Author's Notes: Well… this Dooku-nut is going to be grieving (no pun intended) when she sees Episode III in two and a half weeks. Despite being spoiler-free, I've worked out what's gonna happen to the Count from short glimpses of him vs. Ani' on TV spots and by going too far in the Lego video game (I covered my eyes when 'it' happened, but it doesn't take a lot of guesswork to put the other puzzle pieces in place). I'm a bit upset by it, but this is gonna be the darkest SW film, so I shouldn't really have expected much less. Or more. Whichever.

Anyway, here's the next "Eclipse" chapter. I've got another one almost done - I was just way too tired last night to finish editing it, so one will have to do for today. I'm confident that I'm gonna get this done before "Revenge" comes out, so keep prodding me and whatnot to make sure I do! And the response to the last chapter was interesting, people. It was overwhelmingly positive! I think you enjoyed all the angsty nastiness. You must all be as twisted as me. ;) Heh.

Padawanmage: I think there's been one other chapter at least without Dook' in it. I think.

Lauren K: I'm sorry I had to kill Grievous off. It was then or never, really. You'll see him on the big screen soon, anyway.

HRHPadmeAmidala: I'm glad you liked it. Not long until RotS comes out now!

Kynstar: I don't half torture Padmé, do I? She'll never thank me for it! Heh.

Queeny: Thank you so much - I'm glad you're enjoying this. This chapter isn't quite so shocking, but they can't all be.

REV042175: Again, thank you. It was quite hard work, that chapter, with all the angst, but I think it came out well, too.

Silverwolf47: You'll just have to keep reading to find out, won't you?

Part 44 - Crushed

It was night time on Coruscant, and Padmé was in bed, lying next to Anakin - or 'Vader' as he now had to be called. Whilst he was sleeping peacefully, Padmé's nights were only fraught by terror. She wasn't sure how many days or even weeks had passed since she had been brought here - she had not counted. She was so very unhappy that she didn't quite know where she was or what was going on; nothing mattered any more - it was all just chaos. The tragic thing was that she had always believed that she would be saved in the end and that her suffering would stop - but never had she expected anything like this, for her period of suffering to end with a further period of agony.

Padmé remembered, back when she had first fallen under Count Dooku's wing, that she had always clung onto one tiny thread of hope, and that had been that Anakin would save her in the end. She had been torn from him right at the start, upon her proclamation of her love for him, and after that she had almost been forced to see him savagely executed in the Geonosians' arena - but Anakin had escaped that situation, and he and Obi-Wan had consequently pursued both her and Count Dooku to the latter's secret hanger, and there fought.

Serenn had proven himself a capable swordsman when the two Jedi had charged recklessly into battle against him, and Anakin had certainly come out of the skirmish badly, losing his arm, but at least Master Yoda had arrived to save the day and to see the Count off. The only person Yoda hadn't saved was her, and she had subsequently been swept away from Geonosis on to Serenno, the Count's home and the scene of her worst nightmare. And the rest was history. But she had hoped and prayed that, despite everything that had happened, Anakin would one day come for her - even as things took a turn for the very worst, through every dark moment and with every tear she had shed, she had still believed that she would not be left to suffer for long. Anakin had, of course, tried to rescue her when she had been taken to Naboo, but to no avail - he had only run straight into Count Dooku's grasp and thence made matters much worse, leaving such a mark on the Count that Dooku's fury had sent him overboard with her that evening. She didn't need reminding of all that.

But her hope had then withered… The days and weeks had passed and, as time went on, things changed. Anakin had been lost to the universe, and she had been caught in the midst of a war she'd never wanted to happen, strung up between the Republic she had wanted to serve, and the Confederacy that she had been blackmailed to serve. It had begun to look unlikely that her prayers would ever be answered - Anakin was clearly not coming for her; he just wasn't able to - so she had been stuck with Count Serenn Dooku.

