Disconnected Conduit

by Annessarose

A post-Mortis canon divergence AU featuring Eldritch! and BAMF! Clone Wars trio. Includes a very deep dive into extended canon, including books, comics, video games, as well as some Legends lore. Also includes some very liberal use of what the Force is and how it works. X-post from AO3 (after so damn long). No slash.

13. Chapter 12

Then.

He finds them huddled together on the couch, one of Anakin's arms wrapped protectively around his Padawan as she shakes and shakes and shakes.

She's mumbling, her words shaky. "-nanodroids. There were nanodroids. They were-" She cuts off as she looks up, seeing Obi-Wan walking through the doorway. "Master Obi-Wan!"

"Are you alright?" He asks.

She's alive. She's probably not really alright, but he needs to ask - for his own sake, to know that she will be alright.

"Not at my best," she admits. The tremor in her voice hasn't lessened.

"She held up the rubble by herself," Anakin says. His eyes shine gold in the dim light of the room. On the floor, his shadow flickers, the edges of it blurry and dancing between a shape that's half-human and half-other. "From what I saw, it was probably hundreds of thousands tons of metal and duracrete."

"But there's more, isn't there?" Obi-Wan asks. He sits beside Ahsoka, patting her uncertainly on the shoulder. He's never been any good at comforting anyone, but she seems to appreciate it, the corners of her mouth ticking up and a small sliver of happiness curling in the Force.

"Yes," she says, and she seems calmer. The tremor in her voice has lessened and she sits up, her eyes meeting Obi-Wan's. "There were nanodroids making their way through the rubble. I think… they were trying to reach me. To implicate me in something."

"We think whoever it was tried to frame Ahsoka for a suicide bombing," Anakin says. "Even if- if she'd died- we think it's possible they would have tried to make it look like the explosion came from her."

Ahsoka flinches at Anakin's words. Of course - she'd just nearly died.

(Again.)

"Will you be investigating on your own time?" Obi-Wan asks him. Left unsaid is the way Anakin will search the Temple.

(There are many shadows in this place, after all.)

Anakin jerks his head once, and that's all Obi-Wan needs to know.

But there's something else they need to consider. "But how will you explain that Ahsoka has disappeared when by all rights, she should either be dead or trapped underneath the wreckage?" Obi-Wan holds up a hand, stalling a snarling protest from Anakin. "I am not saying that you should have left her there." He turns to Ahsoka. "Quite frankly, Ahsoka, I am very glad that you are here - but we must consider that the absence of your body may either implicate you in the bombing or reveal to the Order the legacies left behind by the Force wielders."

Sheepishness leaks into the Force from Anakin as he subsides, an apology on his lips, but Obi-Wan sends him a wave of understanding that has him faltering.

Then Ahsoka blurts out, "I can't die," and Obi-Wan freezes in his tracks.

What?

Beside her, Anakin stiffens, and Obi-Wan tries to find a way to reason it out. Instead, what comes out of his mouth is a stuttering, "Pardon?" wrought with uncertainty and worry.

"I-" She bites her tongue, visibly forcing back her words, and she shakes her head, her lekku swaying with the motion. "It doesn't matter for now. I'm sorry for my outburst, but we have other things to worry about, like what you said. We need to figure out how to explain my absence."

Obi-Wan stares at her, speechless, the implications of the outburst whirling in his mind.

As for Anakin, his shock snaps through the Force, tendrils of Darkness cracking through the room in a barely controlled manner. "Ahsoka, what do you mean, you can't die?"

Obi-Wan can only stare. Emotions flash through Ahsoka's face, guilt warring with fear, and Obi-Wan finally gathers himself together enough to speak, releasing his emotions into the Force. "While this certainly warrants a discussion that should not have been brought up at this moment, Ahsoka is right, Anakin." Obi-Wan can sense that there's more to what Ahsoka had said - something that pertains to the three of them - but he pushes it aside. In front of him, Ahsoka inclines her head, accepting the gentle rebuke. "We need to focus on the situation at hand. You both need to find a way to make sure Ahsoka isn't found missing underneath the wreckage."

Anakin catches on, then, and he frowns. "What about you?"

"I've been assigned to investigate the explosion at the Chancellor's office. Discreetly," he adds on, and Anakin's eyes narrow.

"When will you tell them?" he asks.

And at his side, Ahsoka demands, "What?"

Right. She hadn't been told.

The way the conversation is currently moving about, bouncing from one startling revelation to another, is enough to give Obi-Wan a headache on a good day, but they do not have the opportunity to sit about and discuss this slowly - no matter how much they want to. They need to move quickly.

"The Chancellor's office was attacked by an unknown assailant late last night," he tells her. "The Council believes it was an attack from the real Temple Bomber."

Her brows furrows at the mention of the Temple Bomber, then widens as she catches on to what he hasn't said. "You said the Council believes-"

She cuts herself off, surprise colouring the Force as she seems to put two and two together. Her eyes widen and she whips her head around to stare at Anakin. "I sensed something from you at that time," she says, eyes wide. "Master, what did you do?"

Anakin's gaze darkens, the golden colour of his eyes shining a little too brightly in the dimming light of the room. "There was a Sith Holocron in the Chancellor's office," he tells her, and she gapes at him. "I destroyed it."

Emotions swirl around her, and through his bond with her, Obi-Wan catches hints of what she must be feeling - horror at the presence of the holocron, incredulity at Anakin's actions, and even a hint of indignation that she wasn't included in such a reckless plan.

Then she shakes her head, and with a great self-control worthy of the best Jedi Knights, she carefully releases her emotions into the Force to focus on the situation at hand. "I- Wow." She takes a breath, and exhales, jabbing her finger first at Anakin, then Obi-Wan. "We are talking about this when this is over. But for now, we need a plan."

Obi-Wan is struck, then, by her self-control, and how he thinks that she's worthy of her trials already. Privately, he marvels at how much she's grown. Force, that makes him feel old - his grandpadawan, already approaching Knighthood.

"Alright," he says, and they begin to work.

As they plan, Ahsoka pulls out a datachip from her belt, handing it to Anakin.

"Commander Fox gave this to me," she tells him. "The real bomber tried to frame me again before the second explosion. He found evidence that I was being framed and put the backup here."

She doesn't think the datachip is necessary - not for the courts. There's a hunch that she has that it won't be used to prove her innocence as it won't be needed. But what it represented symbolically had helped her greatly - it meant that she was believed in, not only by her masters, but by other people too, and that was enough to make her hold hope. It was enough to help her calm herself.

Still, it's good to give it to someone she can trust. Just in case.

"Who's on this case?" she asks Obi-Wan as they plan.

"Master Allie is in charge, although Quinlan will be investigating the explosion as well," Obi-Wan mentions, and Anakin raises a brow. "He's been assigned due to his talent in psychometry. Anakin's presence could very well be explained out of concern for you."

It's entirely inappropriate, but Ahsoka can't help the small flicker of amusement she feels within her. Padawan gossip in the Temple had all but confirmed that Quinlan Vos is the Jedi that flirts with everyone almost as much as Master Kenobi does, and rumor has it that when they are together, the sheer number of thinly-veiled expletives that ends up flying around is the stuff of legend.

Thankfully, Master Kenobi doesn't seem to catch on to her train of thought. Unfortunately, Anakin does, and he sends to her an amused jab through their bond that has her shaking her head.

(In the back of her mind, the vision of her future nags at her, but she pushes it aside.

Not yet. Not yet.)

Then she remembers something else, and her amusement fades. "And what about Maul?" she asks, and winces when her Masters stiffen.

A beat of silence.

Then- "We've put it off until after this investigation is over," Obi-Wan huffs, frustration lacing his voice. His lips are pressed in a thin line as he ponders the situation. "As of now, we have no leads, and we're already spread thin as is. Master Yoda hopes for us to pursue the case when there's time."

"Another reason to catch the real sleemo who framed Ahsoka, then," Anakin growls, and she couldn't agree more.

When Obi-Wan arrives at the scene of the Chancellor's office, he's struck by how different it looks in the aftermath of the explosion. What once was a clean, open space is now littered with dust and debris, chunks of the wall disappeared and the floor unstable with chunks of plaster ranging from the size of pebbles to a sofa. Luckily, there's no smell that usually accompanies explosions of such a scale - anybody who would have been working here had been back at their homes and sleeping, and as such, there were no casualties.

But one.

Even after many hours, the stink of the Dark Side lingers in the air, making Obi-Wan choke back bile as discreetly as he can without alerting the working Coruscant police to his unease. It's subtle but it's there, crawling over his skin with slimy tendrils of cold that hiss at him.

He can't believe he'd missed this before.

It's so obvious, the rage and hatred swirling lazily in the air following the aftermath of the explosion. Yet, even with his knowledge of the Sith Holocron, the tendrils of the Dark Side moving about the wreckage could easily be mistaken for the lingering effects of a Dark Jedi. Had he not known better - had Anakin not told him, and had Mace not returned with the sliver of the holocron - he may have even mistaken this as another attack by the Temple Bomber.

He'd questioned why the investigation hadn't been given to another Jedi Master off-planet, but Master Yoda's reasoning had been sound. The knowledge of the Sith Holocron could not go beyond the Council, which narrowed down the number of potential candidates to investigate this significantly, and what's more, Obi-Wan has a reputation. He'd only seen the tabloids once, of course, early in the war when he didn't know better, but in this case, it had worked in his favor. After all, the odds of the Negotiator being behind the suspected bombing are so low it's virtually none. Hence, he was the best choice out of the rest of the Council to investigate this.

It works well when he works with the Coruscant Police, too, who are more than eager to cooperate for a picture or a signature for their children. Which is why he nearly lets his guard down when one of them comes to him with a report of nanodroids.

"I'm sorry?" he asks, nonplussed.

"Nanodroids, sir." The woman taps on her datapad a few times, zooming in and pointing at several key spots. "We found traces of them - deactivated - in the wreckage. It stands to reason that some of them were faulty and didn't go off in the initial blast."

Obi-Wan frowns, staring at the report. He's absolutely certain that the nanodroids didn't cause the explosion.

