There is no rest on Coruscant, and that is doubly true for the Senate building. Even on these days when the politicians rest, the Senate buzzes like an insect hive, dignitaries and interns and couriers ferrying their myriad cargoes down innumerable well-worn routes. Sweet lies and cloaked truths swirling in the air. Silks and fineries, jewels and wines. Whirring throughout it out like an undercurrent of poison is the malice, the deception: The want of power and control and riches that leads so many to this lifestyle, and that traps so many more in the proclamations and decisions that ooze out from here.

Anakin despises it. The talk, the double-crossing, the veils. It makes General Grievous seem like an honest fellow. At least he arrives with lightsabers lit and no intention of negotiating. Everything is better that way. But Padme thrives here, and although Anakin will never understand what she sees in all this blathering and bickering that causes her so many daily stresses, he will endure.

For that, and for other reasons. One other reason. One man. For it is not Padme who has summoned him to the Senate today, but Chancellor Palpatine.

Anakin jogs down the Senate corridor past a trio of chittering Ishi Tib representatives and a haughty Kaminoan, ignoring their comments about him wafting in his wake. Let them talk. All they'll ever do is talk. He pushes past a gaggle of Devaronian attaches, veers around a pair of Pantoran diplomatic interns whose proximity makes them seem far closer than work colleagues, and at last reaches the one Senate alcove he can find refuge in. Here it is that he expects to find Padme on most days, speaking her heart out before the elect of the galaxy, trying, trying, to make them all better worlds. Here she will take the worst of their slings and barbs until she comes home at night, head held high, conviction intact even if she needs Anakin to hold her and remind her that it is so. But there is no Padme today in the Naboo senate box. Outside stand a quartet of scarlet-banded clone Shock Troopers, rifles cradled casually in their arms. Their squad leader nods to Anakin without a word before poking his head into the box.

A moment later Vice Chair Mas Amedda emerges. "Master Skywalker," Amedda says, bowing to Anakin with much more courtesy than Anakin notices him showing to the other Jedi, even to Master Yoda and Master Windu. "He's expecting you. Please."

For all of Amedda's politeness, Anakin has never taken to him. A cold man. A competent bureaucrat and a beyond-competent administrator, to be sure, but the Chagrian lacks all of the Chancellor's tact. Still, such men serve their uses—but Anakin is happy that he does not follow him into the senate box. Just he and the Chancellor today, then. A private meeting. An honest meeting.

"Chancellor," Anakin says as he enters the box and bows. "You sent for me?"

Palpatine stands at the front of the Naboo senatorial platform, where Padme might otherwise rise to deliver a speech or cast a deciding vote. But the Chancellor looks out over an empty Senate—lights and fans and holographic displays alive and humming, but not another soul to fill this yawning cavity within the heart of the galaxy. "Yes, come in, Anakin," says Palpatine warmly. Once Anakin is aboard the Senate platform, Palpatine taps a button on the foreword console and the platform whirs to life, floating forth from its mooring into the vacuum of the Senate chamber like a newly-forged ship trudging out of drydock. "I spent years on this very platform in this very position," he says as they drift in the processed air. "Hundreds of speeches and thousands of votes. And three years of this terrible war has made it seem like a lifetime ago."

"With all due respect, I think the Chancellor's podium suits you best," says Anakin.

Palpatine smiles. No deceit in that welcome expression. Outside of Padme, he is the only member of this chamber that Anakin can truly trust. "You might be right, my boy," says Palpatine. "In truth, it is not just for my office. It gives me great joy to see Senator Amidala on this stage, defending Naboo and the galaxy during this crisis with the gravitas of a senator twice her age. She is a far more capable orator and advocate than I ever could have imagined."

Anakin grins and looks down. He should steer the conversation elsewhere, divert attention from Padme, if for no other reason than to ensure no one can get any ideas about their marriage. It is what he has always done amongst the Jedi, even around Obi-Wan and Ahsoka. But the Chancellor is different. Perhaps Anakin can not tell him the full truth, but he can afford to relax a little. They are in private here, after all. "I'm sure she'd be happy to hear that," he says. "This job can't be easy. The media alone eats politicians alive."

Palpatine's expression grows grave. "Alas, an unfortunate consequence of our commitment to free speech. We cannot control what the media outlets may say."

"Maybe you should," suggests Anakin. When Palpatine turns towards him, he clears his throat and adds, "I mean, just to moderate things. Make people see things from your point of view, rather than just from what the holo says."