By then, however, this man had begun to confuse her. Their relationship had started off as a rather one-sided and cruel affair, a vicious game that the Count seemed to like playing with her - he had had the power to possess her and to almost control her, and he had used his influence to make her help his cause, as well as, she then assumed, to use her to fulfil some twisted desires of his own - but the man who had thrown himself off of the senate in the fight with Sidious not long ago wasn't the same man who had forced a kiss on her in his office on Geonosis. Something had changed in him, and, she feared, in her as well. The time they had spent together on the uncivilised planet, and on Oovo before, had cemented a strange bond between them, and had brought out more good than bad in them both. The man who had taken her against her will had seemed to have vanished, and had left behind him a man depressed by what he had done and pessimistic about both his fate and hers. 'Go to Alderaan', he had asked her, 'Please' - and she could still see those intense eyes before her, begging and pleading. He had known that all this with Darth Vader had awaited her - the Force must have told him, or something - but she had just said no, and thus had given herself up to the Sith Lords in the same breath.

But if Serenn had just come clean with her! If he had only said, 'Look, Padmé, I'm the other Sith Lord, and I'm sorry' then she might have been swayed to go to Alderaan. She might have understood…

'Don't be stupid,' her mind then told her, 'You weren't about to leave him.'

And why not? What had it been about that wretched man that had drawn her to him, that had kept her by his side? What? Was Anakin partially right? Did she have feelings for that man, regardless of what he had done to her?

Padmé curled herself tighter into a ball, twisting the blankets amongst her limbs - it didn't matter any more. He was dead, he was gone, and she was now subject to everything she could have avoided if she had just listened to his advice, if she had just left him to face both the Sith Master and his conscience alone…

By now, all her old hopes and been quashed. Yes, she was with Anakin again, but he wasn't her saviour - he was destroying her. And now she almost felt as if she had nothing left to live for. She had been broken by the inhumanity of the man she had once loved. His moods were always swinging and he was unpredictable - in the same breath, he could be both kind and cruel, both loving and hateful - and if, for instance, she did not say the right thing, if she mocked something or someone she shouldn't, then she would feel his wrath. This was suppression in its worst guise - she could hardly trust herself to say anything lest she wanted to injure herself. And then Anakin wondered why she wasn't in good humour, so injured her anyway, blaming Count Dooku for the changes in her, and blaming her for letting him implement those changes!

What was she supposed to do? Who was this monster who had once been Anakin? What had gone wrong in that mind of his? After their shocking reunion, he had acted as though nothing were amiss and that all were completely normal - as if, because he now was some 'super' Sith Lord, everything could be perfect just because he wanted to believe that it was. And one of the most terrifying facets of this new Anakin's character was that, unlike Serenn, who had tried to cover up for his iniquities, Ani' actually thrived in acknowledging them! He just wasn't ashamed. And what could Padmé do but go along with it all? She was absolutely petrified, but was powerless, and the only words that kept ricocheting around her mind were Serenn's 'When you do know, one day when you do, you will understand why I kept you in ignorance. I am trying to save you…' And he had actually been telling the truth. He had wanted to save her.

A lonesome tear ran down Padmé's cheek, which she quickly wiped away. She then discreetly let her hand wonder beneath her pillow, and, from there, she pulled out Dooku's old lightsabre. She had somehow managed to keep possession of it, but she had to be on her toes about it, and was forced to constantly find it new hiding places so that there was little chance of Anakin discovering it again. For some reason, she felt somewhat safer with it stored close to her at all times. It was quite beyond her as to why Palpatine had even let her have it - couldn't she now use it against someone?

Well, maybe not - last time she had tried using a lightsabre, she had come out of it much worse than her opponent. But, even so, couldn't she still use it against herself? Couldn't she end it, right here and now?

She wiped another tear from her face and clasped the 'sabre hilt as close as she could. No, Palpatine knew her too well - he knew, as well as she did, that she would never do that; she was no coward and would never take that way out, no matter how bad things got.

And things were looking pretty grim. It would seem that Anakin had plans he wanted to implement as soon as possible. He talked almost ceaselessly to 'his Angel' of their future, which included, above everything else, their marriage.

Marriage - that word scared Padmé. The thought of being bound to what she could only see as the possessed shell of Anakin was terrifying. He would only have more reason to dominate and subdue her then, all of which he did now with the presumption that it was good for her, and that it would make her return to her cheery and strong self in the end.

