Chapter 27: The Battle of Mandalore

Satine marched down the corridor of her palace, instructing her guards to initiate the safety protocols. Sirens wailed, screaming into the night as a mass surge of people fled the destruction. Anakin and Master Yoda followed her in hurried steps and stiff expression.

Surrounding them was a swarm of highly trained royal guards, the best of the best to protect their Duchess. Satine steered them down another long corridor, away from the more obvious places like the throne room and bedrooms. She gestured for Anakin and Master Yoda to follow her down the private corridor.

"Death Watch will most likely strike again," Satine declared as they hurried down the corridor. "Especially if they are in league with the Sith."

"Not if, Duchess," Master Yoda said. "For Dooku and Jinn, we know already they work. Time wasted anymore, cannot be."

"Agreed," Satine said as her feet quickened the pace. Heart racing onward. "We're heading to the hanger right now."

They marched down the corridor with no hesitation in their steps. Master Yoda was right. Death Watch's attack on planet meant trouble for Anakin and she rather die than have Anakin be taken by those scoundrels. What surprised her the most was Master Yoda's endurance. For an old, wizened Jedi, he moved swiftly like a young man. His visage of an old, cane wielding master was a good façade for those susceptible enemies.

Satine led them around another corner. "We are almost there," she called over her shoulder. She spotted Anakin slowing his pace. "Anakin! Keep up—"

A blaster explosion silenced Satine's words, overpowering her voice with raining blocks of the cubist murals. Jagged pieces slammed into Satine's side and back, but it was her guard that propelled her down on the floor. She laid still as the smoky remains eluded the presence of those around her.

The rumble murmured down the long corridor before it fled to the silence. The shattered rubble buried her deep, but not heavy. Once Satine gathered her wits, she pushed herself up. Pieces of the wall fell aside from her body, leaving dark, grey stains on her dress and skin. There were tears in her dress and skin, but little blood. Overall, she was good. Hot air brushed against her skin from the small fires the burned the last remnants of the wall. She looked out, spotting the plaza at a new angle.

Citizens gathered either scattered or stayed, staring up with pointed fingers and fear. The palace was attacked. The very planet a direct hit. Duchess Satine shook her head, trying to regain control of her fear and wits again. She had something to do. There was something. Someone—

A few of her royal guards stirred, rising up with their staffs. The guard who shoved Satine to the floor stayed prostrate at an ugly angle. Satine dropped her hand to his neck. There was no pulse. Satine's eyes drifted closed in somber. A life lost over pointless violence.

She stood up again, taking count of the people around her. Only two guards were emerged from the wreckage unharmed. The rest were either wounded or dead. But that wasn't what got her anxious and digging fretfully through the rubble. There was someone missing from the head count.

"Anakin!" she yelled out. "Anakin!"

She whipped her head to the guards. "Where's Anakin?"

The royal guards meanderingly searched around them before shrugging. "We don't know, Duchess," one answered.

Satine was not happy with that response. "Well, search!"

She dug through the rubble, searching for either Anakin or Master Yoda. Even the little green Jedi did not make an appearance since the explosion. She pushed aside each crumbling block with all her might, heart constricting in hopes of not spotting a blonde-brown hair child underneath. She wanted to find him, but not in the rubble. Not dead underneath a chunks of wall and glass.

Staying focused, she didn't even hear the arriving footsteps of Senator Merrik coming. "Duchess!" he cried, his dark cloaks fluttering by his ankles as he held his turban on top of his head with a single hand. "Duchess! Are you all right?"

Satine jolted up. "Senator! Death Watch is attacking the capital," she said to explain the mess surrounding her as the Senator came to a stop. "Help me look for survivors, Senator."

"Actually Duchess—" Senator Merrik said as the royal guards situated behind him. "I am already assigned a job. I am tasked to find Anakin Skywalker."

The moment Anakin's name passed from Senator Merrik's mouth, the blow of betrayal swung a perfect hit against her. Not only was it the Senator's betrayal, but also her trusted royal guards sworn to protect her. They stood proudly behind Senator Merrik, who clutched a blaster in his very hand.

He raised it up, taking aim at Satine's heart. "It's fortunate the explosion didn't kill you. I was hoping a little maiming. A lost arm or leg? But… at least you can still talk," he sneered deliriously. "Now—where's the boy? Where is Skywalker?"

Satine lips tightened. She was not going to say anything. Even if Anakin survived the explosion that ripped open the palace, she wouldn't hand him over to a slug like Merrik. The Senator was not pleased by her silence and issued the guards to secure her.

Her once loyal guards grabbed her. Senator Merrik pulled out his comlink. "Pre Vizsla," he spoke into the comlink. "Tell Count Dooku that Mandalore has been secured. We'll find the boy shortly and deliver him upon requested arrival time."

The static voice of Governor Vizsla responded. "Excellent work, Senator. I'll inform the Count," said Vizsla. "Remember—the boy must not be harmed."

Pre Vizsla?! The air in Satine's lungs zapped out in another effective strike. After all this time, the governor was working with Death Watch. All of his reports and promises and pledges to the New Mandolorian ways were all falsehoods and insincerity. And Satine had truly believed him to be a staunch supporter of hers. The betrayal tasted bitter on her tongue as she growled upon hearing the man's voice. So much for a loyal friend!

The transmission ended and Merrik pocketed his comlink. He casually stepped up, a man high on power. "Let's try again, shall we, Duchess?" said in sweet, poisoned words. "Where is Skywalker?"

Satine's eyes narrowed and her lips vanished underneath the tight frown. "I don't negotiate with terrorists or traitors."

