Thank you, Athena, Farore. Glad I made you hate Palpatine :-)

*********** ***********

When the reception was over Count Dooku was one of the last to leave the Senate building – almost on the break of the dawn. His lanky figure, wrapped up in the midnight blue brocade expensive cloak, left the already almost deserted halls in a brusque pace of a man with purpose. His personal air-car was waiting for him outside, ready to take him home – to the hiding place, he thought with dismay. But he would not hide much longer. Not like this. He could sense it.

A slightly sleepy male voice greeted him when he got into the car. Dooku returned the greeting, closed the door and immediately felt the air-car take off from the landing platform. The light inside the car was off, not letting Dooku see his companion, but the Count didn't need it – he knew every feature of his associate's face almost as good as his own.

"How was your fishing today?" The voice had managed to shake off all the sleepiness and now sounded all business with a thinly veiled sarcasm.

Dooku grimaced. "Not too fortunate, in fact." He shifted in a more comfortable position before continuing. "Tabil Organa was pretty animated today…"

"Do you think he is the one we are looking for?" the voice asked.

"Perhaps. Maybe he's decided to leave subtlety for a while, thinking we would never suspect such open play from him."

They paused, listening to the quiet rambling of the engine as the car brought them through the shining web of Coruscant's upper-levels.

"Palpatine has overdone himself today," Dooku finally said, watching the ocean of blazing lights outside. "I admire this man – to be able to use the tragedy of his homeplanet to clamp down on the Senate… It takes much. Finally this herd has a decent leader."

"What about others under suspicion?"

"Ashii-Tan had left for his planet yesterday, as you know. Kadal Turunis seemed to be more concerned with his pregnant wife than with anything else…"

"Seemed?" There was no mistaking the taunt in the voice of the shadowed man. But Dooku didn't get furious at this, as one would expect.

"He  was ."

"Don't you think it a bit unfitting of a Sith Lord to be in such a position? Maybe…"

"We can't exclude him from the list only because of this small episode."

"If you don't constrict the circle you are never going to find out who he is, you know."

"Yes, but…" something metallic clinked in Dooku's pocket, and the two immediately went still and rigid. Carefully Dooku reached into his pocket and a moment later produced a small data-chip. With a fast gesture he turned the light on to take a better look at his discovery.

A small but bright lamp illuminated the two strained faces. Dooku's companion – who turned out to be a man in his late thirties with dirty-blond tousled hair, slanting gray eyes and bushy eyebrows – leaned forward, inspecting the chip. Then he lifted his eyes to look at Dooku quizzically. The Count just shrugged, answering the unspoken question.

"Any ideas where you could get this?" the man pointed at the chip that was glowing with matte glow in the light of the lamp.

"Strange. I should have noticed someone putting it into my pocket." The quick glance from his companion told Dooku that the man had picked on his uncertainty.

For a long second brown eyes stared into gray ones.

"Perhaps he – whoever he is – has decided to make the first step," the man finally uttered, nodding in the direction of the chip that was lying peacefully on Dooku's long-fingered palm.

A faint, almost non-existent, jolt told them that the air car had arrived to its destination. Closing his fingers around the metal ball Dooku was the first to climb out of the car, his companion close on his heels. Inside the shadowed building they were met by a company of men and women who seemed completely unremarkable from the first glance, but were, in fact, a very skilled and well-organized group, though small in numbers.

Giving orders as he went Count Dooku proceeded into a secluded room, followed by a few members of his party – others had disappeared along the way to carry out his orders. When the door had been locked Dooku looked over his most trusted companions – two men and one woman, including the one who accompanied him in his travel from the Senate building – then placed the data-chip into the projector.

A holographic figure that appeared in the dim room was wrapped up in a long black cloak from head to toe, making it impossible to discern whether it was a man or a woman. For a moment the hologram stood still, as thought examining those before it. One of the men shifted uncomfortably – the look of invisible eyes was heavy like a rock, the presence of the hologram seemed to electrify the very air in the almost empty room.

