Reposted 8-19-05: Thank you, Darkness Rising (otherwise known by the much more cute and lovable name Ash-chan ;) ) for finding my spelling mistake. But 'rouge' is such a pretty word, eh? It's all that French getting to my head, lol. XD Je sais que je suis follie. (Correct way to write it?) Anyways…that just means 'I know that I'm crazy,' if I wrote it properly. French is fun to speak and write, but it doesn't exactly belong in an English fic, now does it? Anywho, huggles to friend Ash-chan, who reads this even though she's not a big Star Wars fan. (Which I plan on changing someday…someday soon. -cues maniacal laughter in the distance-)

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars. That right belongs to George Lucas. It should be noted that some things are borrowed from Greg Bear and Jude Watson, both who write EU (Extended Universe) Star Wars books.

Writer's Block: Once again, it's another story written by Petite Doll. I just love her writing so much that I can't help but feature more than one fic. ;) This story is the sequel to A Simple Change, and it is called What Comes of It. It's darker and contains slash (hence the rating R). It's a completed Darth Vader/Obi-Wan fic. This AU is set after RotS. Petite Doll does a wonderful job with characterization, and her writing is vivid. We get to travel down Vader's dark path and see how the evil inside has affected him. And while you're morbidly fascinated by the monster he's become, you can't help but hold on to the faint glimmer of hope that Obi-Wan can change him. The wondering and suspense is part of What Comes of It's allure.

As you may have noted, I don't post author notes at the end of my writing. I prefer that the actual story is the last thing you read and think about because…well…that's the important part. So I want you to remember it the most. :) So if I have any comments about a chapter, I'll post them in the next chapter's author notes. Think of it as my way of refreshing your memory. Well, I don't really have any comments for chapter one…it was really just a chapter to set up all everything…I hope it wasn't too boring. :( I was a bit worried about that…

I also want to warn you that I love foreshadowing, irony, and symbolism. You might find that the most important parts of my fic are not written down, but only alluded to. ;) Maybe I'm just mad, and is the only person who can see the hints, but perhaps you'll find something yourself.

I'd like to thank all those who reviewed. Each and every one of them made me feel very happy and good inside. I hope that you continue reading and enjoying my story. :) Once again, I'd like to mention that if you find any mistakes, please tell me. Oh, and if you think you see any of the foreshadowing, irony, or symbolism, I'd love it if you told me what it is and what you think it means. I love hearing the impressions people get from my story. It also makes it so that I can see if I've conveyed what's in my mind, or if other people get entirely different ideas. Who knows, perhaps your ideas are better than the ones I thought up; it's very probable. ;)

Page Amount: 6

Word Count: 4,425

Written 6-12-05

Listening to: silence

Written by Ice Dragon3

Jedi Genocide

Chapter Two: Identity

Four standard Coruscanti years later

Two children entered an office. They had been squabbling about something, which had apparently led to shoving if the rumples in their clothes meant anything. The little boy hovered by the door as the girl walked boldly towards her father's workspace. However, her footsteps grew more cautious as she neared her destination.

"Daddy?" The small girl asked hesitantly, standing by her father's desk. Her father lifted his head up and hummed affirmatively. "Who's our mother?"

Anakin smiled and reached over to tug affectionately on one of Leia's long brown braids. "We've been over this time after time, Leia. Obi-Wan's your mother."

Leia scrunched up her nose and batted away her father's hand. "Daaaddy, you know I'm too old for you to play with my hair," she whined childishly. "And besides, that's not possible! Obi-Wan's a guy." It was infallible logic in her mind.

"Stranger things have happened with the Force," Anakin explained patiently with a wise smile. "I never had a father, myself. You should be thankful that you have a mother and a father, Leia, even if it's not the customary type of family. You need to learn to adapt to odd situations and make the best of them."

"See?" The little boy said as, embolden by being right, he yanked his sister's braid. "I was right. Why do you always have to stick your big nose everywhere?" Making a face at his sister, he ran out of the room with Leia hot on his heels, yelling about how he was going to 'get it.'