"I'm neither," Senator Merrik proclaimed, growing red in the face. "I'm a loyalist! I represent what's true to the Mandalore culture—the Mandalore heart!" The senator pulled up his blaster again to her face. Satine didn't look away. That would be cowardly and she had too much courage in her heart to turn away. "Now, I'm your conqueror. Tell me where the Skywalker brat is and I shall give you a more merciful death than what Pre Vizsla would grant."

Death wasn't a fear of hers. After spending almost a year being hunted, death became more like a companion. A friend that drove her to the love of her life. His sheltering arms made her unafraid of Death. Unafraid of the unknown. She stared down the blaster, but all she saw was Obi-Wan. His eyes. His wry smile that held some humorous secret. His auburn hair shining bright under the sunlight.

Her heart drummed, louder than ever before, but not in fright like Senator Merrik thought. Her heart lit up by the pure, gold love she harbored. Not just for Obi-Wan, but for little Anakin as well. She never had a child of her own and knew—deep in her lonely soul—she would never have one. But, Anakin became the closest she would ever have one with the person she truly loved.

When Senator Merrik gave that generous offer, Satine didn't see it as an offer. Nor generous. He was asking her to sacrifice a child. Her child. The one thing she—or any mother—would never sacrifice. Not even for their own life or the greater good.

"Death is not the worst thing to happen," she snarled at the brute. Her temper nearly matching her fear for Anakin. "Only for a slug like yourself, Merrik, that death is the end."

Senator Merrik glared, lip curled to reveal the snarl as he spat. "I'm not the one lined up in front of a firing squad," he sneered. "No, Duchess, once you are dead, it is I who will become the ruler of Mandalore."

"You will be nothing more than a contemptible traitor! The people will not stand for it."

Senator Merrik laughter hit her like a rod: sharp and striking that burned her face. "The people will have no choice! Death Watch will bring back the Mandalorian culture. And with the Count's influence, Mandalore will once again rise to its military power in the galaxy.

"And it shall start with eliminating your pacifist ass," Senator Merrik declared. "I'll find the boy on my own. Good bye, Duchess."

Senator Merrik's eyes were without mercy. A dawning realization that her death would send Mandalore plummeting back into a life of bloodshed. A chilling foresight of the end of her legacy through her death. Without her, Mandalore will plunge back into its violent past. All the pains and effort she endured to bring a new era for Mandalore was crushing back down by the spineless politician who cared only for his own esteemed power than the good of the people.

She knew Senator Merrik expected her to beg for mercy, to quiver in fear or try to escape her confines, but Satine has done that far too much than she cared for. Back straightened, chin up and eyes fixed on Senator Merrik. She would not cowl to such scums of the galaxy. She was a Mandalorian. A proud and brave being who was not afraid to die for her planet, her beliefs or for the people she loved. A true Mandalorian in every possible way.

The blaster softly wailed, a message of the doom she faced. Her killer didn't even dare look at her in the eye. His focus was on the bunt end of the blaster. Spineless di'kut—

A blast rang out. The zap sound made Satine blink. She had thought she would not hear the sound of her death approaching. So, it surprised her to hear the blaster go off. Her lungs expanded, her breath constricted in her chest that she troubled gasping for even a breath. Is this how one died? Soul being ripped out of your chest through the throat?

Satine blinked again and looked back to Senator Merrik.

Or, where Senator Merrik was standing.

Looking down, she found Senator Merrik's stunned eyes, gazing wide up at the opened ceiling. Surprise etched into his face as he laid perfectly still like a statue.

The sound of the blaster reloading garnered Satine's attention away from Senator Merrik's stunned form.

A few meters away stood Anakin, holding the stun blaster Obi-Wan packed in his hand. He moved the blaster from Senator Merrik to the royal guards imprisoning her. "Let her go!"

The former royal guards did nothing. Not at first. Their eyes shifted from Senator Merrik to Anakin with uncertainty on what to do. But they refocused and remembered their task. "Surrender or we kill the Duchess!"

One former guard pulled Satine to his chest, arm wrapped around her neck and squeezed. Satine's esophagus pinched and her throat closed. She choked upon reaction and that was all that Anakin needed to act. He lifted his blaster and with defined precision, he fired one after the other. Each bolt hit its target right in the chest. No screams. No cries. Just a rippling effect through the air before it penetrated through the armor and into their skin. Each guard dropped like cut strung dolls.

The guard restraining Satine tossed her aside so that he could avenge his fallen brothers, was shot last. He tipped backwards, hitting his head hard on the cubes that bedded him.

Satine shakenly rose to her feet, feet stumbling over the rubble as she madly hurried to Anakin. She cupped Anakin's cheeks, examining for any damages. Her trembling fingers traced the small scratches and smudge of dust over Anakin's cheek. "Are you all right?" she asked.

"Yeah… I sensed the attack before it happened," Anakin informed her. He was calm. No shake in his hands. They were still. He had just shot four men and his voice didn't even hesitate. "I had to use the Force to shove you down to stop the blast from hitting your head."

Satine was baffled by his statement, but then remembered... "You pushed me down?" she responded in soft shock. "I thought that was the guard."

Anakin shook his head, dust particles flying off. "No… I did that," he confirmed and he grabbed her hand, pulling her to follow him. "Come on! We have to go. Master Yoda is waiting for us."

