lightsaber in their attacks, but also the objects surrounding them. The apartment decayed into a sight of a battleground with furniture stripped into pieces and the walls scarred in black, jagged lines.

In all of the madness, Dooku had the gall to chuckle. "Come, come, Skywalker," he said with his lips curved in a wicked smile. "Avenge your dear master. Finish me as you often promise."

The furnace in Anakin's chest turned up. He lunged, his blade plowing through air as Dooku twirled out of harm's way. He stroke down, cutting into Anakin's blade all the while acting like it was some kind of sick game between them.

Dooku retracted fast as Anakin's blade hit air. He moved at impossibly speed of a man of his age. He stabbed at Anakin, the blade cutting down his arm. Anakin gasp, pulling back to avoid it being chopped off like his other arm. The moment of weakness left him vulnerable and Dooku took advantage of it.

Another electric charge coursed through his veins. Then a Force push as strong as solid stone slammed in him, knocking the air out of his lungs and leaving him incapacitated.

Wheezing, Anakin rolled to get back up, but he received another shock of Sith lightning for his effort. "How disappointing," Dooku's voice taunted overhead. "To think you were ever—"

Dooku ceased his monologue. With finesse and speed, Dooku spun and stopped an oncoming lightsaber from stabbing him in the back. The blue blade glowed bright against the blue, blending together that it lit up the young padawan's face. Padawan Kenobi's eyes widened at the Sith's quick reaction.

Anakin couldn't see it, but he heard the raptor-like grin as the Sith spoke. "Brave boy," he said, flicking the boy's blade out of his hands with a swift gesture. The boy's training saber clattered to the floor. "Foolish, but brave."

Anakin bleary watched Dooku's back rescind from him. The Sith's full attention returned to the padawan, who awkwardly tried to fall back from the approaching Sith Lord. The padawan tripped over the broken furniture, chest expanding as he watched the dark shadow approach him.

Then Anakin heard Dooku's voice clear across the room as he addressed the padawan. "This will hurt," he said, sounding remorseful that didn't make sense to Anakin.

The gasping chokes echoed along the walls. Anakin raised his head. Padawan Kenobi clutched his throat again, fingernails digging into the skin to free himself from the invisible hold. The boy's face strained, veins bulging in the side of his neck and forehead. His legs were lifted off the ground, kicking aimlessly and frantically. He did anything to free himself.

A strong pulse panged against his skull. A final warning that if Anakin didn't get up, he would lose everything. He pushed the pain aside, clasped his lightsaber tight in his fist and pulled himself off the floor. An uproarious snarl escaped his lips and he launched himself in the air, blade raised in position to slide Dooku in half.

Dooku sensed his attack. With a flick of his wrist, he pitched Padawan Kenobi aside. The boy smashed on top of the table. Anakin heard the crash, but no other sound. Not a whimper or a gasp. Only silence.

Anakin didn't get the time to play damage control. Dooku was on him, raining blows in a wild fury. Anakin met each one, refusing to back down despite his energy slowly zapping away. Dooku pressed onward, forcing Anakin to go into a defensive style rather than his unique offensive position.

He only needed to draw the fight out a little longer. Others were coming. Anakin only needed to hold out a little longer. Keep Dooku distracted from the padawan and the approaching masters.

But, it appeared Dooku was well aware of Anakin's ploy. He struck a flurry of jabs in Anakin's direction before spinning in a Force-induced power that he got his foot right into Anakin's chest. Anakin flew backwards, right through the door before tumbling out into the corridor again.

He went to get back up to continue the fight, but a storm of lightning rained down on him. Anakin ground his teeth to keep the screams inside him as his body surged in agony. He curled in on himself, doing whatever he could to relieve the intensity of the pain that Dooku showered him. He thought it would never end and the he was to die, unimpressible, on the floors of the Temple.

Exhausted, dazed and weakened from his intense battle, Anakin didn't have the energy to even rise up. Half of his face plastered on the floor, he looked back to the now destroyed apartment. Padawan Kenobi laid limp amongst the rubble. There was a feathering pulse. Slow, but strong enough for life.

Anakin stretched his hand in the boy's direction. One last effort to spare him only to be stabbed with another round of lightning. He curled in on himself, restraining a cry. I'm sorry, he thought of Obi-Wan and the padawan, and how he failed them both. I'm so sorry.

