Chapter 57 – Compassion
Author's Note: In which Plo makes an appearance, and Anakin does some... reflecting. Also, just as a side note, I do believe in exploring all the sides of relationships, which is something I'm trying to do now with Anakin and Dooku. Apparently, the fact that Dooku taught Anakin to be a Sith doesn't make it obvious enough that Dooku was not, by any means, always nice to Anakin. Their relationship is complicated, and it is far from sunshine and roses. Okay? Okay.
~ Amina Gila
Ahsoka has no idea if it's merely been hours or days since she was arrested. Droids have brought them meals thrice thus far, which doesn't say a whole lot, because she doesn't know what the feeding schedule is like. It's possible that they're getting meals regularly twice a day, but it's also possible that the meals are being scheduled differently to throw them off guard and keep them confused.
She doubts the Jedi would do that, but who really knows?
It's not as if she's a Jedi anymore. She's a traitor to them, a Dark Sider. She's Fallen. She's joined Anakin. She's his apprentice. Perhaps she doesn't always, or even frequently, use the Dark Side, but she does sometimes.
But, needless to say, Ahsoka is more than a little surprised when Master Plo suddenly shows up. He stops in front of the ray shield of her cell, hands clasped in front of him as he regards her.
"Master Plo," she says in lieu of greeting, feeling shame crawl its way into her stomach, hanging there, sharp and bitter. She still cares about him, but she is well aware of the fact that she is the kind of person that he would hate, the kind of person that he would normally seek to destroy. She is… Fallen. He is a Jedi. Nothing more needs to be said.
"It's good to see you again, little 'Soka," he replies as if she's merely been gone on a mission and just returned to the Temple.
Almost instinctively, she crosses her arms over her chest, giving herself the only form of comfort and solace that she can, but even that isn't enough to take away the biting emptiness of her blocked Force abilities. She can see Plo there, but she can't feel him, so he might as well be another person entirely. If he was, she would never know. She doesn't know what to say to him, so she says nothing, simply waiting for him to make the first move.
After a few moments of simply looking at her, he sighs. "I dislike seeing you here, but you know what you have done. It is for your own safety as well as that of the Jedi."
"I know." She hesitates, looking at him, wishing she could get a sense as to his feelings. "What will you do with me?"
He studies her for another moment of silence. "I think that will depend on you."
From across the hall, Anakin scoffs. Loudly. "Right. As if the Jedi would ever let us go. Don't. Just don't. I won't fall for it. Don't give Ahsoka false hope."
She looks at him and sees the bitterness on his face which he isn't even bothering to hide. Plo turns towards him, though not entirely; he doesn't turn his back on her. "We are not the villains you have been told," he tells Anakin, his voice not wavering, not showing any signs of antagonism. His tone is, instead, level, kind even. "We don't imprison Fallen Jedi indefinitely. The choice is theirs. They chose to Fall, and they can choose to turn back, to find the Light again. If they've… done horrible things, most of them are never willing to make that choice. If the Council can determine that neither of you are dangerous, to yourselves or to others, you will be set free."
Anakin merely stares him, disbelieving. "And if – if they didn't have a choice?" he asks quietly, and Ahsoka feels her heart shatter all over again for him, for the things he's endured. Technically, he did have a choice. He knows that. She knows that. He accepts that. But practically speaking? He didn't. It was either giving in or going through even more suffering. He was a child. His Fall was inevitable. No child would have been strong enough to resist.
"There is always a choice," Plo replies firmly. "Even if you were coerced into using the Dark Side, you still made that choice. You still chose to obey Sidious. You are not with him anymore. You can make a different choice now. No one will stop you." He looks towards Ahsoka as he says it, and she knows that he's including her in his words.
"And you will just warmly welcome me into your precious Order," Anakin spits back. It's his natural response. It's instinctive. Anger is easier to face than fear; Ahsoka knows that. She has come to realize that over the time that she has known him.
Plo doesn't rise to the bait, remaining quiet instead. "I wonder," he says as the silence grows thicker, more uncomfortable, "What it is about you that inspires such loyalty. I don't believe for a moment that Obi-Wan was really acting as a double-agent. His devotedness to you is… admirable, if troublesome."
"Of course," Anakin sneers, "You would think that affection is something to be shunned."
Ahsoka rubs her temple. She doesn't want to have to listen to this, any of this, even if he's not exactly wrong. The attachment that the three of them share isn't something that the Jedi would be very welcoming of, and for good reason. They, all of them, would touch the Dark Side for each other. They would kill for each other. It's dangerous, especially if it gets out of hand. They don't know how to let go. But she doesn't say any of that, because though she understands it, she still selfishly wants to experience the way that Anakin makes her feel. He loves her and he's protective over her.
It's not something that she's ever experienced with anyone else, even Obi-Wan, though he is beginning to change now that he's around Anakin. He is less… bitter, less closed off, less harsh. Now that he's bonded with Anakin, he's a lot more open, more affectionate.