They dashed down the corridor. Satine kept a tight grip on Anakin's hand, afraid to let go in fear he may be taken away. Arriving at the hanger with panted rasps, they spotted Master Yoda among the rows of swoops, speeder bikes, speeders and freight carriers. Master Yoda had picked one of the speeders, sitting on top as his claw hand signaled them to hurry. Satine and Anakin climbed into the speeder, Satine taking the driver seat. She hadn't drove in years, but it was like riding a speeder bike.

One look and her memory kicked in. She ignited the engine and slammed on the pedal as they pelted out of the hanger. Anakin sat in front, hair whipping away from his face as the Master Jedi sat poised in the back.

"Betrayed you were, Duchess," Master Yoda said in his wheezed breath. "Death Watch infiltrated the government."

Satine nodded. "I know," she hissed between her clenched teeth. "I had a lovely chat with Senator Merrik about it. You're right, Master Jedi." She turned the speeder around the building. "Death Watch is in league with Dooku."

"For Skywalker, Senator Merrik asked," Master Yoda stated.

Satine didn't bother to affirm it. She guided the speeder through the city, heading for the international spaceport. "They won't get him," she gritted as she avoided another speeder zooming through the city.

Anakin peered over the edge, eyes narrowed. "I sense something," he murmured, looking wildly around. "I have a bad feeling."

Satine and Master Yoda both looked around with questionable scrutiny. Satine didn't see anything odd or threatening. Then again, she wasn't Force-sensitive like the Jedi. She remembered how Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon sensed danger a mile away. So, she took Anakin's word and tightened her hold on the wheel, focused on her driving. In cast she had to do some spectacular driving.

Anakin raised his stun blaster, still looking up. Master Yoda drew out his lightsaber. "Skywalker, stay down."

Satine heard the noise. The power of jet packs alerted her that Death Watch located them. Satine peaked up and spotted three Mandalorian fighters flying over them, blasters in hand. Satine thrusted the controllers forward and the speeder surged, the speed overcoming as the buildings around them blurred.

Death Watch careened down after them, firing at the ship.

"Steady the speeder," Master Yoda called to Satine.

That was what she was trying to do. She held a tight control of the wheel, barely driving sanely at an insane speed. The snap hiss of a lightsaber being ignited brought a formable memory of Obi-Wan using his lightsaber to block off bolts aimed carefully at her head. She imagined Master Yoda to be just as talented.

Bolts came whizzing past her, causing her hand to slip and jerk the speeder. Close calls! She looked back to Anakin, watching his stay crouched in his seat, stun blaster aimed. Anakin fired a few shots up at the Mandalorians as Master Yoda did his best to block the bolts that came for them.

"Lose them before more arrive to aid their friends, we must," Master Yoda called over his shoulder.

Satine agreed. They didn't need a whole party to join them. But she wasn't capable of out maneuvering the fighters. She was never a good driver. Obi-Wan told her often enough she should never be behind a wheel. She checked Anakin to see how he was—

Anakin! She remembered him being an excellent pilot. The boy blew up the Trade Federation in an unfamiliar ship. Obi-Wan even vouched for his piloting skills.

Satine knew what to do. "Anakin!"

Anakin flashed his eyes to her. Satine gestured to the wheel. "Take the wheel!" she ordered. "Head northeast."

Anakin understood and slipped under to take over the driving as Satine shifted to the other seat. She took up Anakin's stun blaster. Anakin grabbed the wheel, holding firm and looking ahead with concentrated eyes.

"Do you know how to work that?" Anakin yelled over the roaring sounds of bolts and engine.

"I do."

"But you're a pacifist!"

"I may be a pacifist," Satine started as she took aim up at the Mandalorian fighters that drew nearer. She took careful aim, getting the Mandalorian right in her sight. "But I will defend myself and others."

She pulled the trigger. Her bolt skyrocketed up and slammed into her target. The Mandalorian plummeted. Satine recharged the blaster. Master Yoda spun his green lightsaber in a flurry of parries and slashes that almost acted more like a lightshow rather than a defensive strategy. She was dazzled by how agile and quick he caught those bolts with her lightsaber. A zing echoing in the wind upon each counterstrike. No wonder Obi-Wan admired the ancient Jedi.

Satine heard her blaster fully charged and took aim again. They had two to fight off. Only two. Anakin weaved in and out of buildings with easy and gentle twist of his wrist. He was in complete control—in the zone and undisturbed by the raging force he drove. No fear. No anxiety. This was child's play for him.

Satine fired a round of bolts up at the Mandalorian, but each bolt missed the targets. Frustrated, she had to recharge the blaster, leaving Master Yoda as their only line of defense for a moment. But he was being overwhelmed that a stray bolt passed his shield and hit Satine.

Satine cried out. She slumped back into the speeder as she squeezed her arm. Blood speckling her sleeves, drawing her skin pale. The speeder jerked and Anakin's voice penetrated through the haze of pain. "Satine! Satine!"

She craned her head up. Anakin had forgotten the road. Blue, frozen eyes locked on her with a desperate desire to help her. But, Satine couldn't let him. He needed to pilot them to the spaceport. She regathered herself, masking the pain with a stoic, determined façade for Anakin's benefit.

"I'm all right," she reassured Anakin. "Just a graze."

"But—"

"Its okay, Anakin," she insisted, blood seeping through her sleeves and trickling down her arm, forming a red line down the crevices of her knuckles. "Focus on the lane. Get us out of here."

Anakin numbly nodded and returned to piloting. Satine took up position, the blaster ready. She fired off a few more bolts and got one hit on the jetpack carrying the Mandalorian. The jetpack smoked and the fighter managed to pilot itself to a nearby rooftop.

Now they were down to one.

For only a second though.

Master Yoda grew tired. "Enough of this."