"There is wisdom in that that I cannot deny," says Palpatine. He pauses, letting the words hang. Distant echoes rebounding around the empty chamber. "It has disturbed me what the media has said about Taris."

Anakin holds back a grimace. So that's what the Chancellor wanted to talk about. Taris again. He just can't escape that horrid world. "I apologize for that entire situation, Chancellor," he says, looking away. "I should have tried harder. Fought harder."

"It is not your fault, Anakin," says Palpatine, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Taris has proven itself to be a world of thievery and deceit. Senator Robb is dead, and Taris retreats into the arms of the Separatists. I will hear no more motions from their empty box." He draws a deep breath. "I only wish the other Jedi would have taken the situation seriously from the start."

"I beg your pardon?"

Palpatine swings his gaze around. "When word of your peril first appeared here, I met with the Council personally. I urged them to act in concert with our forces. To send Jedi with an accompanying clone strike team, if need be, to aid you, and to salvage the situation on Taris. They disagreed with my assessment of the matter, however. It was, as Master Windu referred to it, a 'private Jedi affair.' Not business of the Republic. Perhaps he was right," says the Chancellor. Slowly and seriously, he adds, "Or, perhaps, there never would have been a need for Senator Amidala and Senator Organa to throw themselves into the fire by going to Taris to attempt to remedy the crisis. Perhaps if we had acted sooner, jointly—although I am sure the Jedi Council had its reasons for its decision."

Anakin frets. Padme told him she spoke with the Chancellor about the Taris situation before going there herself, but she never told him he had spoken with the Jedi Council. None of the Jedi have told him that, either. No one has told him anything of this—of Master Windu and Master Yoda and the rest letting he and Obi-Wan and Ahsoka dangle in the fire on Taris. Again they are leaving him in the dark. Again they are keeping him out of their plans, as if they don't trust him despite everything he's done. All those battles. All those victories. All this time. This is his thanks. "I'm sure they did," he says, trying to be sound diplomatic, but his budding frustration gets the better of him. "But—" He stops, but already Palpatine looks on expectantly. "Some of the Council's…decisions…lately have been questionable."

"Indeed?" asks Palpatine. Anakin hesitates. "Did they decide on something with which you disagreed? Did they…disregard your counsel?"

Anakin feels as if worms coil up inside him. The Empress Teta affair swirls in his head. That Sith artifact. Those voices. Ternon Tath. He had found something in that cellar, he knows it. Something powerful. Yet how quickly had the Council pushed his discovery onto two no-name Jedi like some routine affair? How quickly had they thrown him into yet another investigation on Taris? True, Hosha and Solan Tath had proven themselves scum of the highest order, but what might he had found—what sort of war-changing weapon lost from the antique days of the Old Sith Wars might have revealed themselves before his eyes just in time to throw back Dooku and his droids—had the Council just let him pursue his own leads, rather than being so quick to order him around? Now he half-expects them to forget all about the Taths and Taris and send him next on some other pointless venture.

"It is a shame," Palpatine says before Anakin can muster a response. "Imagine what might have been saved if only they trusted you."

"They're the Council. They have to have their reasons," murmurs Anakin. But he does not believe his words.

Palpatine smiles. Nods politely. Then the silence settles, the quiet of mentor and learner in this gaping void where their spirits and ambitions might stretch out to fill its entire. "We have known each other a long time," he says at last, the warmth returning to his face. His expression almost fatherly. Unconditional acceptance in those bright eyes. Something Obi-Wan never offered. "You were only a boy when we met then during that time of crisis for Naboo, yet already you had more courage than most senators I knew. You and then-Queen Amidala. The young with so much more fire and conviction than the old. So much more wisdom. And then—" he lets the pause hang before continuing— "there was Master Qui-Gon Jinn. He was a man of great wisdom, as well. He saw the man you would become."

Anakin rubs his arm and tries to avoid eye contact. "Yeah," he says. "I guess I owe him everything. Wouldn't be here otherwise."

"It is one of the great losses of our times that he fell on Naboo. Qui-Gon Jinn was a great Jedi. A greater man," says Palpatine. Again he pauses before continuing. "It has always struck me as odd that he did not sit on the Jedi Council. A man of such wisdom relegated to the rank-and-file? A confusing decision, at best."

"Obi-Wan said that he had too many disagreements with the Council about the nature of the Force. He was too unorthodox."

"But should we let orthodoxy dictate our actions? How many times the Republic might have fallen over the years if we had refused to adapt," says Palpatine. He lets out a long breath. "I had a father who believed much like the Jedi Council did."