Dooku approached, blade turning in his hand. The blue lightsaber perfectly lined against his neck. Disgusting. Dooku was far more disturbed than Anakin credited. To decapitate an unarmed man was below humanity.

Dooku stared down at Anakin's helpless form. A smirk of victory treading up his face. "And so it all ends here."

Anakin waited for the blade's fire to burn right through his flesh. His thoughts filled of incredible love, remembering Padme and her smile. His mother and her kindness. Obi-Wan and his loyalty. Ahsoka and her spunk. Qui-Gon and his compassion. He thought of them all and, while unhappy to die, was glad that he lived long enough to know them well.

Dooku swung the blade when a blue light sprouted from nowhere and collided into the blue. A sharp hiss and sparks of fire flared in front of Anakin's face, but he didn't shy away. Above him, in a protective stance, was Qui-Gon Jinn.

His presence alone forced Dooku to retreat. He stood underneath a well-lit bulb, the light shining his white hair to make it look more silver. "Well played," the Sith complimented as he confronted Qui-Gon, "my old padawan."

Qui-Gon's face greyed. His defense faltered, arms lowered a bit in shocked recognition. "Master?" he muttered in disbelief.

Dooku didn't raise the lightsaber. He made no motion to attack. Not against his old padawan.

More stomping of feet made an approach. Anakin was familiar with Mace Windu's, Plo Koon's and other Council members' Force signatures. The strongest belonging to Master Yoda himself.

Dooku realized his chances of escaping thinned. He gave one last glaring look at Anakin. "It matters not," he sneered. "I already won."

Ice cascaded to the pit of his stomach. No… it's not true. The padawan! He was alive. He felt it. He was so sure.

Qui-Gon moved, but Dooku took that moment to strike out. He shot a blast of Sith lightning. Not at Qui-Gon. But at the ceiling above them. The bolts zapped the lights, causing sparks and little fires to burst around them. Anakin shielded his face, as little sparks fluttered around him. Crumbles of the ceiling rained, but not enough to bury them or even injure. Only enough to distract them.

For once it was over and the dust settled, Dooku was gone.


Qui-Gon refused to focus on what he witnessed. The minute the lights sparked into fires, he did his best to shelter Anakin from any more injuries. Anakin threw his arm over his face, but Qui-Gon raised a protective barrier around him, keeping the pieces of ceiling plaster from pelting him.

A thunderous march came from behind and Qui-Gon knew it was a handful of the Council. Already he sensed Mace and Yoda. Two of the Order's best Jedi arrived to fight, but it was too late. They were too late.

Qui-Gon didn't bother to engage with them. He squatted down next to Anakin, resting his hand on the young man's forehead. A few injuries. Nothing major. Just completely wiped out and his muscles spasming uncontrollably.

Anakin brushed his hand away. "P-Padawan…"

Qui-Gon followed where Anakin pointed. It was their apartment. Or, what was once their apartment. An explosion must have occurred because none of the furniture was left untouched or unbroken. Everything was in pieces, stripped of its services and left in wasted ruins.

Except for one thing.

Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon hurried to his padawan's side. The boy laid amongst the broken table, limp and pale. A single touch to his skin sent a chill through Qui-Gon. There was life within the boy. Qui-Gon sensed it through their bond. Obi-Wan was alive, holding on by a string.

"Hold on, padawan," Qui-Gon quietly pleaded. "Just a little longer."

He stayed by Obi-Wan's side, refusing to leave even when healers arrived to dash him off to the Halls of Healing. Qui-Gon rushed with him, and Anakin. Both were transported to the Halls under critical condition. They cleared the corridors and upon arrival, multiple healers beckoned to the call for help.

Qui-Gon watched Obi-Wan be transported from one medical capsule to the next. Same with Anakin. Anakin was in and out of conscious. He kept pushing the healers away, fighting to get up. He repeatedly asked for Obi-Wan. Which one, Qui-Gon wasn't quite sure.

Eventually, the healers drugged Anakin to get him to cooperate. He became sluggish, slurring his words as he fought off the drugs. Even in that delusional state, he called for Obi-Wan. Again, Qui-Gon wasn't sure which one he referred. Eventually, Anakin succumbed to the drug and passed out.

Qui-Gon stayed beside Obi-Wan, doing his best to not get in the way of the healers' work. A healer fastened an oxygen mask on Obi-Wan's face, but he struggled for air no matter what the healers attempted. Others piled warm blankets over him or wrapped bacta bandages around him or placing healing crystals near his neck to lessen the bruise sprawling along his esophagus.