When the Mandalorian fired its bolt at Yoda, he parried the bolt at a specific angle. The bolt wasn't absorbed or redirected. It ricocheted against Master Yoda's green blade and charged right back at the flying Mandalorian. It struck the Mandalorian in the chest and the last enemy fluttered on its jetpack before crashing head first into a nearby building.

Satisfied, Master Yoda sat back down upon his seat. "Coming, more are, but ahead, we are," he said. "To the hanger and get the next ship right away, go straight to."

The Duchess absorbed all that happened, but numbly nodded in Master Yoda's decision. Anakin followed Satine's directions and they came upon the international spaceport. Death Watch were not present as upon arriving. They were greeted by the Duchess' loyal supporters, pilots and patrols alike.

"Duchess! You're alive! We heard about the attack on the palace," a worried supporter voiced.

"You're injured!" came another cry. "Where's the medkit?"

"Duchess! You're safe! Death Watch—"

Satine nodded to all of them, acknowledging their concern for her well-being. "Death Watch is indeed attacking the capital," Satine responded, scanning for a pilot. "I need a ship right away."

One of the pilots at the spaceport nodded at once. "Yes, Duchess," he said. "We have one ready just in case of these emergencies."

Never say a Mandalorian wasn't ready for the unexpected. Satine, Anakin and Master Yoda followed the pilot to a small carrier. It wasn't flashy or grand. A good undercover ship to hide from attacking enemies. The Duchess was content.

"Thank you," Satine said to the pilot as the mechanics on the floor started preparations for its departure. "Is there enough fuel to get to Coruscant?"

"Yes, Duchess," came the swift response of the pilot. "Is that where we are heading to?"

"Not we," Satine corrected the pilot and then gestured to Master Yoda and Anakin. "Them."

Anakin shot his head. "What?" he exclaimed, doubt lingering in the words that he spoke as if he didn't quite hear her right. "No… no, you're coming with me. Right?"

Satine gravely shook her head. Pieces of her heart flicking off. "I can't Anakin. I have to stay with my people."

Anakin stared crazily at her. "You can't! They'll kill you!"

It was a possibility. But, she could not abandon her people to the fate Senator Merrik promised. She would not let that happen without resistance. "If I leave, then Mandalore will fall and many more innocents will die," Satine said to reason with Anakin.

It didn't work. "They'll kill you!" Anakin said louder, his eyes growing bigger and wetter. Cheeks flushed with hot veins of fear ripe inside him. "Don't stay."

Satine drew in a deep breath through her nostrils, containing the sadness that blued her soul. "I cannot leave my people to a fate worse than death, Anakin," she said, taking a knee to speak to him directly. "What kind of leader am I if I flee upon first site of a challenge? I will not let Mandalore fall into the hands of these terrorists. I fear if I leave, then everything Mandalore has done to achieve peace will be lost forever."

She placed her hands on either side of Anakin. "There is nothing more than I would like to do than to go with you," she said her words raw with truth and trouble. "But I cannot. I have my duty to my people… and to you. You must go with Master Yoda to Coruscant. It's your best chance."

Anakin shook his head. "No—I'll stay with you. I'll help you free Mandalore," Anakin clung onto Satine's hand. His grip crushed Satine's bones. "Like I did for Naboo."

"These people are not the viceroy from the Trade Federation. They are not easily frightened," Satine warned him. Death Watch were mighty warriors who lusted for blood and violence.

"I'm not afraid!"

Satine knew that. The young were never afraid. Invincible and immortal, the young believed. And that was how the young died. Satine maternally stroked Anakin's cheek, rubbing away some dirt. "I know," she said with her best attempt at a smile despite the bitter tears rising. "But, I made a promise to Obi-Wan that I would keep you safe. Do not make me break that promise."

Anakin chest rose in giant waves. Hot air escaping his parted mouth. "But… I don't want to leave you."

"You have to," Satine urged. "You must go, Anakin."

"But I—"

Master Yoda's gimer stick hit the floor like a gavel. "We need to go now."

She nodded and gently pushed Anakin toward the opened ramp of the ship. "Go, Anakin! Go!"

Anakin dug his feet, resisting. "Come with me! Please!"

"My people need me."

"I need you!" sobbed Anakin. Tears streamed down his rosy cheeks, mingling with the dirt that it almost looked like Anakin's tears were black.

The bitter rivalry of duty and love. Satine experienced all once before and left her scarred and bleeding. All stoic passivity forgone in favor of a broken expression. She thought watching Obi-Wan leave her was the worst thing she would ever feel. No—this was much worse. Despair had blackened her heart, leaving her in shivers as she failed to smile through the agony that coursed her very veins. Her blood like ice as she gave one last hug to Anakin Skywalker. That brilliant boy!

"Be brave, Anakin. Have courage in your heart and be good," she murmured in his ears. "We shall see each other again." Her words barely came out as she broke away, rising to her feet. "Now… go. Please? For me—please go!"

Sniffling, Anakin begrudgingly went up the ramp. His body was shaking. Satine didn't know if he was cold or contorting from withheld sobs. She didn't ask. She stood off to the side and watched with distressing hope as Master Yoda lead Anakin up through the last steps of the ramp. There was so much sorrow in the boy.

The ramp rose up, closing to seal its passengers for safe keeping. Before it sealed, Satine saw one last speck of blonde-brown hair and a cry, "Satine!"

The ramp sealed shut. The engines revved and the gravity locks were released. The ship hummed and wobbled as it rose in the air. The hanger steamed as the lights on the ship came to full power. Satine watched the ship hoover for a split second and then, in a blink of an eye, zoomed out of the hanger's wide opening.