Anakin takes a step back and furrows his brow. The Chancellor has never spoken about his past before his time in the Senate. Obviously he came from Naboo, but beyond that—and the few snippets Padme has mentioned about the noble House of Palpatine, now down to its last member residing here on Coruscant—he knows nothing. "You did?"

"He was a man of muted ambition yet great envy. He wished for the power of royalty, yet could never take even the first step towards making that so," says Palpatine. "He wished for me to continue in his footsteps. To guard our humble domain on Naboo and remain there. When the time came to elect a new king to rule the planet, of course he threw the support of our house beyond the candidate who would withhold Naboo from galactic affairs. A king who would keep us secluded in our sector, ignorant to all there was among the stars."

"What happened?"

Palpatine's expression flattens. "My entire family supported his view. They fell in line behind my father to unite as one clan, one voice, all behind that isolationist idea. My mother. My siblings. All of them," he says. "But I wished for more. I saw an entire galaxy waiting for Naboo, and I could not compromise my vision. I threw my support behind Bon Tapalo, the rival candidate who would open Naboo and our sector to the Republic, to bring us into the fold as full members of the Senate. And Bon Tapalo became King Tapalo. Eventually he would name me to the Senate. I would not be here if not for him."

"And your family?"

"I lost them all," he says, his voice darkening. "I fractured House Palpatine for my ideals, and in turn they threw me aside. Denounced me. Called me a traitor. From Bon Tapalo's rule, Naboo gained. I gained. But I lost everything that I had in order to gain it. Perhaps Tapalo would have become king anyway. Perhaps I did not need to make such a stand. But I could not betray who I was. Not even for family."

Anakin frets. Without that, the Chancellor never comes here. They never meet. Padme never becomes queen. They never meet. What is such a family if they would hold back such wonders? "I think you made the right decision," he says.

"Thank you, Anakin. But I suppose we shall never know what might have been had I not," says Palpatine. "But come—the past is the past. We should not get lost in it."

No, thinks Anakin. But the past has brought him this far. The past has brought him strength. It has brought him marriage. It has brought him the Chancellor's guidance. All because of Qui-Gon finding him on Tatooine.

A great Jedi. A greater man. So why wasn't he on the Council? Was it just a disagreement about the nature of the Force as Obi-Wan says? But Obi-Wan is a member of the Council now, too—is he right? Or was it something more? What did the Council fear?

What do they fear now?

Unease bubbles in Ahsoka.

She holds her lightsabers aloft in a defensive poise, ready to intercept the attacks of the training hologram here in one of the Jedi Temple's dojos. Soft yellow light filters in through a high window. The air is crisp and clean, meticulously filtered to promote concentration and focus. Ahsoka can still remember all those instructions from her time as a youngling here: Immerse yourself in the Force. Focus. Your lightsaber is an extension of your arm. It is part of you. Let the Force work through you, through your weapon. Focus.

Yet when the hologram strikes as her and she receives the blow, she does not see the floorboard beneath her give way. A predictable distraction: Set up the trainee to concentrate fully in the fight only to hit where they least expect. Below: The one angle they do not anticipate resistance. She stumbles and falls as the floor drops, only to catch her as she plummets. In another moment she is back on her feet, the floor reset once more, the hologram back to its initial position.

Ahsoka sighs and deactivates her lightsaber. Her head is not in training today. She is alone here in the dojo, but within its airy vaultings stirs another presence. Something—someone?—shaken, disturbed, questioning. A phantom of frustration. Like a ghost haunting itself. She cannot place this feeling, cannot name it. "Off," she mutters waving the training hologram away. Tomorrow, maybe. No one has given her orders yet after that snafu on Taris. She will have time to train tomorrow. Time to focus, to mediate, and figure out just what it is that is bothering her.

The dojo door slides open and allows Obi-Wan entrance. He looks concerned—or old, Ahsoka, thinks (gray hair, maybe? One or two in his beard? She'll have to keep a look out). When she first saw him on Christophsis he still had much of his youth about him, despite having trained Anakin to knighthood. But the war his taken its toll: Lined forehead, crinkled eyes, weathered skin. Three years seem ten. But, she supposes, even Anakin has followed the same path. There was so much boyishness to him back on Christophsis. That carefree attitude, that recklessness. The recklessness is still there, of course, but the air about him now has changed, thinned, cooled. A man where once was the boy. There is much more of an edge to her master than there was at the beginning of the war. Like magma cooling into a stone, the fire and heat giving birth to resistance, strength, unyielding firmness.