Why, after everything that had happened, could he not accept that she could never go back…? But he wouldn't listen to her - he was deaf to all but his Emperor, and if she continued to 'act' as she did now, as depressed and distant, then he would take out his frustration on her until she became what his dreams thought she ought to be. He was living a lie - he could never have that. She was changed forever.

It seemed so tragic that Anakin had become the very monster he had set out to destroy, and Padmé feared him more than she had ever feared Serenn - and he had been quite a fiend in his time. Perhaps the reason was that she could remember Anakin as a little boy and a fine Padawan, always eager to please and ready for a challenge; yet now, where was he? What had made him become so dark and severe? What had made him believe that he could have anything that he wanted, and that he could get it however he pleased?

Well, it was clear that the Emperor had his hand in it, yet this couldn't all be attributed to him alone - Anakin's weaknesses had been preyed upon by many, but perhaps by none so much as Serenn.

Padmé's hands gripped the metal lightsabre more tightly and she closed her eyes - so she was going to blame everything on Dooku now, was she? Well he deserved most of the blame, and she had more than ample reason to hate him, yet she couldn't bring herself to feel it, at least not as passionately as she should. She only hated that he'd thrown himself off that building and left her at Darth Vader's mercy.

Lights from passing taxis and ships flickered over the walls, intruding upon Padmé's thoughts and distracting her. They danced and flickered across the dark surfaces as if they hadn't a care in the world. Force, how Padmé wished she were in that position. She slipped out of bed as quietly as she could and walked silently over the soft, red carpets of Vader's apartments toward the windows. As she neared them, she placed her fingers in-between the blinds and pried them a little apart so that she could look out over the city beyond. The skylanes were as clogged as ever, full of traffic, though it was beyond her as to what these people must be up to at this hour, even on the capital.

Coruscant didn't actually look that different to how it had looked a few weeks ago, and yet things had changed so much. The Imperial Doctrine of the Supreme Chancellor had been forced through the senate and the Jedi were now the persecuted minority of society, chased out, attacked and frowned upon. Many had fled, but a few had been caught by the masses, and now faced a similar fate to the remaining Separatists, who were still every day being brought to the capital as doomed prisoners of war. The final space battle above Coruscant had been a tremendous victory for the Republic, all happening whilst Tyranus and Sidious fought below, and whilst the Jedi Temple was devastated by the frenzied General Grievous. The majority of the upper echelons of the old Republic were all but infatuated by the sudden turn of events, and highly supportive of their almighty Emperor - that was no surprise seeing as most of the changes benefited them. Palpatine was firmly in office and nothing looked set to remove him now - the sheer blind ignorance of the masses had been his greatest ally. The people might think that they would be able to control this Emperor that they had elected, but they would not, and one day they would look back and pity their foolish selves for ever trusting him.

Padmé dropped the blinds with a sigh and looked down at Serenn's lightsabre again. Blood still lined the grooves of the hilt, and long scratches were etched permanently into its once shiny silver plating. She ran a finger up one side then down the other, following its fine curve and studying its intricate handiwork. Palpatine had been right - it had a glorious nostalgia about it, this weapon of Dooku's making. It was a fine piece of craftsmanship. And yet, it was so much more.

What was it that they said about a Jedi's lightsabre? That this weapon was their life?

'I think he would have wanted you to have this.'

Hypothetically, Dooku's life was now in her hands. She had rather thought that it had been the other way round…

There were, of course, those out there who refused to stand for the new constitution, this 'Empire'. The problem these dissenters had was getting all their fellow likeminded people together without causing a stir - and then, once this was accomplished, there was the further dilemma of forming an effective plan of attack against the Emperor.

The man at the helm of this revolt was none other than Bail Organa. He had been wary of the awesome powers Palpatine held for a long time, but never had he imagined that the man would be able to sway his audience in such a way to be granted the title of Emperor, and all the dictatorial powers that that entailed. It was an unfortunate fact that a disillusioned galaxy was likely to go for the most extreme resolutions to their plights, ones that would ultimately land them in extreme misery. Not that their short-sightedness would currently allow them to see that.

