Thanks everyone for reviewing. Unfortunately I don't have time for personal responses. Sorry for the confusion with the previous chapter. Now let's return to the story.

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The firm hand of the Count steered Anakin through magnificent halls towards an exit to one of the numerous landing platforms.

As they went the Padawan looked around with haunted eyes. The sight was not something he had seen in the ten boisterous years of his less than simple and normal life. He had seen many atrocities on Tatooine as they were usual for that place – atrocities and cruelty and slavery. They were common like dust under the feet. But here on Coruscant, in the very heart of the Republic, next to the Jedi Temple, it seemed ugly like a scorched mar on a shining smooth surface of an agile starfighter – impossible and disappointing. Somehow it touched his perfect vision of Coruscant, his sparkling dream of metropolitan life. It occurred to him that life – and death – here were just the same as on Tatooine; the same pain, the same blood.

Thus it was not this scene that so distressed him, it was the loss of the ideal picture he had created and dutifully sustained for as long as he could remember himself – the picture of the better life. Yet along with this dull disappointment, coupled with the unceasing worry for his Master, another feeling raised – something his mother had instilled in him from infantry – compassion.

"Sir?" he addressed the tall man timidly, yet his voice held an underlying conviction to it.

Dooku, who was walking tensely, forced to restrain his long-legged strides, stopped to regard his small companion.

"What is it?"

"Shouldn't we be helping?" The boy swept his arm in a wide motion.

Dooku looked at the scene around them as if such thought never occurred to him. The young Padawan looked up at the old man with expectance written all over his roundish features. The Count looked down at him, deciding what to do.

An image of another boy rose unbidden before his eyes – an apparition of another child looking up at him with the same expectation in the blue eyes, full of boundless trust. The vision – this shadowy ghost of the past – brought a pang of sweet pain, which though soon turned into a heart-tearing agony as the vision of that promising child transformed into a sight of a great Jedi Master, the Master who was now one with the Force.

On an impulse, Dooku knelt before this new promising child and looked deep into another pair of glinting blue eyes.

"Yes, Anakin, you are absolutely right. We should be helping. But look carefully, there are enough rescuers around here. It is more important that we get you to safety, back to the Temple."

"But…"

"Perhaps your Master is waiting for you there already. He must be worried."

The boy's eyes grew even more troubled at the mentioning of Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Dooku could only wonder at the closeness of these two people. Probably killing the Knight was not such a good idea. But possibly it was already too late.

"No, he's here," the Padawan insisted with certitude.

"Maybe," the Count yielded. "But how can you be sure?"

"I… I can sense him."

Dooku's brows flew high involuntarily. It was an incredibly rare thing for so deep a connection to be forged in such a short period.

"You can really sense his location?"

"Um… more or less… I think."

"This is very good," Dooku reassured. "He is here, then?" And still alive too.

"Yes, but…" Anakin's lower lip trembled ever-so-slightly in a tenuous attempt to hide his feelings. "He's blocking me out. H-he's shielding from me!" The carefully hidden and suppressed offence suddenly shone bright in the eyes of the young Padawan.

Dooku could have said something in consolation, could have encouraged the boy… but he abruptly remembered his dislike for Kenobi and stood up roughly.

"Let's get on the move. I have an air-car parked nearby."

"May I fly it?!" Anakin immediately asked, tugging at the Count's long sleeve.

The unanticipated change of mood threw Dooku off-balance for a split second. How does Qui's Padawan cope with him?

"I'm afraid not, my young friend. I don't think my pilot will appreciate it."

At the landing platform Dooku's shining-black air-car was already waiting for them with frowning Brimar leaning against it with his hands crossed over his chest. He and the Count exchanged quick glances as Brimar raised his brows askance at the sight of Dooku's companion.

"We need to get Padawan Skywalker to the Jedi Temple," Dooku explained, accompanying his words with a curt conspiratorial nod.

Without another word, Brimar climbed inside the air-car and powered the engines. Anakin followed the lanky figure of the Count inside the spacious salon. The air-car took off as soon as the door clinked shut behind the boy.

Anakin – however immature and inexperienced he might have been – sensed the air of mystery and plotting that seemed to permeate the air-car like heavy perfume. Nevertheless, contrary to Dooku's misgivings it did not scare the boy, nor did it put him on guard – it excited him. The Padawan wiggled on his seat, trying to examine every single detail of the simple but elegant salon and follow the endless streams of buildings and traffic outside simultaneously.

Dooku watched him with hidden amusement and resurfacing memories.