Anakin. The thought tickles her. Something about the unease in her heart reminds her of him.

"New orders," Obi-Wan says as he approaches. "I hope you're not getting too comfortable, because you won't be sitting around for long."

"I'm ready to get moving, Master," she says, stretching her arms. "Most everyone I know's out on assignment. It's kinda lonely here in the temple. Lonely and boring. It's mostly just younglings. I'm itching to get out in the field again."

Obi-Wan chuckles. "That 'lonely and boring' seems relieving once you get to my age. You'll know once you pass the Trials and have a Padawan of your own. You start wondering where all that energy of youth went."

"You're not that old, Master. C'mon."

"Don't tell Anakin that. If he says one more time that he hopes I can keep up with him…" Obi-Wan says, letting the thought drift off as he smiles. "Oh, never mind."

"Where is he, anyway?"

"With the Chancellor, I believe. He was summoned to the Senate when we were together right before our Council meeting. I do hope he at least thanks me for covering for his absence."

That is it. Ahsoka's stomach churns. Anakin and the Chancellor, again. It feels as if every time they stop on Coruscant between assignments that he and Palpatine wander off in private to discuss secrets to which she is not privy. And she knows she is out of the loop: Palpatine is an effective leader, strong and capable, yet every time she and Anakin have met him he has looked at her as if she was merely scenery. Something to set aside while resting a hand on Anakin's shoulder and leading him away. As if she was disposable. Like trash.

She shakes it off. Perhaps she is just imagining things. Anakin only has good things to say about the Chancellor, after all: In fact, the only person he praises more is Senator Amidala (and those two certainly work well together.) Funny how out of all the masters she could have ended up with in the Jedi, she landed with the one who seems more interested in spending time with politicians than with fellow members of the Order.

But that is too harsh. Maybe she does butt heads with Anakin, but he's never let her down. And she knows—knows—that he never will. That is all she can ask for. "So where're we going next?" she chirps, pushing down her misgivings.

"You are going to Sleheyron. You and Anakin."

"Not coming with?"

"No, not this time. I'm headed for Tatooine. I have business to discuss with Jabba the Hutt."

Ahsoka shrugs. "Thrilling. Make sure to remind him who got his son back."

"Yes, it seems he might just need that reminder. Things are in upheaval in Hutt Space, apparently."

"Why?" says Ahsoka. "Sleheyron's Hutt Space too—wait, does this have to do with that comm thing Rex and I found on Taris? In the Tath comms tower?"

Shadow takes Obi-Wan's face as he lowers his head and crosses his arms. "It does," he murmurs. "Master Yoda and Master Windu were rather uneasy about the whole Taris situation. That Sleheyron contact you found in the Tath logs—Garrako Arraton. Republic intelligence ran a sweep and confirmed that he has connections with the Anjiliac Hutt family—the same clan that less than a year ago ousted the Besadii Hutts from control of Sleheyron. Other reports state that the Hutt clans have been oddly working in cohesion the last few weeks, yet not the Anjiliacs. Something strange is happening in there. Whether it's the Taths and their Separatist connection or something more, we need to find out. The Hutts are far more formidable than any other ally Count Dooku could get his hands on. They control an enormous swath of space. We have to know what's happening, and our intel isn't painting a very clear picture. Only boots on the ground will do that."

"And we're the boots."

"We are. The Council is sending you and Anakin to figure out just what the Anjiliacs are up to, and, if possible, to recover and interrogate Arraton about his Tath connection—and whether the Separatists are involved."

"And on Tatooine…" Ahsoka starts before letting the thought drift off. "I guess it'd be better if Anakin doesn't head back there." She still remembers what Obi-Wan told her about her master's origins during that Zygerrian caper.

Obi-Wan scratches his chin. "Preferably, yes. I'm going to speak to Jabba. Try diplomacy. A long shot with the Hutts, but you never know."

"Ugh. Good luck."

"Listen," Obi-Wan says, his expression growing darker. "Sleheyron is a slaver world. One of the foremost slaving hubs in the galaxy, in fact. Anakin…"

"He handled himself with the Zygerrians. We'll be fine."

"That was different," Obi-Wan says. He sighs. "When Anakin was born, he and his mother were in the possession of Gardulla the Hutt, one of the chief Hutts of the Besadii clan. They are the former controllers of Sleheyron. The combination of the world's reputation and the nature of who controlled it will test him. And I won't be there." He looks her in the eyes. "Make sure he doesn't do anything too rash. We need information, not a full-scale war with the Hutts."

