Mandalore was much as Obi-Wan remembered it. Desolate and proud and unyielding as the midday sun glinting through the dome of Sundari and onto the palace's glass face. As the transport from the landing platform to the palace steps slowed and prepared to stop, Dooku glanced at Obi-Wan and curled his upper lip in disgust. "You insist on hiding behind a mask when you could be here as an equal. Remember that when you grow tired of anonymity."

Obi-Wan splayed his gloved fingers over the black visor where the Trandoshian's claw had gouged a deep groove. The scar was gone now, smelted over with new sacanium, but he could feel a slight border at the edge of the scar. The claw to the face would have killed him, but the helmet was stronger for the repair and would bear another blow worse than the first. He had endured worse. He could endure this too.

"I'm not the only one wearing a mask at this summit. I'm just honest about the one I've donned."

Irritation flickered across Dooku's face as the barb landed, but the sound of footsteps drew their attention to the steps of the palace. Approaching were Duchess Satine and two of her guards, and Obi-Wan's heart caught at the sight of her. She was as tall as he remembered, clad in purple and teal and an air of confident pride. Her face was worn from a few years of hard politics but beautiful, and her voice was clear and firm as she bowed her head slightly to Dooku and extended her hand. "Count."

Dooku took her hand and bowed. "Duchess Kryze. The Independent Systems cannot thank you enough for hosting these peace talks."

She tilted her head up, clearly unimpressed by him. "You can, but whether you have the will remains to be seen."

Though the helmet hid his face, Obi-Wan repressed a smirk and a dull pang in his chest. Ruling had not dulled her razor tongue or clouded her clear-sightedness.

Dooku only straightened and smiled. "I understand how important honor is to your people. Allow us to show that we are honorable, Your Highness, and you will not be disappointed."

Satine gave him a long appraising look, doubt and mistrust simmering just below the surface, then her gaze flicked to Obi-Wan, and all the intentions he had laid on the journey here went up in smoke as, for one mad moment, he wanted to tear the helmet from his head, to tell her that her suspicions were right, to warn her of the Sith looming over her. He wanted-

Satine looked away without any sign of recognition, and the mad impulse to reveal himself was snuffed out. If she knew he was alive, she would try to help him and put herself and her people in danger. Dooku had proven he could manipulate the Assembly with ease; it would be a simple matter to turn Separatists against Mandalore-or Mandalore against the young ruler who had broken with the old ways to speak of peace.

Dooku had already twisted the truth so finely that he'd deceived Jenza; what half-truths would he spin to snare her too? Obi-Wan's stomach turned. No. She had lost too much for him to put her in a Sith's crosshairs like that. He could not betray her like that. Dooku could not know that the Jedi and the Duchess had ever been anything to each other.

So Obi-Wan fell into step behind the two rulers, pulled his shields tighter around himself, and buried his emotions and grief. There was no room for them here. This was not about him.

"The Republic's representatives arrived a short while ago," Satine was saying. "I believe a copy of the treaty was sent to you for your review before the signing?"

"It was, Your Highness."

Get in, sign the treaty, leave. Not unlike the few extraction missions Obi-Wan had done as a padawan—though now his only role was to make sure nothing went wrong. This was what he was now, a weapon chafing against the hand that held him.

Whether anyone stuck to the treaty after it was signed was not the point, Dooku had insisted. He seemed to have little faith anyone would honor it. This was about what the treaty represented, about giving the Republic a standard to fail against so the Separatists would be vindicated in the eyes of history and of the watching galaxy. If Valorum wanted to be the aggressor, let the wavering systems see it clear as day.

Queen Amidala was waiting with the other representatives in the throne room and acknowledged them as they entered, which prompted the Republic to turn to face them. Among them was Bail Organa, whom Obi-Wan remembered from the party aboard The Invisible Hand when Dooku had persuaded Amidala and half the galaxy to turn their backs on the Republic. Also present were the Chancellor's trusted advisors—Mas Amedda and Sheev Palpatine. Politicians to the core, though they smiled well enough. Palpatine, Obi-Wan recalled, had abandoned Naboo for the Chancellor's office, and it seemed to have served him well. Present too was the Chancellor himself. Even under the make-up, Valorum looked drawn, like he hadn't slept in days. Obi-Wan wondered if it was guilt gnawing at the man's bones.