"I think," Plo informs him, his tone measured, "That the attachment Obi-Wan has for you could be his undoing. I haven't spoken with him in person yet, but from what Master Tachi has reported, it is very clear to me that Obi-Wan is very deeply attached. He must learn to control that, or it could destroy him."
Anakin raises his chin a little, defiantly. "Obi-Wan is stronger than you think," he retorts. "He won't lose himself as a result of how he cares, because he knows that's not what I want. He knows I don't want that of him; he won't do it."
Plo seems… visibly uncertain, not that Ahsoka can really tell since she can't feel him. "I would think that, since you are a Sith, you would revel in the chance to turn him."
"Don't act like you know me!" Anakin hisses, leaning forwards. "You know nothing. Nothing!"
Ahsoka isn't surprised that Plo doesn't even blink at Anakin's outburst. Probably, he expected it, and she can sympathize with Anakin's mood swings, because he's grieving. Grief is not easy. But still… "Anakin, don't antagonize Master Plo. He's not trying to hurt you," she soothes. An ominous for now echoes in the back of her mind, but she doesn't voice it, or pay any mind to it.
Anakin's gaze flickers to her, but she can't read it. All she can see in his eyes is anger… and pain lurking behind it. She can feel nothing, not a glimpse of the star gone supernova, not even a bit of his boundless energy. She misses it, misses the way that his emotions would radiate into the Force no matter how much he tried to hide them. She has grown very accustomed to being able to read him, and it's jarring to not even be able to feel him.
"You should listen to your apprentice, Anakin," Plo says after a moment. "I came here to check on you. I wanted to be sure that you were alright. Both of you."
"You don't care," Anakin mutters, turning away from the ray shield; Ahsoka's montrals can pick up the distant sounds of his footsteps, and she knows that he's pacing the floor of his too-small cell. "You don't – why would it matter to you how I am? Ahsoka is – she was one of you. I can see why you might… be concerned. But not me. I am your enemy. I could kill you and not regret it." He stalks up to the ray shield again, glaring. "Is this because of your guilt? Because you think you can make up for what you did, what you caused? My mother would be alive if not for you. We would, all of us, be free."
"I am deeply sorry about your mother," Plo assures him, stepping closer to his cell. "I would never have spoken in favor of the mission if I had known."
"I don't care," he spits. "It doesn't change anything!"
Ahsoka winces, watching helplessly as the man she has come to adore comes apart in front of her eyes while there's nothing, nothing at all, that she can do to help him. If she was with him, she could wrap him in a hug and let him feel her presence, but now, she can't even do that, and she hates it.
"It doesn't," the Jedi Master agrees, and he sounds… sad, almost. "I do not seek to help you because of my guilt, though I do feel it. The Council should not have rejected you, and I know that this is probably not what you want to hear, and nor will it change anything, but it is a truth which I have come to realize. Everyone makes mistakes. It is how we choose to act upon recognizing them that shows who we are."
Anakin's eyes narrow, and Ahsoka wonders if they are really gold or if she's just imagining it. They can't really be gold, can they? When he's in a Force-null cell? She doesn't know. Everything about Anakin is different; it always has been, and not only because he's so strong with the Force.
"If you expect me to forgive you, you'll be waiting a long time."
Plo straightens. "I am not here to ask for forgiveness. It is not up to me to ask. It is up to do to decide if you wish to grant it. We are all on the same side here. We all want Sidious dead."
"And if I tell you that my deepest and most ardent desire is to burn this fancy Temple of yours to the ground I'm sure that won't change your mind at all," Anakin drawls, mockingly.
"Anakin, stop it!" Ahsoka hisses, giving him a severe look. "Don't you know that it's a monumentally bad idea to antagonize our captors?"
His eyes flicker to her for a moment before he looks at Plo. "Do you intend to execute me?" Ahsoka feels her breath catch in her lungs at the question. She can't breathe, because if the answer is in the affirmative… she doesn't know how she could ever bear it.
"The Jedi rarely summarily execute individuals," Plo replies to Anakin, and Ahsoka lets out a breath she was hardly even conscious of holding. "It depends on the individual situations as well as the danger of those who are being contained."
"And what of me?" Anakin half-asks, half-demands. "Nothing you have can indefinitely keep me contained if I do not wish it."
"Are you trying to get yourself executed?" Ahsoka cries, a little hysterically wishing that he would shut up and stop saying things like that. She doesn't even know if it's true, but if it is, it's more than a little disconcerting that even Force null cells aren't enough to stop him.
She also doesn't like the way that Anakin stands there, far too still after she blurts out the question. He – he doesn't, right? He doesn't want to be executed, does he?
"I would not ask the Jedi for mercy if I wanted it," he answers shortly. It's not a yes, but it's not a no, either.
"I would never support your execution, but I do not control the entire Council," Plo says to him. "The Jedi believe in showing compassion to everyone, and it is my hope that the same will hold true for you as well."
Anakin's expression is nothing short of dubious, but he doesn't say anything more, and Plo takes his leave shortly thereafter, leaving Anakin and Ahsoka alone. Again.