Healer Che oversaw the effort. She barked orders as she examined Obi-Wan, clicking her tongue in disapproval. She stopped a healer-padawan by the arm. "Get a tube ready," she ordered.

The healer-padawan frantically nodded and scurried out of the room.

Qui-Gon joined Healer Che. "Is he—"

Healer Che whipped around to face him. "Let me do my duty, Qui-Gon," she brushed him aside, leaving the room.

A few healers remained behind to support Obi-Wan, leaving Qui-Gon desperate to help his young apprentice. His lack of the healing arts left him feeling worthless. He's a master of the Jedi Order and unable to even keep his padawan alive inside the Temple.

He resorted to pacing around the room, eyes never leaving his padawan's face. Obi-Wan was still. Too still.

Healer Che returned with a new gurney and another small team of healers. She instructed them to switch Obi-Wan onto the new one. He needed to get into a bacta tank at once.

Qui-Gon followed the gurney only to be stopped by Healer Tiri. "Sorry, Master Jinn," she said. "Only personnel."

"That's my padawan!" Qui-Gon contended, jabbing a finer in the direction of where his padawan wheeled away.

"I know," Healer Tiri said, compassionately as if she hurt as much as him. "He will receive the best care, but I cannot let you through."

Barricaded from his padawan, Qui-Gon was left alone. No padawan. No Anakin. No one to keep him company as he waited in prolonged silence.

Qui-Gon buried his face in his calloused hands. He didn't have the courage to keep in the present.


"How soon will he recover?"

"His airway has been severely damaged along with broken ribs. Torn ligaments. It will take time to heal."

"How much time?"

Obi-Wan barely made out the voices. He knew one. The one asking about his recovery was Qui-Gon. He sensed his presence nearby, standing so close that Obi-Wan thought if he reached out, his fingers would brush against Qui-Gon's arm. But he could barely even lift his arm. It even hurt to breathe.

His eyelids were heavy. He couldn't lift them up to look at his master. A waft of bacta burned his nostrils, warning him that he was in the Halls of Healing. If only he had more energy he could fight his way to consciousness and rebel his stay.

Something pricked in the crook of his arm. Obi-Wan winced as pain shuddered around the spot before resigning.

"That'll relieve some pressure on his lungs. Help him breathe better."

Whatever it was, it did loosen some of the built-up in his chest. His breathing got better, but all of his effort to remain alert resided.

A hand brushed up against his forehead. "Rest, padawan. You'll be okay."

It was all Obi-Wan needed to hear to let himself succumb to unconsciousness.


Qui-Gon sat in the lone chair brought into the shared room of Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker. Normally, the healers refuted having a healthy individual spend the night in the healing ward. But, they made an exception for Qui-Gon. Probably on the behalf of Yoda.

He struggled to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the massacre in his apartment. Anakin curled on the floor, withered in pain, and Obi-Wan, lifeless among the destroyed furniture. Then, of course, his own master, wielding a blade to strike off Anakin's head.

Every time the blade slashed across his eyes, Qui-Gon shot awake. Panting, he rushed to his padawan, confirming Obi-Wan was alive. Qui-Gon's heart quietened when he discovered his padawan curled on the healing cot, breathing normally and his cheeks a bit pink. Quite the opposite in his nightmares. Then he checked Anakin next. Even he was sound asleep. Both unconscious in the same room, healing from their aches and injuries they endured.

Still worried, Qui-Gon searched the room, checking for any signs of danger. He could not be too cautious. Not after…

Qui-Gon fell back into his seat. He drew in long breaths, trying to comprehend everything that occurred in the last twenty-four hours. How did it all go wrong so fast? It almost didn't feel real. He half-expected to look beside him to see Jedi Kenobi slumped in another chair, watching over Anakin's sickbed. But Jedi Kenobi wasn't there. There was no chair beside Anakin's cot. Only empty space.

The first sear into his heart. The loss of his padawan. Older, yes, but nonetheless, Jedi Kenobi was still his padawan no matter the age. And his death tormented him. Not only because he died, but that he was murdered by his own master.

Master Dooku, the revered master and Qui-Gon's own master, was a Sith Lord.