The Force hung like a fog in the room. Everyone here had broken faith, betrayed something or someone to reach where they were, and Obi-Wan found himself looking around the room of heretics and traitors about to swear peace while holding armies behind their backs. Would they fall to war right here?

Obi-Wan was glad for the helmet that hid his face.

Valorum bowed slightly. "Count Dooku."

"Chancellor Valorum," Dooku replied coolly.

The two men stood stiffly like fighters sizing each other up before daring the first swing, and the haze in the Force thickened to stifling.

"Gentleman." Satine's voice was cold and firm as she seized the high ground of voice of reason. "If we may begin."

Valorum looked away, and the tension eased. She ascended to her throne, and a Mandalorian man brought forward a stack of flimsi as thick as two fists—the treaty. Mandalorians were nothing if not a people of tradition. The treaty was a bandage on a gaping wound, one that could not hold for long. Obi-Wan glanced at Queen Amidala and Senator Organa, the architects of the scaffolding. If their efforts could hold until Valorum's term was up in a few years, perhaps his successor would have a more willing ear.

Palpatine clasped his hands. What had Valorum been thinking, bringing Naboo's traitor senator here? "The Senate has ratified the treaty, though there is a great deal of worry that the Separatists' ambitions to..." He glanced at the Chancellor with a significant look. "Reforge the galaxy may outweigh the importance of our agreement."

Obi-Wan glanced at Amidala, but she had already raised her chin with an imperious look. She too had felt the sting of a mentor's betrayal. "I assure you, sir, the Confederacy of Independent Systems has sanctioned the treaty exactly as it lies written, and we will hold the Republic to honoring it."

Before the tension in the room could ratchet any higher, Dooku stepped forward, a hand raised in a conciliatory gesture. "Friends, I thank you for the pains you have taken forging this treaty. The sooner it is signed, the sooner the galaxy can rest at peace."

Liar. Offering peace with one hand while he prepared for war with the other. Dooku started some carefully rendered speech, but Obi-Wan wasn't listening. He didn't have his lightsaber—the count had confiscated that days ago, hidden it Force only knew where. But Obi-Wan did have a vibroblade on his belt, typical for a faceless bodyguard. Dooku's attention was entirely held by the politicians, and he had turned his back to the Jedi.

It would be the work of a moment. Less effort to rid the galaxy of another Sith than it took to remove his helmet. With Dooku dead, the Separatists might stand a chance at keeping the peace, of building something with the moral fortitude to stand against the decaying Republic. Obi-Wan would be dead himself before the count hit the floor, the snipers posted in the corners of the room would make sure of it, but he had already traded his life for the safety of the Jedi. To lose it entirely seemed a small price to pay.

Obi-Wan stared at the spot between Dooku's shoulders, judging the exact distance, the force required to deliver a lethal blow, trying to ignore the roar in his ears.

It was his duty to rid the galaxy of the Sith.

It would be easy.

It would be easy.

"I think not." Satine's voice, cold and sharp, startled him, and he dropped his hand from his belt where it had drifted while he wrestled with his thoughts.

The parties had drifted back to their sides of the table, the treaty signed. Dooku radiated an aura of annoyance, but he addressed the duchess with a politician's ease. "Mandalore has always enjoyed a robust trade network with the Outer Rim. I expect they shall continue to do so."

"A trade network opened through treaties with the Republic," Palpatine responded.

Satine narrowed her eyes. "What are you implying, sir?"

"Only that Mandalore has undergone a great change these past few years." He gestured to the Separatists with an almost innocent expression. "A change nearly as dramatic as the one Naboo and Serenno have chosen. If Mandalore has forsaken her old traditions then perhaps it is not reasonable to expect the old traditions to be upheld."

The Duchess rose to her feet. "I will remind you that you are guests in this palace. I will not listen to any slander on the honor of my people."

In another life, Obi-Wan would have interjected just here, but now he held back and watched as Satine sliced the air with her hand. "Mandalore will honor what treaties we have signed, and we will remain neutral," she said. "I am committed to my principles. Can any of you say the same? Let us see if you can honor what promises you have made before you demand them of others."

