Chapter 33: Folly

"Again."

Obi-Wan lurched to his feet, surveying the fight once more. After only spending an hour with S, he was dragged back to the training salle. Unlike last night, Obi-Wan was given a wooden stick to defend himself. Qui-Gon had one as well, spinning it in his hand as he waited for O to readjust his sparring position.

Readied, they dueled again. They got in a handful of strikes before Qui-Gon smacked Obi-Wan's back and knocked him to the floor once more.

"Again!" Qui-Gon shouted, face burning red not out of exhaustion but in frustration. "Focus Obi-Wan! A first year padawan can do this."

Obi-Wan pushed off the floor, rising to his unsteady feet. The discarded wooden stick flew to his hand at command as he walked back to the same position. Qui-Gon spoke the truth. A first year padawan could easily perform these maneuvers and tricks. Obi-Wan knew he could out-perform Qui-Gon in these duels, but his heart wasn't in it and his mind preoccupied with thoughts of escape. Ever since leaving S, his mind spun out countless routes and endless consequences.

Lined up again, he raised the staff to signal another bout of sparring. And as the same before, he ended up losing his own staff and having Qui-Gon's staff cutting across his throat.

"Solah," he mumbled and moved to gather his staff.

Qui-Gon tapped his staff against Obi-Wan's chest to stop him. "Your mind wanders," he accused. "Emotions clouding your focus."

"Or I'm out of practice."

Qui-Gon was not amused. "What's troubling your mind?" he asked, lowering his staff.

"Too many things to consider."

Qui-Gon fingered his beard. "Your concerns for the Duchess are well-wasted," he said, going straight to the point of his troubles. "She's perfectly safe."

Obi-Wan shot a doubtful look. "Your brand of hospitality is something to be left desirable."

"It's not our hospitality that's being given," Qui-Gon said, holding his staff upright. "If you wish for her to be unharmed, then she'll be unharmed. It's that simple."

"I learned, a long time ago, that things are never quite simple."

Qui-Gon resigned with a nod, brows drawn together with thought. "Close your eyes."

"What?"

"Humor me," Qui-Gon said. "Close your eyes."

"I'd rather not."

"Close your eyes," Qui-Gon commanded, a flicker of warning shared between the two.

With a scoff, Obi-Wan closed his eyes. The loss of his sight made him guarded. His limbs rigid in preparation for an assault against him. He took a few shallow breaths to release his emotions, but they strung around him, relentless of not wanting to be tossed aside.

As he quelled his mind, Qui-Gon's voice sung around him. "Focus on the Duchess," he instructed. "Use the Force to sense her."

Obi-Wan sensed her. Her anger, depression and fear cratered the Force, a tumor growing as the darkness festered in the height of the Dark Side.

Qui-Gon's voice echoed around him. "What do you sense?"

"Sorrow."

"And?"

Obi-Wan's toes curled into the floor. "Anger."

"Is that all?"

"Those two not good enough?" Obi-Wan snarked.

"Don't get angry," Qui-Gon replied, voice calm and steady. "I'm helping you."

"How?" Obi-Wan grumbled, the edges of his mind prickled. "All you managed to do is inform me how miserable my guest is."

He heard a long sigh of weariness. "Breathe, Obi-Wan. Do not let your emotions cloud your better judgment."

Obi-Wan's fingers formed fists, despising Qui-Gon's recital of the Code back to him. For a man who no longer believed in such honor, it was surprising and disturbing to hear him quote it.

Qui-Gon's voice called from behind him. "Please answer—do you sense anything else?"

Obi-Wan hesitated. "No."

"No fear. No danger?"

"No."

"So no fear and no danger," Qui-Gon reiterated and Obi-Wan sensed Qui-Gon circling, studying him. "Then why is your mind troubled with the Duchess?"

Obi-Wan resisted the urge to demean the question. "Is it not our duty as beings to feel compassion for others?"

"Compassion—yes. But do not let it drive you to unreasonable fear," Qui-Gon advised, his footfalls nearly silent against the wood flooring. "Your mind is troubled because of the weight of responsibility. You blame yourself for her predicament, but in all honesty, it could be worse."