But he can't reveal that.

Instead, he asks, "Is there blast residue present from the droids?"

"That's the thing." The woman scowls, gesturing to certain marks on the rubble. "There's no blast residue that would indicate an explosion caused by this type of explosive, but it's something that could have been wiped away during the initial sweep of the scene."

She doesn't say it out loud, but he can hear her thoughts as she fumes at the incompetence of some of her colleagues.

"Interesting," he mutters. There's a bad feeling forming in his stomach - an inkling of foreboding, as if there is something larger that he cannot grasp behind this. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Hopefully, this will bring us a step closer to finding the true culprit."

He needs to meditate.

When Anakin arrives at the scene of the explosion - in body, rather than through the shadows - he struggles to press down on the anger that seems to rise too easily.

He's seen this scene so many times before in battle - broken duracrete, the shouts of victims and the smell of blood and dust, steel poles sticking out haphazardly around this area. But it's a scene of destruction that should have never shown on Coruscant. This blast is many times larger than the attack on the Temple - either the Temple Bomber had gotten desperate, or, more likely, they had several contingencies in place.

And to know that Ahsoka had nearly been killed - that she would have been killed had it not been for the gifts of the Daughter-

He sucks in a breath, and releases his emotions into the Force, pushing away the image of her still body on Mortis.

She's alive. And that's what matters.

(Is she really, though?)

They'd found a space underneath the rubble that had been mostly stable and close enough to both the surface and her cell for her to be found quickly by rescue teams without it being too suspicious. He'd been reluctant to bring her back there, but she had been firm.

"I'll be fine, Master," she'd said, and her trust and confidence had shone through the Force, a bright white-gold heat that had chafed against his own presence. "I'm strong enough to catch myself if anything goes wrong. And what's more, I trust you to find me if I need you."

That didn't make him hate the plan any less. As it stands, the anxiety he barely represses in the Force isn't fully faked.

As he isn't officially involved in the investigation, he finds himself standing behind the barriers set up for civilians. He's dimly aware of the whispers, of the flashes of holocams as other civilians take pictures of him. The Hero With No Fear! They hiss at each other. A few try to approach him for an autograph or picture, but the stormy look on his face seems to dissuade them from trying.

It might be a karking pain in the ass to deal with whatever the media might spin out of his appearance today, but he doesn't care. He's long learned to ignore those articles.

Being a media celebrity is a double-edged sword. It might give him a reason to be here (Valiant, trying to solve the crime against his people, the media might say), but it also means his every move is over-analyzed (Why is the Hero With No Fear REALLY at the scene of the crime? Click here to find out!). Which means that a better part of his energy is spent making sure his appearance to all people watching is wholly and entirely human.

It's harder than he thought it'd be, without Obi-Wan's help. But he can manage.

Of course he can. He's the Chosen One.

"Knight Skywalker!"

Master Allie's voice cuts into his thoughts and he glances up, seeing her wave him over. One of the Coruscant Police lifts the tape and he steps through, allowing the Force to guide his feet through the rubble. "Are you well?" she asks him, concern gently flowing through the Force. "I could sense your worry from a distance."

He grimaces, pulling back at the emotions that he knows are leaking into the Force. It's a task to be able to reply without snapping, but he manages it - barely. "My padawan is under there, Master Allie." He replies, gesturing to the wreckage. "I'm worried for her."

Her face is impassive, but in the Force, a sliver of sympathy makes its way towards him, a small comfort in a place that still echoes with screams of the victims of the bombing. "Trust your worries with the Force," she tells him, and he tries not to grimace. That's the least comforting thing to say. "Can you sense her?"

He jerks his head in a sharp nod. "She's alive," he tells her. And just to make sure - just for his own sake - he sends a questioning are you okay through his bond with Ahsoka.

She sends back a cheerful affirmative, and he sighs.

This is going to be a long wait.

When Ahsoka finally sees the Coruscanti sky again, over half an hour after Anakin had brought her back underneath the rubble at her own behest, she's aware that the relief that's pulsing off of him in waves isn't faked.

"Ahsoka!" he calls, and she's being helped out of the rubble by the Coruscant rescue workers, their presences working in tandem to pull her and other survivors out of the wreckage. Beside them, Master Allie is standing, eyes closed, directing the other workers to search places where she can sense other survivors.

When she stumbles out, the tiredness she feels isn't faked, either. Her entire body is caked with dirt and dust, but what's more, the half-hour she had spent under the rubble with nothing to do had had an effect that she hadn't anticipated.

With the Daughter's gifts, her senses had gotten stronger.

Which meant that she could sense every presence that had disappeared.

Which meant that she could feel the pain of every survivor that was slowly suffocating under the rubble.

Which meant that she had spent half an hour hearing nothing but screams in the Force surrounding her on all sides, unable to help any of them even though she knew she had the ability to.

That, combined with the knowledge that someone had betrayed the Order and was trying to frame her for something as atrocious as this-

No. This is not the time to lose control. She draws on the Force, on the warmth of the Temple that stands not too far away, and she releases the turmoil she feels.

Anakin grabs her by the shoulders, staring at her in concern. "Are you okay?" he asks.

She draws a shuddering breath, and raises her eyes to meet his.

(His eyes are entirely blue, and in the reflection of her eyes that she can see in his, hers are blue too, not a hint of green there.)

"I am, thank you," she tells him.

The world feels sluggish around her. The stench of death curls around her in the Force, permeating the entire area with its cold embrace. Around her, she can sense the slight unease of Master Allie, carefully controlled with years of training, and further off, she can sense the unruly presence that is Knight Vos as he picks his way through the rubble during the investigation. They, like her, are uneasy with so much death surrounding this place, the Dark Side a constant murmur in the back of their minds.

Anakin looks uneasy, too, but she knows it's because of the destruction wrought here, and not because of the current of the Dark Side.

Then one of the Coruscant Police says, "Padawan Tano, please come with me," and he gestures to the transport that holds other prisoners of the detention facility that are to be transferred to a safer location, and the world seems to speed up again.

Night falls on a Coruscant that's in a little more turmoil than it usually is, but life goes on. The bustle of the night traffic hums along in the background of every citizen's vision or hearing, the lights slowly dimming as most offices close for the night. But the lights are never fully out - even in the latest hours of the night, Coruscant is always alight with the people who work late shifts.

As for sleep, it comes easily to some. Senator Amidala passes out the moment she hits her bed, exhausted after long weeks of pouring over increasingly frustrating legislation. Senator Organa has a restful night, happily relaxing as he enjoys a short week-long visit from his wife Breha. Artoo plugs himself in and powers down after a long day, and Rex sleeps soundly as he seizes the little break he has between missions.

As for others, it comes uneasily. Many Jedi do not sleep well, the stench of the Dark Side lingering over the entire planet. Many spend their night in meditation, falling asleep only after they have found comfort in sinking into the Force after many hours. Master Windu arrives at his quarters at 0300 hours in the morning after having discreetly gotten hold of several shield generators for the Temple. Master Yoda meditates and has a quiet conversation with Qui-Gon Jinn, who seems more cryptic than helpful, much like he was in life. Master Kenobi meditates on the explosion at the Chancellor's office, and finds much in his visions that he needs to think on.

And as for one man, he does not sleep, but rather, he meditates, allowing the Dark Side to grant him strength. The webs of his influence span out in sticky red threads in the Force and he watches them carefully, examining what threads should be pulled, which ones should be cut, and which ones are best left alone.

He focuses once again on the poison of dreams. It had worked so well, too, amplifying the dreams of young Skywalker's mother to encourage his hatred and fear. It had worked again by amplifying the dream of the other young padawan who had bombed the Temple. Sidious had not truly been able to see what dreams he had created within his target's minds - instead, like with Anakin, he had simply seen the seed of the Dark Side in their minds and had given it a push, nurturing it and allowing it to bloom. It was a work of art, almost. Something which he is pleased to see at work.

Such a pity that young padawan would have to go.

He'd already disposed of the Bothan that he'd paid to bring nanodroids to the scene of the explosion at his office. Once he is rid of the true Temple Bomber, then all loose ends will be tied up, and the explosion caused by the destruction of the holocron will be put off to a deliberate explosion caused by her, and no one would know better.

No one, but the true destroyer of the holocron.

Sidious growls. Despite his best efforts, he had not come any closer to discovering the reason behind the artifact's destruction.

But all is not at a loss. Since Umbara, Anakin had been turning more and more towards the Dark. Sidious had thought that it would take at least another year, but the campaign at Umbara had had better results than he had anticipated.

He is pleased.

But enough ruminations on that. Being gleeful over better results does nothing if he does not continue to act on them. Sidious turns back to his web of influence, poking and prodding at it in the Force, and he grasps at the strands which he calculates will provide him with the desired results.

And so, he falls into meditation, and dives into the dreams of others.

The dreams have worsened for her.

Following the bombing she had engineered at the detention center, she had felt a rush of power as she saw the destruction she had wrought. Yet it had done nothing to soothe her mind. Guilt rushes over her in a tidal wave, warring with her feelings of vindication and something else that she can't quite pinpoint.

In her dreams, she battles Knight Skywalker, only he's not entirely human, wavering in-between the form of a human and the form of a demon, and his blade flickers between the azure of the Jedi and the crimson of the Sith. He roars at her for betraying his padawan, and she fights back with a desperate vigor. She leans deeply into the Force - into the part of it that's been forbidden to her and all other Jedi - and she draws strength from her anger. But it's not enough.

The dream always ends the same way. She lunges for the kill, and nearly makes it. It forces his hand and his blade finds a home in her chest and she jerks awake, the phantom pain of a lightsaber in her breast lingering from the vision.

She'd been having this same dream for weeks. It had started as a small thing, easily brushed off as she had planned the bombing, but it had intensified following the manifestation of her plans.

She jerks awake again from the same vision, her chest heaving.

She needs to do something. She needs to do something. She needs to-

Fear claws at her chest, closing her throat and making it hard to breathe. She slams her shields up at her highest, ensuring that no-one in the Temple will feel her terror.