Done with his examinations of the air-car Anakin finally settled in his seat, and for the first time paid some attention to the disheveled blond shock of the pilot.

"You're a good pilot," the boy observed in his high-pitched voice. "For a mere driver, I mean."

Brimar scowled to himself at the belittling remark, and Dooku sensed a wave of indignation roll from him as a burst of acrid orange coloured his Force-signature. And the Count knew Brimar, his closest companion as he was, had all the right to be angry, especially considering their recent disagreement.

Making sure Brimar could see him in a mirror, Dooku motioned for him not to mind Anakin's words. The Padawan remained oblivious.

Tall gracious spires of the Jedi Temple loomed in the murky distance glowing pristine white against the blurred background of the polluted city. Anakin grew quiet, and the silence was only broken when Brimar requested permission for landing.

As they stepped onto the landing platform a service droid rolled up to them.

"Is anyone waiting to guide you in, sirs?" it asked in a crisp voice.

Dooku felt bitter resentment rise in him. He was well aware that strangers, or outsiders for that matter, were not allowed into the Temple without guidance. Yet there had been time when he needed no guidance here; he still didn't need it – but the Jedi bureaucrats deemed otherwise.

Anakin glanced up at him in dismay. He was not sure at all the droid would let him in, though he'd been living at the Temple for almost a year now.

The Count opened his mouth to say something, but was cut short by a loud hail for Anakin from the door leading into the maze of Temple halls. He looked there to see a young Mon Calamari woman standing in the doorway. Anakin waved his hand at her, and she started to walk towards them.

Bant – and that was no one other – neared the small group somewhat warily. She had recognized the former Jedi, and a billion of questions was already plaguing her mind as to what could have caused Obi-Wan to entrust his Padawan to such questionable company.

"Anakin!" she smiled down at the boy, and he replied with a smile of his own, though somewhat wan.

"Knight…"

"Eerin." Bant frowned slightly at Dooku, showing her disaffection for him, though it seemingly had no effect on him.

"Knight Eerin, I trust you are more than capable of getting Anakin to his quarters."

"You can be sure of it." Bant nearly bit back and laid her hand onto the Padawan's shoulder protectively. "May I ask where is his Master?"

"I suppose he's occupied doing some rescuing at the senatorial banquet." The cold stare of Dooku's hazel eyes prevented Bant from asking any more questions, but she clearly caught the thought Dooku didn't bother to conceal from her: Probably the infamous Sith-slayer is too busy to attend to his own apprentice.

The young Calamarian's hand balled into a fist, but she contented herself with throwing a scathing look at the Count. With a small smile, barely visible at the corners of his lips, Dooku made a mock bow and retreated into his air-car, which flew off bathing everyone on the landing platform in fine dust.

Anakin, who was totally at a loss as to what caused such drastic rise of negative emotions, looked up at Bant. She smiled down at him and ruffled his hair.

"All right, Anakin, let's get you to your room."

They walked in silence for several minutes until Anakin ventured a question.

"Why don't you like him?"

"Who?" the Knight refused to meet Anakin's gaze, staring in front of herself instead.

"Count Dooku." The boy was nothing if not persistent.

"Well… I suppose he's not a very good man…" Bant definitely was not inclined to discuss Dooku as her thoughts kept returning to a certain Knight stuck in the middle of some trouble – as was his usual.

In less than comfortable silence they reached the door to the apartments Anakin shared with Obi-Wan.

"I think it is time you go to bed," the Calamarian said, leaning against the doorframe.

Anakin raised no objection. But as he was ready to close the door and proceed to his bedroom he suddenly stopped and looked Bant in the eyes.

"Do you think he will return soon?" he asked, and a speck of guarded hopefulness shimmered in his voice.

Do you think he will return unharmed? the young Knight deciphered to herself.

"I'm sure he will be back soon. And he must find you sound asleep," she smiled despite the growing unease, tugging at her heart.

Nodding in acceptance, although somewhat reluctantly, Anakin shut the door.

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

Discourteously pressed against a marble wall stood Chancellor Palpatine, carefully sustaining a proper mixture of dignity and fright on his face. This appearance was needed to keep the personality of the Sith hidden. It wasn't time to reveal it yet. Palpatine had no doubt about his safety in the near future, and thus the expression so becoming of a Supreme Chancellor in present situation was nothing more than a skillfully maintained guise.