At that Obi-Wan snapped his eyes opened. "Could be worse? What's worst than losing your home and freedom?" he challenged, spurts of anger quaking the Force within him. "To know that your own people are being brutally slaughtered!"

Qui-Gon fortified his Force presence. Expression blank and his Force signature muted that Obi-Wan could not pinpoint any feeling or thought running through the SL's mind. They looked at one another, one with power superiority and the other moral superiority. The principles clashed, but no explosion occurred. Obi-Wan's temper bounced off Qui-Gon, like Obi-Wan's reasons to be upset were fatuous.

Their standoff lulled into an overbearing silence. Obi-Wan's temper cooled, all the heat in his face chilled as the currents of the Force gently lapped against the edge of his conscious. He took in a steady breath, and released the bitter taste fron his mouth with a single breath. His hot emotions blowing away with it.

A victorious smirk hid underneath Qui-Gon's beard. "Let's try again," he said, adjusting Obi-Wan to stand directly in front of him. "Close your eyes."

Obi-Wan kept his cold glare on Qui-Gon a little longer before he slipped his eyelids down, trapping him in darkness. The shiver in the Force warned Obi-Wan to be careful. He planted his feet, situating himself to spring in case it was necessary. But the lapping waves along Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan's bond told a different story. One of serenity and gentleness. Trust and...

Obi-Wan banished the thoughts away. Qui-Gon was manipulating him. Again. He kept hold of the dark truth, clinging as it tussled him in the violent storm. A thunderous call erupted from above.

"Clear your mind," came Qui-Gon's voice. "Search the Force."

With nothing better to do, Obi-Wan humored Qui-Gon and meditated as much as he could in the rumbustious Force. The muscles on his face constricted for a moment as he banished the loud noise in his head. Minutes ticked and he found himself plunging into an icy bath until finally everything settle and hot air wasn't burning his lungs. Tranquility brushed against his mind and his muscles all unwound. A hymn of a song floated around him, centering him in peace.

There was no danger or darkness or even fear. All banished away the louder the song played. He listened to it carefully, surprised to recognize the tune. He pursed his lips together, imitating the song he knew from heart. He blew out and his sound joined in the song, blending with the other voice. The Force hummed, cradling him as the song continued. Engulfed and fading into peaceful oblivion...

A snare jerked him, throwing him off his tranquil remedy and back into the frigid cold training salle.

"What are you doing?" came Qui-Gon's sharp voice.

Obi-Wan furrowed his brows. "You told me to clear my head."

Qui-Gon's eyes danced dangerously like fires in a flame. "You were humming."

"So?" Obi-Wan said, baffled by Qui-Gon's sharp tone over a silly melody. "It helps clear my head."

"Where did you hear it?"

"What?"

"The song!" Qui-Gon snatched Obi-Wan's arm. "Where did you hear it? Who taught you that song?"

Obi-Wan sharply inhaled to cover the grimace he felt from the ever increasing pressure underneath Qui-Gon's iron grip. He half expected his bones to shatter any moment. "I don't remember. I… I suppose I heard it when I was young?"

That didn't sated Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan winced at the increased pressure. He quickly scanned his memories, recalling any songs he ever heard until he finally found the answer. "Um... Tahl!" he winced, his breath pitched. "She sang it to me once. Or a few times. I can't remember—my arm…"

Right then Qui-Gon released him. Obi-Wan doubled back, cradling his bruised arm as he assessed the pain. Qui-Gon paced a little, hands pushing back his long mane behind his ears. "Sorry—you simply... surprised me," he uttered and he drew a deep breath, the rigidity of his shoulders evening out. "I had not heard that song in a long time."

Nor Obi-Wan. But for some reason, it came back to him. He heard the song a few days ago too… when he was going in and out of the Force. He heard it then. When he was desperate and helpless.

"I've forgotten it," Obi-Wan confessed with a shrug as he massaged his sore arm. "I mean... I hadn't heard it since she..." Obi-Wan couldn't finish the last his saying. He left it hanging on his lips, brushed away with a simple wipe from the back of his hand. "Are we done here?"

