Author's Notes: There's a bit for both Merrymoll and Skywalker-Blue in here – your little story suggestions just seemed to fit with what I wanted to do in this chapter. I re-watched the Arena battle for inspiration of where to go now, and for what I needed to write about, and a great little scene came to mind – so see if you can spot the parts for you. ^_^ They're not substantial, but they're there.

Seth: I can't thank you enough for your kind reviews! You're a star! I'm glad you appreciate my writing – I've been taking more care and time with this story than any other fic I've ever wrote. For example, the first part took at least 10 hours combined to put together – that's writing my ideas on paper, typing it up, reading it through, changing bits, editing bits, writing some more, proofreading again, and then uploading it. I'm glad people enjoy what I've written because I do put a lot of effort in.

Liz: You'll just have to keep reading to find out! ^_^

Merrymoll: Glad you liked the conference table – I've gotta admit that I actually really like the character of Nute Gunray! I almost feel sorry for the guy!

Skywalker-Blue: Glad you like dark stories. Is it good that they affect you so much? 0_o Anyway, thankies for your continuing reviews!

And, as often as I proofread these chapters, some mistakes will still get passed me! When you write something, you always miss your own mistakes! u_u

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"ECLIPSE"

Part 4

Obi-Wan looked hard at the floor that was passing below his tremulous feet, unable to focus properly upon it; it didn't feel like metal any longer…it felt more like sand. He closed his eyes, his vision still shaky, and continued to pace on. He could remember being towed from the courtroom, but the rest, up until now, had been a blur – he'd lapsed back into a semi-meditative state in an attempt to regain some energy, so had allowed his feet to do the walking without his attention.

Two Geonosians escorted him along this dull passageway. Something about it was unlike the others – it was even craggier, and the floor, as Kenobi had correctly recognised, had not been plated with metallic grating – it was merely sand, the natural surface of the planet.

Anakin was being walked along behind his Master. He held his head high, though inside he was filled with fury and anger – and he directed that anger toward Dooku. That man may have had the outward appearance of a genteel and refined aristocrat, but Anakin could see beneath that façade. He recalled how nervous Padmé had been around the Separatist when he had entered into his cell. He remembered what Padmé had told him about that man:

'When he touches me…puts a hand on my shoulder, I mean…I feel a chill spread through my body; I feel cold inside, and scared…I've never felt like it before. I know that I want to break away from him, but I can't – something stops me! I can't!'

Anakin inhaled a rugged breath, trying to control his antagonism. His hands were still bound, and his escorts were still armed with electro-poles – struggling wasn't going to help him, even now in the face of death.

'When he touches me…puts a hand on my shoulder, I mean…I feel a chill spread through my body'

He swallowed, envisioning the smug countenance of the Count within his mind, and focusing all of his negative energy towards it.

'When he touches me…'

Anakin inhaled again through gritted teeth, his own mind toying with him; "I'll kill him," he hissed inconspicuously to himself. The most important thing in his life had been taken away by the Count – and that was Padmé. Without his mother, Anakin felt that there was no one else left that he was close to. Even his Master didn't fall into that category.

He'd been too weak to save his mother. And now he was too weak to save Padmé from this insidious monster. He wasn't going to let him get away with it!

Anakin glared at the back of Kenobi infront of him.

'It's all Obi-Wan's fault! He's jealous! He's holding me back!'

His own words now came back to haunt him – and now, when he had once again been pushed to the limits of his emotions, he still felt the same about his tutor. It was Obi-Wan's fault – he had held him back! If he'd just been stronger, he could have saved Padmé; he could have stopped Dooku from taking her from him, and from 'touching' her, and exploiting her with his sinister mind tricks.

'You're not all powerful, Ani'

'Well I should be! Someday I will be…I will be the most powerful Jedi ever!'

Someday wasn't soon enough.

Anakin looked down to the sandy floor briefly, before refocusing his mind, and blankly staring ahead – he would be the most powerful Jedi ever. And he would start today; he would save Padmé and kill Dooku. He would show Obi-Wan, and all of the rest of the Jedi Order who dared to frown down upon him, that he was more powerful than any Jedi! He didn't have time to wait – he had to become the strongest now.

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Drums were beating loudly in the arena, and the crowds chanted fiercely as they eagerly awaited the start of the public execution. Geonosians were blatant isolationists, and many were bred to despise those from the outside world – it was a glorious event when intruders were destroyed for daring to set foot upon their planet. These demanding sounds rumbled through the very foundations of the grounds, and could be heard, although muted, in the far reaches of the back passages, leading up to the spectator stands.