She needs to get rid of Knight Skywalker. There's no other way. The dreams-

She takes a deep breath, then another, then another.

She won't let the dreams come true.

She won't.

In another section of the Temple quarters, Quinlan Vos dreams of the case.

It's not uncommon for people to dream of whatever it is their mind had been on the entire day. Still, he has enough presence of mind in the dream to be annoyed at himself, because why can't he just catch a break? He'd like to have a nonsensical dream that makes him laugh at the absurdity of it when he's awake rather than a dream about the case he's been investigating all day.

Whatever. If the Force wants to tell him something, it can get on with it. He'll take what he can to catch a break.

When he wakes, he doesn't remember much from the dream.

(When he heads back to the scene of the crime, he thinks he sees something familiar, and he reaches out. He doesn't ever realize that the familiarity came from seeing that thing in the dream.)

Had Sidious lived in the time of the Old Republic, he would have been renowned as one of the most powerful Sith to have ever lived even during the times of Malak and Revan. His ability to subtly influence the minds of many through their dreams by amplifying the terror of their foresight speaks to a power similar to one of the strongest of Jedi, Bastila Shan, and her legendary Battle Meditation.

And like the Sith Emperor before him, Sidious is able to influence even the mind of the Jedi's Chosen One of his time.

(In the Temple, Anakin tosses and turns, caught in a nightmare of someone else's making. He dreams of Ahsoka's terror as she was caught underneath the rubble, then of her still body on Mortis. He dreams of the explosion at the Temple, and in his dreams, Obi-Wan is caught in the blast. Anger and fear rises within him, turning into a constant companion that follows him throughout the rest of the week.)

The night passes. The sun rises. And Sidious smiles as he watches his plan begin its work.

Now.

As a Sentinel, he is nameless. He is with no identity and no face, with the same mask and robes and sabers as the others of his kind. As a Sentinel, no one can see his expressions, the twist of his lips or the narrowing of his eyes. As a Sentinel, no one sees his face - the face of a Pau'an, eyes clouded with the distrust of the Jedi Order.

They deserve to fall. They deserve to be destroyed.

The false accusation of Padawan Tano had proven to him the faults of the Jedi. Earlier than that, the death of two other Sentinels during the escape of Darth Maul had proven to him the absolute inadequacy of the Jedi. Their enemy had been held captive, there in the heart of their power, and still he had escaped. What fools. What inadequate, arrogant weaklings.

(In another universe, he is named the Grand Inquisitor of the Empire.)

He'd heard the broadcast of Palpatine's betrayal. It had filled him with a deep hatred, both for the Chancellor and for the Council. He had scoffed. The Council had been so arrogant, flaunting their love for the Force and their mastery of it, yet they had not even been able to sense a Sith Lord that they met with often.

The revelation had also shifted his respect to Palpatine. For someone to be able to wield such power - well, it is appealing. Such power can bring order and stop war. For all the Jedi Order preached about compassion, they were too blind to use their power, too weak to see what they could do if they just used their true power to bring about order to the galaxy.

As a Sentinel, he is one of the many guarding the Temple. He, along with many others, are hidden, scattered amongst the many pillars and rooms to prepare for an ambush should the clones break through.

He scoffs. Fools. The Order is fighting a losing battle. They're too foolish to understand that the smart thing would be to choose the right side. They're too arrogant, too sure in the stagnant code they seem to hold close. But he knows better.

He is but one person, one Sentinel in a Temple of fools. Regardless of their idiocy, they still do wield some power, and he alone will not be able to help Palpatine in achieving the fall of the Jedi without proper planning.

Yet, he, too, wields power. He is a Sentinel. And what's more, he is a Shadow. His work had shown him the power of the Dark Side and he had honed it in secret. And now, it is time to put his skills to use.

Shadows are trained to avoid detection at all costs, especially in the presence of other Force-users. It is a simple matter to slip away from his assigned post with no one the wiser. It is a less simple matter to slip up behind other Sentinels and to catch them by surprise. After all, they are trained for such things.

But they are Jedi. They are weak. And with each lightsaber he collects, their fear and anger at his betrayal strengthens him as they fall to his blade. He doesn't need to take off his mask or to look into a mirror to know that his eyes, once a shining silver, are now a burning gold.

He moves swiftly, erratically. It wouldn't do to leave a trail of bodies. For each presence he extinguishes, for each time he uses the Dark Side to crush their throats before they can make a sound, he can sense a nearby Jedi moving to catch the new infiltrator.

Yet they are incompetent. He moves swiftly, and is not caught. There are already a dozen bodies in his wake. There is no clear trail that he leaves - one dead in this quarter, another in a different sector. If he leaves a trail, it would be too easy for him to be caught.

(In another universe, he turns on the other Sentinels as Vader marches on the Temple. In another universe, Darth Sidious takes note of his actions, and he becomes the first Inquisitor.)

More fall to his blade. He knows well how to be silent, how to move without being sensed by other Force-users. The Dark is so inviting - it makes his blood sing with each kill, the fear and suffering on Coruscant amplifying his power.

(But with the Dark Side comes the folly of arrogance.)

"Sentinel."

The voice echoes behind his back. He turns to find Jedi Master Luminara Unduli standing at the end of the hall. Under his mask, he bares his teeth, anger flickering within his chest at getting caught. Yet, there is also an exhilaration for the fight that is to come.

"Jedi," he growls, and he smiles, feral and gleeful.

Her lightsaber blade is already alight, the emerald colour washing the walls with its hue. "Your rampage is at an end," she declares, her body moving into the opening stance of Soresu. He scoffs at the gracefulness of her gestures. She will be nothing - weak, easily dealt with. But it will be fun to toy with her.

He ignites his saberstaff, twirling it so quickly that it becomes a blur of light, and he leaps forward. She meets him blow for blow, wrist twisting expertly with just millimeters to spare. He strikes left, then right, then left again, slashing at her legs and her head as she twists and turns amongst the hallways.

How weak. With each strike, she gives ground, her feet moving backwards as he pushes her back towards a window. All it will take is a moment of distraction, then one strong push, and she will be through the window - and the shields of from the generator - and easy pickings for the clones.

Around him, he can sense the alarm of other Jedi as they begin to rush to their location, and he growls. Incompetent. They have been dueling for half a minute, and only now do they begin to move. But that means he must win quickly if he is to survive long enough to join Palpatine.

"Can you sense it, Jedi?" he taunts with each blow. His breaths come hard as he continues his relentless assault, battering at her shields as she avoids death by a hairsbreadth with every stroke. Even under her formidable shields, he can sense the pain, the anger, carefully repressed but there all the same. "The Order is falling. The Jedi will soon be no more."

"The words of a halfwit," she says dismissively, and he snarls, swiping low in a move that nearly takes her leg off. Even as she loses, she still holds herself with such arrogance. "Those lost today are with the Force - we are prepared to let go and to celebrate the life they have lived. Yet you and those who follow the Dark Side are weak to the promise of power."

So high and mighty. Her words enrage him, fuelling his power, and his saber cuts close this time, shearing off a part of her sleeve and leaving her shoulder with a shallow burn. She winces and he grins, knowing that her time is near. "Weak?" he laughs. His voice is distorted by the mask, yet even then, he knows she can hear the elation in his words. "It is the Council that has grown weak. You claim to be masters of the Force, yet even with all your power, the Dark Side has never been stronger." Their blades flash, whirling in a deadly dance as she is pushed further and further backwards.

And still she is haughty, unwavering in her faith in the Jedi. "It is with the Force what we could do," she says, and he scoffs at her. Of course she believes the Council is blameless. "Our journey with the Force is nowhere near its end. As for you, I recognize your form. Your movements are sloppy, your steps unstable. Your arrogance in the Dark Side is nothing but an illusion."

He snarls again. Enough with this charade - he will end this quickly. He feints to the left and she moves her saber to block him, and he slices to the right, certain in his triumph-

But she is there, the emerald blade flashing expertly as she twists her body and cuts precisely into his left forearm whilst avoiding his strike.

His blood boils. She dares to do this? With a wordless roar, he lunges forward, his blades raining down on her relentlessly in a deadly hail that is sure to kill her. With each move, she begins to fall back, sinking lower and lower into the ground.

Then she makes a mistake. A fatal mistake. An opening presents itself, and without hesitation, he plunges his saber downwards.

In another universe, he watches as she dies, and he uses her remains to lure other Jedi to their deaths. In another universe, she was his captive.

In this universe, she is in her prime, in the heart of her power, and a long-practiced master of Soresu.

In another universe, his arrogance is his undoing.

In this universe, it is the same.

What he has forgotten is that she is a Jedi Master for a reason. The opening is deliberate, and with an expert hand, she twists away with less than a quarter of an inch to spare, and her blade finds its home in his heart.

What?

He tries to gasp, only he can't. He stares at the pulsing blade, feeling not its heat but a cold numbness emanating from his chest, then at her, and her face softens as his hands fall limp and his saberstaff clatters to the floor. She deactivates her saber, catching him as he falls, and as the edges of blackness crawl into his vision, he finds he cannot loathe her for the weakness of compassion that she shows now.

"Rest, Sentinel," she murmurs.

Then there is nothing.

Then.

In the morning, as Quinlan rushes through the halls of the Temple whilst cursing himself for deciding to take too long to wake up, he turns a corner and runs straight into a Lasat Master.

"Kriff!" he barks out, then he sees the Lasat's padawan, a young human male of about twelve years of age with ginger hair, and he winces. "I'm sorry, Master-"

"Tapal," the Lasat says, but his smile his gentle and understanding. "Knight Vos, is it?"

Quinlan winces. He knows he has a bit of a reputation in the Temple, and to prove his reputation as a maverick in front of a kid makes him feel a tad guilty. "Yes, Master."

Just a bit.

His lightsaber had fallen off his belt at the collison. He curses internally - he needs to get the damn hook fixed or else he'll lose his saber eventually. Master Tapal's padawan reaches for Quinlan's saber to hand it to him. "I got it-"

Then the padawan freezes, his hand clutched tightly around the saber, and Quinlan's blood runs cold. He knows that look. He'd had the same look on his face many, many times when he was younger and learning to control his abilities.