The shock and chill carved into his bones left Qui-Gon feeling brittle. All it took was a single hit and Qui-Gon would shatter. The knowledge of betrayal overwhelmed him. Master Dooku was a man of honor and order. Nothing like the Sith who thrived in chaos. As a former Shadow, Master Dooku hunted down dark Jedi and Sith artifacts to destroy them. He took his duty seriously to the point of the ends justified the means.

Yet, once he overcame his initial shock and horror, Qui-Gon found himself becoming less surprised by the revelation. Dooku, while a Jedi, was a man of aristocratic pride, absolutions and arrogance. His waning distrust of the Republic alongside his desire to learn more power, only affirmed the deep truth that Qui-Gon already knew. In the end, it was not surprising at all to learn that his master turned to the Dark Side.

It simply hurt.

"Disturbing the whole Temple, you are."

Qui-Gon lifted his head to the door. Master Yoda, the sneaky troll, slipped unnoticed into the room. He stood, but a mere foot away from Qui-Gon and the human Jedi never even noticed his presence until now.

He crossed his arms, buried them deep inside his robes. "My apologies for ruining their night," he snapped. "I'll make a note to be less depressed when I almost lose all my padawans in a single night."

A pair of wizened eyes curved in narrowed slits of discernment. "Your spite, save. Here to scold you, I didn't come," he rumbled as he moved across the floor to stand beside Qui-Gon's seat. "How are they?"

Qui-Gon flicked a sorrowed glance to his padawan and grandpadawan. Both recuperating in their slumber. "Che said they would live," he revealed to the grandmaster. "Obi-Wan will have some trouble speaking for a few days, but will make a full recovery. Same is said about Anakin. Physically, at least."

Master Yoda's small shoulders sagged. "Live, they will."

"All, but one."

The pretense of quiet coping came undone in that one statement. A surge of grief expelled from a single breath, but never sufficiently able to inhale enough air. Tears glazed his eyelashes, dangling on the edge as he remembered the final moments of regret.

He sensed Master Yoda coming to him. "Qui-Gon—"

"Don't," Qui-Gon stopped the Grandmaster in a stentorian warning. "Don't."

"Loss is only natural."

"I know that!" Qui-Gon snapped. "What I don't know is why you aren't upset? Dooku was your padawan! He… he killed—"

Qui-Gon breathed deeply, doing his best to stop the rising storm breaking his walls. "How could this happen?" he uttered to the floor. "Why did he do this?"

Master Yoda leaned against his gimer stick, his ears flapped over. He sighed. "For answers, only grave disappointment will find you."

"I am already far beyond that point, Master," Qui-Gon hissed, heat rising from his heart through his neck to his face. "You lied to me. You told me that the Force protected them. Kept them safe."

The ancient Jedi's gimlet eyes regarded Qui-Gon with cold disapproval. "Throw your tirade at me, do not!" he said. "Protected by the Force until time is right, I warned."

"And the time is now?" Qui-Gon half-shouted through the pain. "The Force gave up on them now?"

Master Yoda's age showed clearly in a single sigh. "We may never understand the Force or its ways. But trust it, we must."

Qui-Gon scoffed indigently. "The last time I showed trust, I nearly watched Anakin be decapitated," he huffed. "I trusted my master to care for my padawan and in my absence, he tries to kill him instead." Qui-Gon dropped his head in his hands again, trying to breathe through the thickening air. "My own master… I never even suspected Master Dooku. I trusted him and he…"

"He is Darth Tyranus. Not Master Dooku," Master Yoda gently reminded him. "Dooku is no longer the master you remember. The Dark Side twisted his thinking."

"That does not bring me any relief."

"Nor was it supposed to," Master Yoda responded, jabbing his gimer stick up to Qui-Gon's face. "Too old, you are for such sentiment. Good for the Force, bitterness is not."

"I am not bitter."

"But in pain, you are," Master Yoda pointed out. "Pain changes a person."

"Are you insinuating—"

"Cultivating in this room, pain and fear are," Master Yoda clarified for him. "Power, the Dark Side cumulates within despair."

And they were the first steps to the Dark Side. Qui-Gon understood what Master Yoda was saying. Guard your heart or else be ready for it to fall apart in a much worse way. He trembled as he unfolded himself, releasing himself from his constraints that held him against the pain.

After all, he cannot let such darkness snuff out the nurturing light of his padawan.

"Apologies, Master Yoda," Qui-Gon muttered, letting out another deep release. "I am—"

"I know. To discuss this with you it brings me no pleasure," Master Yoda breathed out, looking over at Obi-Wan with a quiet meditative contemplation. "One of great tragedies, it appears my lineage is."