It was in a back alley that Padmé heard them. She followed the group of Separatists, lead by Poggle the Lesser, up a private passageway, leading to the dignitary box. The Archduke was giving them all a taste of Geonosian hospitality by taking them to view a public execution. To him it was an honour; but Geonosian culture didn't easily cross the boundaries of others.

The drums got increasingly louder as the party ascended the winding stairway toward the dignitary box, high up, at the head of the stadium.

Despite the short notice, the two Jedi were still to go out in spectacular style. Poggle had swiftly organised the revels, and had opted for the most lavish form of execution: death via wild, untamed beast. These poor creatures were taken in from the wild, abused and starved until they lusted blood and yearned for something to placate their empty bellies. They were then unleashed into the arena when the time came, and did the only thing they could – attack the 'food' placed before them. It was a fierce and gory death for any prisoners offered up as sacrifices. Poggle had selected a couple of his particular favourite creatures to destroy the Jedi: a Reek, a tri-horned, bull-like beast, and an Acklay, a crab-come-dinosaur combo. They were large, strong, and very hungry.

Whereas this event would serve as entertainment for the carnage-craving Geonosians, it would only serve as further, unbearable torment for Padmé. This day had just been one, long nightmare from which she could not wake. To hear your friends sentenced to death was one thing, but to watch them die as well was just plain inhuman! Padmé wasn't sure how much longer she could keep her sanity if this was all Separatist life had to offer. To think that this was merely a sports event to the Geonosians! She'd heard of respecting cultures, but this was ridiculous.

She looked up, walking toward the back of the procession as they slowly ascended a long, meandering flight of stairs. Passel Argente and his aide were directly behind Poggle, their black robes gliding after them; Gunray and his comrade were at their rear, followed by Shu Mai and her official, Techno Unionist Wat Tambor, ex-Senators Nudo and Tikkes, the smarmy San Hill, and finally Dooku and herself, flanked by Jango and son.

Padmé looked about tensely, the passageway feeling tight, and almost as though it was closing in. The passage was quite narrow anyway, fitting only two abreast, and was incredibly dark. Being flanked on all sides by various individuals didn't help to give her any room, either; she knew that her unsound emotions were playing with her, and the strength of the Count's presence still hadn't ebbed, so was an additional pressure on her mind.

The cheering and shouting from the arena became more clear, erupting down the walkway from the stands high above, and pounded in her head like an unyielding guilty conscience. Padmé swallowed, and felt herself begin to breathe rapidly. She looked up and about her quickly, sounds becoming muted echoes within her head; she felt overwhelmingly panic-stricken. The walls seemed now even closer than before, and the air seemed thin that she inhaled into her chest. She felt trapped. The sounds of the stadium thudded in her head – boom, boom, boom; claustrophobia – not something Padmé usually suffered from – was deciding to kick in.

She inhaled sharply, placing a hand on the wall to steady herself, stopping in her tracks. The stairs seemed to swirl beneath her feet, and the wall felt slippery under her hand. She broke into a cold sweat, darkness encompassing her; she couldn't go through with this…she couldn't watch her friends die.

Dooku monitored her unsurely, sensing her unease some time before she buckled. He put a hand to her shoulder when she stopped, halting next to her, "Milady?" he asked her quietly.

She jumped, his touch sending a jolt of iciness through her veins, and leant harder onto the wall. Jango slowed behind his contractor, "My lord?" he asked, offering his support. Young Boba's eyes glanced up between the dark visage of the Count and the anxious countenance of the Nubian Senator curiously.

The Count waited for some kind of awareness to come into Amidala's eyes – it took a few seconds before she turned to look at him and recognised him, her wits returning to her. He held her shoulder tightly, keeping her steady, "Go on ahead," he said to the bounty hunter, turning to him briefly, "I'll deal with her."

Jango looked at the pale features of the Senator, feeling no remorse, only disgruntlement toward her obvious weakness. She wasn't exactly in a normal state of mind, though, but that was no excuse as far as Fett was concerned; "Yes, my Lord," he nodded obediently, pushing his son on ahead, aiming to catch back up with the rest of the delegation that had continued to walk up the passageway.

There was a short silence.