"The Republic keeps its word," Valorum asserted with more force than he had exerted the entire summit. Then he winced and pinched the bridge of his nose before regaining his composure.

Palpatine gave the chancellor a look of suppressed concern before smiling at Satine with a grandfatherly bent that bordered on patronizing. "We will honor your decision, of course, Your Highness. But the offer for a new treaty stands. As it does for anyone-" He glanced around the half-circle of Independent Systems. "-Who wishes to be restored to the Republic."

"That-" Amidala said. "Will not be necessary, and we do not thank you for your pains."

Palpatine shook his head with something like regret. Everything about the man was calculated-his speech, his kindness-but something poisonous glinted in his eyes. "I think you will find, Your Majesty, that nothing grows on Serenno but sacanium and sedition. The galaxy has a long history with the Republic that will not be easily forgotten."

The Force rippled ever so slightly then stilled as Dooku wrinkled his nose in disdain. "I served on the front lines of the Republic for decades. I am intimately familiar with its long history failing the galaxy." Dooku bowed. "Chancellor."

Then the count turned his back on the conversation and the Republic's party and addressed Queen Amidala and the other Separatist representatives. "Your Majesty. I cannot thank you all enough for your pains here. I will do my utmost to see that the peace you've begun here is honored."

Obi-Wan clenched his teeth, but Amidala nodded. "Thank you, Count."

The Force curled around Obi-Wan, the slightest tremor, and he glanced back. Satine was sweeping from the room, her frustration and resolve like iron in the Force.

The Republic's representatives were in some discussion, but Palpatine glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, and Obi-Wan's stomach turned. He had never liked politicians, and he needed to make sure these stayed far, far away from the Jedi. He was surrounded by people playing the long game, carefully calculated betrayals for positioning years in advance, not scrambling from moment to moment. He needed to start thinking the same way, for his own sake and for the Order's. There might not be a way for him to escape Dooku, but he might be able to outmaneuver him if only Obi-Wan could get his feet under him. And he knew what his first move needed to be.

Obi-Wan snapped his gaze back to the count, who stood waiting a few paces away. Amidala and her handmaiden were gone, and the Republic was on its way out. He narrowed his eyes at the Sith through the visor. "I need to make a call."

Dooku raised an eyebrow but nodded. "Very well. Consider it a reward for not burying your knife in my back."

Obi-Wan didn't know if Dooku was speaking metaphorically or if the Sith knew how close he'd come to a vibroblade between the shoulder blades. It didn't matter, he supposed. Obi-Wan forced himself not to flinch because Dooku would sense it despite his helmet, and the two of them made their way toward the sun sailer on the edge of the city.

Anakin lurched awake, pushing away the wolves. But there were no wolves. It had only been a dream of monsters lurking in the dark grass outside the dying light of a campfire.

He was cold. Lothal was cold at night. He rubbed at his eye with one fist and peered around in the dark. The stone hut was dim, lit only by the red coals of the fire smoldering behind the grate in the wall. Around him on grass mats lay younglings of all ages. Beside him, his mother lay curled up on her side with her back to the wooden door that led outside. She looked peaceful. Safe. Tired, but the worry lines in her face had eased since they had talked to the Council who made it clear the Jedi weren't going to send them away.

Bant had introduced him to the other children and gotten them the last of the evening meal to share. Anakin liked Bant. Mom liked Bant too, and that was more important. The Mon Cala was nice, and she'd been friends with Obi-Wan before everything happened. Maybe she would help rescue him once Master Billaba came back with help. He missed Obi-Wan in the pit of his stomach where he'd missed his mom and still missed Qui-Gon and Jenza. He hated Dooku. He hated the old man who had promised to help them and ruined everything instead. He wished Dooku was dead-

His mom stirred slightly, curling tighter on her grass mat. Anakin shut his eyes tight and counted to ten, trying really hard to let go of his anger like Obi-Wan had shown him so it didn't burn him up from the inside out. He wasn't sure it worked-he still hated Dooku like he hated the slave masters on Tatooine-but when Anakin leaned down and kissed his mom on the forehead, she stilled again. The Force went smooth like a freshly leveled sand floor, ready to hold whatever came.

