I'll admit that this one is getting slightly into AU territory... as anyone who figures out Adaavi will know. Dont give it away in your reviews if you figure it out! You can email me instead...I cant really justify myself without giving this away, but just bear with me, ok?

I'd like to thank everybody who has reviewed so far! I'll note a few of you in each chapter from here on out, so dont feel slighted if I miss you this time around!

DarkGirl5: Thank you, as always, for such a lovely review! You make me smile! And after reading this chapter, Im sure you can imagine how much Anakin is going to freak out when next he sees Obi. And Im not even finished with him yet! (Xtine's internal sith cackles madly). Im especially glad that you dont mind the pacing, as Ive been flamed for it on other fics before... Force forbid I write a story than a random sex sequence with as little plot set-up as possible! LOL.

Pershin: Always good to know that I'm even slightly unique! Hope you like the update.

Chase: Go to hell, you asshole. Nah, I love you too, darling! Kisses and huggles.

Liana: For Force's sake, control that man whore of yours! Hee! Im still so happy that you reviewed me! Hope that the new chapter can distract you from the evils of university science! BLAH! And just to make this official, witnessed by the small cadre of readers for this fic. THE LEAFS ROCK! So there.

And:

TEMPLE MISTRESS! Lol, you're my official Beta, so you always get the capital letters! Thank you so much for helping me get this chapter to quality. I love you for it! Hope that the flow has improved with the updates, and that you finally understand that one paragraph! I tried to make it clearer... not easy. Sigh. Talk to you tomorrow, darling!

Disclaimer: I dont own them. I own the action figures and play make-believe...


Chapter 4: Deceptions

"I would rather die a meaningless death than to live a meaningless life."
Corazon C. Aquino

------

'Oh Sith, but this is not good.'

Obi-Wan whirled backwards across the shifting sands, dancing lightly on the balls of his feet. His face was a mask of concentration, as his lightsabre flickered back and forth to meet the menacing crimson of the Sith's blade. He could feel his strength wearing down; felt stinging beads of sweat accumulating on his brow, sliding down into his eyes.

His sabre spun faster in his hands, always giving ground, sliding backwards inside a halo of blue light.

And Dooku came on relentlessly.

And Dooku was winning.

Count Dooku's style of sabre combat was very different than the one that Obi-Wan had studied since he was a Youngling in the Temple. A more civilized style for a more civilized age. An age when Jedi were true knights, and expected to fight their enemies face-to-face, looking into the eyes of their opponent, rather than a barrage of fire aimed from a distance. Weapons had changed with the decades, becoming more focused on slaughter than defence. Jedi lightsabre techniques had been obliged to adapt to compensate. Count Dooku was a master of his preferred style of lightsabre combat – the second form, Makashi. Obi-Wan's Soresu, whose motions were designed for defence against multiple weapons, simply could not compete. While Obi-Wan could whirl his azure blade in a flurry of complicated movements, intricate and graceful as a Twi'lekkian ballet, he could not match the elegant simplicity of Dooku's attack.

Obi-Wan grunted as he blocked a riposte with difficulty, blinking furiously. The air seemed muffled, all sounds muted, nothing beyond the thundering of his heart pounding in his temples, the rasp of his breathing, and the electric hum of his sabre as it sliced the air before him.

Lightsabre combat was a beautiful dance of fluid aggression, passion channelled into serene movement. Obi-Wan had used it almost solely for defence for his decades-long tenure as a Jedi. Now, he was being forced into a retreat, as Dooku pressed his advantage. He was giving ground, being manipulated easily by the older ex-Jedi, forced inexorably backwards to the edge of the dune's crest.

Obi-Wan knew that if he was pushed over onto the slope, he would be killed.

He needed Anakin there, fiery, belligerent Anakin, who was better equipped for offensive combat. Anakin, who had mastered both Djem So and Shien, two of the more aggressive forms of 'sabre combat, with laughing ease. Anakin, who never seemed able to calm his mind in battle, who rode the killing edge of the Dark Side, and channelled all of his anger into a single-minded assault. There was a different sense of clarity in letting go, the calm in the eye of the storm.

Anakin had always been there to guard his back in the past. And while his former Padawan would have been equally unable to defeat Dooku single-handedly, together…?

If he had Anakin at his side, Obi-wan knew he could conquer the galaxy.

'You really are getting old, Kenobi,' he thought ruefully. 'You'll have to get yourself out of this one.'