Force, of all the times to find another kid that knows psychometry-

His lightsaber has been through its fair share and back. It's not absolutely terrible, but for a twelve-year-old kid, it's awful.

Master Tapal is shaking his padawan, holding his shoulders gently in concern. "Cal?" he asks, voice rising. "Cal! Can you hear me!"

Then the kid - Cal - comes to, his eyes wide and his hands shaking, and he hands the saber back to Quinlan.

"I'm sorry, Master Vos," the kid manages. "I shouldn't have-"

"No, no." Taking the saber, he kneels, making sure that he's at eye level with Cal. "It isn't your fault. You got a talent, kid." Glancing up, he stares at Master Tapal, who is watching with a wary eye. "Your padawan seems to have the ability of psychometry, Master Tapal."

The Lasat master's eyes come alight with understanding, worry fighting with pride as he looks at his padawan with an appraising eye. "Ah, I understand."

"Yeah." Quinlan pats Cal on the shoulder, giving the kid a gentle smile. He remembers his days back when he learned to harness his own abilities of psychometry - days of headaches and pains, and finally, it had paid off, making many of his missions much easier. "It'll be tough work, but you got this, kid."

Cal smiles uncertainly back at him, the corner of the kid's mouth pulled up in a half-smile. "Thank you, Master," he mumbles, and a little part of Quinlan's heart soars. The kid reminds him of Aayla in her early days of the apprenticeship, uncertain of her own power yet so kind and compassionate.

Quinlan smiles at the kid, squeezes his shoulder, then stands, nodding to Master Tapal. "I must be off, Master Tapal. Take care of your padawan, will you?"

The Lasat laughs, a bright sound that sends warmth ringing through the Force. "Of course. May the Force be with you, Knight Vos."

Cal echoes the statement. Quinlan salutes in response, and they go their separate ways.

Ahsoka is exhausted.

She hadn't gotten a wink of sleep since before the explosion. After she had been taken away with the other prisoners, she had been led to an interrogation room, where she has been sitting since with her arms cuffed to the table.

It's been hours. The glare of the light above her hasn't lessened at all, making her head pound with the constant beam that bears down on her relentlessly. Her arms and back ache from being confined to a chair in a stiff position overnight, and had she not been trained as a Padawan, she knows she would have cracked and started shouting for somebody to get her the kriff out of here.

But she's a Padawan. And what's more, she's not alone. Morai had returned soon after the explosion, a little dimmer but still there, a warm, comforting presence that keeps her grounded in this almost-nightmare. Being captured isn't new - she's been captured multiple times. She's been beaten and shot at and she was literally killed on Mortis.

But it's something else when the ones that are holding her in her bonds and causing her pain are the ones she's been fighting for since she became a Padawan.

The door opens, and a slimy presence walks in.

Even when she'd rescued him at the Citadel, she hadn't liked Tarkin at all, with the way he turned his nose at the Jedi and the clones and the beady dislike that had burned in his eyes. His presence now is completely unchanged - haughty, arrogant, with a perpetual sneer that makes her feel uncomfortable and nurses her hatred for some officials. "Padawan Tano," he says, and she hates the way his voice sounds right off the bat, all silky and condescending, "I trust you are doing well?"

He put her in here. She's absolutely certain that he's the reason she's been sitting, chained to the chair, for hours on end, but she bites back her retort and releases her frustration into the Force. "Captain Tarkin," she says, inclining her head, and says nothing more.

(She knows she isn't really able to conceal her glare.)

His sneer is barely discernible, but in the Force, his disdain for her leaps into the air, a cold, rotten feeling that makes her shiver. If it were possible for non-Force-Sensitives to be Sith acolytes, she would swear that he is one of them, his presence so cold and filled with hatred and arrogance that she itches for her lightsabers. "I have a few questions that need to be asked. Standard procedure, as I'm sure you well know."

Ahsoka nods her head, once. It wouldn't do to speak unless necessary.

Part of her wonders why Tarkin is so sure that she's the suspect. She's innocent, and the Council and her masters had defended her strongly.

But she thinks she knows.

(If she doesn't shield well enough, she can hear his thoughts - and the thoughts of the others milling about this sector of the building. The Daughter's gifts have enhanced her senses a little too much.)

A successful conviction would certainly give him a lot of clout. Whether or not she's innocent, she's pretty sure he doesn't care. And what's more, she's a Jedi, and she's not human. All those count as negative strikes in his book. Combine that with her age, and he sees her as an easy target.

But she can handle herself. She's sure of it.

"Well, then, if you do not have any more questions, let us begin." Tarkin takes a seat across from her, his body language every inch the posture of a professional man going through standard procedure for his job. Yet, in the Force, his presence is a roiling, disgusting mass of arrogance, hatred, and lust for power, held together by a ruthlessness Ahsoka has only seen in the worst of the Separatist generals. "Three days ago, what were your whereabouts prior to your arrest?"

He's being deliberately blunt, and he knows it. The lines in his eyes make her think of one of the predatory lizards in her homeworld - venomous, fast, and dangerous in ways you wouldn't expect.

"I was with the Jedi Council in the morning - I believe they can confirm my presence on that day," she tells him. Behind her, Morai coos, and she draws strength from the spark of warmth she can feel behind her back. "I left to interview Letta after I was requested and I was accompanied by a group of the Coruscant Guard at all times. The clones left briefly when Letta asked to be alone - it was at that time I stopped her from getting killed."

"You claim that she was being attacked by another Jedi?" he asks, voice oozing with suspicion, and she tries not to scowl.

"She was." Her voice is firm. "I sensed a presence that had the intent to kill and I pushed it back. Immediately after, I went after that Jedi after calling for the guards and after talking to Master Skywalker through our comm. Following that, Master Skywalker accompanied me to the Council Chambers at the Temple."

She leaves the story at that. Tarkin knows what happened next.

"I see." Tarkin's voice is professional, but underneath the surface of civility, Ahsoka can hear the condescending sneer in his tone. "But you were not able to apprehend this alleged Jedi, were you, Padawan Tano?"

She grits her teeth, then carefully unclenches her jaw, making sure her tone is even. There's no need to rub it in my face. "No. I was not."

Condescending sleemo.

"Unfortunate," he says, only he doesn't really sound that regretful, only dismissive. "During the pursuit, you were alone, were you not?"

Force. Every single word he says is dripping with disdain, as if he can't find a reason he should even be bothered with interacting with her. "I was not followed by any clones," she says carefully. "But if you check the cameras, I'm certain you'll be able to track my movements during that time."

"Unfortunately, the footage during that time has been corrupted by a slicer," he says delicately, and she resists the urge to curse. Of course it was. "The fact remains that your presence is unaccounted for during a timeframe in which you may have been able to speak to CC-5869."

This time, she can't help herself. "I did not mind-trick Trooper Stone," she snarls, and though Tarkin is unflinching, she can sense a smugness emanating from him after having gotten a reaction out of her. "To even suggest that I would even commit such an act-"

"I suggested no such thing, Padawan Tano," he says, raising an eyebrow, and she snaps her mouth shut, hating every way he looks down on her as if she's an insect that he finds annoying and wants squashed. "I am merely stating the evidence we have on hand. And, do forgive me, but I must ask - where were you on the day of the explosion?"

She shifts, her hands pulling against the cuffs that have been chafing against her wrists since last night. Then she releases her anxieties and anger into the Force, drawing again on the strength of the Light she can feel from Morai and from herself. There is no emotion, there is peace. "At the time the explosion happened, I was asleep in my quarters." It's not enough - there's no way to prove that she wasn't asleep in her quarters, but at the same time, she's innocent. She knows the truth. Surely, she'll be released soon.

"Alone?" Tarkin prompts, looking down at her from his nose. She holds back the urge to roll her eyes.

"Yes. But I live in the joint master-padawan quarters with Master Skywalker," she says. "He should-"

"But the fact remains that your actions that night are not entirely accounted for," he says smoothly. "You must understand, Padawan Tano, that there is little solid evidence to prove your innocence."

She swallows hard, fighting against the rising anger that bubbles into her throat and threatens to make her voice shaky. The Dark that leaks off of Tarkin is infectious, making the air feel poisoned with his cold ruthlessness. "But there is evidence I was framed," she insists, pushing down the hysteria that's beginning to rise. "Something happened to set off the alarms while I was in my cell. I never left!"

Something crosses Tarkin's face - the shadow of annoyance - and she snaps her mouth shut. No matter what she does, Tarkin will dislike her - there's no use losing her temper. It'll only make things worse.

In the back of her mind, she clings to the knowledge of not just the Council's, but also Commander Fox's belief in her, and she relaxes. She has others - ones who are objective - to back her up. She knows this, and it spreads a gentle warmth through her, calming her hysteria and cutting through her anger.

She can do this.

Before Tarkin can continue, a knock sounds on the door, and he turns to it in annoyance. "Yes?" he demands in a clipped tone.

The door opens to a haggard-looking clone officer and an impeccably-dressed zabrak female. "Sir," says the officer, "Ms. Zakarma requested to be let in to see her client."

A moment passes, and Ahsoka takes a moment to try not to smash her head against the table.

She'd forgotten that she could get a lawyer.

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Her self-rebuke, however, is cut short at Tarkin's reaction in the Force. Outwardly, his expression doesn't change at all, but the moment the lawyer had shown up, his smugness had been cut through and his annoyance had increased tenfold.

As far as Ahsoka's concerned, kriff him. Karking bastard. Silently, she sends a thanks to Anakin and to Senator Amidala, who she's sure is responsible for the appearance of a lawyer.

"Of course. It would be my pleasure," Tarkin says, sounding as if it is anything but.

Behind Ahsoka, Morai hoots, and Ahsoka swears that the eyes of Ms. Zakarma flicker to where the convor is perched, invisible in the Force.

Then Ms. Zakarma opens her mouth, and Ahsoka prepares herself to hold back a smile as the zabrak woman verbally rips into Tarkin.