"Count Dooku," the hologram finally said – its voice hoarse, neither male nor female, somewhat hissing, vestured with noise like with goose pimples. Icy fingers of fear grabbed the innards of those present, making them all – even Dooku – wish they were somewhere else. "I have been watching your activity lately. You proved to be worthy. I want you to meet my envoy tomorrow at eleventh hour in seventh warehouse of TarBech. Come alone." The figure disappeared, leaving the tension still palpable in the room.

************* ************

Next day had come and passed quickly in everyday routine. When the night started to fall upon the planet-city, only to be quickly replaced by the artificial day, Count Dooku was ready to meet the mysterious envoy. His yesterday's companion flew him to the appointed place and left to wait nearby, prepared to come to the rescue of his boss should the situation get out of hand.

Walking soundlessly – he was a Jedi Master and hadn't lost his skills only because he had left the Order – Dooku entered the shaded building, his senses keen, tuned with the Force, ready to alert him of any danger. He couldn't sense anyone yet and it made him wonder. ~Could the message be only a test? Or, worse, a joke?~ he thought, frowning, but was quick to discard the possibility. His people weren't able to clear the message of the noise and special effects to make the voice recognizable – and it was no small feat to leave his people helpless.

But the warehouse was empty – or at least it was what his senses, sharpened by his training in the Jedi arts, told him. All the more startling was the voice when it came from pitch-darkness.

"Stop there," it ordered harshly.

Dooku stopped but stretched out with the Force instead. The result surprised him – nothing. Baffled, Dooku doubled his efforts, but still his senses found no presence in the Force as though he was alone in the building.

With a clinking sound that echoes loudly under the high ceiling a large lamp came to life, throwing into the darkness of the warehouse an uncertain bar of light, which immediately got lost in the vastness of the room. But at least it allowed Dooku to see where his contact was – a big progress, taking into consideration that he couldn't sense him in the Force. The contact was still no more than a black silhouette against the dark hole of the room.

"My Master wants you to show your skill and power," the figure stated in a distinguishably male voice.

Dooku didn't reply, waiting for the envoy to continue. He did just that.

"You are to find three bounty-hunters: Kaimano Katoro, Jango Fett and Nushi-Noshi."

Dooku waited some more but when he realized the envoy had said all he wanted, he asked himself. "When I find them – what next? How do I contact you?" He thought he heard a snort from the man, but, perhaps, it was only his imagination.

"You will be contacted in three days."

As soon as the echo of his words dissipated in the air the lamp switched off as abruptly as it had lit up, basking the two figures in heavy oppressive darkness. Turning around, Dooku made his way to the thin faint bar of light that symbolized the door he had come inside through.

Unbeknownst to him a pair of cold blue eyes watched him leave from a shadowy alcove high above.

*********** ***********

The closer they got to the planet, the more foreboding pressed down on Obi-Wan. Even Anakin – who as any adept of the Living Force, as opposed to Unifying Force, didn't usually pay much attention to vague senses of the future, preferring the moment's excitement instead – seemed to be worried, trying to stay as close to Obi-Wan as possible without actually clinging to him.

It was unusual to go to a planet without making a thorough research about it. But it wasn't a mission and no research was needed, though Tar Adnom, despite being Obi-Wan's homeplanet, was as unfamiliar to him as any other planet he visited for the first time in his life. Not the first time, he corrected himself, but his memories about this place were so disorganized and formless that it could as well be the first time. Still the absence of necessity to read tons of information about the planet threw Obi-Wan off-balance, and he sometimes wished he had taken some information from the Archives – at least for entertaining himself if nothing else.

The transport landed, and Anakin made face at the pilot's obvious lack of skill or care for his passengers. Smiling affectionately down at Anakin – pushing all his worries to the back of his mind for the time being – Obi-Wan strolled to the lowering ramp. The Padawan followed, mumbling something about if he were a pilot.

