Shanobi Thanks for reading!

Dracula's Lair Thank you.

Sith Lord Darth Revan Yoda knows more than everyone else (as usual) so he might be kinder to Obi-Wan as the story progresses.

Athena I actually can't wait to get to the explanation that will come with the tons of backstory I have brewing in my little brain. It will just take time. Besides, as I've said, I loooove torturing my readers.

O

Doctor Marlwen gave a short nod towards his regular patient. "It's a pleasure to see you, sir."

"Yes, a pleasure to see you as well, especially since our reunion is not centered around any health issues of my own." Palpatine chuckled. "But I wonder if I might ask a favor of you, old friend."

"Such as?"

"I would like to speak to Kenobi. In private."

Marlwen was visibly stunned by the request. "Do I need to remind you that the Jedi consider him a danger?"

"The Jedi are being cautious. Their part in this-though unintentional-is undeniable. Kenobi was one of their own, and now, he is a criminal." The Senator smiled, and it struck the doctor as incredibly misplaced, "Albeit an incompetent one. Besides, the guards will insure I don't come to harm." He glanced at Kenobi. "Not that I'm particularly worried."

Marlwen felt concern thrum up in him. The Queen had understandable cause to see her would-be murderer, but why would Senator Palpatine seek audience with Kenobi—a private audience, at that? He studied the face that had grown familiar over the years and exams, a face that was beginning to loosen in the pull of years. And then he looked at the contrast that was Kenobi's younger, sharper countenance.

Concern for whom?

Still, he couldn't name any distinct threats they posed one another. Palpatine was a respected, educated man—and Kenobi was, well, restrained with a hole through his shoulder.

And yet… "Senator, I would advise against it."

In a cool, unaffected voice, "Doctor Marlwen, this man has committed atrocious wrongs to our people and more specifically, our beloved Queen. As a representative of Naboo, I would like him to understand just how serious the consequences may be." Contempt threaded silver through his placid eyes. "It will take but a moment. I assure you."

Marlwen was aware of his own hesitations and unable to explain them to himself, let alone the Senator.He sighed. "Alright. But he's still under my care as a physician, and if I believe you are a strain to his health in any way—"

Palpatine held up a hand. "I'm not planning on killing him, Doctor. On the contrary, he deserves to experience the full unpleasantness of his future sentence. I would never save him from that."

Marlwen compressed his lips and turned his eyes to Kenobi, attempting to gauge the man's reaction. But smoothly expressionless, the patient appeared indifferent to the entire debate. No shock there. "I'll be outside the door. This device," He indicated a small communicator clipped to his waist, "Is hooked to his monitors and will inform me at once if his condition deteriorates."

"An intelligent instrument," The Senator remarked.

The physician nodded, "I'll be outside the door," He repeated.

Palpatine's back was turned from the man. He waited for the hiss of the door sealing before he spoke again. "I suggest you keep your wits about you. We wouldn't want a siren to send him charging back in here, would we?"

"He's exaggerating, my Master."

The refined voice seemed to caress the last word, and as always, the Dark Lord felt a rustle of contentment in his mind. He stood at the foot of the bed, glad that the flooding shade of his cowl was absent. His apprentice needed to absorb the frustration, disappointment…the anger unveiled in Sidious' eyes. The boy had made a fuddling error better suiting a runny-nosed initiate. "At this point, I cannot be sure. You are my pupil—and the superior of Jinn and that inept Padawan of his. I had assumed it would be a contest quickly and easily won by the Sith. You wield the power of the Dark," He folded his hands behind his back and walked closer, "But are crippled, just the same."

"The Dark has made me strong. You have made me what I am." The apprentice whispered in reverence of the teacher.

But Sidious slowly shook his head. "I did not make you weak. You cling to the past, and so cling to weakness and failure. I have no tolerance for such things."

The apprentice's face tightened. His Master had lost faith in his abilities and his character. It was a colossal, bitter crush to his very being. Suddenly, he couldn't choke out any sort of defense. "I apologize, Master. There is no excuse for what I've done."

"Indeed. But every error has an origin, my apprentice. As you well know. And you will tell me the origin of yours."

Naboo's moon had eavesdropped, slipping in to settle on the bruised curvatures of the apprentice's sweat-beaded visage. He was pale as the white sands of the Jumith isles; his eyes were turbulent as the rushing gray undercurrent. And his voice was stolen from the winds of that place, the cold, dismal breath of nightfall. "I lack the grace of my Master. I was clumsy."

"Again, you speak of the error, when I desire to hear the source."

"The source goes no further than my own flaws."

A hard line stood out on the Sith Master's forehead. "Those flaws are of another age. And they have long been eradicated. No, this weakness belongs to Obi-Wan Kenobi."

A shaft of absolute devastation threatened to consume him and he closed his eyes, thinking of the lifeblood soaking into the sand. "There is no Obi-Wan Kenobi."

Fingers fell to brush against his hair. "And yet I sense his ghost here."

"NO. There is nothing left of him."

"Then give me reason to believe it, my apprentice."

He opened his eyes and they felt swollen, as though awaking from fever dreams, "I will do anything you ask of me, Master."