Anakin closed his eyes and meditated for a few minutes, but all he could think about were the glowing wolf eyes outside the ring of firelight, peering at him. It made his stomach feel weird like he'd drank cold water too fast, so he laid back down close enough to Mom to feel her body heat but far enough away that he didn't accidentally wake her up. She really needed to sleep.

Anakin pulled the meditation cube from his pocket and turned it over and over in one hand murmuring silently: "I am one with the Force. The Force is with me. I am one with the Force. The Force is with me." And the prayer wound around him like a shield, and he said it again, over and over for his mom, for Obi-Wan, for himself until he drifted back to sleep.

Plo led Depa into The Crucible's small med bay. On a patient bed lay a young knight, Luminara Unduli with her black cap carefully hiding her hair and an ashen look to her green skin. At her side sat an equally young human, Garen Muln, who was seated beside the bed, passed out with his cheek pressed against the blanket and his hand holding hers while a beeping monitor and a powered down med droid stood vigil over them both. Two Jedi, barely knighted, the Force folded around them with a survivor's grief.

"They escaped in Muln's Flight Corps fighter with Aayla and the younglings," Plo answered by way of explanation. "They managed to evade the Republic until they heard my transmission, but Knight Unduli was injured by a droid patrol during a recovery mission. She's healing, slowly."

Depa frowned. "Recovery mission?"

Instead of answering, Plo walked to the other side of the med bay and pushed back a cloak hung over the edge of a container in a kind of curtain. Inside what Depa now realized was a crib there lay a tiny toddler with curly black hair and brown cheeks soft with baby fat. He blinked as the light touched him then rocked himself up into a sitting position and peered at the Jedi masters intently.

"This is Caleb. He joined us a few weeks ago from the recovery mission Knight Unduli was injured during. The bounty hunters had gotten there first, killed his parents, but we were able to rescue him before they left the planet."

"Bounty hunters?"

"The Republic is still testing for Force sensitives and paying bounties for each child brought to Coruscant alive."

Find us.

You must find them, Master.

The memory of the hooded figure in her vision. Before it's too late. A warning as well as a command. Allowing the memory of her vision to pass over her, Depa exhaled slowly. "You've been looking for them already."

"Where I can. The Force leads us, but there are so many lost, and the galaxy is vast."

Dark eyes wide, Caleb reached one hand out to her. She took it, and when he wrapped a chubby hand around her finger with an iron grip, the Force crystallized. A shatterpoint.

Master, are you listening?

Oh.

"Yes, I am listening, little one."

He smiled, still toothless, and she smiled back.

The Force hummed, and a moment later the med bay door slid open, and Nahdar skidded into the room. "Master Plo! Someone's calling the new ship. Master Hyuang sent me to fetch you."

Depa and Plo exchanged a glance and more than a little concern in the Force before she slipped her finger free of Caleb's grasp and ran her hand over his curls. "I will be back, little one."

He didn't cry, only watched her and Plo leave the room with wide eyes.

Aboard The Revenant, Depa activated the recorded message and was surprised to see Obi-Wan's blue form flickering above the console, speaking into a comm on his wrist. She couldn't tell where he was, but he looked uninjured. Tired.

"This is Obi-Wan Kenobi with a message for Master Billaba. Master, I do not know if you still have The Revenant, but if you are seeing this, it means you were all able to get somewhere safe." He glanced up like he'd sensed something out of the holo's range then looked back down.

"The Force has brought me to a place of... relative safety, given the state of the galaxy. I will rejoin you when I can, but I do not dare try to contact you again lest we all be discovered. The surviving Order must be your first priority. Do not look for me. Tell-" He took a breath, and she could see him shaking slightly. "Tell Anakin I am pr… I am sorry. I know it was not the will of the Council that he be trained, but please, Master Billaba. You must train him. Anakin must become a Jedi." Then he put his arms by his side and bowed low. "May the Force be with you."

The message flickered out, and Depa looked over the call record and saw it had come from somewhere in the Mandalore system. She shook her head. "Do you think he escaped?"