Qui-Gon raised a brow to the grandmaster. It was the first time Qui-Gon ever heard profound sadness in Yoda's voice.

The Grandmaster moved slowly across the room to where Anakin recuperated. Master Yoda bent his neck back, looking up at the high healing cot. Qui-Gon watched as the elder master leapt into the air and landed at the end of Anakin's cot. Master Yoda sunk onto the cot, near Anakin's calves and rested his gimer stick across his knees.

The Grandmaster fell into a meditative quietness as he sat upon the cot.

Before Qui-Gon asked, Yoda spoke. "To support my lineage I came. Not for your diatribe," he huffed. "Stay the night, I will. Rest, Qui-Gon. Watch over, I will."

Qui-Gon tipped his head in appreciation as he slunk back in his chair. He didn't fall asleep. Not right away. With Master Yoda, they stood watch over the last padawans of their lineage while coming to terms of what occurred.


Obi-Wan woke to a bundle of warmth. Nestled deep underneath layer upon layer of blankets, he raised his heavy eyelids to a blinding light. He squinted, grimacing at the pain before the light dimmed to a more appropriate adjustment. He blinked, doing his best to stay awake. He heard machines tweet, alerting him of life; although, he didn't need the reminder. Pain was already a good indicator of life.

His throat was sore. Muscles cramped. Chest tight. All echoes of a worse agony.

He breathed. Something was pressed against his throat.

With weak hands, he fumbled his fingers around a device that secured his neck.

"Don't mess with that."

Strong, big hands pulled his tiny ones away from his neck. Obi-Wan turned his head and saw Qui-Gon's hairy mess in his line of sight. He looked ruffled. Hair frizzed, bags underneath his eyes and his robes coated with dust. Normally, Obi-Wan wouldn't have questioned the appearance, but there was an underlying sadness in the depths of his master's eyes that gave him a more haunting look.

Nevertheless, Qui-Gon smiled down on him. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," Obi-Wan confessed, his voice coarse as if his throat was sandpaper.

Qui-Gon nodded, but there was no change in expression. "That's good."

Obi-Wan's eyes wandered his hospitality. He searched for more faces, but only found Qui-Gon's. "Anakin?"

"He's alive," Qui-Gon confirmed. "Getting discharged as we speak."

That was an enormous amount of relief. The last time he saw Anakin, the Jedi Knight was almost electrocuted to death along with being gutted for good measure.

Onto his next concern. "Ben?"

A sickening silence followed upon his request. Qui-Gon didn't look away, but fatigue engraved into his face, sketching dark shadows under the curves of his frown and eyes. Sadness flowed across their bond and filled Obi-Wan's veins, reaching straight to his heart. A black mist settled over them, dulling all other senses and emotions.

Obi-Wan shook his head. "No."

Qui-Gon looked at him with pity. "Obi-Wan… it wasn't your fault."

"No."

His master sighed. "Obi-Wan—"

"No!"

The scream came out like a strangulation. His head swam with half-formed regrets and disbelief. It was impossible! Jedi Kenobi couldn't be dead! Anakin wouldn't let that happen.

Nausea swirled within him. Heart pumping faster for his blood became like tar. He needed to get out. Up and away. Anywhere. Not here. Anywhere, but here.

Obi-Wan rose, stringing the IV along with him. Qui-Gon put his large hands on each side of him. "Obi-Wan," he called for him, asking for attention. "Obi-Wan? Stop—"

"No," Obi-Wan's throatily replied, trying to get himself out of Qui-Gon's gasp.

"Obi-Wan!"

Qui-Gon's hold pinched, steeling Obi-Wan in his arms. Obi-Wan peered up at Qui-Gon through watercolor vision. Mouth crumbled and a wail of intensity wrecked the padawan. He didn't care if his behavior was unbecoming of a padawan or a Jedi Knight. Too lost to show any embarrassment.

He felt Qui-Gon's grip loosen before being pulled close into his master's broad chest. Obi-Wan's head rested against his master, his cries muffled in his robes. Fingers combed down his head, a comforting gesture that yielded no instant results. "I know," came Qui-Gon's soft, but pained voice. "We all miss him."

Obi-Wan clutched onto his master, swaying under his master's embrace. He cried until he no longer had any tears left to cry. But even then, Qui-Gon didn't let him go.

They stayed in that hug for a very long time.