As the ship skyrocketed to the sky and into space, Satine related to how Obi-Wan felt on that last day on Naboo. She had thought she burned her heart on that pyre when Obi-Wan departed from Mandalore all those years ago. She thought she was safe from pain. From true pain! But, she was utterly wrong. Witnessing Anakin's tears streak his face as he called her name from the ramp, struck her heart in the most lethal way possible. She watched as the closest thing she had to a son be shipped away for his own protection, but already she was doused with regret and yearning and relief and hope. She wanted to hold Anakin one more time in her arms. One more time. But she knew even that would not be enough. She had to let him go. Obi-Wan entrusted her with Anakin's safety and she fulfilled it. She sent him far away, under the protection of the most powerful Jedi in the galaxy.

Anakin was safe and yet she cried all the same.

Obi-Wan woke to a splitting headache. He pressed his hand to his forehead to subdue the lingering agony that prickled across his forehead. Cautious, he peeled back a sliver of his eyelids, too heavy to open fully, and received a backlash of bright lights. He twisted away, pulling the sheets over his head.

Something stirred and Obi-Wan's sheet was being pulled away from his head. "Don't do that," came a worried voice overhead. The sheets slipped through Obi-Wan's fingers, light pressuring against his closed eyes. "You won't be able to breathe well under there."

Carefully, Obi-Wan opened his eyes, blinking rapidly to absorb the light. The brightness overtook him for a few seconds, but his world smoothed out and darkened, and everything turned crystal clear. He was back in his room, an opened book on the bed. Obi-Wan quizzically stared at it. He did not remember falling asleep while reading. His eyes trailed along the edge of the bed, coming to a sudden halt when he discovered Qui-Gon sitting on the edge, looking down at him with flickers of concern shadowing his eyes.

Something happened. Obi-Wan rose up, head pounding against his skull in rebellion. He winced, falling back against the headboard. Qui-Gon guided him back to a horizontal position. "Don't move, Obi-Wan," he strongly advised. "Take your time."

Obi-Wan groaned. His head hurt so much. "Master?" he mumbled. "My head hurts…"

"I know," Qui-Gon said quietly and regretfully. "It'll go away in good time, but you need to stop moving."

Obi-Wan flipped his eyes up at Qui-Gon. "What happened?" he queried. He couldn't remember. There was a blackout in his vault of memories. "Argh… I did something stupid, didn't I?"

Qui-Gon chuckled at that comment, shaking his head lightly. "Somewhat, but that's all in the past," he said. "You'll come out of it all right."

"What did I do?"

"You did something brilliant," Qui-Gon answered and he patted Obi-Wan's cheek. "Rest, young one. We'll talk more later."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "I'm not tired," he protested. "I just need this headache to go away."

"Then sleep."

The Force suggestion crept underneath his shield. It swarmed him and drugged his mind to looney. His eyes flickered open and closed, drifting as he became sluggish. He hated that feeling. It made him feel useless and vulnerable. He was losing control and he would have allowed it if something in the back of his mind didn't scrambled to stay awake.

He rocked his head. Awake and then sleepily and then he turned alert. He slid his eyes from the ceiling to Qui-Gon, studying his Master's portfolio. Impulsively, he used the Force to reach for his master's presence. It always brought him relief to sense the warming and compassionate Jedi's presence.

But he didn't feel it.

It was something else.

A layer of ice greeted him, a shimmy of shivers running down his spine. Then a wave of scorched heat of passion and fear burned into him. It hurt that Obi-Wan retracted his presence away like he touched scaling water.

That was not the presence of his master. No, it was much darker and crueler…

His blank memories suddenly became colorful. Flashes of recollections fluttered through his mind, fickle emotions joined in as Obi-Wan seized upon the upload. He cringed, clutching the sides of his head.

"Obi-Wan!" Qui-Gon's voice came barraging down on him. "Don't move!"

He remembered being strapped down on a gurney. Poked and prodded by a droid before spiraling into an array of tortured sessions. Unable to move. Unable to escape as he endured engulfing agony. He was ripped physically and spiritually. Even the sanctuary of the Force did not save him from such brutality.

A hand fell on his sternum, holding him done. "Calm yourself."

Obi-Wan swiped Qui-Gon's hand off him and scrambled to get out of bed. Qui-Gon stopped him by catching his arms in an iron grip. Obi-Wan struggled to get out, throwing himself side to side in hoping Qui-Gon would relent.

He did not. "Stop, Obi-Wan!" he commanded. "Stop!" He sighed frustratingly at Obi-Wan's refusal. "I'll help you sit up, but you must not move! Okay? Can you do that?"

Obi-Wan, chest heaving from the hot air building up in his lungs, glared. After a moment of staring down at each other, Obi-Wan conceded. He would play the obedient prisoner until a better chance of rebellion arose.

Qui-Gon gradually eased Obi-Wan into a sitting position. He used the Force to slide a pillow behind Obi-Wan's back before he cautiously leaned Obi-Wan onto it. "There," Qui-Gon said, satisfied as he passed a glass to Obi-Wan. "Here. This will help you with the headache."

Obi-Wan didn't accept it. For all he knew, it was drugged.

Qui-Gon sensed his distrust. He raised the glass to his lips and took a drink. He swallowed. "It's only water."

He passed the glass back to Obi-Wan. But he didn't take it. "No thank you," he said, as his mind pounded like they heavy drumline in the Naboo celebration parade. "I do not wish to catch an illness."

"Don't be difficult, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon chided him. "What did I teach you? Accept help when needed."