Reaching out to the Force, trying to read Dooku's movements, Obi-Wan feinted left, pretending to have slipped on the changing sands. As the glowing crimson blade slashed downwards, Obi-Wan threw himself sideways, away from the treacherous slope, rolling quickly to his feet into the defensive position once again.

No. He would never win by defence, even if that was the Jedi way. Obi-Wan inhaled deeply, closed his eyes and shifted his stance ever so slightly. Altering his grip on the hilt of his lightsabre, he moved fluidly from the defensive stance of Form III into the aggression of Form V. Until in every line of his being - from the way he balanced lightly on his feet, to the intensity in his eyes – he resembled Anakin Skywalker.

Dooku inclined his head in regal approval, struggling to keep a smile from curving his thin lips. Now the real fight could begin.

---

Anakin was almost to the cell door when he felt the ripple in the Force, the subtle change that came over his Master. It made him frown, worried about what this flicker meant. Obi-Wan was fighting… and he was desperate. But there was something different about his Master's Force signature. More aggressive, more confrontational…

More like his own.

Anakin suppressed a smile. Well, well, well. Obi-Wan could get angry after all. It worried him, to be perfectly honest, knowing that Obi-Wan was facing an adversary strong enough to bring this new side of his Master to the forefront. But Obi-Wan Kenobi was deadly enough when he was letting his anger flow passively into the Force.

Anakin pitied whosoever had managed to piss off his Master enough to crack through that placid Jedi veneer. Whoever it was, he was about to be annihilated. He had never known Obi-Wan to let go of the stranglehold on his emotions… it would undoubtedly be unnerving.

Anakin closed his eyes briefly, picturing the scene. Those calm, implacable blue eyes suddenly bright with anger – the way Obi-Wan told him his eyes looked when he was upset. Stance changed from one of defence to one that radiated anger, aggression, and power. The Force aura pouring off of him in waves as he flowed through the powerful motions of Djem So.

He would be magnificent like that….

Anakin shook his head roughly; tearing his mind away from the compelling fiction, and the other ways it was inventing of getting Obi-Wan all worked up…. He blushed at the thought. There was a job to do here, and he was acting like a titillated teenager, for Sith's sake. Obi-Wan was… well, he was Obi-Wan. That was all there was to it.

With a slightly forlorn sigh, Anakin keyed in the code for the locked door, stepping back as it whooshed open.

And ducked, as a wildly-swung fist nearly connected with the side of his head.

He caught the next blind attack with ease, catching the small hand easily in his own, increasing the weight of his grip as the shadowed creature threw itself at him, knocking him into an undignified heap on the floor. A brutal wave of Force energy washed over him, drowning out his thoughts, his connection to Master Obi-Wan. He quickly shored up his barriers against the attack, trying to reach the centre of that heaving maelstrom that surrounded his mind.

"Haja!" he cursed, trying to constrain the violent being, "By the Force, I'm here to help you!"

"Separatist scum!"

The voice was low, hoarse, but patently female. Anakin couldn't curb a momentary flash of approval at her bold words – she was unarmed, and yet she would attack him fearlessly. It almost reminded him of Padmé.

Tearing away from him, the woman scampered back, eyes wide and breathing heavily. Slowly she crouched into a ready position, fingers splayed like claws before her, ready to tear at his eyes.

Anakin arched one eyebrow, gingerly getting to his feet, wary of disturbing this wildcat of a woman. He suddenly found himself pitying the Separatists who had been forced to capture her. Now that he could see her properly in the harsh illumination of the hallway, Anakin ran an appraising eye over the strange woman. Tall, almost as tall as himself. Well-muscled, though not enough to be unfeminine. Anakin almost blushed again. She was definitely female. Striking, almond shaped eyes that burned with dark fires, black as the stylized tattoos on her face that lay in sharp contrast to her pale skin.

She growled low in her throat at his scrutiny. "Lay one hand on me, boy, and I guarantee that you'll live just long enough to regret it!"

But she was unsure; Anakin could feel it. The pounding of her Force energy against his internal shields abated somewhat, as though she was waiting. Assessing him.

Anakin held out a hand, palm upwards, placating. "Could you let up a bit, please?" he forced a smile, gesturing vaguely at his head, still throbbing with the power of her Force Signature. Even though this woman hadn't been taken and trained by the Jedi, there was no way a mind-trick would work on her… unfortunately. He would have to go with diplomacy, which was certainly not one of his strong suits. Especially after being so disparagingly called 'boy.' The memory made him scowl again.