Anakin Skywalker was alone.

Even standing in the exact middle of the circled High Council, with too many eyes judging him, didn't make him feel less lonely. He was the lone survivor, standing before the confrontational judges. They all demanded answers of what happened. They asked question after question, but Anakin didn't answer them. Not right away at least.

While they sought for answers, Anakin only thought of Obi-Wan, his master. He never imagined his master not standing beside him. Obi-Wan always was by his side, there to give guidance, banter or lecture. Anakin always counted on Obi-Wan's presence, relied on it as it was the only presence that stuck with him all these years. The only person to support him and love him unconditionally in a world that treated him with disdain on better days.

His bones shook as he tried to keep the shock within them. He turned his head to the Council, searching each face in hopes of spotting Obi-Wan's exasperated expression among them. Or even a humored smile. Or a disappointed mien. Anything. Anakin would take anything to see his master again.

Anakin didn't see him.

"Are you listening Skywalker?"

Anakin registered the embodiment voice as belonging to Master Windu. The strong, tenor warning that told him to speak or receive a reckoning. Not that Anakin cared what they would do to him. He already lost. They couldn't do anything to him that Dooku hadn't already done.

"Skywalker!" came the follow-up snap, but Anakin merely tilted his head. If Obi-Wan was around, he would have nudged him and shouted through their Force bond to listen. But, it was silent on that end. In fact, it was numb. Every time Anakin reached for Obi-Wan, it was like grasping on a void. Unattainable and pointless.

"Skywalker, if you—"

"Oh, shut up!"

That drew up sharp gasps around the chamber. Never were members of the High Council ever blatantly disrespected by a knight in their own chamber. Anakin glared at them all, heat pulsing through his body that he wanted to expel it. Erupt and let everyone feel the burn he was enduring.

"What more do you want?" Anakin shouted at all of them. "You already have your answers! Dooku is the Sith Lord! Okay? It's him. He's the bastard that caused all of this."

The Council was not thrilled by his brash, unfiltered scolding. The wrinkles on Master Windu's forehead trenched deeper as his frown sharpened. "We would like for a bit of honesty," he said. "You have hid confidential information that resulted in three attacks where one person is now dead and another severely injured." Master Windu drew himself up in his seat. "Now, stop side-stepping and telling us the truth."

Anakin exhaled, dropping his chin as he stared on the ground, wishing for some kind of guidance. His wish was not answered. All he got was silence and judgmental glares.

And then he saw Qui-Gon, sitting off to the side with a strong arm supporting the padawan. They both watched him with red, exhausted eyes. The padawan was still ill. His bruises faded from black and purple to a more blueish color. The memory of the padawan kicking in the air seared into Anakin's memory. The boy's desperate attempts to fight off the invisible might of Dooku's stronghold against him, choking the life out of him, shamed Anakin.

If anyone had the right to understand why any of this happened, it would be the Padawan Kenobi. He deserved to know why his grandmaster tried to murder him.

Anakin took in a breath and began. "I don't know when the exact moment was that made Dooku turn. I always assumed it was because he was insane to begin with," he said as a few Councils grumbled by his insult. "But, I remember the day that started the war."

Anakin continued his tale that started the Clone Wars. He indulged the Council how he and Obi-Wan got involved, their fight at the arena and duel against Dooku that revealed the former Jedi's true self. He went into brief details of how the war quickly escalated and Dooku's attempts to either kill them or convince them to join, particularly Obi-Wan. He spoke of Dooku's high interest and sick obsession of Obi-Wan.

He snuck a quick glimpse at the padawan. His expression hardly changed, but there a sense of dread flitting in the boy's young eyes. And Qui-Gon. The elder Jedi Master looked ready to collapse if he wasn't seated already. Anakin understood. Grief and betrayal made it impossible to carry alone.

Anakin avoided any eye contact with anyone in particular. A chill ran up his arms and he tucked them away in his robes. He felt sick. Everything inside him rotten, dying and seeping right into his own Force signature. He needed to leave.

Time to wind it down. "Which brought us back here," Anakin finished with one last look to the Council. "I have nothing more to say."

Anakin abandoned the circle and went straight to the doors. He heard no voices behind him. No complaints or orders. Nothing. He simply kept walking, away from all of them. Away from the pain and the sickness and the apathy. He needed none of that. Not now. Not when they were to burn the last of his master's essence in an hour.

Right now, Anakin needed to be away. Far, far away.