Qui-Gon gestured his hand and Obi-Wan's wooden stick flew up to him. Obi-Wan caught it with, groaning inward as he came to realize it was no over at all. Qui-Gon spun his stick as he squatted in position. "We are done when you beat me."

The droid told her multiple times that she was an honored guest at the palace. She had free reign to go wherever she pleased, including going into the city to shop and dine. But Satine had no heart to play along with the charade. She knew exactly what she was and she refused to be a part of their manipulation. She opted to stay in her room, having meals carted to her. Glancing at the time, it had been five hours since she last saw Obi-Wan. They were together for a short time before the droids took him away.

She didn't remain idle though. In the hours left in solitude, she poured over the room, looking for anything useful in a possible escape. Her initial glance told her enough that an escape from the bedroom was impossible. It didn't surprise her at all. Not when she realized it was originally Obi-Wan's room prior to her arrival. The Siths would make a luxurious room a prison trap.

As she combed through her mind on other possible routes, the door to her room wisp opened. She darted to the far side of the room, worried that it may be an unpleasant person.

She raised her guard, composed and showing no sign of fear as the person stepped through the threshold.

A beat.

"What did I do this time?"

It was only Obi-Wan. And the look on his face showed signs of exhaustion and pain. Satine brought down her guard and hurried over to him. "Nothing. I thought you were someone else."

That brought some life back into his eyes. "Who? Did someone come and see you?"

Satine shook her head. "No... just a droid. I only worried it may have been someone else."

Obi-Wan exhaled, relieved. "No, it's only me."

He walked over to her and Satine caught a waft of strong odor circulating in the air. "You smell like a dead bantha."

The comment jostled a rumbustious laugh. "Excuse me, my dear," he apologized, that smirk etched on his face. "I'll return to the quarantine area." He walked around Satine, heading straight to the refresher.

He showered quickly. Hardly five minutes after he walked through the door, Obi-Wan came out with floppy wet hair and smelled like vanilla. Or something equivalent to that scent. He handed the towel off to the cleaning droid that zipped into the room and out of the room in a flash.

"Curious droid," Satine murmured as Obi-Wan came back to her side. "How did it know you were taking a shower?"

Obi-Wan shrugged. "I imagine my privacy is very limited. Probably can't even cough without everyone here knowing." Obi-Wan slid into a chair, releasing a sigh of relief as he did. He looked back to Satine. "How was your day?"

"Nothing to rave about."

"Are they treating you well?"

"No, but that is expected when one is a prisoner," Satine said, crossing her arms as she glared about the room. When her eyes landed on Obi-Wan, she relented. "They haven't hurt me since that night, if that is what you mean."

Obi-Wan lowered his eyes, a whistling of breath. "That's... that's good."

Satine arched a fine brow. "And you? What have you been doing?"

The laugh lines turned to scars as Obi-Wan fell back, stiff. "Training."

"For what?" She didn't know why she asked. The answer was quite obviously, but it slipped off her tongue readily. Perhaps because she secretly hoped he would give her a different answer.

Obi-Wan's eyes twinkled in amusement. "You know the answer."

Her shoulders sagged, hunched in defeat. "I hoped to be wrong," she dropped her hands to her knees. "They didn't—"

"Let's not worry about me," Obi-Wan waved away her concern. "Let's focus on you. I can keep trying to renegotiate your release, but... I doubt they will budge from it."

Satine began to speak, but then stopped. She glanced about the room, searching for any hidden holocameras. She wondered if they were listening to them now. Most likely. "Then let's not speak of it at all."

Obi-Wan understood what she meant. He always did… well, most of the time. "We could—"

The sharp hiss of the doors opening distracted whatever Obi-Wan was going to say next. They both snapped their attention to the doors, watching Magnaguards march into the room. Satine stiffened at the sight while Obi-Wan only acted exasperated. He rose to his feet and met the guards halfway, placing him strategically in front of Satine.

"What message do you bring?" he asked.

"Count Dooku demands you report to him."

Satine couldn't see his face, but the way his shoulder went rigid told her enough to know he's not pleased. "Did he say why?"