When Vos finally arrives back at the scene of the bombing at the Detention Center, Stass Allie has been there for fifteen minutes already. "Sorry I'm late!" he says cheerfully, and she raises an eyebrow at him.

"There is much to do, Knight Vos," she admonishes. "Come, let us work."

The air around this place is slick with death and pain. Normally, such an occurrence would prove distracting to any Jedi - the death toll here must have numbered in the dozens. But they are in the midst of war, and unfortunately, this scene is no longer unfamiliar to Stass. She sighs and releases her sorrow into the Force.

The investigation is long and arduous, lasting long into the afternoon. After hours of pulling survivors from the wreckage and investigating for clues, Stass begins to wonder if they will be able to find anything to lead them to a suspect. There has been nothing thus far - perhaps they are looking in the wrong place? She stands, making to tell Vos that she wishes to meditate on their findings, before he straightens abruptly.

"Are you well?" she asks curiously.

He holds up a hand, cutting her off. To anybody else, such a rude action would be cause of irritation. To Stass, she watches, bemused, as he picks his way carefully around the rubble, allowing the Force to guide his path. "I think," he says, and doesn't continue.

"I'm sure you do," she teases, and he rolls his eyes. He reaches out, the Force swelling around him, and something flies into his hand and he closes his eyes.

As he stands in the midst of a vision brought by his psychometry, Stass knows better than to stand around uselessly. She turns, holding out her palms to the still-unexplored rubble, and extends her senses. The rescue teams have made a good effort - around seventy percent of the survivors have been rescued, but there is still work to be done. She falls into the Force, counting the many flickering lights - some of which are dimming - that are trapped under the dull presence of duracrete and steel, and when she opens her eyes, she takes out the datapad to mark the places where she sensed the survivors.

Just as she finishes marking up the files on her datapad, Vos opens his eyes, his brows furrowed. "What did you see?" she asks.

"A lead," he tells her, and her gaze sharpens.

This will be interesting.

The lower levels of Coruscant are not the most welcoming of places. Non-locals often find themselves lost, unable to navigate the maze of alleys and half-broken paths that twist and turn throughout the planet. Even Jedi are easily lost, though they are able to find their way around a little more easily - unstable pathways are no challenge to beings that can jump over fifty feet.

In the lower levels, it is not unusual to be watched. Every local keeps a watchful eye on their surroundings. It's nothing personal - it's simply business. Pickpockets and scammers are easily found. As such, it is not unusual to have the feeling of being watched when one wanders down there.

"This place gives me the creeps," Quinlan mutters to himself as he weaves his way through the crowd. Both he and Master Allie are in their cloaks - in a place such as this, it is not unusual for hooded individuals to be moving quickly along the alleyways.

"I was under the impression that you had worked here before," Master Allie says.

"I've worked in the underbelly of Coruscant for a share of times," he concedes. "But can you sense it? It's different here."

Allie hums. "Yes. It is… colder, here. As if someone strong in the Force had spent much of their time ruminating on their fear."

Though his head doesn't whip from side to side, Quinlan is tracking every suspicious movement with a sharp gaze, his senses on high alert. So far, he'd gently repelled four pickpockets, nudging them with the Force to make them stumble and lose interest. He also suspects that he and Master Allie are being followed - there's some movement in the shadows, indiscernible and invisible, as if there's something moving through them.

"We may have a follower," he murmurs to her.

"Oh?" In the Force, a quiet curiosity pulses from her. "I do wonder why they are so interested."

On an unspoken word, the two of them double down on their shields in a technique used in only the most dangerous of stealth missions. I am the passing wind, they say into the Force, and the eyes of the people near them glaze slightly as they move unconsciously around the two Jedi. I am nothing. I am the light of the lamps and the shadow cast by the overhead signs. I am nothing.

After another thirteen minutes, Quinlan allows his breath to escape in a quiet sigh. "I think we lost our friend," he quips.

Allie chuckles. "I believe we have."

(They didn't.

Quinlan knows to check every shadow, from the ones cast by the smallest crate to the largest sign. His senses are finely attuned, able to catch any living creature that may be using the darkness of the shadows to hide themselves.

But when their follower is someone who is inside the shadow… it is a different story altogether.)

They find the abandoned explosives warehouse not long after. The other investigators are quickly called to the scene, quickly documenting the crates upon crates of nanodroids that match the nanodroids used at the previous bombings. Fingerprint investigations reveal no leads other than a few handprints which are later matched to Letta Turmond. When Quinlan casts out his senses, his visions given to him through psychometry give him a hint - a slight figure, female, young, and humanoid. "The suspect is someone with no head-tails," he details in his report, and the information quickly makes its way through the chain to Ms. Zakarma, who begins her work to quickly free her client, much to the dismay of Captain Tarkin.

Hours later, Obi-Wan Kenobi is recalled from the investigation of the explosion at the Chancellor's office, and the case is put underneath the supervision of Master Allie and Knight Vos. The SBI cites the presence of the nanodroids at the Chancellor's office as the reason to loop the explosion investigations into one case, along with their belief that the same culprit is involved in both.

"I was able to discern a name," Obi-Wan tells the Council chambers quietly, later that night. The Jedi Masters lean forward in a wary anticipation. "It came to me in a vision - I haven't written anything down."

"Off the record, this must be," Yoda says firmly. "No information, for the Sith to search through, we must give."

Obi-Wan dips his head in acknowledgement, and he pronounces the name. "Vitiate," he says, and the Force in the Council chambers trembles.

Now.

As far as Wilhuff Tarkin is aware, the Jedi should be able to survive this if they truly deserved their reputation.

The rumors say that the Jedi possess supernatural speed and strength, that they can control anything with their mind and that they have an unnatural gift of precognition. If they truly are so powerful, they should have been able to foresee the betrayal of Chancellor Palpatine. If they truly are so powerful, they should be able to prevent the loss of life.

No matter. No great loss if the Jedi fall. The war has proven that they have no strength, no power, only a meek philosophy that does little to serve the Republic. If they are overwhelmed, they deserve to die. In fact, Tarkin finds in himself a modicum of respect for Palpatine which the Jedi do not deserve. The Chancellor certainly is clever, incredibly cunning, and powerful - such ambition is something that Tarkin can greatly respect. Unfortunately, he had been ousted on live television, and such a slip proves that even in the end, Chancellor Palpatine is not clever enough.

Tarkin shakes his head. Is he surrounded by fools? Only the strong survive. It truly is bothersome when no-one around him is competent. Well - nearly no-one. Only a few, such as Garrick Versio and Orson Krennic, have proven competent, and even then, Tarkin has been keeping an eye on them, watching for any mistakes.

The broadcast of Palpatine's betrayal had been cut off shortly as the clone troopers of the Coruscant Guard began shooting at the Jedi, at any senators, and at any transports in the air. Tarkin had scoffed. He'd known from the start that the clones were inhuman. Of course they were - genetically engineered, unnatural, functionally the same as droids. He'd seen the need for medical stations, of course - it was cheaper to heal them than to buy new clones. Regardless, it may be prudent to begin switching to a more… human workforce following today's events.

Few Jedi had ever earned Tarkin's respect. General Piell had earned it following the incident at the Citadel - to be resilient against torture for such a long period of time is no small matter. General Skywalker, too, had earned some of Tarkin's respect, given his efficiency in battle and his prowess as a warrior. General Krell, too, was worthy of respect, in Tarkin's opinion - his methods had been straightforward and had had results. Some of Tarkin's colleagues had raised an eyebrow over General Krell's high casualty numbers, but Tarkin had understood what his colleagues had not - that his is war, and that the casualties were necessary. Besides, the casualties were just clones. Easily regrown in a laboratory. It really was a shame that General Krell had perished on Umbara.

Tarkin peers outside his office window, observing the flashes of light as transports are shot down. What chaos. The military buildings had been untouched - rightfully so, of course. As a Captain, he is safe from the orders Chancellor Palpatine had given out.

He observes carefully, assessing the damage with a critical eye, then shakes his head - the clones are being sloppy. But what should he expect? They're creatures grown in a laboratory. Of course they are sloppy.

If Tarkin had known that those would have been his last thoughts, he possibly would have thought of something else. Unfortunately, like the spiteful, arrogant man he was, Tarkin's thoughts were always focused on the weakness of those around him and on his own assurance of his strength.

Sloppy, he called the clones. How unfortunate, then, that a stray blaster bolt that was targeting one of the transports in the air had missed. How unfortunate it was that the blaster bolt went straight through the window of Tarkin's office and into his chest. How unfortunate it was that he died sprawled over his office floor, face twisted in anger at the sloppiness of creatures bred in a laboratory.

What a pitiful ending.

Then.

She can't take Knight Skywalker in a fair fight.

She knows this.

Every time she considers the possibility - after all, since she had begun allowing herself to delve into the forbidden side of the Force, she had grown stronger - she remembers her dreams, and the burn of a lightsaber blade pulsing between her ribs.

No. No. She'll stop it. She'll stop-

Fear claws at her stomach, making her breath come in short bursts. She tries to release it into the Force, but there's too much, paralyzing her. Force. She can't do this. She-

It was for a good cause.

She holds onto that belief like someone clinging desperately to the edge of a cliff by her fingertips, inches away from oblivion. The Jedi needed a wake-up call - they needed to feel the pain they inflicted on so many other cities. As a healer, she had seen so many civilians suffering the aftermath of aerial bombings, all of them collateral damage in a senseless war. So many of them had turned their backs on her, refusing help even though she knew she could heal them.

Jedi, they had snarled, seeing the lightsaber at her belt. Why should we trust you when you bombed our homes?

Her tongue had felt like lead when she tried to reason with them, but one of them had gone so far as to pulling out their IV. I'd rather die than have a Jedi touch me with their sorcery! A local had snarled at her, and she had been pulled out of the room, shell-shocked.

She'd been caught in a bombing once, too. She'd woken up with part of her leg on fire, crushed underneath a burning beam. It had taken her three months to recover.

Her master was too busy fighting another campaign during that time, and hadn't visited her at all.

