Chapter 25. Ghost I
Anakin waited several lifetimes for daylight to come. He needed this night to be over. At long last the gritty gray sky began to leach the color out of the lurid lights around him. He watched, still unmoving, as they faded into insignificance.
The arrival of dawn meant that his long wait was over. Gone. Behind him. Like everything else. His past was gone. He could no longer visualize his future.
They will never make me a Jedi Knight.
The arrival of the new day meant that he had to do something. He had to make a decision. And once it was made, he had to carry it out.
Unwillingly, but with the discipline born of training, Anakin moved from observation to action and took stock of his situation.
His clothes were charred and torn.
He had no transportation. His COM had all but disintegrated in the crash.
No one knew where he was.
He hurt all over but his head was clear enough. He had no difficulty thinking. His mental shielding was in place.
A lot of good that did me.
He was in an unfamiliar part of the city-planet where no one knew him. Painfully flexing his severely swollen hand, Anakin checked his belt for his weapon. Miraculously it was still clipped to his belt and intact. But for that, he was completely unidentifiable as a Jedi. That was a good thing, because it seemed to him that this would be the way of the future. His future. The one he couldn't seem to relinquish.
He might as well be a ghost.
As an afterthought he unclipped his lightsaber and tested it. The blue blade surged into being instantly. Suddenly achingly unsure how to go about imagining a life without it, a life without everything that it represented, Anakin disengaged the weapon and stowed it away.
Then he stood up, surprised at how excruciating a process it was.
Every journey began with a leave-taking. Today was the day for his.
* * * * *
Far away in another part of Coruscant, Padmé greeted the new day with relief. She too had spent a wakeful night worrying and plotting and planning after her hastily arranged meeting with Bail. Toward dawn all of those concerns were gradually driven out by only one.
Anakin?His absence was like vast empty space inside that left her feeling cold and brittle. He only had been away for – what, hours? They had been separated much longer periods of time before. It shouldn't feel like this. But those separations somehow had been filled with his presence, with the knowledge that he was there and waiting. She always had been certain that, no matter what happened, they would find the way back to one another.
This felt different.
Anakin?
At this point calling out to him had become a reflex – she had not received an answer since midday the day before and no longer really expected one. She just … hoped for one. Of course there was no reply.
The arrival of the day meant that she didn't have to remain alone with her thoughts any more. She could bury them in the company of others and in the million tasks that lay before her now that she had set foot on her new path. A path full of treachery and deceit. A path that meant she must embrace so many things she hated in order to preserve the things she loved and believed in.
Well, she thought, if that was the case then she had better make the best of it. She heaved herself out of bed to wake her sleepy staff and make a beginning on what lay before her.
I just want to see him again. If I could just see him…talk to him …
Wearily she pushed the thoughts aside. They dragged at her, and made it almost impossible to focus. And if she needed anything right now, it was clarity of thought and purpose.
What if something has happened to him?
Stop it, Padmé told herself. Just stop it. This is as futile as crying.
But it was impossible to stop thinking about him. And more than that, she didn't want to.
Carefully, painfully, Padmé wrapped the cold and empty space that Anakin's absence had left inside of her in as much love and warmth as she could muster and tucked it close to her heart. And then she began her preparations for the day.
* * * * *
Having neither credits nor the willingness or ability to contact anyone, Anakin moved through the City of Coruscant the way he would have moved through a forest or jungle – silently, making as little impression as possible, and helping himself to its resources for his survival as he went.
Although he wasn't hungry he found food. The living had a responsibility to carry on, he had been taught. He soon replaced the tattered deep blue suit and cloak from his days in the Senate with some nondescript black leggings and a dark tunic that, together with his black boots, gave him a vaguely sinister air while blending in perfectly with the teeming crowds around him. He had taken the trouble to rub the elite shine off his boots with a few handfuls of grit. Keeping his weapon hidden was a problem, and so he soon had possession of a heavy leather over-tunic that covered him so well he could safely keep his lightsaber clipped to his belt where it belonged.
Next he got his bearings and calculated how best to get back to Coruscant's center. Heavy traffic meant that it would take many hours to navigate an individual speeder the huge distance. He opted instead to insinuate himself onto an express public transport straight to the planet's Administrative District, which had the Senate building at its heart. The Jedi Temple was not far from that.