**w**
Anakin's emotions are… conflicted, to say the least, once the Jedi leaves. In truth, he hardly even knows how to feel, but lashing out at the Jedi – Plo – did little to reduce the anger and grief simmering within him. He's angry at everything, everyone, right now, even though he knows it's irrational, and he feels bitter about what's happened.
It's wrong.
His mother should not be dead, not like this.
That Plo tolerated Anakin's attitude without getting angry only makes him feel something akin to guilt. He doesn't feel bad per se, but he sort of does at the same time. He would be lying if he said that he's never thought about dying, never wanted to die, but it's not something that he's struggled with much after getting to know Obi-Wan and Ahsoka. They ground him in a way that no one else ever has or could.
He misses Obi-Wan fiercely and wishes, selfishly, that the elder man could be here with him. He wants to feel Obi-Wan's comforting embrace, wants to feel his gentle, soothing touch. It's something that has always calmed the part of him that craved to be protected. Anakin found that kind of security with his mother, that feeling that told him he was home, that he belonged. He never found it anywhere else… until Obi-Wan. Even Dooku couldn't provide that feeling, no matter how much Anakin loves him. Dooku lacks the gentle softness that his Mom and Obi-Wan both possess, and that, he thinks, is why it's so different.
Dooku always did his best to help Anakin, to guide him, to protect him even, but… Dooku also had to train him as a Sith. There was a very fine line there, and Anakin cannot deny that there are things that have troubled him deeply, things that have cut him to the core and shaped the person he's become.
Dooku being his Sith mentor automatically meant pain. That is the nature of the Sith. And while Anakin does not fear Dooku, does not fear that Dooku might unexpectedly hurt him, he… did. He was younger, then, and everything was still too new, too strange, and Dooku was… there. He was there and he was steady and calm, and he helped in all the right ways. Anakin is grateful, so grateful, that he had Dooku there instead of only Sidious.
But.
But… there were… things. Things that it feels almost traitorous to even give thought to.
And yet, try as he might, Anakin cannot fully dispel the memory playing out in the back of his mind as he stares blankly at the ray shield in front of him, feeling disconnected from himself, from the universe, as his ability to sense the Force is mostly cut off.
"What's down here?" Anakin asks warily as he follows Dooku into the dungeon-like level of Dooku's castle, a place to which he's never gone before. Even at twelve, even though he's only been training for a little over two years, Anakin can feel the way the Force twists with wrongness around him, whispering fervent warnings.
Dooku pauses, looking back at him, and there's regret in his brown eyes. "You were to kill the prisoners," he elaborates. "You did not. You said you would face whatever the consequences were for disobeying."
Anakin freezes, taking a step back from him. "What are you going to do to me?"
"Do not fear, young one," Dooku answers, as if that could somehow ease the fear that is turning Anakin's blood to ice. He opens the door, the clang of it echoing down the hall, and gestures inside. "There are two holding cells here for Force sensitives. They are not fully Force null, but they will keep you contained. These are Sidious' orders. You are to stay here… alone until you are willing to comply."
A strangled sound escapes from him, and he clenches his hands, shaking his head. "No," he says. "No, you can't – don't do this to me. I can't –" The idea of being alone, completely alone, terrifies him beyond words, and Anakin doesn't think that he'll manage. "It's – you can't tell me to – to kill someone like that. That's – that's murder, Dooku." He hates how choked he sounds, how panicked. He had known this was coming. He had known that he would be forced to do terrible things – the term Dark Side leaves little to the imagination, after all.
"You are a Sith, Anakin, or you soon will be. You are training to be," Dooku reminds, his tone gentle yet firm. "I know that it is not what you asked for and it is not what you want, but it is your reality. Your best option is to strive to be the best Sith you possibly can be."
"By killing unarmed, defenseless people?" Anakin demands, horrified. "No way!"
Dooku gives him an unimpressed look. "You were a slave. I'm sure you learned the importance of obeying orders. Sidious is not inclined to be lenient with you." He walks down the hallway, stopping in front of an opening and waiting expectantly. "Enter."
Anakin briefly considers trying to run, but he knows it would be futile, so he reluctantly does as he's told, stepping into the cell. Dooku activates the ray shield, and Anakin can't help but flinch at being suddenly and abruptly cut off from everything and everyone. He still has the Force, of course, and he can still break out if he has to, but he knows that it would be pointless, and he would only be punished more if he did.
"I am sorry," Dooku tells him, and Anakin can feel the Count's regret, but it's not what he needs right now. "I will return tomorrow, and I hope that you will… do as our master has instructed."
Anakin swallows past the lump in his throat, but he doesn't answer. He can't say anything, can't promise to go along with it. He doesn't know if he could face himself afterwards if he does. This is – he can't do it.
He can't.
It's wrong.
His resistance lasts no more three weeks, each day becoming more and more torturous than the next, but Dooku never relents, never lets him out. In the end, it's Sidious who gets involved, and when he does… well, Anakin cannot listen to his mother's screams for long.
And he thinks that there's a part of him which has never forgiven Dooku for his complicity.
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