Before the bombing, those experiences had come back to her every night. With each time she slept, she relived the pain of the bombing and the shock of the pain she had inflicted on civilians as a Jedi. She'd thought that the dreams would have stopped once she did something about it.

A sob chokes her throat, making her take one shuddering breath after another. She pushes up her shields. No matter how much she tries to release her emotions into the Force, she can't. She can't. It hurts too much.

Over time, she'd come to understand that the Jedi were on the wrong side. They were such hypocrites - they preached compassion while bombing cities, they preached kindness while abandoning their padawans as they recovered from injuries they obtained from being bombed by their own side.

The Jedi needed to see it. They needed to feel the consequences of their own actions, the consequences of their own violence. They deserved far worse - what she had done was only a fraction of what they had inflicted on other worlds.

The bombing of the Temple was necessary. It was necessary.

It was necessary.

She pushes away any doubts she has on the victims. Anybody working with the Jedi is complicit. She was once part of the Jedi, but she's doing her part. She's doing the right thing, she's sure of it. She's sure of it.

A part of her feels guilty for framing Ahsoka. The Togruta had been her friend, after all. But when she had meditated, the Force had told her that Ahsoka would have been the best option to choose out of all the others. After all, she knows the Togruta the best. It's easier to frame someone you know.

Her mind turns back to the case of Knight Skywalker. There's no way he isn't investigating the bombings on his own time. Perhaps, if she could find a way to lure him to the warehouse, and to set off the nanodroids while he is inside-

Yes. Yes, that should work.

Hours later, she watches as Master Allie, Knight Vos, and the SBI agents leave the warehouse, leaving it cordoned off. She's well hidden in the Force - even Knight Vos doesn't glance her way. From her hiding place, she can see inside the warehouse, but she's far enough to be safe from the eventual explosion.

And she waits.

Thirty minutes after the last SBI agent has left, Anakin steps into the warehouse from the shadows.

He's not sure what he's looking for. While he's pretty sure that he's competent with investigations, he's aware that Quinlan Vos likely has a leg up with his talent in psychometry.

But he needs to be here. He knows this.

He moves through the warehouse, taking care to stay within the shadows in case he needs to leave at a moment's notice. Even so, he keeps the hood of his cloak over his head, providing another protection should there be cameras or somebody peering inside one of the windows. As of now, though, he doesn't sense anyone nearby. He'll be able to catch anyone that approaches. He knows he can - even before Mortis, he'd been stronger in the Force than most.

(He catches a glimpse of himself in the reflection of one of the windows and looks away.

He'd never really seen himself that way, but there's something very unnerving looking into his own reflection and seeing a hint of a mouth that slashes open his face from ear to ear.)

He doesn't make it to the crates before they go off.

In the same moment, Obi-Wan is walking through the halls of the Temple, deep in conversation with Masters Rancisis and Unduli. "You know," he is saying, "The poet-"

Then he cuts off, staggering on his feet, as danger slams through his bond with Anakin.

When she casts out her senses, she brushes against the presence that she's sure is Knight Skywalker.

He senses her, but she knows it's too late. She presses the detonator and the nanodroids go off, lighting up her view in a rainbow of flames.

After all, even for a Jedi - even for the Chosen One - it is impossible to hold back or to escape an explosion of that magnitude.

But he's not just a Jedi anymore, is he?

When he's in the shadows, his vision is no longer hindered by eyesight.

When he's in the shadows, he's One with the Force, a part of the alleyways and nooks and crannies in which all shadows are on the planet. When he's in the shadows, he's no longer hindered by a mind that can only process so much.

And in the shadows, he senses another presence, crouched in the shadow of an alleyway, watching the explosion of the warehouse with relief coming in waves from her Force-presence.

She'd done it.

She'd really done it. The moment she had pressed the detonator, Knight Skywalker's presence had vanished, becoming one with the Force. The consequences of his disappearance would be felt, but perhaps-

"You seem very relieved for someone who's just witnessed an explosion."

Her blood runs cold and she whips around, terror plain on her face, and she meets the icy blue gaze of Anakin Skywalker.

"Barriss Offee," he says in surprise, only his voice is edged with steel. Her memory of her nightmares return to her, full force, and she stumbles backwards. "What business do you have in the lower levels of Coruscant?"

At the Temple, Obi-Wan's comm chimes, and he slams his hand onto the damned thing, too relieved to see Anakin's comm number to think of anything but replying. Then Anakin's voice comes through, saying something incomprehensible. "You seem very relieved for someone who's just witnessed an explosion."

Wordless, Obi-Wan meets the eyes of Luminara and Oppo in confusion. What explosion? He opens his mouth, but before he can reply, Anakin speaks again, his voice sounding faraway, as if he's some distance away from his comm. "Barriss Offee. What business do you have in the lower levels of Coruscant?"

It is then that Obi-Wan understands that Anakin is comming him to show proof that he's just caught the culprit of the Temple bombing.

Beside him, Luminara's face turns pale, and the Force around her bursts into sorrow.

"Why are you here?" she snaps back at Skywalker, only her mind is whirling, terror making her voice shaky.

"When my padawan is framed for a crime she didn't commit, I think I have reason enough to want to prove her innocence." With each step he takes, she takes another step back, trying to move away from him. He looks human, but there's something about the way that he's moving that's wrong.

Oh, Force. She's going to die. She's going to die. Her chest tightens in fear as she senses the carefully hidden anger emanating from him, cold and horrifying and dangerous. She doesn't stand a chance if he draws first, and she can't run. There's nowhere to go. She must- she must-

She draws her saber and lunges for his heart.

He blocks it, his lightsaber already ignited and slashing back at her side. Her parry comes just in time, yet even then, the strength of his blow sends tremors down her arms. "Funny," he growls at her over the clash of their blades. "Is that a detonator on your belt?"

"You should have died!" she shouts back at him. Despair claws at her and she draws on it, allowing the coldness of the Force to strengthen her. She needs everything she has to survive this. Her lightsaber swipes at his feet and he leaps, his lightsaber slashing down to clip at her shoulder, and she twists, narrowly avoiding his blade.

(His leap was too graceful. He was in the air for just a fraction of a second too long, as if he was being held up by wings of shadow.)

Force. Force. Gods of Mirial, she's kriffing terrified.

"Dozens of others did," he snarls. "In the Temple. In the Detention Center. You nearly killed Ahsoka!"

"They deserved it!" Her voice shakes and she hates it, hates how she's kriffing terrified and how she keeps feeling the phantom pain of a blade pulsing between her ribs. "They were criminals, all of them! The Jedi have long become the villains in this conflict. They needed to understand the consequences of the pain they inflicted on others!"

"So you answered violence with violence?" His blade is relentless, constantly driving her backwards, and she swears that his blade isn't always the clear blue of the Jedi, but the burning crimson of the Sith. "There were innocents you killed in your attacks!"

"No one who works with the Jedi is innocent," she hisses. "Each of them contributed towards the pain that we as an Order inflicted on civilians! On true innocents! This Republic is held on foundations of hypocrisy, and it is failing. It's only a matter of time!"

Skywalker laughs, the sound dark and absolutely terrifying, and she swears that his mouth is opening far too wide for him to be human. "And you think betrayal is the answer? Ahsoka was your friend. She trusted you!"

"I've learned that trust is overrated." Her blade is twisting without stopping, trying to stop a fatal blow, but she's tiring. She can feel it with each blow - she can't go on the offensive anymore. Force. She's going to die here, in the alleyways of the underbelly of Coruscant, fighting a man that's part-human and part something else. Some ways away, she can sense the approaching presences of other Jedi - Master Allie and Knight Vos - as they race towards her location.

Skywalker's blows are unceasing, Barriss' arms having barely recovered from blocking one strike before he follows up with another. She needs to cease the next opening or she'll never make it. She waits impatiently, her despair clawing at her throat, making her stomach churn with terror, and then she sees it, and she leaps to take the chance.

The Force swirls around her, lashing outwards, and Skywalker staggers back as she lunges forward, her blade aimed to pierce his heart.

She's seen this moment before.

Oh, Force. She saw this moment in her dreams.

When his blade comes up and drives into her chest, she's not surprised anymore.

Just numb.

(She meets Skywalker's eyes before all goes dark, and she sees that they are the colour of gold.)

Many klicks away, Ahsoka Tano meditates in her cell, the Force around her calm and relaxed following the meeting with Ms. Zakarma. The zabrak woman had been amazing, going out of her way to make sure Ahsoka knew all she could use in her legal arsenal to be freed. Even after Ms. Zakarma had left, Ahsoka had felt content, certain that she would be freed soon.

She falls into the Force, careful not to delve too deeply. She thinks of the vision she had seen last time - the desiccating corpse of her non-future - and she asks the Force for guidance.

There's nothing, but that's alright. She waits.

Some time later, she emerges from her meditation with a strange feeling, as if she's surfacing from underwater after a very long swim. She opens her eyes, certain that hours have passed, and she's faced with the incredible sight of her own body, sitting cross-legged on the floor.

Okay. An out-of-body experience. It's not unusual, even for non-Force Sensitives, and she briefly wonders if it's because she hasn't had enough sleep. She tries to take a step towards herself, only something flutters at the edge of her vision, and she looks downwards to see that she's in the body of a convor.

Oh.

She's in Morai's body.

Gods of Shili, the Force is beautiful through the convor's eyes. What was previously a rainbow of colours that Ahsoka had seen with her own eyes now seems grey and dull in comparison to what she can see now. The kaleidoscope she sees now is nearly incomprehensible to her mind, a part of her wanting to be frozen forever in awe.

But for the most part, she simply accepts it. As Morai, she can feel a great calm in every fiber of her being. True serenity is no longer a dream but her reality. When she's in this form, she knows that nothing can shock her.

When she's in this form, walls and locks are nothing but something easily flown through.

The Force beckons to her. She spreads her wings, the feeling not so alien to her now that she's in the body of a convor, and she flies to where the Force pulses. When she's like this, distance is no great hurdle. The Force is everywhere, and she can appear wherever she wants in the time that she wants.

She arrives in time to see her master drive his blade through Barriss Offee.