For the two hours that Anakin was on the transport he practiced the Jedi technique of invisibility. People saw him but did not notice or remember him. Imposing though he was, he left no impressions or memories behind in those around him. He guarded his thoughts, held his tongue, and waited like a shadow until the transport discharged its passengers in the vast Sector Three Transport Station. Moving silently he merged into the crowd and disappeared completely.
To an outside observer Anakin's movements would have seemed effortless. In reality, the closer he drew to what had been his home, the more difficult it was for him to maintain the inner neutrality that true invisibility required. He fought hard to still his thudding heart and rising pulse, and to keep his concentration pure and sharp. But the fiercest battle of all was the struggle to resist the temptation to lift his shielding and reach out … just once … just a little … to hear Padmé's voice and feel her warmth in his mind. The longing was enough to make him tremble.
He knew she would be there waiting. He knew she would respond the second he called out. He knew that she would be worried and unhappy. But he did not dare.
Padmé inhabited his mind and soul like a constant flame, warming him and stirring him in everything he did. And now some dark, unrelenting thing had found its way inside of him. Inside the place where until now only she had lived.
What if it found her? What if it reached out for her? What if it tried … to harm her?
At the very thought Anakin locked down his feelings and mental shielding even more tightly. He was a stone. A fortress. He had to be. His armor had to be impenetrable.
Transportation was Anakin's next problem, and flexibility his primary requirement. He soon had custody of another speeder – a fairly new one, but of a common make and model that attracted no attention from anyone. Jumping into it he paused for a moment, took a deep breath as though he was about to plunge into a sandstorm, and took off.
* * * * *
When Padmé and Sabé arrived at the Senate office Dellia was nowhere to be found. No message had been left and she did not answer her COM when called. After last night Padmé saw danger everywhere, and every oddity was a threat. Dellia might have been scatty, but she had always been reliable. This didn't feel right.
"I'll go find, her," Sabé volunteered before Padmé could say anything. "Will you be all right on your own for a while?"
"I'll have to be," Padmé said. They both understood without having to say it that borrowing staff from the Senate clerical pool was too risky. And the office had not been swept for listening devices yet today.
Sabé nodded. "I'll be as quick as I can."
Dashing out of the office she ran squarely into the Senator from the Alderaan system. Padmé's heart started to thud when she watched Bail glance quickly and almost imperceptibly around the office before he walked up to her and bowed.
"Bail!" Padmé said brightly to her only friend and secret ally as though she had not seen him for ages. "This is a surprise!" She knew exactly why he was here.
"I am sorry to impose on you like this, Padmé," he said formally, with his usual grace, "and so early, too. But I was on my way in and thought I might as well drop these documents off with you myself." He looked exhausted. He must have spent a sleepless night as well.
Padmé saw him look at her intently while he spoke the innocuous, formal words. She shook her head "no." She saw him register her signal, and continue on in the same formal vein in case they were being overheard.
"I would be grateful if you would look them over before tomorrow's vote and give me the benefit of your thinking," he went on. "My notes and questions are there. They should be self-explanatory." Padmé glanced down at the stack of data pads and discs. On the very top was stuck a small piece of parchment with the words "ALDERAAN. 5 DAYS."
If they had not been taking such a huge risk, she might have smiled. Simple methods were often the best, and safest. She slipped her thumb over the piece of parchment to hold it in place.
"Thank you, Bail," she said, looking intently into his eyes again. "I'll be glad to. By the way - how many bills are you sponsoring at the moment?"
"Five," he said. "All of them solid, I think."
Five, thought Padmé in dismay. Seven of us all together. So few to stand against Galaxy-wide deception and tyranny.
"That is a great deal of work for you, Bail," she said. "I will make certain that I get my comments back to you on time." I will be there.
He bowed again. "Thank you Padmé. I will let you get on with your work. The Gods know I have enough of my own."
Padmé waited until he left and then went into her inner office. The first thing she did was to disintegrate the parchment in the rubbish disposal.
Alderaan in five days. She could do that, if she hurried.