Ahsoka nods. "Leave it to me. We'll get it."

"I know. I have all the faith in the galaxy in you and Anakin. I trained him, I've seen it all," says Obi-Wan. "I have the utmost confidence in what he can do. But his home is on the battlefield, in the thick of things. The Holonet calls him a war hero, and he is. I'm not certain I agree with the Council's decision to keep sending him on investigations when the Separatists keep pushing the Republic back on every line. He does not thrive in the shadows."

"You're on the Council. Can't you say something? I'm fine either way."

"I do speak up, but I'm one voice, Ahsoka. And the Council has to keep the good of the Order in mind first and foremost. Sometimes that means we all have to go and get our hands dirty in ways we'd rather not. Anakin, you. Me. All of us."

Ahsoka thinks as Obi-Wan moves to leave. She should let this uneasy feeling go. But up it comes, blurting from her lips before she can stop it: "Master, the Chancellor and Anakin…" she starts before catching herself. Shoot. Don't get into this mess.

But already Obi-Wan looks interested. "You may as well finish."

"It's just…something about the Chancellor strikes me as off," says Ahsoka, careful with her words. "Anakin spends so much time with him. Is he that close with the Jedi?"

Obi-Wan grimaces. "No," he says. "The Chancellor's office offers reports now and then to the Council, but in truth, Palpatine hasn't spoken to us in quite some time. It's probably been a month, at least. According to Master Mundi, the Senate never even spoke once to the Council about the situation on Taris, for instance."

"Then why does he like Anakin so much?"

"It's…they have known each other since Anakin was just a boy. Palpatine rose to the Chancellor's office right when Anakin came into the Order," says Obi-Wan. "He has been a mentor to him in ways that I never could have. Anakin listens. As for why, Anakin has never told me. I don't know what their friendship entails. I don't know how, nor why."

"I see," says Ahsoka. She should let this go. Her master trusts Palpatine, and she trusts Anakin, so she should have faith in the Chancellor, as well. It's not as if all politicians are lying sleemos: She's gotten along just fine with Senator Amidala and Senator Chuchi. But she feels as if something dark is lurking in the heart of Coruscant. Something that, before this war is over, she will have to confront.

And when that time comes, she hopes she will be fighting with Anakin at her side.

The hologram shifts and shimmers. "I'm sorry. Could you please repeat which name you were searching for, again?"

Sae grits her teeth. "Eno Cordova. He's in residence at your institution."

"I'm sorry. There is no Eno Cordova among the list of faculty at the Kuat Galactic Institute for Historical Studies."

"He's not faculty, you stupid program. I've said that a million times."

"I'm sorry. Would you like to speak to an organic spokesbeing?"

"Yes! Finally. Ugh."

Tamri shifts from one foot to another, feeling useless here in the cramped confines of the Evening's comms room. "Time for a plan B?"

"Better not be," Sae grumbles.

All right, then. Tamri looks down at her hands for want of distraction. For nearly a half-hour she's stood and watched as Sae has tried to break through the blockade of bureaucracy that is the Kuat Galactic Institute's off-world communications system, and for all of that half-hour they have only now managed to route the call to an actual living respondent on the other side. All of this just to find one Jedi Seer who may or may not even still be on the planet, depending on whether that Cere Junda is right. As for whether Cordova can tell them about Korriban and Ludo Kressh and that holocron, Tamri has no idea. She is certainly starting to doubt it based on how things are going. At this point they'll be through Kuat orbital authority registers and landing on the planet itself by the time they get through this call.

"Maybe we should just go back to Coruscant after all," says Tamri as they wait for the call to patch through. "It'd probably be easier. The Council could tell us what to do next. We wouldn't have to be fighting all this."

"We're not going back to Coruscant," Sae says immediately.

"It's just that—"

"We'll get through, Tam. Just be patient."

Tamri bites her tongue and looks away. After an awkward silence the hologram blurs again and a Twi'lek woman smiles at them both. "How may I help you, today?"

"You have a Jedi Master in residence. Eno Cordova. I need to speak to him," says Sae.

"Who, might I ask, is requesting?"

"Sae Tristess. I'm a Jedi Knight."

"Oh," the Twi'lek says, "I see, Master Jedi. I'm afraid to inform you that Master Cordova is currently on sponsorship study with the noble House of Tirell. He is not currently on university grounds."

Sae grinds her teeth. Tamri wrings her hands. "When can I speak to him?"