Anakin hollered to their retreating backs, "I want you two to find Threepio and return home, all right? You better not give him too hard of a time, or I'll hear about it later!"

"Okay, okay, Daddy, you don't have to lecture us!"—she rolled her eyes—"We'll find him where we ditched him and tell him that you said he had to take us home," she yelled back from the hallway. Luke said a soft goodbye that was barely audible, and Anakin had to strain to hear him. He heard the muffled sound of their feet pounding away; they were running again, despite the fact that every day he let them come to work with him he told them to walk.

He chuckled at his children's antics and returned to reading the report in front of him. He allowed a tiny bit of satisfaction and self-congratulatory to wash over him. It had taken four long years to complete his empire, but it was well worth it. He had steadied and built it up, until his domain had gained the strong foundation that it needed to resist any attacks made against it. Now, it was nearly invisible; a far cry from its struggling beginning.

It had been a difficult journey, but Anakin was finally satisfied with what he had. The Galactic Republic had been torn down, replaced by the Galactic Empire. The Jedi Council and Order had been abolished, and what was left of the Temple was easily within his grasp where he could keep a close eye on it. Any planets that had previously objected to the Empire's rule had been wiped out or negotiated with. Most of the rogue resistance groups had been annihilated, and the few left could hardly be called 'resistances.' They constituted only of a few washed-out stragglers who were unwilling to accept the death of democracy yet equally unwilling to do more than grumble and complain. The Imperial Navy was under his command, as well as much of the Imperial Senate through influence and fear. Now that he held a completed empire within his hands, he felt that he could finally do something with it. Improve it.

The door to his office swung open again, but this time the person entering was not a welcomed distraction, as his two children had been. This person was not welcomed at all.

Palpatine walked into Anakin's office with slow, laborious movements. Age and extended use of the Dark Force were whittling away what health the Emperor still had. He was more corpse than man, sustained only through pure determination and willpower.

Anakin stood and walked towards his master, bowing down to him in a respecting but stiff manner. There had been disagreements between them over the last few years, and that rift had slowly widened. It had become a distance that he neither wished to nor could cross. "Master," Anakin said respectfully, "How may I be of service to you?"

"I'm merely here to check up on you, Lord Vader. I do not mean to interrupt your work," Palpatine said smoothly. Although his physical body was slowly decaying with age, his mind was not, and his speech was as flawless and pristine as ever. "I trust that the last of the resistance has crumbled?" Anakin nodded, holding his hands behind his back, as any well-mannered subordinate would do when facing superiors.

"Good, good." Palpatine wheezed a chuckle. "I should return to the Conference Room, then. It is best to reassure the planets under the Empire's control that we have dealt with the traitors, and that they no longer need to fear attacks from the barbarous renegades. I am sure that they will be comforted by this joyous news, and awed at the might of the Empire. Now that the galaxy is no longer disrupted by internal feuding, perhaps we can even expand our reach…" Palpatine rasped out another laugh. Before departing, he graced Anakin with a compliment, "I am proud of your accomplishments, Lord Vader…and I expect to see your outstanding work continue."

Anakin smiled tightly and bowed as Palpatine left.

It took a great amount of effort to make his clenched fists relax. The way Palpatine acted…it made uncontrollable anger boil in his veins. Palpatine was not the one who did all the unscrupulous work needed to form this empire…he sat on his fortified throne and reaped the toils of others, acting the ever-gracious ruler as he robbed his subjects blind. He had no right to be called 'emperor.' Anakin sneered at the thought of that, at the thought of Palpatine rightfully deserving any title.

His only power was manipulation, of playing master to marionettes. But Anakin was aware of Palpatine's games, of how he tied strings to his pawns that he used to tug and control their movements and thoughts. And over the span of four standard years he had carefully, slowly, snipped every one of those invisible threads until he was no longer the puppet doing the master's bidding. Now, he served no will but his own.