In the back of her mind, she feels a great sorrow to learn of this betrayal. Barriss, the Temple bomber? But it is with the Force. She cannot change Barriss' actions anymore than she can save those that died in the Temple bombing.

She watches as Anakin withdraws his blade and catches Barriss as she falls. Behind him, Master Allie and Knight Vos arrive. "We heard everything you sent through the comm," Master Allie says, her gaze watching Barriss with a deep sadness. "Are you alright, Knight Skywalker?"

Ahsoka sends a little pulse of Light through her bond with Anakin, and when he turns to face Master Allie, his eyes are blue. "I am," he says, voice grave. "I- I had no choice."

Knight Vos, too, is somber, his expression serious. "We understand. Is there a chance of saving her?"

Barriss is fading quickly. Within the next few seconds, she will likely die, her presence gone forever. But Ahsoka can sense in the mirialan padawan a seed of Darkness, entrenched deeply, and not entirely of her own making.

She doesn't deserve this. Her actions were wrong, no doubt, but she had been manipulated.

Ahsoka reaches out, landing on Barriss' wound, and she draws on the Light. The Force swirls around her, a beautiful kaleidoscope of colours, and something shifts.

Life, she breathes. Give her life. Give her Light.

The Force swells, a burst of strength going from Ahsoka and into Barriss, and the mirialan padawan sighs as her vital signs stabilize for the time being.

(Dimly, Ahsoka is aware that she should be hysterical, both at Barriss' betrayal and at her sudden ability to become one with Morai. But she isn't. She's serene, calm, and one with the Light. When she is Morai, nothing can shock her.)

Anakin's brows furrow as he scans Barriss' Force-presence, but he jerks his head once. "Yes. She needs medical attention immediately."

"Allow me," Master Allie says, and Anakin moves aside as Master Allie goes to keep Barriss stable, the Force swirling around her in a beautiful dance of Light.

But there's more to do. Ahsoka sinks deeply into the Force, probing the roots of corruption that had taken hold in Barriss' mind, and she reaches out a clawed foot.

Then she pulls.

Barriss screams, a howl of agony so unearthly and pain-filled that even Master Allie's emotions leap in fear, and she jerks as Ahsoka rips away at the Darkness that had been nurtured by an outside Force. She pulls, and she pulls, and she pulls-

Then Barriss lies still, her mind damaged, but free of corruption.

"We need a medic now!" Knight Vos is snarling into his comm. "We have one person in critical-"

"Stay with me, Padawan," Master Allie murmurs, though her brows are scrunched together in confusion. Ahsoka knows that Master Allie had just sensed the changes in Barriss. just as surely as she knows that both Knight Vos and Master Allie can't see her in Morai's form. "Stay with me."

The moment before Ahsoka flies away, Anakin meets her eyes, and she pokes at their bond.

This was as the Force willed it, Master.

Then the world turns on its axis, swirling into darkness, and she blinks. When she opens her eyes again, she's back in her own body, and the emotional weight of everything she had just witnessed crashes into her.

And she cries.

Interlude: Magick

Then.

Dathomir has not changed since the last time he was here.

It shouldn't be surprising, really. Dathomir had rarely changed throughout history. What is more, this place is home to at least one ally that could possibly help Maul recover his missing memories. There's a large blank spot in his mind, gaping and numb, that leaves him aware that something had been taken from him. Last he remembers, he had been locked in contact with the Jedi. With Obi-Wan Kenobi.

He sets the ship down with caution. He'd only been to this side of the planet once - as a male, he'd lived on the opposite side - but he's certain that he will be welcome. He has an ally.

No, ally is the wrong word. An old emotion, long-forgotten, stirs at the bottom of his stomach as he remembers who he is here to see.

Mother.

He steps off the ship, and a strange emotion rises up within him as he returns home after many, many years.

The air around Dathomir tastes strange. Overhead, the trees loom ominously, their long branches stretching out jaggedly in all directions to eclipse any view of a horizon. As Maul makes his way towards the tall pillars that form the entrance to the coven, he passes by the large pods wrapped in silks, and suppresses a shiver. Though he is a Sith, some things are still too unnatural for his tastes, and the sheer number of burial pods that he sees around him unnerves him greatly. Even now, dozens or hundreds or even thousands of years after their deaths, the Force-presence of the dead sisters buried within these pods still lingers, curling around the planet with long, spidery fingers of coldness.

The back of his neck prickles. A lesser man would have whipped around, certain that he was being watched, only to find nothing in sight. But Maul is a Sith, and he is from Dathomir. He knows he's being watched just as well as he knows that he will not see the ones watching him until they choose to reveal themselves.

The walk to the entrance of the coven is uneventful, yet the air is charged with… apprehension. In the distance, he can hear the roar of the rancors as the sisters fight to tame them. The Force around this place is charged with unease, as if the sisters are anticipating something he cannot yet comprehend.

In the corner of his eye, a movement in the branches above draws his attention, and he turns around to see three forms dropping from the branches to land at a distance behind him. They stand, their movements too graceful and smooth to be natural, and it is this way that he recognizes them.

"Sisters," he greets.

Two of the Nightsisters are dressed in their traditional red garb, their hands holding the traditional energy bows. The third sister stands between the other two, no weapons in hand, and garbed in black.

There's something strange about her. Her presence is carefully hidden, and there is something about her that sings to him.

"You're not like the others," she says by way of greeting, her eyes meeting his. They're a pale, frosty blue, as cold and uninviting as the Force around her.

An unexpected greeting, but a welcome one. "No, I am not," he agrees. "I would like to speak to my mother. Talzin."

The sisters' eyes widen by a fraction, their surprise colouring the Force around them. The sister in black nods, and gestures. "Come with us."

It chafes. To be compliant to the orders of the Nightsisters is custom on this planet, but even so, he is a Lord of the Sith, and he is certain that he is more powerful than most of the sisters. To be ordered around is not something he is pleased about. Nonetheless, he acquiesces. There is no use in making an enemy of his own people.

"This is Karis and Naa'leth," the sister in black says, gesturing to her other sisters in turn. Both of them give him no acknowledgement other than a subtle dip of their heads. "My name is Ventress."

As he falls into step behind them, he gives his own name as courtesy. "I was given the name Maul by my master," he says, and a part of him boils in resentment towards Sidious. "But my true name is something that I have long forgotten."

Ventress glances back at him, an unreadable expression in her eyes, before turning back to face the direction in which they're heading. "Karis, Naa'leth, find Mother and tell her of her visitor." She tilts her head. "I would like to speak to him alone."

The other two Nightsisters move ahead without another word as Ventress stops and turns to face him. His curiosity peaked, Maul watches Ventress carefully, only to find his eyes drawn to something at her waist.

He understands, now, why something about her presence had been singing to him. The lightsabers at her hip that had been hidden by Karis and Naa'leth's bodies are visible now, the kyber calling to him in the Force. "You were an apprentice," he deduces. Briefly, he wonders if she could be a potential apprentice of his, and another stirring of resentment rises within him as he remembers that Savage has vanished, both in person and in the Force, following his latest confrontation with Kenobi.

"I was." The emphasis on the word puts a stop to his musings, a brief flash of irritation igniting in his chest before he dismisses it as useless. "My master abandoned me - just as yours did."

He bares his teeth, musing the consequences of attacking her for her insolence, before grudgingly dismissing it. She is powerful in the Force, and he is without a weapon. What is more, he has no desire to alienate his mother.

"Why return here?" he asks instead. "You are strong in the Dark Side. I can sense it."

"The Sith brought me nothing but pain," she scoffs. "There is no war on Dathomir, no master to abandon you. Are you here to stay, brother?"

Her words strike him at the core. The Sith have indeed brought him nothing but pain, his master abandoning him after years and years of dedication and restless training. But there is another goal he wishes to enact. "I may," he allows. "But only after I have had my revenge."

"On a Jedi?" Ventress asks, bemused.

"On Obi-Wan Kenobi," he growls.

Her reaction startles him with its unexpectedness. Ventress throws her head back and laughs, a high and humorless cackle that rings throughout the forest. "Kenobi?" she sneers, spitting the name as if it is vile. He truly does reconsider attacking her then, anger boiling in his chest, before she speaks again. "A Jedi with a pretty face and pretty words with an unreasonable amount of luck. I will not leave the coven again, but if you are successful, I shall very much like to hear about it."

Interesting. "So he has defeated you before," Maul concludes, needling her.

She bristles, but her face does not twist in anger. "He has. He was always with his precious companion, Skywalker," she drawls. "But that is behind me now. My loyalty is to the coven."

Curiously, he prods at her presence, and finds something which, despite himself, he finds astonishing. Though she is still with turmoil, years of rage and resentment and fear still deep-seated within her, she is not ruled by them, her presence a certain grey mixed with the bright green of the Nightsisters rather than the roiling Dark that he knows is within himself. "I see," he murmurs. "Yet even as a sister, you are not a wielder of magick, are you not?"

"No, I'm not. Like you, I was stolen from my home as a child." Ventress stops at the entrance to the coven, turning to face him, her face softening by the slightest fraction. "And like you, I came home."

Before he can reply to her, Ventress runs back to the cover of the trees, her movements as light and graceful as the cat-like apex predators which populate the northern side of Dathomir. Curious, he muses.

Then he's suddenly aware of a new presence, bright, powerful, and a pulsing green, familiar and also long-forgotten. He turns, a strange emotion bubbling in his throat, and it takes him a long time to recognize the emotion as longing.

Oh.

Oh.

It's been so long.

"My son," Mother Talzin gasps, her normally serene face now a picture of joy. "My son."

"Mother," he manages, and when she reaches to caress his face, he lets her.

Days pass on Dathomir. Maul spends his time alone or with his mother, learning to further hone his skills. He never learns to wield the magicks - he cannot, for he is not a sister - but he spends his time further strengthening his connection to the Force on Dathomir.

It is different here. On most other planets, the Force is a beautiful twisting whirlpool of colours, flickering with the lights of the billions of inhabitants which populate the planet. But on Dathomir, the Force is sharp and cold, a carefully refined green that pierces at his mind if he is not careful. This is the home of the Nightsisters - they have molded the Force here, changed and bended it so that they may wield their magicks.