"But don't accept if it requires you to forgo your beliefs or morals," Obi-Wan added.

"Did I ask for anything in return, young one?"

A bile of anger lashed out from Obi-Wan's tongue in an accusatory tone. "You tortured me!" he accused, wincing as his shout reverberated his already battered mind. "You purposefully hurt me!"

"I didn't want to," Qui-Gon offered as his condolence.

It was not enough for Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon kept telling him he was safe and that he wasn't in danger. But he lied. Deceit was the way of the Sith. Obi-Wan should have known better. Qui-Gon didn't truly care about him.

Obi-Wan huffed and crossed his arms. "Yet you did it anyway," he spat. "What did you even do to me?"

Qui-Gon shifted himself on the bed, moving the book aside. "Nothing damaging," he said, brushing it away. "You might feel a bit sore or scattered, but that will go away in time."

"What. Did. You. Do?" Obi-Wan emphasized every word. No more distractions. No more lies. He wanted the truth. He remembered seeing Anakin, speaking to him through the Force. It was impossible for him to do so though. He was too far away to contact Anakin through their bond. It wasn't possible.

Qui-Gon sighed to begin his long explanation. "The procedure you underwent targeted your midichlorians and… strengthened them," he illuminated for Obi-Wan. "With that enhancement, you were able to expand your Force bond with Anakin. Meaning, you were able to connect with his mind from parsecs away."

Obi-Wan's heart banged against his ribs in frightful fear. "You… experimented on me?"

"No! No no no… no," Qui-Gon shook his head. "We didn't manipulate your midichlorians. We simply targeted the ones that were being unused." Qui-Gon rubbed his beard in thought. "Short version is that the procedure unveiled your full potential. As you are probably very much aware, you and Anakin share one of the strongest Force bonds to ever exist. Mainly because of your combined midichlorian count.

"Nonetheless, it's strong and the procedure helped you realize that full strength," Qui-Gon clarified. "That full potential that you keep under lock and key. Go ahead! Try something. You'll see that it is far easier than you're used to."

Obi-Wan took Qui-Gon's word for it. He did feel more connected to the Force than he did before, but he only thought it was because it was his only safe companion in the room.

"Not going try? Are you trying to spite me?" Qui-Gon inquired.

"No, Qui-Gon. Not everything I do or don't do has anything to do with you," Obi-Wan grunted, defiant as he looked at Qui-Gon in the eyes. "I am simply taking your word for it."

Qui-Gon looked grateful. "Your headache will go away soon," he promised. "Then you can get up and move around again. Maybe even spar a little bit."

Only to fight his way out of this death trap, Obi-Wan thought. Headache still wrecking his concentration, he revisited his first ruling on that glass of water and asked Qui-Gon to pass it over. Qui-Gon willingly handed him the water and Obi-Wan drank it in full.

Almost immediately he began to feel better and the drumming in his head receded little by little. He sighed in relief as he tipped his head back against the headboard. "What happens next?"

"What do you mean?" Qui-Gon asked.

"I assume that there will be another round of torture," Obi-Wan said casually and caustically. Like being tortured was the daily norm for him. "I'm sure Dooku would like to have a turn."

"It's Count Dooku," Qui-Gon reminded Obi-Wan. On Serenno, Dooku was a count and prided himself on such nobility. Obi-Wan, however, believed only the noble hearted deserved respective titles. But it was best to go along with the delusion than to be struck by lightning.

Qui-Gon readjusted himself and the bed dipped toward where he moved. "And no, he's not interested in torturing you at the moment. He's busy."

"Deluding the Jedi Order and the Republic?" snarked Obi-Wan. "Playing the good, honorable Jedi despite the cracks showing in his visage?"

"No," Qui-Gon said with a shake of his head. "He's busy making arrangements for Anakin's arrival."

And Obi-Wan's heart plunged into an icy lake in the middle of winter season on Hoth. "What?"

"We learned of Anakin's location," Qui-Gon responded. "We are fetching for him now. In fact, I wouldn't be surprise if he was on his way home right now."

Obi-Wan's fist curled the fabric of his blanket into this palm. "You're lying."

"I'm not."

It was a lie. Some kind of trick to get him to release Anakin's location. Neither Anakin nor Satine were in danger. They were safe. He knew it. Qui-Gon was lying to him. Obi-Wan pulled his lips in, right into a taut, straight line. The vault of secrets locked, secured by heavy shielding. Dubious, but the relaxed confidence Qui-Gon radiated nudged Obi-Wan with specks of fear fluttering though the Force.

Qui-Gon leaned down slightly so that they were at eye level. A manner of either respect or dominance. Obi-Wan was certain Qui-Gon was going for the latter. A demonstration to show a mightier hand than the one Obi-Wan clutched.

With a knowing, light grin, Qui-Gon began the game. "Tell me then," he said. "How is the Duchess these days?"

The circulation to Obi-Wan's heart froze. Not even a breath escaped his part mouth. A rippling shock paralyzed his body, soul and mind. An impossibility!

Yet, Qui-Gon sat with a righteous smirk tugging the corners of his beard. A glittering of the eyes that bespoke he knew very well of all that occurred. But, Obi-Wan had to dismiss that notion for Satine and Anakin's sake. He must pretend. To deny everything and anything Qui-Gon threw at him. For their safety, he must lie!

"I don't know," Obi-Wan said with a shrug, trying to convey ignorance. "Haven't seen her in years."

That only made Qui-Gon smile widened, a clever arch of the brow folded lines along his forehead. "Really? Not even when she visited Naboo a few nights ago?"