Out of all the Senate there were only seven souls who felt they could trust one another enough to meet in this way. And even that was a risk.
She sighed. What she wouldn't give for some Jedi protection. And comfort.
Resolutely she turned her attention to the day's work.
* * * * *
While invisibility was Anakin's tactic of choice in the wider world, within the walls of the Jedi Temple complex he needed to do the opposite. Rather than making an effort to hide, other than behind his powerful shielding, he walked with purposeful steps through the familiar hallways. As he had expected, those he passed minded their own business and took little notice of him, even in his street clothes. Most of them were probably used to seeing him oddly dressed by now. There were a few glances and surges of interest that manifested through the Force, but Anakin ignored them as he had the day before when he had been dressed in his Senate garb. He reminded himself that as far as anyone in the Temple was concerned he had every right to be here. The Council had given him a job to do, after all.
Draw the darkness out into the light.
The darkness had found him, Master Yoda had said. Well, something had. And he didn't like it one bit.
Anakin walked steadily, making his way into the residential section of the Temple. He cast his awareness about carefully, looking for a particular Force signature in the thousands of others. It had spoken to him so strongly yesterday, but today he could not find it.
He went straight to Obi-Wan's quarters and let himself in. No one was there, of course – he had known that before he entered. The two small rooms were tidy and spare, and even though they were not the quarters he and Obi-Wan had shared as Master and Padawan, everything in them was very, very familiar. The sense of his old Master, the feel of him, was everywhere. Despite the powerful grip Anakin thought he had on himself he felt his eyes begin to sting and his throat ached. Never in his wildest thoughts and dreams had he imagined that it would all end like this.
He paused and looked around the small sitting room, taking in every detail. Two chairs. A low table. A desk with a neat stack of data pads. No luxuries or ornaments at all. To look at it you wouldn't know who lived here. It was a place to sleep between missions, that was all. It wasn't a home. Not like Padmé's.
Anakin wandered into the bedchamber. The room was nearly as spare as the sitting room, but there was more evidence of his former Master here. The bed covering was a soft, thick tapestry weaving that they had bought together in some distant marketplace long ago. Anakin remembered it because it was the first time he had seen Obi-Wan buy anything for himself – and it was still one of the very few such indulgences. He remembered secretly having looked at the fabric over and over again in his Master's absence, wondering what he loved about it, and why he had made an exception for this particular thing.
Anakin went to the bed and ran his hand gently over the cover. The funny thing was, he still didn't know why his former Master loved it. And now he never would.
He stepped back quickly and caught himself. He should finish and be done. There was no point in lingering. He had spent the entire night thinking about this act. The decision was made. And the hardest part of it had to be done now.
Anakin reached for his light saber and unclipped it for the last time. As he drew the cylinder up and held it in front of him he noticed a small recessed shelf above Obi-Wan's cot, and froze.
There were three small, finely detailed models of starships on the shelf. Nothing else. Anakin closed his eyes. He knew every component, every line of those models. He had built them years ago, as a very young Padawan. He had made them, and Obi-Wan had kept them. Even now.
Anakin let out a deep, shuddering breath.
This hurt so much. But he would not change his mind.
With slightly trembling hands Anakin laid his lightsaber on Obi-Wan's pristine cot. The weapon of a Jedi. The symbol of everything he had wanted to be, and everything he must now give up.
They will never trust me enough to make me a Knight.
"I resign," he whispered under his breath. "I refuse to be your sacrifice. I will not be bartered and sold." Anakin stepped back, and then as a sudden afterthought, reached up for the models and placed them on the cot next to the weapon. He wanted Obi-Wan to know that he had seen them.
He was just gathering himself to turn away and leave the Temple for the last time when the Force told him that someone was approaching. Obi-Wan. Why hadn't he noticed him earlier? Stupid mistake. Never let your guard down. He slammed back into focus and did a quick distance calculation. Two halls down. Coming this way. And he wasn't alone; there was someone with him. The Force signature was familiar …
Anakin slipped down the hall like a blur, moving toward Obi-Wan rather than away from him. In the process he remembered – what had Obi-Wan called it? His new parlor trick? So be it. With full awareness he thought about using it to shield himself, and imagined that he could almost feel something dark slide over and around him like a second skin. Well, why not. He was on his own, and had to use the resources that were available to him.