He deserved that title; had done far more to earn it than any other. He had led fleets of ships to war, had fought the enemy face-to-face and won. He had negotiated smoothly with worried senators and planet systems, created treaties, destroyed resistances. He had murdered children, killed innocents, and tortured victims in the name of the Empire, and he had done it swiftly, efficiently, and emotionlessly. He had instilled fear and awe into the people of the Empire, and when they spoke of him it was in whispered voices. He had created this empire with his hands and lightsaber.

Yet Palpatine proceeded to act as if he was the one who owned it. It was a charade that sickened Anakin.

He gritted his teeth; that power should be his.

Anakin abruptly got up from his seat. He felt like a caged animal; he had to get away. This small room was too confining, and it couldn't contain his rage. He left the former Galactic Republic building swiftly (he still chuckled at the irony that the once democratic building now housed this new dictatorship); he knew exactly where he was going. He got into his speeder and easily maneuvered his way through traffic to get to the Jedi Temple.

As he walked into the Temple's main hallway he breathed in the calm atmosphere, feeling better by the second. The peaceful, timeless ambiance of the Temple soothed the jagged anger in him. He felt like he could release some of that ever-burning rage when he entered here.

As he strolled the hallways he didn't pass a single person by; this did not alarm him. Very few Jedi were still alive, a fact he was thankful for. All the Jedi from the Order had been killed, and what the Temple now housed were young students just newly discovered to be Force sensitive. They'd had no previous interaction with the Jedi, and as a result were not repressed by the Order's strict codes; they were like blank books waiting to be written in. This thought made Anakin smile. It was a good beginning. He could control their powers and keep an eye on them at the same time. After all, it was better to keep potential enemies close than let them lurk in the unknown.

He didn't fear the younglings, or any Jedi for that matter; he knew that he surpassed them all in power. But he still felt that it was better for them to learn how to control the Force here, where he could manipulate their training, than in some hidden area out of his scope of influence. Besides, there was another reason he kept the Temple around…

He strolled with deliberate footsteps, knowing where he was going. He stopped once he reached his destination; a glass window allowed him to gaze into the meditation room without disturbing its occupants. The entire Jedi population was in that small room, a grand total of twelve. Eleven younglings and one Master, Obi-Wan Kenobi, were all that remained of the once-fearsome Order. Anakin smiled, and this time it was not because of the Jedi's downfall but because of what was left. Or, more importantly, who was left.

He gazed at Obi-Wan as he instruct the young Padawan Learners in the art of meditation. He had never been good at it; he still wasn't. But Obi-Wan had the patience for that. He also had the patience to teach the younglings, and Anakin loved to observe him at work.

He watched serenely as Obi-Wan finished up the meditation lesson and sent the children off to enjoy some free time. The Jedi exited the room, and almost ran into Anakin in his haste. He steadied Obi-Wan and asked him jokingly, "Is there a specific place you need to be at this exact instant, Obi? Or do you intentionally try to run people over?"

Obi-Wan glanced up at Anakin, startled, before lowering his gaze. He tried to break away from Anakin's grip. The hand remained firmly attached to his arm. "Very funny, Anakin," Obi-Wan said with no hint of amusement. "I just don't like wasting time, is all. Besides, I was going to check something up in the Jedi Archives—"

"I'll go with you," Anakin smoothly interjected.

Obi-Wan found no way to shake Anakin off, so instead he smiled politely and said, "Thank you for the company." They walked together to the library, and all the while Obi-Wan wished that he were taller than Anakin. Unfortunately, Anakin still towered over him. Even though the height difference wasn't much (maybe a few inches or so), the way Anakin carried himself somehow made him seem taller; he commanded power and respect. But then again, Obi-Wan had never liked flashy displays of power; he preferred actions to appearance, as the latter could be and often was deceiving.