"You are to report to him. Immediately."

The droids upheld the secrecy and Obi-Wan cursed under his breath. "Oh, all right," he grumbled and turned to Satine. "I'll return as soon as I can."

As he moved away, heading for the door, she almost cried out for him to stop. To not go and leave her alone. Instead, she kept her mouth shut, watching him walk away all over again. The door closed behind him and Satine was alone.

She removed herself from the bed and strolled to the window. Seeing all the wildlife and mountainous range surprised her and, to be truthful, made her envious. She wished Mandalore looked as gorgeous as the view before her. Instead, war rampaged and burned it until it became a desert.

She sighed, dropping her forehead against the cool glass. She breathed, letting out all the tension within her until she inhaled again. A cruel cycle. One minute, she was perfectly fine and the next, all that anger returned and she got the urge to simply jump out the window. Except the window wouldn't open. Unless allowed by the Sith Lords.

Satine trembled at the reminder of who her "hosts" were. She remembered Obi-Wan's stories of the Sith, the death and destruction and power fanatics as she liked to consider them. They had taken her hostage, stringing her life up as promised retribution if Obi-Wan stepped out of line. And Obi-Wan. She could see his sorrow behind his stubborn mask. The way his eyes dimmed into a gloom state upon seeing her as if he personally dragged her to this room. Satine didn't blame him. Well, not once she got her bearings together. She realized he was as much as a hostage as she was. Possibly even worse. The Sith Lords cared little for her. As long as she did not disrupt them, then she basically didn't exist. As for Obi-Wan, there was nothing he could or could not do without someone knowing. Already, fatigue wore him down and he looked far worse than he did on Naboo. Shallow cheeks, weak smile and bags underneath his eyes told Satine everything she feared. Obi-Wan was dying.

She heard the door hiss opened and her heart leapt up again. She spun around, forgoing the view to be with Obi-Wan again. Except it wasn't Obi-Wan.

It was Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon charmed her with a smile before, with a flick of his hand, closed the door behind him. "Good afternoon Duchess," he said, bowing before her. Satine raised a quizzical brow at the gesture. Certainly a Sith Lord would care less to bow to another. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

What was there to interrupt? She was alone and trapped in a room. "You are not."

Qui-Gon looked around for a moment before he opted to sit in the same seat Obi-Wan occupied a few minutes ago. "I came by to check on you," he said, probably seeing the confusion on her face. "I'm sure Obi-Wan visited earlier, but I wanted to make sure you're comfortable."

Satine eyed him, back pressed against the window that the sill uncomfortably jabbed into her spine. She didn't make a move nor did she show any sign of fear. She schooled her features into her regal mask: unemotional and unreadable.

Qui-Gon chuckled. "You have nothing to fear from me, Duchess," he promised. "I won't harm you."

"Until it benefits you, am I correct?"

Qui-Gon's eyebrows rose high on his forehead before they fell back to humorous sketch. "Obi-Wan has certainly told you extravagant tales," he said, reclining in the chair, propping one foot over the knee. "Believe it or not, you will not be harmed by my hand or anyone else here. You are well protected."

"Of course," Satine answered, flippantly. "My padded cell keeps me will confined to venture out."

"You have free reign," Qui-Gon reminded her. "If you like, you may even go into the city."

"With an army of droids, I suppose."

"With bodyguards," Qui-Gon promptly corrected. "It's far too dangerous for a beautiful, young woman like yourself to venture to an unknown city alone."

"I like to think it's the other way around," Satine volleyed back, not appreciating his insinuation.

A smirk twisted the corners of Qui-Gon's mouth. "Ah, yes. A Mandalorian ruler does have a dangerous ring to it," he admitted. "However, I know you Duchess. A pacifist at heart. You won't harm a living soul, which leaves you vulnerable."

"I'm stronger than I look."

"With words, perhaps."

Satine felt her cheeks go scarlet. "And sometimes it only takes a single word to end a war."

"Like 'kill'," Qui-Gon mockingly replied. "Or 'fight', perhaps?"