He located the pair where they stopped to talk in a small foyer just outside the residential wing. Anakin secreted himself nearby and froze, listening. It was suddenly very important to him to hear their conversation.
"Look, Lon," Obi-Wan was saying, "We have a great deal of work ahead of us. This isn't going to be easy, especially because we don't know each other well. There is little precious little time before your trials."
"Yes, Master Kenobi," Lon said. "I will work hard, I promise. I will do anything you ask. Master Regor said that I was ready."
From his vantage point Anakin could see Lon's face clearly. He had a sudden and overwhelming urge to smash it.
"You understand that, as your Master now, I am empowered to make that determination for myself," Obi-Wan said quietly.
Anakin started to see red.
"I understand, Master," Lon said meekly. "And … Master Kenobi? There is something important I need to talk to you about right away," Lon went on. "Something that is weighing on my mind."
"We will talk," Obi-Wan said. "But not now. I would like for you to spend the rest of the day in meditation. I have a meeting tonight and some other duties. We will begin your formal preparation for the Trials tomorrow."
Anakin realized that he had made a very big mistake.
"I will, Master," Lon said humbly.
By the time the pair moved on, Lon toward his new single room, and Obi-Wan toward his own quarters, Anakin had vanished. Neither one had seen or perceived him.
* * * * *
Sabé was back from her fact-finding mission within the hour.
"I found Dellia," she said grimly. "And she is in no shape to come in to work."
Padmé looked up warily. "What is it?"
"You know that Jedi Padawan she was mooning over?"
Padmé nodded, "Lon Erian."
"Well, as it turns out it was a lot more than an infatuation. Apparently they had quite a thing going."
Padmé sighed deeply and had the grace to color a little. Surprisingly enough, Sabé allowed the perfect opportunity to harass her about Anakin to slip by.
"He broke off their affair last night. Apparently his Master was killed and he is devastated, and feels terribly guilty. He wants to make everything right and be the perfect Jedi from now on."
Padmé felt a wrench that went all the way through her body. Her darkest fears started to creep out of the cracks into which she had banished them. What if Anakin has left me?
"I … know how she must feel," Padmé said in a shaky voice. She couldn't read the look that Sabé gave her.
"The girl is in pieces. I told her to stay home."
Padmé nodded. What was she going to do now?
"Sabé, I hate to ask, but could you play Secretary today? I'm overwhelmed with work."
Sabé grinned. "I'm way ahead of you. I've canceled everything else."
"Thank you," Padmé breathed. "For everything."
Sabé shrugged. "There's something else. I don't know what to make of it, but you should know about it." She looked at Padmé intently. "Apparently Lon blames Anakin for his Master's death. He has some idea that Anakin is largely responsible for the tide of distrust that is turning against the Jedi Order."
Padmé sat silently, lost in thought.
"I don't know what to make of it either," she finally said. It was time to confess. "Anakin hasn't been in touch since you saw him yesterday. He has vanished. I have no idea where he is or whether …" No crying, she reminded herself, and then was startled when Sabé put a comforting hand over hers.
"He'll be back," Sabé said quietly. "He wouldn't just walk away."
Padmé looked at her in wonder. Who was this new version of her oldest friend? But before she could ask, Sabé had disappeared into the outer office and started to work.
* * * * *
When Obi-Wan entered his quarters he didn't sense anything unusual, and therefore was startled when he entered his bedchamber and saw the models lying on the cot. He moved closer and scrutinized the scene carefully, looking for clues. Finally he noticed a very faint indentation in the bedcovering next to the models. It was narrow and long, and about the size of … he stopped.
Blast!
He didn't have to research further. He knew. But to be thorough he unclipped his light saber and laid the cylinder against the indentation. Yes.
He knew Anakin had been there. And he knew that he had placed his lightsaber on the cot, and then removed it. And it didn't take much to deduce why he had placed it there in the first place, and why he had taken it back.
Blast! He thought again, violently, and shot out of his quarters.
He had to find Anakin at all costs.