He had nothing to fear from the group of men dressed in black – they were his own men, after all, and would do anything to keep him safe. The other group of attackers worried him but only slightly so. He was positive no harm would come from them: his own men would protect him and he would not be hesitant to use his powers of the Dark Lord if circumstances required. But he was curious. It wasn't obvious what they were trying to achieve, and this brought unneeded confusion into a well-thought scheme.

With a bit of an effort Sidious forced himself to relax his fingers that had folded themselves into choking a gesture. These intruders were breaking his plans, but they were not reason enough to give himself out by unleashing his rage on them. Sidious leaned against the wall, slowly transforming back into Palpatine.

His blue eyes, incredibly pale, holding the power frightening and fascinating to those who dared look into their depth – though only few did – traveled across the room, examining, assessing not only through visual images but through the Force as well. They lingered for a short moment on a hunched figure of a bounty hunter perched on the balcony above, unnoticed, and displeasure quirked the corner of Palpatine's mouth. Fett had his orders, yet Organa was still standing next to the Chancellor, alive.

The piercing gaze moved onward, observing. Senators cowed behind the columns, the chairs, inverted tables – anything they could find to give them an illusion of safety.

~Weaklings. Hateful scum.~

The firing men, crouching behind any sort of cover as well, were producing much noise, but their efforts didn't yield any result as no one was even wounded – no one of the fighters, at least. The senators, it seemed, were not taken into account here.

Palpatine watched the scene like a distant spectator, noting the moves, assessing the gray fighters' skill. They seemed to be well-taught, and he took a moment to wonder what brought them here.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?"

The harsh hail snapped Palpatine out of his observations. The call had been addressed to Organa who had tried – quite unsuccessfully – to sneak away from their black-clad captors. The Prince of Alderaan was quickly guided back to his place with a rifle firmly pressed between his shoulder blades. All the while he was keeping a face telling everyone he was walking on his own will. Palpatine shook his head in amusement. The royal Organa didn't seem to notice it. Shoved none too gently the prince leaned against the wall rubbing his hand he had hit on the wall and muttering something unintelligible under his breath.

Palpatine resumed his watching, trying to fathom the plans of the unknown group. They seemed to avoid shooting at senators. Once in a while they ran over from place to place, but their goals still remained unapparent. Whatever they were it seemed…

"Looks like we have a Jedi to the rescue here," Palpatine heard Organa whisper into his ear, intruding into his thoughts.

The dripping sarcasm of his voice made the Chancellor take a closer look at him.

"About time he appeared," the prince continued, ignoring Palpatine's rather hard stare.

"He should have come earlier, is that what you imply?" the older man questioned.

"Of course. He or someone else of that bunch. Isn't it what they are supposed to do?"

"Perhaps…"

Palpatine threw a quick sliding look at the young man dressed in the unmistakable brown cloak with a lightsaber hanging from his belt. The Jedi had just steeped out of an alcove hidden behind crimson velvet curtains.

The Chancellor looked around at the senators who had apparently noticed their supposed rescuer while the fighters had yet to become aware of his presence. He noted that there was barely any face showing surprise at the sight of a Jedi.

And he knew the reason for it: most shared Organa's belief that the Jedi were bound to come to their rescue in any situation, circumstances regardless. Sidious suddenly felt sorry for the members of the Order who imagined themselves to be great keepers of peace and justice in the galaxy – how much pathos, the Sith soundlessly snorted – but in fact were nothing more than a horde of faithful servants for political agendas of both the Senate and their very own Council.

But who was this particular Jedi? The Chancellor turned to look at the Jedi. A wave of shock – short-lived as it was, promptly quelled – passed through Palpatine as he recognized the Jedi to be no one other than Obi-Wan Kenobi.

The firing groups finally noticed the newcomer, and turned their full attention at him – as well as their blasters. Blue blade sprang to life, filling the hot, stuffed air with the low hum. Palpatine stiffened.

"Are you trying to get yourself killed, fool?" he mumbled almost angrily.

First blaster bolts ripped the air.

The bar of shining blue started to move, preparing to deflect the shots.

Time slowed down.

The Force created an almost visible, clear halo around the young Jedi.

But the attackers were too numerous…

Sidious drew upon the Force as well. He wouldn't let them kill his son.

Time slowed even more. The firing attackers were now resembling the statues – unmoving, frozen in odd poses. Even the lightsaber was swirling slowly in Obi-Wan's hands.

There were only two of them now: the Jedi and the Sith; the father and the son, although the son was ignorant.