Satine's face burned. Belittling was what bullies did. No longer interested in battling with the Sith Lord any longer, she crossed her arms and frowned. "What do you want?"

After all, Sith Lords didn't venture into polite conversation without wanting something. And, Satine knew Qui-Gon walked in with a purpose in mind. As to what, she didn't know and it worried her as to what was going through his mind.

Qui-Gon did not feign surprise at her bluntness. It seemed even he was tedious of the dance they had going. "I know you and Obi-Wan are planning ways to escape," he started, cutting straight to business. "I'm here to dissuade you from such folly."

"Folly?" Satine chagrined. "You consider seeking freedom foolish?"

"You will not find freedom if you leave," Qui-Gon warned. "Only death."

"Then you do plan to kill me after all?" Satine sneered. She was not surprised at all to hear this tidbit of news. "If I so try to even flee for Mandalore, you will strike me down."

"Of course not," Qui-Gon dismissed, still sitting casually and unemotional. Cool and apathetic to the emotionally charged Duchess. "Has Obi-Wan not told you?"

"Tell me what?" She didn't like the direction the conversation had turned. What trick did Qui-Gon carry up his robes this time?

Qui-Gon tilted his head, confusion swimming in his eyes until they cleared with comprehension. "Ah… I see he did not. Probably didn't wish to burden you."

Satine grew annoyed at Qui-Gon's lack of forthcoming. "Tell me what?" she repeated.

Qui-Gon folded his arms on his lap, suddenly his face was long and sympathetic. "I'm afraid you won't be able to return to Mandalore. Not with Death Watch in control. They want nothing more than for you to be dead," he passed on the grave news as if it devastated him. The man who let Death Watch loose upon Mandalore. "For your own safety, it is best you remain here under our protection."

Satine was not moved by his benevolent nature. "The only reason I lost Mandalore to Death Watch is because of you."

"And the only reason you ever had Mandalore in the first place is because of me," Q cruelly remarked and Satine thought she saw a flicker of yellow flashing in those blue pools. "Did you really believe it was your pacifist views that crowned you? That you won your seat because you chose to remain non-violent?"

Satine went to retort, but Qui-Gon cut her off. "You only had your crown because of myself and Obi-Wan. We won a war for you. We even killed for you," he growled. There was no mistaking the yellow poison that streamed into his eyes like lava flowing into an ocean. "You dirty others' hands with blood so that you may keep yours clean. You're a hypocrite at best, Duchess."

Satine went rigid. Coldness swept over her until her heart exploded with a raw decry. "How dare you—"

Qui-Gon waved his hand and Satine felt her body become immobile. "I'm not wrong," he said, "and it's best you show some gratitude," His anger slowly resided, the yellow retracting from his eyes at every breath. He no longer resembled a rancor. But, he was still just as deadly under that cool demeanor. "If you wish to deny it, then so be it. But one cannot change the truth."

If she wasn't immobile, her hands would have balled into fists. Anger and hate swelled under her breast. He was wrong! She never—she didn't—she never supported violence! Even in her own name. She heckled Obi-Wan almost nonstop about his use of his lightsaber when they were on the run. They argued daily over different war philosophies, sometimes ending on antagonistic terms. Satine condoned violence! And she never asked anyone to fight and murder in her name.

Yet, Qui-Gon's words stabbed right into her heart. She realized it was Obi-Wan's effort with his blade that kept her alive from the Death Watch who fired blasters at them. It was the loyal clan members who took up their armor and weapons to stand and fight against the invading Death Watch. While Satine sat back, in the safety of Obi-Wan's arms, others were fighting her battles and perishing. She did not ask for their lives nor to take weapons. But, what else would they do? Defend their duchess and homes from tyrants, and it cost them greatly.

The invisible binds that wrapped around her loosen and she was free to move again and breathed a bit easier. One breath. Two breaths. All of it steadily escaping her parted lips as she suffered under the weight of different truths.

Qui-Gon suddenly appeared by her side, a box of tissues in his hand. "I did not come to antagonize you, Duchess," he claimed, staring at her with soft fondness and sympathies. "Here—" Qui-Gon offered a tissue again. "There's no need to cry. What's done is done."