Padmé stared across at Dooku, watching the dull light of the corridor reflect off his eyes. She inhaled deeply, taking large breaths, trying to calm herself, her heart racing. Dooku's presence remained a suffocating one, and his hold on her didn't seem to help soothe her at all. She swallowed, then finally managed to say in a rasping, breathless voice, "Please…"

The Count's brow furrowed ever so slightly; he was irresolute as to how to respond.

Now that it was just the two of them, Amidala's claustrophobia didn't seem so great, though the weight on her heart was just as heavy. She looked down, taking a deep gulp of air into her lungs, before hesitantly raising her hands; she hoped she could get round him in some way – she had, after all, nothing else to lose.

The Count monitored her, still unsure as to what she was doing.

Padmé stared ahead, her eye line only reaching the upper torso of the Separatist leader, and slowly but surely placed her hands forward, flat onto his chest. She shuddered a little at the chill that traversed her body when she touched him, the cold emptiness of his power feeling more vigorous once more. She tried to hold his control over her mind off, and tried to remain focused – she knew that she must not let herself fall into his hands.

Dooku looked down at her curiously, continuing to remain silent.

Slowly rubbing her hands down his chest to his belt, then back up to his breast again, she went on to look longingly into his eyes, "Please," she repeated desperately, her voice still trembling from her emotional burden of the day, "Let me see my friends one last time."

She was trying to win him over now, and the Count knew it. He finally removed his hand from her shoulder, and replied gently, "You know I can't do that." He placed both of his hands over hers, holding them immobile against his chest.

She inhaled deeply, her hands feeling bitter as he clasped them; "Please!" she demanded urgently, trying not to choke on her emotions, "I need to see them! Or at least Anakin! I need to tell him something!"

"What worth will this knowledge be? He's only going to take it to his grave," the Count replied monotonously.

She shook her head, trying not to break into another tearful stint, "Please, Dooku!" she asked him, clutching his shirt in her hands beneath his grip, "Just this one last time! I'm never going to see them again – at least grant me this!"

Meanwhile, the Separatist company continued to walk on ahead. But it wasn't long until Gunray picked up on the Count's absence:

"That Count is incorrigible!" he moaned to his aide cantankerously.

"Maybe, but he is a man of incredible aptitude and authority," the aide replied in his distinctly deeper voice, "We need more people like him in the galaxy to bolster the causes of commerce."

Nute reluctantly nodded in response to his aide's comment, then called on to Poggle ahead, "Archduke! The Count seems to have been separated from our group. So, too, has Amidala, which goes without surprise…"

The party halted, and Poggle turned about to look upon Gunray, deciding to listen to his words; the Geonosian noted a definite suggestion of mistrust in the Viceroy's voice concerning the Count. He expected that the Neimoidian was just sore after being rebuked by their leader earlier – Gunray was notorious for being a whiner.

"She is nothing but a bane to us, that Senator from Naboo!" Nute continued whingeing, "We shouldn't have allowed the Count to unite her with us! It was only for the purpose of his lust and personal gain, not the Separatist cause at all!"

Jango raised his voice to the party, "The Nubian Senator seems unwell," he hissed through his helmet, placing his hands on his son's shoulders to keep him still, "The Count is tending to her."

"I'm sure," Gunray snorted.

["Do not speak of the Count so,"] Shu Mai snapped at Nute, pointing an accusing finger toward him, ["He is not so petty of character…not like you Neimoidians!"]

["Enough!"] Poggle shouted, raising his hand in gesture, hoping to stop the divergence before a full-blown argument broke out, ["Jango, tell Serenn to come promptly – I have an execution that needs immediate starting. He is a guest of honour, and I will not begin without him."]

Jango nodded, patting his son on the shoulder in a gesture telling the boy to remain where he was. He then turned and marched back off down the winding flight of steps. Boba watched his father disappear into the depths of the passage, then turned back to San Hill, the first man ahead of him.

"Well, I say," Hill stated snobbishly, placing his pale, thin hands onto his hips, "Whatever next?"

Boba frowned toward the Banking Clan representative, not sure what to think of him.

Dooku studied Padmé's visage carefully; her eyes were filled with tears and woe. He sighed slowly – could he really let her get by him like this?

Suddenly, he heard footsteps approaching, coming back down the twisting staircase. He turned and watched as Jango, in his glittering silver armour, appeared from the gloom.

The hunter walked up to the Count, briefly studying the state of affairs, before saying, "The Archduke asks that you return to the party speedily, my Lord. He wishes you to be present when the execution begins."

Dooku nodded gently, looking back at Padmé for a moment.