Once on the ground Obi-Wan started to search the variegated mob of the spaceport for anyone meeting them. A redheaded stocky man dived out of the crowd and approached them slowly, as if unsure. Obi-Wan examined the approaching man and with a leap of his heart realized that it was his brother, Owen.

Owen seemed to finally recognize Obi-Wan as well – a smile spread across his round tanned healthy face, and he rushed forward. Suddenly Obi-Wan found himself clutched in a bear hug, and there was nothing left for him but to hug Owen back.

"Hello, brother." Owen finally deigned to release the slightly crumpled Jedi and was now staring at him with two joyous blue eyes.

"Hello, Owen." Obi-Wan couldn't help but smile back, seeing his brother's cheerful face.

Owen looked him over once again and only now noticed Anakin who was not – quite – hiding behind his Master.

"Don't tell me you have married long ago, and this is your son," Owen said, eyeing Anakin from head to toe.

"Don't talk nonsense. This is Anakin, my Padawan," Obi-Wan made a jokingly offended face.

"Your what?" Owen seemed to be genuinely puzzled by the title

"An apprentice, you, scarecrow," Obi-Wan said kindly and suddenly felt warmth – something long forgotten – wash over his body and soul. He remembered Owen and himself as kids playing during his short visit home long ago – it seemed like ages. He remembered… Suddenly it was so much, too much for him. He was afraid he might break into tears.

"Ah, okay. Let's go, I'll take you home," Owen said, starting to weave his way through the crowd, paying little if any attention to the jogs he was getting.

In a surge of tenderness – so uncharacteristical for him in the last few months – Obi-Wan put his arm around Anakin's shoulder and hugged him closer, feeling surprise and something warm rise in their bond, filling them both with affection.

An old and rather shabby-looking speeder that Owen used as a transport produced a frown on Anakin's face as he saw this wonder of engineering.

//Master, are you sure it won't fall apart on us?// Anakin asked through the bond they shared, and Obi-Wan was thankful that he hadn't said it aloud. The Padawan tended to blurt things like this out not caring whose feelings he might hurt.

//I don't think so. Now get in.// Obi-Wan was careful to not let his smile become too wide.

Still eyeing the speeder suspiciously Anakin got inside, followed quickly by his master. Owen fired the engine and flew the speeder out of the overcrowded spaceport's parking zone and onto the street. They flew in silence until Obi-Wan dared to ask a question he secretly dreaded asking.

"How's mom?"

Owen, who had been smiling slightly, apparently, glad to see his brother again after almost two decades of not seeing him, immediately became somber. "We'll talk when we are there."

*********** ***********

The trip to Owen's home took them about an hour: the Nobbs were the farmers and lived outside the town. The speeder didn't fly too fast – and Obi-Wan could barely suppress a small smile at Anakin's definition of it as a 'Hutt's crawl' – perhaps, it simply couldn't gain better speed or, maybe, such a mild pace was to Owen's taste, though Obi-Wan doubted it – his brother seemed to be intent on getting home as soon as possible.

Obi-Wan, on contrary, couldn't decide whether he wanted to get there as fast as possible or to apprehensively postpone the fateful meeting. Fateful? He took a moment to wonder at his choice of words. Why on earth did he call it fateful? As a mean of distraction he searched for the answers within himself and immediately regretted it as the answers sprang at him, making his heart beat in a maddened rhythm. He was afraid… he didn't even want to think what he was afraid of.

To somehow quell the pounding of his heart – no amount of Jedi techniques seemed to be useful this time, failing him when he needed them most – Obi-Wan tried to lose himself in watching the landscape. The countryside was, in fact, a sight to behold. As soon as the speeder left the bristling with activity streets of the spaceport's town, which had developed through centuries around the spaceport, the cobbled streets of the town gave place to wide forests, here and there lined with sparkling ribbons of crystal-clear rivers. Groups of trees dressed in carmine reds and golden yellows reminded about the autumn claiming its rights.