"I'm not a Separatist," he stated blandly, quelling his anger with difficulty. "I'm a Jedi Knight, and I was sent to rescue you." He almost, almost, added 'So show a little gratitude.', but knew it wouldn't be conducive to getting out of the cell block swiftly (and in one piece). "Come on. Let's go."

Turning away quickly, with a swirl of his black cloak, he missed the thin smile that curled the woman's lips for the barest of instants.

-----

Obi-Wan moved furiously, letting all of his hatred of Dooku – what he stood for, what he had done to the Jedi, and the fact that they were connected by Qui-Gon – flow not into the Force, as was proper, but down into his hands, tightly clenched on the lightsabre. He poured all of that fire into fighting.

Force, but it felt good.

Using Anakin's techniques, Obi-Wan was no longer the controlled, strategic fighter he had been before. He was a machine, tirelessly ferocious, blade whirling with an impossible kinetic energy - thrust, parry, riposte! - Almost faster than Dooku could move to respond.

No wonder Anakin preferred this style of combat. The raw power was almost intoxicating. It was a fine line that his partner walked, between mindless violence and the control of the Force. Obi-Wan felt the Dark Side singing to his mind, calling him from the depths of his bottled-up rage.

No. He wouldn't give into that.

"I wouldn't advise imitating your Padawan, Master Kenobi," Dooku advised, content for the moment to be driven backwards under the vicious onslaught, "You've lost your head over the boy, certainly. Can you afford to lose an arm as well? Between the two of you, you might make one complete Jedi!"

He noted with pleasure the flash in the Jedi's eyes, the way the seamless rhythm of his movements faltered.

The Count smiled, moving into a swift balestra, lunging at Obi-Wan's heart. He laughed, as the younger man startled, barely countering the manoeuvre. The upper hand was his once more.

Stamping his foot down in the traditional fencer's appel, Dooku advanced, one foot placed firmly in front of the other. Seeing Obi-Wan's unearthly aggression fade back into wariness, the Count flicked the tip of his lightsabre casually at Obi-Wan's midriff, head, shoulder, forcing the younger Jedi Knight to swing his blade rapidly to deflect the attacks.

Up! Down! The blades clashed together as Dooku lunged again, and he was rewarded with a hiss of pain as the scarlet light licked Obi-Wan's knuckles, searing the skin away to blackness. First blood was his.

With a grunt of pain, Obi-Wan switched the sabre to his left hand, evoking an arched eyebrow from Dooku. He hadn't known Qui-Gon's Padawan to be fully ambidextrous… most Jedi, less comfortable with their abilities, would have attempted to ignore such a minor wound for the sake of fighting with their stronger hand.

This young one was confident, much like his Padawan; the Skywalker boy. It really would be a pity to kill them.

Pity.

Kenobi moved forward with an almost hypnotic grace, sky-blue blade swinging up blindingly, lunging at the Count's heart in a most un-Jedi manoeuvre. Dooku batted it aside with some effort, leaping backwards to avoid the next violent slash that cut towards his middle. The Jedi Knight was advancing now, eyes focused and hard, as elegant and predatory as a Trianii Ranger.

'It's a shame that Lord Sidious never saw this side of you, Kenobi,' Dooku mused as he allowed himself to be pushed back by the younger Jedi Knight's sudden aggression. 'Stripped of the bindings of a Jedi, you have remarkable potential. Almost as much as Skywalker.'

It would be a shame to have to kill him, really, but Dooku wasn't in the mood to allow this farce to play out any longer. With a swift, decisive strike, he knocked the blue beam to one side, driving his weapon into Obi-Wan's unguarded shoulder.

Obi-Wan couldn't suppress his cry of shocked pain, scarcely managing to call the cylindrical emitter of his sabre back into his wounded right hand as his left arm spasmed and fell useless at his side.

He stared into Dooku's eyes, seeing only Death therein. Suddenly the wide, sweeping vista of the desert seemed to hem him in, crushing him with his insignificance to the galaxy as a whole.

"Pathetic." Dooku's sneering tone was an echo of his own morose thoughts. "I would have expected better from Qui-Gon's Padawan. Once again, you disappoint me, Master Kenobi."

He was a disappointment. He had known that from his first day as a Padawan. Known that he would fail.

"No wonder you've been abandoned to die down here. Alone. Unwanted."