Obi-Wan's tried to quell his racing heart and keep his fickle emotions from highlighting his eyes. "Did she? I wasn't aware."

Qui-Gon relinquished a long sigh and rubbed his face. "Obi-Wan… it's over," he tiredly insisted. "We got visual confirmation that Anakin is on Mandalore. We sent a team to extract him. I'm certain he'll be here in maybe an hour or two. That's if everything went to according to plan."

All the ice inside Obi-Wan thawed into a combustion of hot geyser. His heart panged unruly against his bony chest upon the haunting realization that both Satine and Anakin were in danger. Forgetting decorum and civility, Obi-wan lunged at Qui-Gon. He had got his hands wrapped around Qui-Gon's neck. They toppled off the bed, the sheets twisting around Obi-Wan's legs. Qui-Gon landed on his back, Obi-Wan on top and face burning.

No words spilled out. The fear and anger rumbled together in a blackout fight that silenced all thoughts, all reasoning. All Obi-Wan wanted to do was stop the madness. To stop them from harming Satine and Anakin.

It didn't happen. While he caught Qui-Gon off guard with his lunge, Qui-Gon quickly rebounded and overtook him. He rolled Obi-Wan off him, snapped an arm behind his back and kept him pressed to the floor. Obi-Wan wiggled to get out of the grip, but then surrendered with limp limbs.

Qui-Gon still held him there. "What did I say about moving?" he chastised with disapproval. "Now—are you going to behave properly or do I need to give you a good swatting?"

Obi-Wan fumed at the belittling treatment, but acquiesced to behaving. Qui-Gon released his arm and helped him off the floor. He tried to guide Obi-Wan back to the bed, but Obi-Wan pivoted from the bed. He swayed himself over to the opposite side, placing the bed strategically in the middle as a border of protection.

"Why won't you leave him alone?" Obi-Wan beseechingly questioned. "He's only a boy!"

"He's a boy now," Qui-Gon pointed out, "but some day, he's going to grow up and become the most powerful Force-sensitive in the galaxy. He needs proper training and instruction in the Force."

"He needs a caring, healthy environment to grow!" Obi-Wan challenged. "You and Dooku only want to corrupt his mind so that he can be your attack dog!"

Qui-Gon mouth pulled as he thinned his lips. Certainly not pleased by the description as he evenly responded with his own allegation. "What of you, Obi-Wan? What were your plans for Anakin?"

"I was giving Anakin his best chance at a life he deserved!"

"And that includes squandering his potential?" Qui-Gon countered with a snap retort. "Just so you could play house with the Duchess?"

Obi-Wan recoiled from Qui-Gon's words. But he didn't cower. He held himself steady, every muscle nerve ready to spring into action as he steely gazed at the Sith Lord. "My friendship with the Duchess—"

Qui-Gon swatted Obi-Wan's words with a dismissive wave. "You don't need to lie to me. I know, Obi-Wan," he said as his tone gotten softer around the edges. "I know of your feelings for her."

The words tumbled off his tongue in a flaring denial despite his attempt to remain steady and impassive. "I don't know what you are talking about."

Qui-Gon's Force signature pressured against Obi-Wan's shield, attempting to slide underneath he dome he created. But it was to no avail. Obi-Wan held firm. Not ruffled by the rebuff, Qui-Gon hooked his fingers on his belt, pensive and calm. "You always had a vulnerable heart," Qui-Gon simply said like he was telling Obi-Wan the sky was blue. "I've always known about your affair."

Obi-Wan felt heat rising up on the back of his neck. He couldn't have known. He was careful. They were careful! Yet, Qui-Gon knew. Despite Obi-Wan's efforts to hide his growing affection for Satine, Qui-Gon learned of his love for the Mandalorian Duchess.

The Sith Lord noted Obi-Wan acceptance of the truth. No more lies or denials to obstacle over. Qui-Gon continued speaking. "In fact, I supported it," he said with eyes alight as he freely gestured to Obi-Wan with a head tilt. "She was a gift to you after all."

What?

"A gift?" Obi-Wan tripped over the word like it was foreign to him.

Qui-Gon affirmed with a single nod. "You were lonely, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said as a way to explain, taking a step forward. "Sulking around the palace and always asking to return to Coruscant to see friends." He let out a small sigh before adding. "But that couldn't happen for obvious reasons."

Every step Qui-Gon took forward, Obi-Wan took one backwards. The Sith Lord caught the unease and settled to a stop, offering no more intrusion. He continued his tale. "I realized that you were a teenager with certain needs," he carried on, oblivious to the reddening cheeks that crept back on Obi-Wan's face. "When the Council passed along the Mandalore mission, I immediately accepted upon Dooku's approval.

"The mission required us to protect the young Duchess—a teenager of the same age! It was perfect," Qui-Gon said, sounding happy and relieved. But then he resigned. "Of course the two of you stumbled. Tempers flared and for a moment, I reconsidered the whole situation and have Dooku pick you up.

"But then, things simmered between you and the Duchess and… well, something blossomed," Qui-Gon's tensed worry fell with a sigh. "I excused myself multiple times to allow you and the Duchess some alone time. And while away, I established a business deal with the people that now formally call themselves Death Watch."

Qui-Gon leaned heavily against the bed's footboard, turning his head to look squarely at Obi-Wan. "The mission was a success overall," he concluded with a glittering pride swelling in his Force presence. "We established allies within Mandalore. Death Watch through my negotiations and the Duchess's reign through you. And on the plus side, you got to experience true companionship.