"It is hard to say. It is an indefinite period—"

"Tell you what," Sae says. "How about you contact this house of whatever and get me in touch with them? Then I can handle the rest."

"Of course Master Jedi," the representative says. "We will simply need to proceed through Kuati noble channels. We should have a response ready for you in just two days."

"Just two days?"

The Twi'lek looks perturbed, as if Sae said something disgusting. "Please, do not be concerned," she says. "All off-world traffic must stop at Kuat's orbital facilities, after all. It will take more than two days before you are free for ground-side transit via shuttle. We will have your response by then."

"We can't just land on Kuat?" Tamri says.

Sae cuts her off with a hand. "Got it. Two days. Get back to us," she says, cutting out the holofeed before the Twi'lek can respond. "Ugh. What a mess."

"I don't get it," says Tamri.

"Most Kuati are uptight pricks. They don't let anyone off-world land on their planet. Everyone has to go through the orbital stations," says Sae. Then, as if tasting something foul on her tongue, her eyes widen and she shakes her head. "It's just a policy. It's their thing. I came here once. Long time ago."

"Really? Why?"

"It doesn't matter."

Sae stomps out of the comms room as if all she wants to do is raid the Evening's dwindling store of spirits, but reluctance still gurgles inside Tamri. She doesn't want to let her hesitation go. "Master, wait," she says, following Sae towards the kitchen. "Master."

"Look," says Sae. Tamri is correct: As soon as she reaches the ship kitchen, Sae opens the cupboard, removes a green-tinted bottle, and takes a swig. "It'll be fine. There are protocols and things on planets like this. I know I've only taken you through the dregs of the galaxy on all of our missions, but Kuat isn't Nar Shaddaa or the like. It's all nobles and high society. They follow procedure here."

"That's not what I want to say," says Tamri, but now that she is at that point of speaking, she hesitates. Sae is drinking again. Her master is falling apart in front of her. Ever since Ossus, ever since Count Dooku found them, Tamri has felt something different from Sae. It is as if the moment she ran away from that library that something irreversibly changed. That some darkness dwelt down there beneath the mountain, a shadow to which Tamri abandoned Sae. Now she is paying for it. Stupid girl. Foolish. Weak. Coward. Pathetic excuse for a Padawan. You can't stop letting her down when she needs you, and now what? You pester her when she deals with yet another one of your failures? "Why can't we just go home? Isn't it all the same? We're just trying to find a way to Korriban."

Sae groans. "We've been over this."

"Master, we were supposed to report in to the Council when we left Ossus and found something. We haven't."

"I know that."

"Why, then?"

"Because we have to keep going, Tamri!" Sae snaps. At once she recognizes the tone of her voice and closes her eyes, frowning. "The Council said to search Ossus. We did. But we found something that might lead us to much more useful ends. We're out here to finish whatever Skywalker began when he found that…thing...on Empress Teta. That's our real mission. We don't need to report in until we have something useful. Until that point, we haven't succeeded."

"Some things don't always succeed. Sometimes we just need to regroup."

"Not this time," Sae growls. "We went through Belderone and Ossus. We lost people. We fought Dooku. We can keep going. We'll be fine. Besides, this is Kuat. It's a Core World. Nothing's going to hurt you here." Sae stares at the bottle. "Hopefully."

"I just—"

"Shouldn't you go mediate or something?"

Tamri flinches. She takes a step back, then hurries out of the kitchen without another word. Once out in the corridor she wipes at her eyes. This is all wrong. They never should have gone to Ossus. They never should have started on this mission to find a Sith artifact. It feels as if the moment they left Coruscant that the past and the present separated: One where things were normal, where she still knew her place and knew what she needed to do, and this ugly, abhorrent now, where the galaxy feels like a small and foul box where Count Dooku can sneak up and strike at any time and yet Sae feels like a billion kilometers away. And throughout it all she can only trust in the Force. She doesn't have anyone outside of Sae to talk to. What is she supposed to do? What is the right path to take? Or is this whole mess going to come crashing down like it has for all of those friends Sae has mentioned who've died between Geonosis and now? Is this just one long line of losses and pain until finally the executioner comes for Tamri, too?

She closes her eyes, takes a breath, and lets it out. You're getting hysterical. You're not dead. You survived Dooku, Ossus, and Rust's betrayal. You survived Belderone. You've survived all this time as a Jedi. You can keep going. Sae said it. Keep going. We have to keep going. Maybe you should listen rather than wallowing in self-pity.

That peaceful moment in the garden right before they'd left for Belderone. Just them and the plants. Where has that gone?