However, the beauty of the sight was lost on the distraught Jedi. The voice of his heart drowned out the birds singing in the sky. Obi-Wan stomped on his foreboding hard, resorting to the idea that had been drilled into him for more than a decade: 'live in the moment'. But his apprehension was still with him like a dull throbbing ache deep inside his being, devouring his strength, waiting to sprout.

The speeder pulled to a low white stone house, drowning in the garden that was surrounded by a low fence – more for decorative purposes than any real mean of protection. Getting out of the speeder the three followed a meandering gravel path up to the house. On a large open porch an old man was waiting for them, leaning heavily upon the white balustrade. Coming closer Obi-Wan realized that the man wasn't really old, but his hair was practically gray, and his eyes were dull. Doleful creases at his mouth aged him greatly. It was Obi-Wan's father – Parel Nobbs, and the young Jedi promptly searched his eyes for answers he didn't want to hear. But the old man avoided an eye contact. Slowly he made an inviting gesture and went into the house himself, his shoulders slumped, his walk shuffling.

Obi-Wan saw Owen's worried look follow the retreating figure of their father. Noticing his brother watching him, Owen shrugged a bit and said in a way of explanation – as though any such explanation was needed, "This has been hard on him. He still loves her very much."

Without as much as another word they proceeded into a rather large room, furnished with chairs and a sofa. Parel was already there, sitting on the sofa, his face buried in his hands. Presentiment and desperation threatened to overwhelm Obi-Wan, and he fought to keep them at bay, raising as many mental shields as he could: blocking the pain inside, blocking his feelings from the world, from Anakin. He noticed an expression of sheer panic contort Anakin's face for a moment when the boy felt the bond being blocked as well – Obi-Wan had never shut him out like this before. But the knight couldn't pour this entire emotional storm – hurricane – he knew was coming onto his Padawan's head. And so he blocked the bond too.

"How is she?" Obi-Wan asked his father. The words sounded alien – and useless, colourless.

For a long moment the blue-gray weary eyes stared into troubled cobalt ones. Time froze on the shrill note of hesitation, then it broke back into reality. "I'm sorry, son, but…" Unable to look into those intense eyes, focused on him, Parel lowered his gaze.

For a moment, Obi-Wan simply stood frozen, stiff, looking at his father as though he couldn't understand his words. The man before him was bent over as though a weight of grief was lying on his shoulders as tangible as the walls of this room. Then slowly, painfully realization sank in, and Obi-Wan felt a surge of grief well up in him, gripping his heart with icy clutch of loss, his throat constricting. He looked at his father, his eyes shining pleadingly, begging to take his words back, to say everything was all right – and knew he would never hear such words. The pain so strong it was almost physical twisted his heart, and he fought to keep tears at bay, fought… but what was there to fight for?

"I'm sorry," Parel repeated huskily, but Obi-Wan didn't hear him.

"Where… is… she?" he managed to ask through gritted teeth and barely recognized his own voice. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Anakin stiffen, looking at him virtually in terror, but ignored it.

"Come, I will show you." The father stood up and, not looking at any of his sons, went out of the room. Obi-Wan followed him in ominous silence, his moves suddenly lacking his usual natural grace.

Still in silence they entered a small dimly lit room, the amber glow of little glow-lamp filling the room with supernatural radiance. The air was full with cloying exotic aromas of different oils and heavy aura of death, glancing through them. There, on a dais made of a table and beautifully decorated fabrics, was lying she – Tanarine Nobbs. Obi-Wan stopped on the threshold as though afraid to come in, as though if he stayed on the outside it would only be a distant picture never coming into reality. He clutched the doorframe and just stared at his dead mother. There were no words to say.

A minute passed. Time flowed by. Obi-Wan stared.