With the senate currently dissolved, Bail had returned to his home planet of Alderaan, and here he had taken it upon himself to kick-start his campaign against Palpatine and his ludicrous Empire. This wasn't going to be an easy task, though. Fortunately, he knew of enough people, in which his sentiments were shared, to make a start on a group that would one day lobby against the Emperor - the difficult part was getting all these people together to discuss matters and to decide upon an appropriate, and safe, future plan of action.

So Bail had worked carefully to contact all these people, doing all in his power to keep the attention of the Emperor's efficient spy network away from him, and had eventually managed to smuggle a small assembly to his home on Alderaan, where they could safely discuss what should now be done. The group was made up of some controversial individuals, including the wanted Jedi Masters Yoda and Kenobi, two men the Empire was longing to get its hands on. Bail called their first meeting at the dead of night in the lower levels of his great mansion; hopefully, with all their minds combined, they could form some sort of idea between them as to how they should go about fighting the enemy.

The assembly all-in-all consisted of little more than thirty people. There were of course the two Jedi, as well as a few senators, but making up the bulk of the group was a team of liberal-thinking fighter pilots, all from former planetary defence units. These kind of men were very useful to have around - someone had to do all the fighting, afterall.

This group in itself was obviously not large enough, not when one considered the sheer size of the former Republic and all the constituencies that were now under Palpatine's thumb, but it was something. It was a start.

"What shall we call ourselves, do you think?" Bail asked to start off the conversation, smirking dourly as he looked between each face. "'Underground resistance' doesn't really have a good ring to it, does it?"

There were a few smiles around, but many had lost their ability to see light in any situation - so many millions had died in the crazy conflicts that had been the Clone Wars that there just didn't seem to be anything worth smiling about any more. Obi-Wan couldn't even find the trace of a smile left within him, he was so disillusioned and miserable; losing his master ten years back had been a big enough blow, but to lose so many of his allies, comrades and friends on top of that, and all in such a short space of time, had almost driven him to madness. General Grievous, one of the Republic's greatest enemies, had at least been brought down, and Count Dooku would seem to have been felled, but that mattered little; the separatists were no longer the enemy. The enemy had been on their side all along…

"I'm sure the Republic… or rather Empire will make a name for us," Senator Mothma of Chandrilla eventually said, leading into another silence.

A fighter pilot murmured something coarse he was sure the Empire would call them, but he was soon hushed. It just wasn't appropriate right now.

"What are we going to do?" Bail groaned, pacing about the room, "As a group, here and now, we're far outnumbered. There are more like us, others who oppose this new system, and who would help us if we could only get to them before the Empire does. But it's been hard enough for me to get you all here now, and those who are less discreet and less fortunate than us are every day being shown the 'mercy' of our Emperor for their disobedience… That being death." He stood akimbo and stared to the ceiling, "I mean, if even a whiff of this meeting is caught by Palpatine's blessèd militia, we'll all be in trouble."

"I think we need to ask ourselves, first and foremost, and before we drag other people into this, what it is we're trying to accomplish," Obi-Wan said.

Bail rubbed his chin and walked about the small, dark chamber. "We're trying to overthrow the Emperor, plain and simple," he replied, "We just need to get word out and bring people into the cause. We need funding, we need supplies. We need help."

"And then what? What are we actually going to do?" Kenobi pushed on, "Palpatine's eyes and ears are everywhere! We've been completely outfoxed."

"Long have the Sith's roots in the senate been planted," Yoda intoned gently, "But the answer giving up is not. Defeated the Sith Master must be."

There was a brief pause until Obi-Wan asked, his voice breaking, "How?"

A palpably uneasy tension consequently rose in the room, causing everyone to exchange uncertain glances. It was as though Obi-Wan had uttered a taboo phrase and no one could quite come to terms with it. He had uttered, in a way, their worst fears - the fact that there might be no way to win back what they had lost.

Yoda, however, remained focused and replied plainly. "Know not, do I."

It was an honest answer, but it didn't help things, and it was all Obi-Wan needed to hear. He was still rather too grief-stricken to be able to deal with all this right now so, shaking his head, he simply decided to quit the meeting and thus marched out of the room; as far as he was concerned, if Master Yoda hadn't a clue how to battle the Sith Lords, then who would? They were defeated and there was nothing they could do about. Their remained but one choice left to make, and that was whether to be eliminated or to evolve, just as General Grievous had told him.