Satine hadn't realized she was crying. She touched her cheek. Her fingertips touched warm water. She took the proffered tissue and dabbed her eyes. The tissue returned, soggy from leftover tears. She wished she hadn't cried in front of a Sith Lord. It showed a weakness, something he could now lord over her for the rest of her secluded life.

After regaining some of her composure, she flicked her hardened gaze back to Qui-Gon. "What do you want?"

She needed to know. Qui-Gon's insistence she stayed meant she had a much bigger role than she expected. Her belief that she was a bargaining tool to be used against Obi-Wan now seemed utterly wrong. But, Satine had no idea what other option she had left. And that worried her.

Qui-Gon gently led her to a chair to sit. Once she took her seat, he used the Force to pull up another chair and sat down next to her. "Despite what you may have heard elsewhere," Qui-Gon began, that gentle smile returning, "I do care about Obi-Wan. He's like a son to me and I do not wish to see him suffer.

"These next few months (possibly years!) are going to be hard on him," Qui-Gon privately confessed, glimpsing up at Satine with fatigued awareness. Almost like he disliked the burden he was forcing upon Obi-Wan. "He'll need something or someone to help him through this transition. To keep him happy."

A chill swept over her. Its frosty tendrils curling over every inch of her body. Her mind trembled as pieces fit perfectly, forming a picture that disturbed and revolted her. His words like a coming doom to her as he continued speaking.

"You, Duchess, have always managed to bring back a little bit of spark in Obi-Wan. You always made him happy. A rare accomplishment," Qui-Gon went on, coming up to his final admission. He took her hand. Satine's first instinct was to jerk it away. She rather have her hand chewed off by womp rats than to be held by a Sith. But, she thought better and let the Sith Lord cradle her hand in his own, callous, rough hand.

"Obi-Wan will never say this, but he needs you, Satine," Qui-Gon impressed upon her, hand squeezing her own. "Now more than ever. And I fear leaving will only result more pain for him."

More pain? It seemed impossible for Satine to have that type of power. What perturbed her the most was Qui-Gon insinuating that it was she who would bring about the most suffering upon Obi-Wan when the obvious answer was Qui-Gon.

As Satine took all this in, Qui-Gon let her hand slip from his own. He straightened his shoulders and he suddenly loomed over Satine like a giant. "So—I advise you to consider that, maybe, this is your best option," he concluded, looking down with a panoply of empathy and assertion. "This doesn't have to be a bad thing. I know you've contemplated on a life without the burden of ruling a planet."

She did. Years ago when her heart grew fonder for her protector, she started to picture another life. Wonderful dreams invaded her sleep. Fleeting images of children with strawberry blonde hair came and went, along with a deep chuckle and dimpled smile.

Yes, she considered a life different from the path she walked, but it was only a dream. She was a Mandalorian and Obi-Wan a Jedi. Ancient enemies. She fancied the idea of being a mother and wife. Still did, but her burned her love and that future on a pyre when Obi-Wan said farewell to her. She no longer focused on him or their possible future. The children vanished. The smile lingered, but it too eventually disappeared from her thoughts.

That was until everything that happened in the past week. Seeing Obi-Wan again, back on Naboo, brought nostalgia in full swing. All the tenderness and affectionate touches returned. Drumming of hearts, coming back to rhythm. And those old dreams came flooding back into her.

A teardrop landed on her lap. She muttered a curse. She never liked crying. Already cried enough for two lifetimes.

Qui-Gon half cupped Satine's face, a thumb brushing away another tear. "This is your chance," he appealed. "You are free from your duties to pursue what your heart wants. Don't waste it."

He bent down and the cold kiss on her forehead jolted shivers down her spine. Qui-Gon patted her shoulder once and turned for the door. Satine listened to the footfalls and the soft hiss of the door opening.

"I know you'll do the right thing," Qui-Gon said, departing from her room.

The door hissed shut and Satine was alone again to dwell on her troubling future.