Sidious' smile was curdled across his mouth. "And the reward will be the Temple, the Jedi, toppled at our feet. We cannot afford mistakes and squandered opportunities," He drew his fingers languidly down the soft cheek, "Not when the shift approaches so soon."

The apprentice looked up at the Sith, locked in the trappings of Palpatine while the Dark drifted and flexed around him. The fingers were pure ice—and his only warmth. "I won't fail again."

"See to it that you don't. Plans have changed. Jinn, Yoda and the entire Order will encase you within the Halls. You will be among them.."

"But I will be with you, my teacher. Your wisdom will be with me. Your power."

"Yes." Sidious drawled. "And perhaps then, you will know that I am the only teacher. It was my hand that pulled you free of the abyss."

"Yes, Master." The lips were very nearly quivering. "Thank you, Master."

"I am your only Master." And abruptly, his nails raked across the cheek, welling up strips of crimson as he went, "That you must remember, above all else."

A moment later, the wounds had faded. A bird shrieked beyond the window, but the apprentice was deaf to the ragged call.

O

Qui-Gon and Yoda had slowly separated from the group, drifting to the nearby window overlooking a three-tiered fountain of twilit waters. Heavy, verdant eyes studied the trickle while eyes of bright midnight sought the attention of the other's.

"What has the Council decided?" Qui-Gon asked quietly, but rather insistently.

Strings of wild ivy spilled from the head of the fountain, and the old Master drank it in with gratefulness. In spite of injustice, malice and missed chances, there was still beauty, bounding from every direction, if one only paused long enough to notice. But the gaze of Qui-Gon Jinn was smothered in the violent tableau of Obi-Wan Kenobi's massive failure.

Something the maverick Master had in common with his former apprentice, Yoda reflected. It was all either of them could see.

"What have they decided?" Qui-Gon pushed, a desperate edge to his voice.

A sigh swept out from him and he turned from the pale serenity of the window, to the harsh sorrow of the well-loved face. "To Coruscant, young Obi-Wan will go."

"The Temple?"

Yoda nodded, eyes falling shut. "To the underground cells. The Force will be gone from him there. No Dark power, will he wield," Before Qui-Gon could speak, he answered the next question at the man's lips, "An investigation, there will be, to determine the next course of action."

And there was no more he could tell. For now, Obi-Wan's future was a dank, gray square and the grayer void that came from severance with the Force. Yoda realized he didn't want to know more.

Qui-Gon was staring at a crack in the pristine floor while he wondered, "Will we need the collar?"

A shiver froze Yoda's veins, "Pray, I do, that we will not."

Then Doctor Marlwen was approaching them, a finger straying to pinch the corner of his glasses. He didn't bother with formalities. He knew what they needed to know. "Apart from the increased heartbeat during your earlier meeting, he's improving at a rapid speed. I do feel he needs another day of in-hospital recuperation, but after that, it'll be safe to release him."

"Thank you." Yoda replied. "Into the custody of the Jedi, he will go."

"Then I'm sure he won't be among friends," Marlwen glanced at the door from which Palpatine had just re-entered the room, "Although, it seems the Senator is more angered than anyone."

Qui-Gon would have argued heartily with that observation, but found himself to be incredibly wearing and lacking the will. His thoughts were drifting more and more towards the lush bed of his quarters, and the promise of relief in black sleep. It would be lovely to forget, for a short while, the living nightmare of this mission.

O

Unconsciousness was overtaking the majority of the hospital. He could sense it, the warm, leaden weight of their limbs giving way to rest, eyes closing and hearts slowing.

It would have been a perfect opportunity to escape the wretched prison, if not for the flesh-and-bone blockade stationed outside his room. And he couldn't be sure how many more precautions had been taken to prevent him from his liberation. For all he knew, the gentle Naboo folk had banded together and constructed a moat around the entire building, throwing in a couple of hungry draigons to insure their safety.

He leaned into the pillow. His shoulder briefly sounded its discomfort, but the pain wasn't visible on his face.

No, he couldn't attempt flight now. He would, instead, trust in his Master's bottomless wisdom.

'…this weakness belongs to Obi-Wan Kenobi.' Something boiled inside him at the resurrected words. He was wrong. Kenobi IS dead. And I WILL prove it to you, my teacher. I will return the pride to your eyes. You will be proud of me again.

The lights had been dimmed to a smoky dusk, and though he quite enjoyed the dark ambience, it was disparaging to his focus. The drug-induced sleep of the night before had been his first real rest in months, and was not something he looked forward to repeating. Sleep was a flaw shared by every species imaginable, but it would not be his. Shallow meditation provided satisfactory rejuvenation while permitting him to stay in a state of sharp awareness. He had never been fond of sleep or its unpleasant side-effects; it was easy for him to constantly forego it.

The hours between midnight and sunrise belonged to him, as they always had. He was a Child of Darkness, his Master had declared years before, and a truer thing had never been spoken.

Master Yoda and Jinn would agree, he thought with a faint smirk. He remembered the horror and revulsion that twisted their faces, and a sweet sense of pleasure stirred richly inside him. He would go to the Temple—and they would regret the forced invitation.

O