Bail watched Obi-Wan leave with a sigh and flopped back into a seat. Things did indeed look bleak, but if he didn't take a stand, if he didn't do all in his power to orchestrate a revolution, then who would?

"We must be careful," Mon Mothma now said in her gentle, soothing voice, "I suggest we lie low and do not make our feelings public. I think I am right in saying that, although things look dire, my fellow senators and I need to keep our places in the senate. Our influence there is little, but it is important."

"Right, Senator Mothma is," Yoda concurred, "Careful we must all be, for battle an intelligent foe we do."

"What about the Jedi?" Bail asked, "Are there any more we can get in touch with and pick up? We need their help."

Yoda's eyes fell sombre and he pursed his lips. "Wiped out have most of the Jedi been, and those that remain, hunted by the Emperor's apprentice they are." He bowed his head for a moment's silence, then, just before Bail opened his mouth to speak again, he added, "But one left there might be. One yet is there that I can feel."

Bail's brow furrowed and he exchanged a glance with Mothma and some of the pilots; everyone seemed clueless, so, leaning toward Yoda, he asked, "And who is that? Do you know?"

"Some volunteers I need," Yoda said, which was no answer, "Back to Coruscant I must go."

Bail shook his head. "No, Master Yoda, it's far too dangerous! Your life isn't worth sacrificing for the sake of one more Jedi - we can't afford to lose you."

"Need this Jedi, we do," Yoda insisted, and he looked at some of the pilots asking again, "Volunteers I need!" Some of them stepped forward, more than ready to do something - anything - that would help throw a wrench into the cogs of the Imperial machine. Yoda looked between their bright and eager faces and nodded, before he turned and left the assembly without another word, accompanied by his new, and rather befuddled, assistants.

Now only Bail, Mothma and a few others were left. They regarded one another uneasily, and no one said anything until Bail sighed, "Well, it's a start…" He got to his feet and scratched the back of his neck. "I just hope that Master Yoda knows what he's doing."

The sun was at its peak over the capital of Coruscant, but Padmé hardly noticed it. At the moment, she was just sat at her dressing table and staring at her pallid reflection in the mirror, mulling over her many troubles. She had grown quite pale and uneasy in recent days, and felt extremely numb inside, at a complete loss as to how to stand up for herself any longer. There was no one to help her now; she was alone, and she could do nothing.

There was then a sound from behind her and she could see Vader coming through the door in the mirror, before he marched over the carpet to her with a great smile plastered on his face. Suddenly, he was at her back and, snaking his arms around, he leant over and kissed her on the forehead. Padmé met his eyes in the mirror and they looked at one another until he asked, "Have you seen the veranda?"

He laughed gently as he then straightened himself up and wiped his long, shaggy hair out of his eyes; "Come on, take a look," he insisted, taking her by the hand and pulling her away from her dresser to the nearest window. She reluctantly followed, but her gut feeling was that her curiosity much better left unsatisfied. There was no telling him that, though.

"Look," Vader went on, drawing up the blinds and pointing out to the plateau before the senate.

Padmé swallowed quietly and peered out of the window. She still remembered the time when there had been strange, humanoid statues stretching all the way up to the senate not long ago, but now they had been replaced by a simple row of spear-like poles, and --

"Oh, Force," she choked, putting her hand to her mouth and turning away. She had to fight the urge to throw up - there were traitor's heads skewered upon those poles, leading all the way up to the senate doors.

Vader laughed. "This will teach them," he said, giving her shoulder a rub as he went past, "Come on - we've just got a huge shipload of prisoners in today from the Outer Rim. Come and see them! There's one I'm sure you'll be happy to visit."

Padmé looked at him as though he was out of his mind, but quickly masked the expression and allowed herself to be towed along again, this time out of the apartment and into the bowels of the senate, to where many of the prisoners were kept before their executions. Trials were hardly heard of any more.