When they got to the library, Obi-Wan lazily picked out a couple of books and holofiles at random. He didn't actually need to go to the library, but he might as well make his excuse seem valid. Glancing over his shoulder as he pretended to look at another holofile, he saw that Anakin was still waiting for him. As he couldn't think of any more credible ways to stall without Anakin getting angry or impatient, he walked over to the couch Anakin was sitting on and slid in beside him. He placed his books on the floor by his feet and, getting to the point, asked bluntly, "Is there any particular reason you're here, Anakin?"

"Please, call me Ani," Anakin said amiably, his voice as relaxed as Obi-Wan's was stressed. "How many times do I have to tell you that?"

"Anakin," Obi-Wan said warningly, "I do not feel comfortable calling you by a nickname."

"Come now, Obi, don't be so formal. I'm the reason you're allowed to keep the Jedi Temple running, after all. I'd have thought that you'd be a bit more gracious to me. Besides, we're good friends. Adding up everything, I think I have the right to ask you to humor me, wouldn't you say so?"

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. "All right, Ani. But I would like to correct you on one point: we once were good friends. We are friends no longer."

Anakin switched the topic abruptly. "Leia and Luke had another disagreement today."

Obi-Wan relaxed. This was common ground; he could handle this kind of conversation. He felt a very strong bond with Anakin's two children, and whenever they visited the Jedi Temple he looked after them as if they were his own. "What was it about this time? Pets? Names? Who's older or more mature?"

Anakin chuckled. "Not quite. It's about who their mother is."

Obi-Wan's face fell flat. "Not again…"

"I'm afraid so." Anakin leaned back into a more comfortable position on the couch as he smiled charmingly at Obi-Wan. "I told them that you were their mother."

"Anakin…"—Obi-Wan ignored Anakin's raised eyebrows (he wouldn't use that nickname…it incorporated the idea of friendship, and he did not want to encourage that notion)—"you can't keep lying to them like that. You have to tell them the truth. Padmé is their mother, and they have a right to know."

Anakin felt a stirring of anger and hurt roll up from the pit of his stomach, but he swallowed it down. They were bitter emotions to digest. "I disagree," he said harshly, "They need a mother—a living mother. A corpse won't help them any." Anakin glared at the wall opposite of him, before his anger subsided. He turned to Obi-Wan, and his blue eyes were warmed by some emotion. Obi-Wan broke the gaze first, feeling uncomfortable.

Anakin's voice softened to a persuasive alto, "I've seen the way you bond with my kids…you'd make a wonderful mother. Why can't you just accept that?"—when Obi-Wan remained silent, Anakin went on—"You can't keep declining my offer to live with us. It would do wonders for Leia and Luke if you were around more often, and they would be so happy if you said yes…" His voice drifted off suggestively, expectantly.

Obi-Wan had heard enough. He got up abruptly, the mechanics in his artificial knees whirling faintly with the motion. He had gotten used to the faint noises and slightly awkward movements by now, and by now he hardly noticed them for the most part. But they would never feel like a true part of his body. Phantom pain haunted him where his true limbs should be. He rubbed his prosthetic legs; they were a reminder that emotions could lead to fatal mistakes. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to my room. I would like to have some time alone to meditate."

Anakin nodded. He stood up and placed a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder. "Well, how about I escort you there, then?" He asked pleasantly in a voice that belied no decline. "I would like to be updated on the occurrences at the Temple. Since I am the benefactor, it's my duty to be well-informed."

Obi-Wan gritted his teeth and smiled. There it was again; that small reminder of who owed who here. For a second he wanted nothing more than to slap Anakin's hand off his shoulder…but then he thought of his charges and of Leia and Luke. He couldn't abandon those children; he had to tolerate Anakin, for their sake if not his own. He could do nothing about the unwanted contact.

The two began to walk as Obi-Wan tried to ignore the constant weight of Anakin's hand on his shoulder. If it weren't for the troubled look in his eyes, one would assume they were friends. He replied, "The Temple is doing fine. I'm teaching all of the younglings how to meditate and control their emotions—"

"That nonsense again?" Anakin snorted. "How can you expect to wipe out all emotion in a being, even young ones such as your charges? People were meant to feel things, Obi. If they didn't, then this universe would be a lonely place because no one would ever connect with anyone else. We would isolate ourselves with our apathy, and in doing so destroy all the good, all the bad, all of the possible futures."