"And, I regret to say," Fett continued in a more hush tone, talking circumspectly to the Count alone, "The Viceroy has 'suspicions' of you, my Lord, concerning the Senator here."

The Count grinned grimly, "Doesn't he always have his 'suspicions'?" he rhetorically retorted, his voice taking on its unsettling edge. He stared intently into Padmé's troubled eyes, smiling coldly toward her; he was thinking… Padmé could almost see the cogs turning in his head, though she was fearful as to what exact thoughts were crossing his mind.

He slowly turned back to Jango, "Give me ten minutes," he said, "I have some…'unfinished' business to attend."

Fett hesitated, concerned about the disorderly Neimoidian, "My Lord, this squirming toad of a Viceroy has vile suspicions of –"

"I will not be bullied by others unfounded assumptions of my ambitions and aims!" he snapped, interrupting the bounty hunter, "Now go back to them! Tell them I will be with them shortly!"

Fett stared hard into the Count's eyes – he would kill most people who dared to talk to him like that, but not Dooku. It wasn't merely the fact that the Count was his latest benefactor, but more because he respected the Separatist leader and his stylishly efficient manner. Jango nodded a little, "Yes, my Lord," he said soundly, before marching back up the steps.

Padmé looked to Dooku almost with appreciation – had he decided to let her see her friends one last time? Had she managed to sway him over?

The Count exhaled slowly, closing his eyes, and relaxing his stance, his head drooping downward a little, "I am risking a lot for you," he sternly said. He opened his eyes and looked hard at her.

"Thank you," she whispered. She pushed herself a little further, needing to sweeten the deal – and possibly mark the start of her comeback against him. She drew herself up, and pecked him on the cheek coyly. He looked at her with mild surprise, though still his emotions remained unclear. Padmé couldn't decide whether he had truly fallen for her act, or whether he'd just let her toy with him.

"Come," he nodded, beginning to step down the stairs, "We must be hasty."

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The two Jedi and their Geonosian escorts began to reach the end of the long, sandy corridor. Now they could clearly hear the drums and the chanting from the crowded stadium into which they were entering. Traces of sunlight began to trickle into the hallway, indicating that they were near open ground. Obi-Wan forced his weary eyes up, and saw a doorway ahead, filled with daylight. Before the doorway was a cart, hovering above the ground on what must be a repulsorlift. It was harnessed to some reptilian beast of burden, and ridden by another Geonosian; this certainly didn't look good.

The two Jedi were brought to a stop by the cart. Anakin looked at it with a knowing dismay – this was the cart that would take him and his Master to their doom. He and Kenobi exchanged glances – Obi-Wan looked troubled and repentant for his Padawan, whilst Anakin just seemed stern and unmoved; he was sore at losing Padmé to the Count, and held his Master as a source of a lot of the problems that had transpired today.

The Geonosian guards grumbled and chirped to one another in their tongue, telling each other what to do, before Obi-Wan was prodded forward by the pike of one of his escorts, and forced to climb onto the cart. His legs were weary, and it took the aid of one of the guards to get him into place. Following this, the guards moved to get Anakin onto the cart. They took one of his arms each, and urged him forward, more wary of him after his outburst in the courtroom. Anakin didn't struggle – he was too proud to do that.

"Wait."

The pair of guards halted, and turned their heads to the opening of a side passage, to the right of the corridor. Out of the darkness of this tributary stepped Count Dooku. Anakin looked at the Count, and his lip rose in antipathy and hate. Kenobi, too, perceived the distinct voice of the Separatist leader, and turned his heavy head to look upon him, curious as to what he was up to now.

Dooku looked over the two guards, and gestured for them to come toward him, "Bring the boy here," he ordered, turning and walking down the side alleyway.

"What this time?" Anakin snarled at the Count as he was towed behind him, "You want to draw and quarter me first?" He wished he could tear him apart here and now.

"Silence boy!" he commanded stalwartly, "I'm doing you a superfluous and uncalled for favour."

He led the two Geonosians down the corridor, out into a small room, in which stood an overwrought and very rattled Padmé. Dooku gestured again toward the Geonosians, and they released the prisoner from their hold, but still held their pikes at the ready. Anakin looked at Padmé with a faint smile. Padmé returned the weak, yet meaningful smile, and looked briefly to Dooku.

"You have but a few minutes," he droned drearily, taking a few steps to the side of the room.

The two looked hard at one another, until Padmé just let herself go, and embraced him lovingly, holding him tight in her arms, "I'm sorry!" she cried overtly, "I'm so sorry!"