Vader led her down the permacrete stairs into the detention centre, where there was no natural light, and all was lit by the gloomy glow of a few lamps on the ceiling. The cells were arranged in rows, one corridor after another, and each looking identical to the next. It was like a monotone maze down here, and it would have been quite a nightmare for Padmé - or for anyone, for that matter - to be left down there alone.

Anakin now urged her to walk in front as he pushed her along by each of these terrible corridors, until he turned a corner and led her down one of them, past cell door after cell door, until he stopped about halfway down and flashed her a cocky grin.

"Hey 'Viceroy'!" he then called, "I have a visitor for you." He then patted her shoulder and said to her, "Have fun. I'll be back in a minute."

He then turned and left to go about his own business, leaving Padmé stood alone in the gloom before this one prison cell.

Padmé swallowed and watched as, from the darkness within, a pair of bulbous red eyes manifested themselves before her, encased in a familiar, scaly grey visage, which was carved with more than enough lines of worry and fear. "Gunray," she whispered.

"Oh, Padmé Amidala, you are alive!" the Viceroy said in his accented tones, dropping to his knees there and then, "You have to help me, you have to get me out of here! Have you seen what they are doing to us separatists? We get no trial, no clemency, no nothing… they are just chopping off our heads and pulling out our guts, and…" His voice faded into whimpers and he just cried, his head collapsing into his hands. "Oh, it is terrible!"

Padmé bit her lip and turned away, feeling herself well up with tears in turn; they were not for him, not by far, it was just that things kept hitting her from out of the blue, and the sheer horror of the galactic situation had suddenly taken her emotions by the neck and squeezed hard.

"Senator, please!" Gunray went on, "You must know that Grievous is dead!"

She nodded. "Of course I know!" she snapped, glaring at the Neimoidian, "Have you heard about what he did? The monster…"

"That was not my doing! Senator, have mercy!"

She shook her head. "Even if I wanted to, I couldn't let you out of there. It's not in my power."

Nute blinked once and the sweat could be seen gaining momentum in its journey down his large forehead. "Well, you must know where Count Dooku is - you disappeared together, did you not? He must be able to do--"

She shook her head sharply at him and stared at her feet. "He's dead, Gunray," she whispered. She eventually met his gaze again and repeated, more emotively, "He's dead! There's nothing left for you. I can't help you, and I don't want to!"

Nute blubbered into his hands. "But to die like this!" he cried, "Senator, please, speak to this Emperor! Do something!"

"I can't help you," she said once more before she turned and walked away, wiping her eyes as she paced back down the gloomy, miserable corridor, forcing herself not to look into any more of the cells, fearful of who she might meet next. Despite everything Gunray had put her through, even wanting her dead, she now almost pitied him, because no one deserved to face a death as terrible as the ones he and his fellow 'traitors' now would. And the irony of it all was that she should be amongst them, having been on the Confederacy's side for so long now…

But, no, because Vader wanted her, she would be spared.

Anakin soon caught up with her again as she stood alone, face in her hands, at the corridor end. He was oblivious to her true emotions, however - or just chose to ignore them for his own convenience; "I bet you're happy to see him locked up," he said, hooking his arm round hers and leading her back toward the upper stories of the senate building.

She offered him a weak smile, but didn't say anything.

"I can't wait to watch his head come off," the Sith apprentice went on, "It's about time that it did." He hugged Padmé close and kissed her upon the forehead again. "I know it's a cliché, but victory is sweet, isn't it?"

'Yes,' Padmé thought, 'Bittersweet'.

With the meeting adjourned, Bail had left the lower reaches of his manor and made for the upper floors. As he came back onto the ground level, he made his way along several corridors until he came to the doors that led out onto the grounds, and walked straight through them. Out on the terrace beyond, where he had expected to find him, was Obi-Wan Kenobi. The Jedi was stood with his arms folded, facing into the breeze, and his pale blue eyes seemed to be tracing the swaying motion of the rushes of grass, all across the fields, something which was at the same time both harmonious and chaotic, representative of his state of mind.

Making sure the doors were closed behind him, Bail gathered his own robes about himself, braving the cool wind, and made his way over toward Obi-Wan. After standing for a moment in silence by his side and getting no response, Bail eventually asked, "Are you okay?"