Plo folded his arms. "Or Dooku let him go."

"In hopes he'll lead the Separatists to us."

"Perhaps. But he does not know where we are, and if I recall anything about Kenobi, he will wait until he thinks it is safe to begin to look for us. Even if it takes years."

Depa ran a hand over her face and down her looped braid. "Anakin will not be pleased."

"No. But knowing his master is safe may ease his mind. And if the Force is guiding us to look for its children, perhaps it will lead us to Kenobi as well."

Depa bowed her head, a headache building behind her eyes as she felt again the grief of all they had lost. It was just as heavy every time she held it, but the edges were blunted from the holding, and every time she allowed herself to feel it, it cut less. This was how they would survive-together, reaching for each other across the dark vastness of the galaxy until the lost were gathered back up. She did not like the idea of one of their own alone, adrift in the galaxy, but if the Force was leading him, Obi-Wan would find his way back to them.

"We will find them, Depa." Plo laid a hand on her shoulder, careful not to cut her on his claws, and she knew she would have borne a cut if that were the cost of the real, solid weight of his presence.

She laid her hand atop his to reassure him back. "I know we will."

Obi-Wan ended the call, dropped the comm to the floor of the sun sailer, and ground it under his heel, shattering the casing and demolishing any chance of a return transmission.

Seated at the front of the sun sailer, Dooku leaned back in his chair as he studied Obi-Wan with a predatory look, a Serenno wolf watching its prey through the dark of the pines with glinting yellow eyes. "This is an unexpected turn of events. I never thought you would be one to lie to a member of the Council."

Obi-Wan shrugged more cavalierly than the expanding hollowness in his chest should have allowed. It hadn't been a lie exactly. As long as Dooku wanted an apprentice, Obi-Wan stood at the mouth of the wolf's cave where the reek of death kept the other predators at bay. If the Jedi knew where he was, they would come running after him, and there would be no deal in the galaxy that would stop the wolf from swallowing them all whole. The Dark was hungry, and it was patient.

He shrugged. "It was simple enough. I've certainly had enough lessons watching you."

Dooku's face twitched with irritation before smoothing again. "Then if your lessons have already begun, have you decided to take your rightful place as my apprentice?"

The offer again. The hand outstretched. The bond between Sith master and apprentice would be the death of one of them, but it was a bond where Dooku had severed all the others, and the count had watched Obi-Wan himself throw away his only hope of rescue. He was alone.

The realization settled in his chest like a stone and threatened to topple him. His master, gone. The Order, gone. Anakin, gone. Dooku, or the version of him Obi-Wan had hoped for, thrown away. The Dark reached for him with a terrible gravity, calling to the fear and the doubt in him, and he realized it was a simple thing to fall. He had been so close when he fought Maul, when he reached for the Sith seeing stone on Mustafar demanding answers. He could have answers, power-certainty even-if only he would let the Dark would drag him down into that lightless wolf's den and eat him alive.

As if sensing the churning doubt, Dooku tilted his head. "Well?"

Instead of answering, Obi-Wan used the Force to call his helmet from the floor. It drifted up to his hands, and the ambient light of the sun sailor glinted off the visor that held his reflection. The Force had brought him this far, and he was reeling, reeling but still standing. It had brought him to the mouth of the wolf's cave, and the only path out was forward. There was no certainty here, only trust that the Force would keep his feet under him with each step until he saw the light again. Even if it took him somewhere he did not want to go.

Obi-Wan met Dooku's watchful gaze and took his first step. "I think we have work to do. Master."

A/N:

The last interlude! We made it, folks. Thanks so much for sticking with me during this weird middle bit!

Thematically, the whole interlude is supposed to tie together with Obi-Wan and Depa tracking opposite arcs-Obi-Wan down into Dooku's existential isolation trap and Depa up into reintegration with the Jedi with Anakin in a middle place. Which Witch by Florence and the Machine was just on loop as I edited this because who's a heretic? Literally everyone in the room except maybe Bail Organa, which I think is hilarious.

Next chapter will start Part II proper.

Reviews:

s900080: Thank you so much for the kind comment! You made my day.