No. No, that was a lie. Anakin needed him, needed his Master to look out for him, to fight alongside him.

Didn't he?

(Anakin,) he sent the name as a whisper into the Force. (Please, Anakin… answer me.)

----

The small fighter was ready to leave by the time they arrived back at the hangar. Anakin hadn't once looked back at the woman who was now his charge, still irritated by the condescending manner with which she had treated him. He was her rescuer, not the other way around. He could have just left her in that cell to rot. She should be thanking him; she was supposed to be grateful to him. At least that thrice-damned psychic storm of hers had eased somewhat, though some part of it remained, buzzing irritatingly just beyond his barriers. Of course, she was untrained, so it wasn't her fault….

But it wasn't improving his mood any.

"Stand by to disengage hangar force-field, R2," he snapped, then turned sharply as a hand descended softly on his arm.

The woman snatched her hand away at the anger in his eyes, but recovered swiftly. "I just wanted to apologize for attacking you earlier," she said in a low voice, her eyes modestly downcast. "I wasn't sure the Jedi would even come for me…"

Anakin immediately felt abashed for treating her so brusquely. Who knew what the woman had gone through while imprisoned on this ship? He forced a smile. "I don't even know your name." he wondered aloud, handing her up into the co-pilot's seat of his Delta-7. Acting the perfect gentleman, as Obi-Wan would have done, no doubt.

She laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners. The way Obi-Wan's did when he was trying unsuccessfully not to smile….

"My name is Adaavi Xiann."

Anakin almost frowned. For some reason, there was the echo of another name in his mind. A sense of counter-déjà vu that he couldn't quite explain…as though it was something he hadn't yet seen, but would, sooner or later.

The woman – Adaavi, now – interrupted his thoughts before he could untangle the peculiar sensation. "What's your name, Master Jedi?"

"Hmm?" he blinked. "Oh. It's Anakin. Anakin Skywalker."

There was a strange reverberation in the Force as he said the name. As though it was being repeated from a distance. He stretched out along the Force bond that joined him to Obi-Wan, but there was still nothing. Peculiar, it felt almost blank… after the outburst of rage, Obi-Wan was most likely over-compensating by being super-Jedi again….

The sooner he got down to the planet, the better it would be. Time enough to interrogate this Adaavi Xiann later… when Master Obi-Wan could do it instead.

Swinging into the cockpit, Anakin flexed his fingers gleefully; lowering the hatch and signalling for R2 to disengage the shields that protected the hangar form the vacuum of space. Then he 'accidentally' fired two torpedoes point-blank into the rear of the docking bay, before streaking out into the void.

The explosion that lit up space behind them was beautiful. He couldn't resist the wild cry of manic joy that erupted from his throat, nor could he deny the instinct to spin the small fighter in a snap-roll, exulting in his victory as they made their escape.

Now all he had to do was trace Obi-Wan's ship on the planet, make another quick rescue and…

Oh Sith. Fucking Sith hell.

Adaavi must have felt his agitation, strong in the Force as she was, as she leaned forward in response. "Is there a problem?"

"I need to swing you by our ship," Anakin responded tersely, mad at himself for not commandeering another ship before blowing the docking bay. "I need to rescue my Master- he's down on the planet without transport." 'And this is only a light-interceptor, after all. It barely holds two people….'

"You're worried about him."

Anakin hesitated, unable to properly express himself.

"You must care very much for him."

He did. Force, but he did. More than was proper for a Jedi to care about anything, he knew that full well. Which was why he had never told Obi-Wan, his ultimate Jedi Master, who embodied every single rigorous and arbitrary detail of the Jedi Code. It would mean having to end their partnership, which was not a viable option in Anakin's mind. Better that Obi-Wan never knew and kept Anakin as a partner, as a friend.

"R2. Take us back to the ship," his voice was oddly rough.

A series of whistled hoots in reply as R2 acquiesced. Anakin was glad that the little droid hadn't argued for once; he didn't think he would have handled it very well….

----

There was no answer through the Force from Anakin. Nothing. After being so tightly bonded for years on end, having that comforting presence always within reach, the sudden absence threw Obi-Wan slightly off-balance. He stepped back once, twice, cautiously raising his lightsabre out before him, angling it diagonally across his body in a defensive stance.

Dooku smirked. All too easy.

As Obi-Wan moved back another step, the Count reached into the Force, summoning the little surprise his Master had planned for this arrogant Jedi. Something with which he was already familiar.