Anakin wished his hands weren't manacled – he wanted to hold her in return; "It's okay, Padmé," he quietly said. He knew things weren't okay, though.

Padmé pulled back from him a little so that she could look into his eyes. Anakin looked back at her, trying to offer her support with his strong gaze, though inside he was beginning to feel a little uneasy, "Be strong, Padmé," he said, "I know you can be. Try to remain strong."

He glanced to Dooku with odium, before swiftly looking back at Padmé, "Don't be afraid of the future," he added.

Amidala noticed the Count getting a little impatient already, but ignored him for the time being, "I'm not afraid Anakin. I just wish I was going with you."

"What? Padmé, can you hear yourself?" Anakin asked, surprised by her revelation.

"I'm not afraid to die, Ani," she told him. She hesitated, before going on to reveal, "Because I've been dying a little bit each day since you came back into my life."

Anakin's brow furrowed deeply, unable to comprehend, "What are you talking about?" he asked her discreetly.

Padmé swallowed her pride, and said straight, "I love you."

Dooku looked from Amidala to Skywalker, his gaze tightening a little.

Anakin was taken aback, and after getting past the shock, he finally managed to ask, "You love me?" He paused, then said, unsurely, "I thought we had decided not to fall in love…that we'd be forced to live a lie…and that it would destroy our lives."

Padmé looked down hesitantly, a tear rolling down her face – she couldn't cope with all that was happening to her at the moment. She slowly returned her gaze to Anakin's, "I think our lives are about to be destroyed anyway."

Dooku swallowed, folding his restless hands across his broad chest. He looked to the two confounded Geonosian guards, who were itching to get the boy into the arena. They fiddled with their electro-pikes impatiently, their wings twitching.

"Mine's about to be destroyed, you mean," Anakin reminded her. He then mumbled, "Or at least they think so…"

Padmé shook her head, ignoring his latter comment, "I have no life without you, Ani," she admitted timorously. She placed her hands gently onto his chest, another tear rolling down her countenance.

The Count's lip twitched as he monitored their conversation, and he drew his hands into tight fists, holding them stiffly against his torso.

"I truly, deeply love you," Padmé disclosed to Anakin devotedly, "And I wanted to let you know."

The two drew together, kissing one another adoringly with true love.

The Count's hands dropped by his side, and he marched forward, tearing them apart; "Take him away!" he shouted maliciously, wrenching Padmé away from the Padawan.

"No! Anakin!" Padmé screamed as the two Geonosians thrust their pikes toward Anakin, giving him brief electrical jolts. They forced him back toward the corridor that lead to the arena entrance.

"Anakin!" Padmé continued to yell, as the Count clasped her back against his chest forcefully; tears fell from her face as she writhed in Dooku's tyrannical grasp, "I love you Ani!"

"I'll always love you, Padmé!" Anakin yelled, "Don't forget that! Never forget that!!"

He struggled against the Geonosians, growling at them, before shouting one last thing to her, "I will see you again, Padmé! I won't let them take you away from me!"

And with that, he disappeared back down the passageway.

"I'm sorry, Anakin!" she shouted once more, before her tears reinstated their hold over her. She cried deeply, wilting in the Count's hold. He was in no mood to accommodate her despair this time, however, "Come along!" he snapped, lifting her up, and placing her back on her feet, ready to head back the way they had come.

"No!" she shrieked, "Let me go!"

"You've had your time," Dooku snarled vehemently, pushing her on ahead of him, forcing her in the right direction.

"Please, no!" she wept, turning and trying to run back. She only met the barrier of Dooku's body as she strove to get past him. He took a grasp of her shoulders, holding her steady until she stopped struggling against him.

Padmé soon realised her resistance was futile, and she just grasped his shirt in her hands again in a final hopeless gesture. "Please, no," she sobbed as her knees failed beneath her, and she began to slide downward towards the floor. The Count clutched her under her arms, and hauled her back onto her feet, "Pull yourself together!" he snapped.

She didn't listen to him; she just hung limp in his arms, numb inside, feeling that all she could do was cry. She'd never cried so much before in such a short space of time in her life.

Dooku saw her weakness, but knew it wasn't the time to take advantage of it. He took her up in his arms, and began to carry her back to the dignitary box. She would watch her friends die, even if he had to carry her to the dais in order for her to see it.

TBC…

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NB: Some text from the AotC screenplay used. But modified, of course! ^_^