Obi-Wan listened to the whirring of his legs for a moment. Whenever he took a step forward, his knees gave off a slight tick sound. He tried to time his breathing to the ticking sound; it was a calming game he played with himself when he felt his patience wearing thin. "I'm not trying to erase their emotions, but create insight on them. A Jedi needs to understand the difference between feelings and practical sense. Hard choices must be made for the greater good, and personal emotions have to be acknowledged, then dispersed, before those important decisions can be decided upon. What I'm trying to teach them is how to control their emotions." A subtle, pointed glance accompanied the statement.

"You don't acknowledge anything. Not feelings or people." Anakin stared ahead at nothing, old feelings of resentment coursing through him; he himself had never been acknowledged by Obi-Wan, had never been recognized for his greatness.

"In the same route, if not the same sense of that question, there's a problem I'd like to acknowledge," Obi-Wan said with strained cheerfulness.

Anakin's ears perked at this. If Obi-Wan was trying to muster up some hospitality that seemed semi-normal, then his request must be a large one indeed. "My curiosity is overwhelming," Anakin said dryly, although he was speaking the truth.

"I would like to begin training my students in lightsaber comba—"

"No." Anakin's word had the finality of a guillotine chopping down on the head of its prisoner. Only, instead of killing a person this time, Anakin had killed an idea.

"But how can they learn to be Jedi if you won't even let them use training lightsabers? There's only so much I can do with meditation and educational lessons," Obi-Wan argued, frustration tingeing every word.

"I thought you preached peace in this Temple. If that is indeed the truth, then why do you ask for weapons?" Anakin questioned sharply with his brutal offensive nature. "Weapons only bring about violence. They are the symbol of violence. Having a weapon tempts one to use it without care, and that creates hostile situations when they could have otherwise been solved diplomatically. I kept this Temple open because you told me that you wanted a safe haven for those sensitive to the Force—so that they wouldn't be alarmed by their odd powers. To keep them from becoming outcasts in their societies, accused of witchcraft and sorcery."

Anakin studied Obi-Wan with a sidelong gaze that made him feel exposed. After pausing for a moment Anakin continued, "It seems to me that you mean for this Temple to become more than just a safe haven, if you insist on having weapons… No, I decline your request. This subject will never be brought up again."

Though he was quelled under Anakin's harsh words and look, he couldn't help but press on, "At least let me have a lightsaber, so that I can protect—"

Anakin halted in his tracks, forcing Obi-Wan to do the same. He stared Obi-Wan right in the eye and said in a harsh hiss, "No."

They resumed their walk in silence. Obi-Wan saw the door to his room and started to go faster, but right before he could escape into his personal haven Anakin stopped him by saying, "I'll be bringing Leia and Luke here tomorrow." Obi-Wan nodded in agreement. Anakin left in a flurry of dark robes, a flash of his right metallic hand glinting harshly in the light before his robes covered it.

Obi-Wan entered his living quarters with a sigh. He rubbed a hand through his brown hair while he sank down onto one of his comfortably plush seats. His nerves were a little frazzled at the moment; a common consequence of Anakin's random visits.

He loved spending time with Leia and Luke, but that also meant Anakin would be shadowing them the entire while, and he'd have to interact with him too… But Obi-Wan couldn't turn away the twins. He tried to exert his good influence over them whenever possible… He just hoped that he made a big enough impact on them for them to remain good in nature later on. He sensed that the Force was strong in both of them, and he hoped that when it came to bloom his teachings would be enough to make them choose the path of Light, despite whatever training Anakin was shoving into their minds.

Obi-Wan took a shower, hoping to ease his anxiety. It didn't help much to ease his mind, but his body felt better once clean. He dressed in simple brown and beige attire, and sat cross-legged on his bed to begin meditation. His room was a comfortable place, furnished with the most advanced equipment possible. However, he wished for simplicity. This extravagance was a gift from Anakin, one he'd rather not have.