Obi's eyes continued to scour the scenery around him, moving from the grasses to the hills in the distance, his eyes unfocused and weary. "I don't know," he whispered, "I just don't know where to start, or to finish…" He scuffed his boot against the flagstones below. "Things are so messed up. And it's all our fault."

Bail shook his head. "It's not the Jedis' fault," he insisted, "No one could have stopped that man."

"And Anakin?" Obi asked, turning to Bail, "Do you think that no one could have stopped him?"

Bail sighed and gave Obi-Wan a soft look. Yoda had made it quite clear to Bail of what Anakin had become - the boy was without a doubt the mysterious servant, now doing the Emperor's bidding - and if one looked back, in retrospect, at everything that had happened to Anakin before his disappearance, one could see the finely woven web Palpatine and made about him, waiting for the right moment to strike and claim the boy for himself.

"Oh, come on, Obi-Wan," Bail sighed at last, "That boy just went off the rails of his own accord. It was his choice. No one made it for him."

"You're wrong," Obi replied, "I helped him make that choice, me and my lack of judgement. And Palpatine had his finger in it, of course…"

"You can't --"

"Blame myself?" Kenobi snarled. He turned on Bail in a flash, his jaw set hard and his blue eyes intense. "I damn well can, Bail. And I do."

Bail stared out his comrade. He liked Obi-Wan, and he felt sorry for him, for the weight of the universe often seemed to fall on his shoulders, yet his obstinacy piqued him at times like this, when it was the last thing they needed.

Obi eventually looked away and returned his gaze to the blithe, swaying grasses. "So did you come to any decisions?" he asked.

"I didn't," he replied, "But Master Yoda suddenly did. I believe he's just left."

Kenobi blinked and turned again to Bail in horror. "He's left?" he asked, "What the blazes for? And where the blazes for, for that matter?"

Organa shrugged. "He says there is a Jedi on Coruscant yet who might be able to help us."

Obi-Wan blinked and looked away, trying to think about what this could mean. "A Jedi?" he murmured as much to himself as to anyone. "But who?"

Bail turned to go back into his manor. "I wish I knew, General Kenobi. Then I might tell you."

Back on Coruscant, Lord Vader had been summoned to see the Emperor. Residing in the senate was only a temporary set-up for the Sith Lords, and plans were already in motion for a great Imperial Palace to be erected not far away. The Emperor's 'throne room' was, therefore, simply the same room that had been the Supreme Chancellor's office not long ago, and it suited fine for the time being. Little had changed in here, except the fact that the window had been replaced.

Lord Vader bowed at his mentor's feet, and awaited his commands.

"General Grievous did us a great favour," the Emperor began, tapping his fingers on the arms of his seat, "Yes. I never planned for him to do what he did - I very much doubt that even Count Dooku thought his droid general would aim to kill so many Jedi in one go - but it saved us a job."

"Yes, my master," Vader nodded. For the moment, his face was uncovered and his identity clear for Palpatine to see. He could safely reveal himself whilst he resided in his master's lair; it was too early to do so in public yet. People would still remember who he was, and what he had been.

Palpatine's fingers stopped their tapping and his eyes met Vader's; "Yes, Grievous did us a favour," he said again, "but our work is not yet done."

"Of course," Vader agreed, "There are many Jedi left. Including General Kenobi."

The Sith Master couldn't help but let a smooth smile rise upon his visage; "But of course. You have scores to settle with him, don't you?"

"Is it not right, my lord?"

"Oh, it is perfectly justifiable, I must concur. Just don't let your personal grudges cloud our overall objective. There is still much to do before we can relax our guard."

Vader nodded again; "Of course, my master."

"Go then, Lord Vader. Bring down as many of the remaining Jedi as you can. I can still feel them like speckles of grime on a windowpane." Palpatine stretched out his hand and, after a moment of flexing his fingers, he tightened them into a fist. "They must be wiped out," he growled.

Lord Vader nodded his head and rose to his feet. "They shall not be hard to trace," he said as he turned to leave, "I shall not fail you, my master."

"No," Sidious murmured as he watched his protégé go, "See that you don't."

TBC…