She was beautiful – even in death – her golden hair spread around her like halo of an angel, her face peaceful with eerie serenity, lips slightly parted in everlasting sigh. She was almost ethereal, and Obi-Wan felt a gaping hole open up in his heart, sucking all his thoughts in, leaving his mind mute. All these years when he hadn't as much as spared a minute to remember her she was with him, somewhere in a small corner of his mind. He hadn't even realized she had been there until she was gone. On trembling legs he finally approached her and stretched out his hand to gently touch her face. Softly his fingertips came in contact with her skin, and cold shot up his hand. His weakened knees suddenly gave way and he crumbled to the floor next to her pedestal.

Parel left the room quietly, letting Obi-Wan spend at least some time alone with his mother – for the last time.

For a long spell he just sat there looking at her, taking in every feature, memorizing her to keep her image with him forever. Tenderly, carefully he reached out his hand to stroke the silky mass of her hair. The tightness of his chest was unbearable, clutching him in the gripe of anguish. Tears blurred his vision until he could no longer see anything. He wanted to howl like a wounded animal, but nothing came forth from his parted lips, his harsh breathing the only sound in the room. He wanted to embrace her and never let go, to hold her like he had held Qui-Gon – but he was afraid to break her fragile beauty. She was so thin, almost translucent, so small in the abundance of fabrics that surrounded her.

Hot wave of merciless shame coloured his cheeks red when he thought how he had forgotten about her… about each of them, but most of all her. How could he? Oh, how he wished now that he could return to the past to try and change it. But past was in the past – came merciless words of memory.

In desperation, without any hope he reached for her through the Force and felt… nothing. Just the black void of death, cold and callous. Tanarine was one with the Force – like the Jedi would say. She was there – somewhere – she couldn't have disappeared. But what if she had?

Abruptly an old pain, which had just started to get covered with a thin veil of time, surged up from the depth of his being, breaking the shields he had built, erupting into his consciousness like molten lava, mixing with the new pain, doubling it. Blinded by the agony that tore his soul into the ragged shreds, Obi-Wan clutched the fabrics blindly and screamed and yelled in rage and grief. Two people – the dearest, closest people – were now gone, and only an echo of their presences filled his memory, and grinding pain filled his bleeding heart.

********** **********

Anakin followed his Master and stood watching him from the open door after Parel had left. At first his heart went out to Obi-Wan and his poor mother. She was not young, but attractive nonetheless – not as beautiful as his own mother, of course, but still… She didn't deserve to die now; Obi-Wan didn't deserve his mother to die now.

But then… then something dark and ugly raised its head from a little secluded corner of his mind. That little corner he was so afraid of. It whispered that it was he who needed such attention, not the dead woman. She was dead already, why care for her? This tenderness should be his!

He had never seen Obi-Wan show such feelings before, and it made his heart bleed with jealousy that it wasn't he who received all that love.

Something snapped in him, and he felt pity for Obi-Wan, but not a compassionate pity – no, his emotion was akin to that of a person who still has what another had just lost. He remembered his own mother and was enormously glad she was alive. Far away but alive. Straightening, he felt himself superior to his Master.  He , Anakin, would never let his mother die. He would return and save her, and she would come with him to live on Coruscant. And he would be the greatest Jedi of all – the Chancellor said so, and the Chancellor was to be trusted. He, Anakin, was the Chosen One and the strongest one, too. He would never be weak.

A gentle hand lowered onto his shoulder, and he jumped in surprise. The jealousy inside him faded away quickly, and he felt crimson blush creep onto his face. What was he thinking? He turned his head to see a middle-aged woman he hadn't seen before. She nudged him tenderly away from the door.

"He needs to stay alone for a while," she said softly and kindly – like no one except his mother ever talked to him. "Let him be."

Hanging his head in shame, Anakin followed the woman away, vowing to himself that he would do anything to help his Obi-Wan through this.

*********** **********