Expecting to find them, Dooku had no difficulty picking out the camouflaged tentacles of the two JK droids as they snuck across the ground towards the retreating Jedi. A Jedi who was walking right in between them without even knowing what was coming. Apparently, Sidious had cloaked the two machines well; they were invisible to anything but the Dark Side.

Obi-Wan cursed as sinuous ropes wound tightly around his legs without any forewarning. So intent had he been on the Sith Lord before his eyes that he hadn't been concentrating on the Force as a whole. The fact that Dooku made no attempt to attack him in the moment of distraction made Obi-Wan's heart tighten with foreboding.

Twisting his lightsabre downwards, Obi-Wan tried to slash at the writhing bonds, only to have another cord slither up his arm, wrapping around it and prohibiting movement.

This was very, disconcertingly familiar. Why was he thinking of Kit Fisto now…?

Ah. Cestus.

Obi-Wan resisted the urge to curse once again.

"I see that you remember our little friends." Dooku's sonorous voice was amused.

JK Droids, of course. Jedi Killers. Force-sensitive machines that had been fashioned on Cestus a few years back. He had gone with Kit to stop the production of the monstrous things… but they had discovered that the droids, due to their communication to the Force, were actually incapable of killing anything without being driven mad.

All the same, Obi-Wan still had some scars from his last encounter with one of the droids. They were faster than a Malastarian pod-race, and far more dangerous.

He gasped sharply as the droids rose out of the sand into his line of vision, flawless in their symmetry, sweeping aesthetic lines…and perfectly designed for destruction. Their shifting tentacles wound farther up his arms, and tightened across the lightsabre wound in his left shoulder, probing at it until he wanted to scream.

Dooku laughed, as though reading his thoughts. Obi-Wan glared at him, intense hatred making his blue eyes glow with unnatural fires.

"Oh worry not, my dear friend," Dooku said tightly, as though he would be jumping for joy, were it not beneath him, "these two droids have no compunctions about killing, or inflicting pain. Every Force-sensitive species has one or two members who are drawn to the Dark Side. You should feel honoured that my Master went through such lengths to procure these two, specifically for your capture."

"Well, I'm sure he will feel slightly less pleased when I destroy both of them, Dooku," he snarled, struggling against his captors, trying to reach his lightsabre, tied hand and foot as he was.

The ex-Jedi shook his head, disappointed. "Empty words, my boy. Qui-Gon should have taught you better." he gestured, and a crackling line of electricity sparkled along the tentacles that bound Obi-Wan.

Blackness. Excruciating agony that pushed him beyond the threshold, until his eyes rolled back and all he could see were stars…he slumped forward as the power surge ended, barely managing to remain on his feet.

Through the haze of pain that washed over his vision, Obi-Wan could see Dooku's superior smirk, the icy triumph that flickered across his regal face. The sight awakened some stubborn instinct, making him clench his jaw tightly.

Inside, his mind was racing.

Anakin.

Anakin was somewhere above the planet, finishing off his own mission, and then he would come down here to rescue his hopeless Master. Oh Force. Obi-Wan tried to reach his friend once again, but to no avail. What, by the stars, was blocking his connection to Anakin?

If Anakin came down here alone, Dooku would use Obi-Wan against him. He would be a pawn of this Sith-bred son of a whore, and would be used to hurt Anakin. To hurt his precious Anakin. The thought wounded him more deeply than the lightsabre hole in his shoulder. Better that he died before he was made to aid the Sith, however involuntary it might be.

Dooku wanted to hear him scream, but he would not give the sadistic Count even that meagre triumph. If he had to die here, then so be it. He would die, and die well, as befitted a Jedi Knight. He would not make a sound.

This time, Obi-Wan caught the subtle nod that Dooku directed at the two JK's, felt the wash of malice through the Force-touch that passed between the machines and the human monster. Swiftly, he dove inwards, shoring up his barriers, seeking the calm centre of his soul, where he could shield himself with the Force.

To no avail.

Pure, blinding anguish.

The pain ripped through him again, fracturing the world into splinters of light, tearing mercilessly through his mind, through his thoughts, as the JK droid's tentacles ripped through his body. He was screaming, screaming mindlessly inside his head, adamant in his refusal to let a sound escape his lips.

Still, he couldn't quite smother a gasp as the filaments narrowed, razoring through skin and muscle. Every exertion Obi-Wan made to free himself, every attempt to break loose from the bindings only wound the threads tighter.