Talzin provides him with a blade-staff in which she had personally imbued the most potent of her magicks, making it powerful enough to resist the heat of a lightsaber. He spends some of his time sparring with Ventress, their duels fierce, and in the aftermath of their fights, the Force around them always boils with Darkness.

They do not always leave the duels unscathed. Following a particularly brutal one in which Ventress cracked three of his ribs and he sliced open her stomach, they were both subject to a stern lecture from Mother Talzin which stung more than their wounds. She had healed them, of course - but they had learned that the other was under Talzin's protection.

Still, his dislike for Ventress doesn't lessen. She is insolent, arrogant, disrespectful, and he is certain that she thinks the same of him.

(Yet, as he leaves each duel with exhilaration running through his blood, he privately admits to himself that he does feel a modicum of kinship with her. Sister, indeed.)

On the other side of the planet, the Nightbrothers follow their daily routine. Since their brother Savage had returned, tired and terrified and reporting of the return of the Fanged God and the Parent, they had continued their training with a renewed vigor, praying more often to the god and the Winged Goddess.

With each passing day, they had noticed an increase in their strength and a singing in their blood, and they knew the reports of the return of their gods had been true.

But on this day which seems like any other, something has changed. The air is charged with something different, making the clan anxious. The red fog seems heavier than usual, and the roar of rancors sounds too close. The back of Savage's neck prickles often, as if he is being watched, and a strange feeling passes over him several times.

There's a part of him that still feels empty. He misses Feral, misses the kindness of his brother that he had been mind-tricked into killing, and he hates the Nightsisters for it. But he is powerless now, and there is nothing he can do to undo the punishment of a god.

He shivers again. The wrath of the Fanged God had been terrifying to behold. He remembers, too, feeling his life hanging over the precipice, held entirely in the Parent's hands.

He had never felt more vulnerable than in that moment.

At the moment, he is alone in his room, meditating to calm his nerves. It is a technique that he was never particularly good at as a Sith - yet, as a Nightbrother, it is something that they all must know to calm their nerves before the hunt.

Suddenly, what feels like ice water runs down his back, and his eyes snap open, his head whipping up to assess the threat.

Then he sees who it is, and he quickly sinks into a bow.

"Mother Talzin."

Her form is like water, the edges of her clothing and body in constant motion. "Savage," she says, her deep voice echoing from all corners of his room, and he thinks bitterly of how she probably only seeks him out now because she has some use for him. "You were stripped of the power we had given you?"

"I was, Mother." He looks up at her, carefully hiding the resentment in his eyes. "It was the Parent. He stripped me of the magicks and he took the memories of my brother."

Her head is murky and transparent, made unclear as she is not here in person but rather through a projection made from magick, and even so, he can see the spark of fear in her eyes. "The Parent?" she demands, an edge of wonder in her voice.

"Yes, Mother." He watches her carefully. "He and the Fanged God took my brother after they stripped me of my power."

Talzin's mouth falls open by a fraction. On the face of any other person, such a reaction is insignificant, but on Talzin, it is the equivalent of a shout of horror. "I see," she says, her voice carefully controlled.

Then she disappears without another word.

Privately, he scoffs. Clearly, she had only come to him since she needed to confirm the emergence of the Parent. Still, it rankles, to be at the beck and call of the Nightsisters with nothing in return.

At least he will never have to fight another one of their battles. The will of the gods demands it.

Three days later, the Jedi Council is in the midst of their session when they receive a call from a signal not used in over a thousand years. They answer to see the figure of Mother Talzin, her face calm, but her posture tense.

"Long, it has been, since contact the Council, the Nightsisters have," says Master Yoda, his ears pointed curiously. "Need, what do you?"

"Masters Jedi," Mother Talzin says, inclining her head in a show of respect. "I have had a vision. Count Dooku believes that we are a threat to him and his army. They plan on leading a Force to eliminate us - it is our humble request that you send us aid."

The Council exchanges weighted glances. While the magicks wielded by the Nightsisters are not necessarily something approved of by the Jedi, the coven has rarely been an issue, mostly keeping to themselves and never interfering with anything unless it had threatened them directly. "Will he be interfering directly?" asks Mace.

"No. But I sense that the one he will be sending is of importance, especially to the Jedi Order." Talzin's eyes search the Council. "I have foreseen the arrival of a cyborg who wields Jedi weapons."

"Grievous," the Council murmurs. Though they are not close allies - or even allies at all, normally - with the Nightsisters, they do not doubt her ability in divination. The Clan Mother is usually the most powerful of witches, as powerful as the strongest of Jedi.

"Do you know when exactly he will arrive on Dathomir?" Asks Shaak Ti.

"Within a fortnight. You have my word as the Clan Mother that should you arrive to assist us, we will protect you as one of our own."

Left unsaid are the words, we will protect you only as long as you protect us.

The Council ponders. The Force around them murmurs in deliberation as quiet, unsaid conversations are held in the minds of the twelve of them.

After careful consideration, Obi-Wan Kenobi speaks. "But there is more to this, isn't there." He phrases it as a statement and not a question. "What else do you want out of this?"

Talzin turns to him, her eyes locking with his, and for the briefest moment, he senses her fear.

Not fear for her coven, or fear of the impending invasion, but fear of him.

He remembers suddenly the reaction of Savage Opress back when he had confronted the zabrak last, and he realizes that if Opress could recognize the gifts of the Father within him, surely, Mother Talzin can too.

The fraction of the millisecond passes with the rest of the Council none the wiser. Talzin's posture slumps ever so slightly, and Obi-Wan is aware that she is relenting and being freer with her answers because she fears him. "Immunity for my children," she concedes. "I humbly ask for them to be free from the hunters of the Jedi Order."

Some of the Council members tilt their heads in confusion, a question on their lips, but Obi-Wan answers the question before they even ask it. "You seek immunity for Asajj Ventress," he says, and his stomach tightens. "For Darth Maul."

The Force in the Council Chambers drops a few degrees, a low rumble making its way throughout the room. Had this been the Senate Chambers, the room would have descended into immediate chaos - as it is, some of the masters lean forwards in their seats, a severe expression on their faces, and some of them suck in a sharp breath, a firm denial on their lips. For Obi-Wan, he carefully releases his emotions into the Force, yet even so, he is aware that his expression has changed, hardening into steel.

Talzin sees this. The corners of her eyes tighten, but she does not relent. As much as he dislikes her request, he can respect that - how the love of a mother can eclipse even the fear of a god.

(In the reflection of the windows, he catches his own gaze, and hurriedly dispels his emotions into the Force.

It wouldn't do for anyone in the Council to start questioning why his eyes are glowing blue-green.)

Before he can decide on what to say, Yoda speaks for the Council. "Accept this, we cannot. Too much harm to the Republic, and to our Order, they have done," he says firmly. He holds out a hand, stalling any protest. "But for your help, in defeating General Grievous, search for your children, we will not, on Dathomir, provided that attack us, they do not, should we send assistance."

The Force flares with a silent protest from several members which believe that this is too lenient. Releasing his anger into the Force, Obi-Wan forces himself to look at the situation with an objective eye. This compromise is likely the best option - by aiding the Nightsisters, the Order could potentially capture Grievous, and begin the ending of the war.

Still. He doesn't like it.

Talzin inclines her head in acceptance. "We request that you only send Jedi to aid us," she says. "A large army may eliminate our element of surprise. Dooku and his minions do not know that we have predicted this."

"We understand. May we give you an answer within the next day?" Mace asks.

"That is acceptable. I thank you, Master Jedi." Talzin waves her hand, cutting the connection, and the Council chambers immediately explodes into discussion.

The debate rages long into the hours of the night. Different issues are brought up; a newfound distrust of the Chancellor wars with the worries of being charged with treason.

"I do not think it is wise to allow this knowledge to leave the Council Chambers," Mace says. "There are moles in the Senate; what's more, we know the Chancellor has likely been influenced by the Sith."

Memories of the holocron stir, making the Council shift uneasily in their seats.

"But to keep such vital information from the military borders on treason," says Ki-Adi-Mundi, and the debate begins anew.

At the end, the Council decides to hide the information from the Senate. In the report that eventually finds its way to the desk of Chancellor Palpatine, the Council only mentions that the deployment of a few of its members to Dathomir is on a mission to try to find Maul. Palpatine sees the report, a twinge of foreboding filling his mind, but he dismisses it. All the better for him - if the Jedi find Maul, one will eliminate the other, and either outcome is desirable.

Eventually, the Council agrees on sending Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker to Dathomir. No other team of Jedi is as well-forged as this one - for a mission as perilous as this, they are needed.

"And what of Darth Maul?" Obi-Wan asks. "I am not sure that it will be a good idea for either of us to cross paths with him."

He gestures to himself, then at Anakin, who has a glint in his eye that's a tad too murderous for a Jedi.

"To the Force, listen," Yoda says, prodding them both in the shins with his gimer stick. "Tell you, what does it?"

The Force isn't speaking to them, not really. Instead, they can feel it pulling at them, like a thousand tendrils pulling at their chest and directing them to where it wants them to go. Since Mortis, it had been crooning, a soft song in the back of their minds.

It sings now to them. Go, it hums with lilting tones. Go to Dathomir.

They tell Yoda as much, and he tilts his head. "But more, there is, hmm? Three Jedi, you will be."

"It's too dangerous for her," Anakin snaps immediately, and Obi-Wan makes to agree before Yoda stops them short.

"Say a name, I did not," Yoda says, shaking his head. "Have a name in mind, I did not. The Force, name your companion, does iy?"

Anakin slams his mouth shut, gritting his teeth, and Obi-Wan pulls back with a thoughtful gaze.

Two days later, the Twilight departs for Dathomir.

"I have a bad feeling about this," mutters Ahsoka as she stares out the cockpit, and Anakin laughs as Obi-Wan rolls his eyes.

(The last time they'd been on this ship together with just the three of them, it had been on the mission to Mortis.)