"So—yes," Qui-Gon finally said to erase any lingering doubt. "Duchess Satine was a gift to you so that you wouldn't feel so lonely anymore."

Obi-Wan had no words to say. The confession—the knowledge!—was like a double punch to the gut and face. He had visibly jerked back from Qui-Gon, stumbling on his legs. Horror constricted him like an ugly dianoga snaking up over his chest and squeezing him to death. He nearly lost his vitality from the shocking tale.

He thought back to Satine. She was her own supernova that kept him warm during cold nights. The sun to his moon for she carried sweet, loving moments. Her image alone brought a spark of life to him. His love for her was pure and golden. A bright band of light in the Force.

But, devastating details of Qui-Gon's story brought a dark cloud to his light. Suddenly, Satine's warm image faded to grey, leaving a desolate shadow. Every happy memory was tainted. The rich and pure light grew heavy. A dark tentacle wrapping every last ray of hope and love and happiness and twisting into a disfigured mess.

Everything about his love for Satine was now tainted with the Dark Side.

Breathing unsteadily, Obi-Wan reached a hand to the wall as his last grasp on gravity. "Y-You manipulated me," he muttered, still reining from the news. "You… you used me!"

Qui-Gon rose from the bed's frame. "No—all I did was give you a chance to love. To indulge in a bit of passion."

Breathe. Keep breathing. "You accepted the mission in hopes I would get laid?" he said, a brewing hailstorm funneling within the Force. "In hopes that my love would twist my thinking in agreement with yours?"

Qui-Gon must have sensed the thunderous anger. His tone was gentle and soft, like a song floating through the wind. "I only wanted to show you what the Jedi were denying you. There is more to life—more to the Force!—than what the Jedi preach."

The room started to close in on him, pushing him into a tight corner with little to no chance of escaping. His shoulders drooped and his skin prickled as blood went cold. The Dark Side was circling him.

Qui-Gon looked concerned. "You're pale," he observed. "Come! Let's get you back to the bed—"

Obi-Wan snapped back from Qui-Gon's grasp. "All this time, I've been nothing more than a pawn," he said in long draughts of breaths meant to keep his voice from cracking. "You used me! You played on my heart!"

"I did no such thing," Qui-Gon quietly argued. "I only opened it to possibilities."

"So that I may wound myself and bleed," snapped Obi-Wan, the storm awakening. "That's what you wanted right? For me to fall in love with her and then when it was time to leave, become resentful and angry. To blame the Jedi for my misery."

An irritated sigh huffed out from Qui-Gon. "I never told you anything about her," he reminded his old padawan. "Did I ever discouraged you from loving her? No. I did not. The Jedi would have, but I did not."

Another manipulation. Obi-Wan shook his head in distraught. It hurt. It hurt so much to feel. It spun around him like a tight cocoon, sealing him up in a battered shell. Every hit struck accurately and powerfully. Enough to leave him a bruise in the Force.

Qui-Gon had officially twisted every good thing he had and tainted it. He destroyed everything Obi-Wan loved and believed in. Nothing gold stayed.

Slowly, Obi-Wan lifted his head, tormented. "Why do you hate me?"

The mercurial shift in Qui-Gon was surprising. Perturbed leapt in his eyes as he stared wounded from the blow of Obi-Wan's desperate cry. "I-I don't hate you, Obi-Wan," he stammered, still overcome by the accusation. "How could you say that? Everything I have ever done was for you. You don't see it now, but you will soon. I promise!"

Promise. Qui-Gon once promise to uphold the Jedi Code, to instruct a padawan into Knighthood and to have compassion. He didn't keep a single one. Obi-Wan doubted he could keep another.

Still trembling and straining from the agony that tore him apart, Obi-Wan retreated from Qui-Gon. "You're a monster," he uttered and Qui-Gon's flamed eyes extinguished into a somber pool. "I don't know who you are anymore. I-I guess I never did."

Qui-Gon didn't give up. "I'm still the same master—"

"No, you're not!" Obi-Wan shouted. His voice a whip cracking the room to silence. "My master would never torture me like this. He cared about my well-being. He had compassion!" He had no strength to keep speaking. Not to this monster. The Sith Lord only fed on his despair and it hardly affected him. At last, Obi-Wan only had a few parted words left for a man he cared to never see again.

"Get out."

Qui-Gon favored him with a censorious brow. "You have no authority to eject me."

A futile attempt. Obi-Wan knew he had no actual claim to command the Sith Lord of anything. But it was what he desperately needed. So, he had to make his own. "Fine," he came his stiff response.

Obi-Wan had retreated far enough to leap into the refresher in time before Qui-Gon could stop him. Obi-Wan slapped the pad with his palm and watched the refresher door shut in Qui-Gon's face. Obi-Wan quickly locked it and backed away toward the shower. With no vitality in his limbs left to hold him up, Obi-Wan collapsed on the tiled floor, scooting back to the furthest corner of the small refresher. He climbed into the shower and closed the sliding, window door with a flick of his hand.

He could hear Qui-Gon pounding on the door, demanding him to open it. Obi-Wan would not. He would not let that monster in his only sanctuary. Funny. The refresher had now become Obi-Wan's only escapism. His only refuge within the dark palace.

Maybe not funny. No, it was sad. Very sad.

Obi-Wan shivered, pulling his legs close to his chest. He would never feel warm again. Everything was gone. His love for Satine… once pure and full of light had been touched by darkness, black ink corrupting the fine shine. Everything he held close to his heart had rotten, turned to dust, and left him an empty shell.

There was nothing left for Obi-Wan to do other than quietly mourn his loss.