His eyes never strayed from Dooku's own, engaged in a battle of wills.

"You failed my Padawan, didn't you, Master Kenobi?" the Count whispered sinuously. "How ironic that you will fail yours as well." he gestured negligently, with one hand, a cruel smile shaping his thin lips.

A nebulous image of Anakin, struck down on the sand, rose to blind him with horror, making him let down his guard in a single consuming moment of vehement denial.

Instantly, Obi-Wan felt the pressure of the Force weighing down on his shoulders, answering to Dooku's manipulations, forcing him to his knees. Battered and beaten as he was, there was no way Obi-Wan could stand against such an onslaught as well. Especially not after Dooku had laid bare his worst fear.

Anakin….

Obi-Wan collapsed into the sand, throwing out one hand instinctively to break his fall, and arching his back in pain as this movement only drove the razor-edged tentacles deeper into his arm.

His left arm was already worse than useless, but now he could no longer feel his right hand either, except for an odd tingling sense of pressure. Blood had sheeted the skin with red, puddling underneath his fingers, collecting the pale sand into dark clumps. Rivulets of his life trickling down over the dune.

Beaten.

Dooku sneered, jerking the Force roughly to make Obi-Wan's chin snap up, forcing the Jedi to meet his eyes once again. Obi-Wan squinted into the furious sunlight, seeing the compassionate, almost grandfatherly smile of the former Jedi's countenance. It made his skin crawl.

"Why would they ever choose a failure like you to train such a remarkable child…?" Dooku mused, letting go the Force, allowing Obi-Wan's head to fall forward in exhaustion once again. "Well, it is of no consequence. Soon your remarkable apprentice will have a new Master, and you will be dead."

Obi-Wan lunged forward, rage and fear sparking in his heart, blocking out the pain. "I won't let you touch him!"

"My dear Master Kenobi," Dooku intoned gravely, "You won't have a choice."

He tried to reach out to Anakin, felt suddenly his friend's Force-touch against his mind. A reassurance that he would arrive soon.

"No." Obi-Wan whispered in dismay. Anakin would come to rescue him, and Dooku would be waiting to spring the trap. No. No.

(Stay back, Anakin. Don't come here!)

"Calling for help, Master Kenobi? From that boy that you love so much? That's hardly the way for a Jedi to behave. No wonder you're such a failure – how can you be a Master to the boy, if you can't even master yourself?"

Dooku's words cut into his heart, eliciting an involuntary whimper from his lips. Yes. He had failed Anakin in life, but he would be damned if he did so in death.

(Stay away, Anakin… please…)

But he was too weak. Too damnably weak to reach across such a distance when Anakin was otherwise distracted. It took an inordinate amount of power to reach his former Padawan's mind when Anakin as concentrating on something else.

(Please stay away…)

Dooku almost laughed, feeling the Jedi's distress. Lord Sidious had been right; this one was remarkably easy to break. The boy was his weak spot, just as Kenobi was Anakin's. How wonderfully convenient.

A snap of his long, bony fingers, and a panel on the right JK droid slid back, revealing a large syringe, filled with clear liquid.

Thanatizine. It would smother Kenobi's Force signature enough to draw the boy down to the planet… just in time to see his Master be struck down before his eyes. Then it would be all too easy for him to be turned. But first, he'd have a little more fun with this wretched shade of a Jedi.

Obi-Wan struggled weakly as the syringe approached his neck, trying in vain to pull away. Then the prick of a needle against his skin, and everything blurred and swam before his eyes. He squinted, struggling to keep his head up as he noticed for the first time a wavering figure that approached Dooku from behind, stark black against the pale sand. His movements were oddly familiar.

He tried to scream, but only a mumble escaped his lips. Everything slowed down to freeze-frames of time.

The blue glare of a lightsabre. Anakin's lightsabre.

Count Dooku's smile, as he attacked.

Anakin lunging, missing…leaving himself open.

The red sabre that burned a perfect hole through the young Jedi's heart.

Anakin collapsing…Anakin dying….

Summoning all his remaining strength, borne of devastating anguish, Obi-Wan blasted a single word into the Force.

(ANAKIN!)

Sky and sand melded together, and he was falling, falling….


Ah... Obi-torture. This is what gets me through my day...especially the Political Science part of it...

"To the light side of the Force, a review leads. Leave one for Xtine, you should..."

Hey, if YODA says it's the right thing to do, then it's gotta carry some weight, eh? Eh?

Xtine