Gazes clashed for a moment, and something ominous filled the air with suffocating heaviness. Then time slowed even more, leaving the Jedi frozen just like everyone else in the room.

Sidious raised his hands, the energy inside him making his body ache with almost limitless power. And then he unleashed the storm.

Feeble, motionless statues of attackers were flown into the walls like leaves blown by a hurricane. There was no sound, and in the eerie silence the bodies crashed into the marble walls and slid to the floor. Now they were nothing more than bodies. Dead bodies. Corpses.

With a contented sigh Palpatine let his hands drop, and time sped up around him.

A deflected blaster bolt hit one remaining attacker square in the chest, and he dropped dead. Palpatine, who was scrutinizing the Jedi, noted the look in Obi-Wan's eyes… the look of regret.

~He regrets killing him? Stupid, stupid… Whatever they are taught in that Temple of theirs? And they are called warriors…~

The Jedi clipped the lightsaber to his belt and bent over the nearest attacker searching for his pulse. There was none.

There could be none.

The senators one by one left their hiding places and gathered next to Obi-Wan though keeping some distance between themselves and him. Palpatine approached him with Organa close behind.

"Thank you, Jedi Kenobi."

Obi-Wan turned his head to him and gave a curt nod. Palpatine narrowly avoided looking into his eyes. It was not time yet…

"I suggest we go find some help, there are wounded," Organa broke in.

"All right," Obi-Wan was no longer looking at Palpatine. He addressed the rest of the senators. "There is no need for all of you to walk anywhere. Arrange those wounded as comfortably as you can. Senator Organa and I will go get a rescue team here."

"I will go with you," Palpatine interjected in a voice that was his usual courteous but bore no argument.

"As you wish, Chancellor."

The three of them walked in silence out of the door, leaving the still scared senators and twenty dead attackers behind. All the while Palpatine watched Obi-Wan carefully, trying to gauge how much he understood of what happened in that room and what conclusions he would make. That, however, proved to be quite difficult, as Kenobi had apparently decided to think about it later, leaving the ideas he had in the tangled state they were.

A few minutes later they came across the nearest rescue team, and Obi-Wan quickly gave directions for them to find the senators. The leader of the group lingered to talk to him.

"We'd appreciate your help, Master Jedi."

"What do you need me do?"

"We have a group working down there," he motioned somewhere down the hall. "They could use an extra pair of hands."

"I will go there then. But…" Obi-Wan put a hand onto the man's arm stopping him from walking away. "Have you seen a little boy around here? Blond hair, this tall. Or maybe you've heard something?"

"No, I'm sorry."

Palpatine saw a worried expression cloud Obi-Wan's features for a moment until he forcefully straightened them. What surprised the Chancellor was a spark of compassion coming through the Force from Organa.

"If you'll excuse me, Chancellor, Senator," said Obi-Wan and left at once, not waiting for them to say anything.

Palpatine watched him until he rounded the corner then turned to Organa. The prince was still looking after Kenobi.

"I have a little sister. Force, I can understand him!" Bail said to no one in particular.

Palpatine didn't say anything. Pretending to feel suddenly tired, he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. Drawing upon the Force, submerging himself into it, letting it show him images, he watched what happened just around the corner.

He saw Obi-Wan walk barely two steps down the adjacent corridor when abruptly a man, also dressed in black, launched himself at him from a niche concealed behind a portiere. The Jedi's reflexes were lightning-quick as he span out of the way. The man landed onto his feet and whirled around, drawing a short stick, gleaming metal in the dim light of the corridor. Then he went for the second attack.

Obi-Wan was ready for it… but he was not ready for the second man to appear out of the niche with an identical metal tube. Just as the Jedi twisted away from the first man, the second one lowered his stick onto his head harshly. The force of the blow dazed Obi-Wan, and the first man took the moment to hit him as well.

The skillfully placed blow sent the Jedi into unconsciousness, and the two men watched him tumble down onto the floor in a heap. Making sure he wasn't moving the two black men dragged him into the alcove.

Not more than two hundred meters away Sidious opened his eyes and gave a tiny smug smile. Everything was going as planned.

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Far away at the Jedi Temple Anakin Skywalker jumped up in his bed, wide-eyed as an unknown terror found its way into his restless sleep. In his dream he had lost his Master – the Master who had yet to come home as a swift Force-scan confirmed. And in that dream – terrifying, crushing – his Master had died, leaving him alone.

"Please, Force, let him come back."

The Force remained silent.

With a sob the boy laid himself back down and hugged the pillow in a vain search for consolation.

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