He still didn't know why Anakin insisted upon paying for everything the Temple needed; he had supplied them with the most advanced equipment and modern comforts of living, as well as anything else Obi-Wan asked for—within reason (as their conversation from today showed). He assumed Anakin felt guilty for murdering so many Jedi younglings and was trying to quiet his conscience. And while Obi-Wan was thankful that his students could live in such luxury, he hated the thought of being indebted to Anakin. He disliked the feeling of being watched and observed—every time Anakin walked these halls, he couldn't shake off the impression that tabs were being kept on him.

He was about to dissolve these feelings of discontent and sink into a nearly unconscious state to meditate when his comlink bleeped at him once, signifying he had an incoming message. Puzzled as to who it could be, since no one ever contacted him except Anakin (and he had recently left, so it couldn't be him), Obi-Wan clicked the 'on' button. No holographic image of a person appeared before his eyes. Instead, a robotic voice asked if he had problems with insects and needed to de-bug his room. While it was a common occurrence for comlinks to be spammed by telemarketer robots, Obi-Wan knew that his comlink had a private number and wavelength—it couldn't be a real telemarketer call.

Not knowing what was exactly going on, but having a hunch, he went into the bathroom adjoined to his room. He'd never sensed a surveillance camera in his living quarters before, but he didn't want to take any chances. "All right, I'm some place safe," he whispered into the comlink. To his amazement, a hologram of Yoda appeared before his eyes. "Yoda?" Obi-Wan exclaimed joyously. "Is that really you?"

"I it is," Yoda stated solemnly in that way of his. Obi-Wan had never been happier to hear his old friend's odd way of speaking.

"Where have you been hiding all this time? Wait—it's probably better that I don't know. How did you survive the Jedi Genocide? And get this comlink's number? You aren't in trouble, are you?" Obi-Wan knew he was blathering, but he couldn't help it. He hadn't seen his friend for four standard years…not since they parted ways, him to take on Anakin and Yoda to face Palpatine. When Obi-Wan learned that Palpatine lived, he had naturally assumed that Yoda had died in the duel—how glad he was to be proven wrong.

"Safe I am, although concerned. Have a mission for you, I do," Yoda said cryptically.

Obi-Wan stared at the comlink, at Yoda's grave expression and the way he leaned heavily on his staff. "What do you need me to do, Yoda? I'm afraid there's not much I can do in my current position, but I'll try to help you anyway I can."

"Information on the Dark Side we need. Darth Vader, you must spy on. Get close, learn what you can, to the truth open your eyes. A small rebellion group of Jedi we have. A weakness in the Siths we must find, before act we can. Accept, will you?" Yoda gazed at Obi-Wan neutrally, allowing Obi-Wan to make up his mind without outer interference or influence.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath and expelled his personal frustrations from the meeting with Anakin. He calmed himself so he could make this decision rationally. But he already knew his answer. He would do this to help Yoda and the other surviving Jedi, to restore balance to the Force, and to save democracy. It was his duty as a Jedi, and what he needed to do as a person. He had a million questions to ask Yoda—who was still alive, where were they, what were they planning—but he shoved them to the back of his mind for later. Instead, he simply said, "I accept, Yoda. What do you need me to find out?"

"Any and all things, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Most important are the little details. Watch wisely. Contact you I will." Yoda nodded once to show his respect for Obi-Wan, before letting a smile flit over his face. "Glad I am to see you safe, old friend." The transmission ended before Obi-Wan could give a response. He held the comlink in silence for a moment longer, savoring the feeling. He was not alone. There were other Jedi out there, small as that group may be.

He had been given a chance to right his wrongs.

Obi-Wan clipped his comlink onto his belt and sat on his bed once more. He wasn't willing to let go of the small communication device. It was his connection to the outside, to the Jedi. He prepared himself for meditation.

The Force was alive all around him, and he submersed himself into it.