Dinner was uneventful. Bant was called away to assist her master, which meant he had to eat with the other Jedi younglings. He wanted to sit alone, but the crèche master forced him to sit at a table that included Ferus. The two glared at each other. Not saying a word. Anakin doubted he would ever receive an apology from a bully like Ferus, but what surprised him the most was how well-liked he was with his peers. They all looked to him with admiration or respect. It baffled Anakin. Didn't any of them see how much of a karking sleemo he was?

With dinner over, Anakin was ushered back with the rest of the clan and taken to their quarters. They engaged in their nightly meditation to which Anakin used the time to picture beating the crap out of Ferus in a lightsaber duel. That earned Anakin a round of sixty push-ups from the Master Krav once she discovered in his head.

It was nearly bedtime when Bant returned, requesting to take Anakin for a night stroll. Luckily, the master had no true authority over Anakin and he basically bounced out of the room to join Bant. They took their time heading to the gardens. The one place Anakin enjoyed more than the space hanger. He was riveted by the stories Bant told about Obi-Wan. He especially enjoyed the one where Siri shoved him into the artificial river. Almost felt like justice for the time Obi-Wan accidently dropped him in a lake.

"Now that I shared a few good laughs," Bant said, walking slowly to a bench. She sat down and Anakin followed suit. Above them, the stars of galaxies hoovered. Simply stardust. "Tell me what troubles you."

Anakin immediately shrugged and look down. "Nothing."

Bant's knowing gaze didn't waiver. "Don't lie to me, young one," she said. "I'm not a master nor on the Council. You can speak freely. Besides, we had a deal—remember?"

He remembered and sighed heavily, retreating back into the metal rims of the bench. "I'm worried about Obi-Wan. I know you Jedi have this 'no emotions' code, but I'm not you! I can't ignore them and I don't want to."

"No one is asking you to ignore your feelings, Anakin," Bant quietly assured him. Her encouraging smile radiant and massaging a trifle of tension away. "We advising you to be careful with your emotions. If you let your emotions dictate you, then you are nothing more than a slave to them. No control—and you eventually lose everything."

Anakin's head shot up, eyes shining. "I'm not a slave!"

Bant withdrew, perplexed by his sudden argument. "I'm not saying you are," she cautiously replied. "I'm only explaining why the Jedi are wary with emotions. With our gifts… it would be a terrible thing to lose control."

She reached out her webbed hand, looping it around Anakin's shoulders. "It's okay to miss Obi-Wan. I did. I still do," she confessed in a mourning whisper. "But I cannot let my sorrow consume me or else… or else I won't be able to help Obi-Wan at all."

Anakin cocked a susceptible eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Bant graced him with a big smile before she ruffled his hair. "It is late," she said. "We should get you to bed."

Anakin groaned. "I'm not tired though."

"You will be though come morning," Bant teased. She got off the bench and waited for Anakin to follow. "Come on! I would hate to see you grumpy tomorrow."

With another huff, Anakin pushed himself off the bench when vertigo overcame him. Rocking on his feet and vision spinning, Anakin collapsed back onto the bench. He vacantly heard Bant calling his name and a small nudge on his shoulder. A panoply of light and dark shrouded him, leaving him in a constricted mess that was too difficult for him to see.

A familiar presence brushed up against his mind. A little tingle before a sharp jab pierced him. Anakin hissed at the invasion, throwing back his own might against the presence. It fled, phasing through the shadows that circled Anakin.

He back away, scanning for an exit. Ice crawled up his leg, coiling it around as it climbed further up him. Panic seized him and he tried to violently throw it off him. Kicking and hitting, but all he felt was air. Madness! Was he losing his mind?

Anakin!

That voice! He knew that voice. He glanced about, searching but all he saw were the shadows that enclosed him.

Anakin!

"Obi-Wan!" Anakin cried out. "Obi-Wan… where are you? Help!"

No voice. Nothing. The shadows and its oily tendrils continued to circle him. Anakin's heart thumped loud in his chest, fear squeezing every beat in its claws. A ghostly echoed of a purr hummed in his ears. A darkening voice chuckling.

Anakin's lungs constricted. Air too thick. Almost like a wool blanket covered his head. His breathing labored as his safety circle got smaller and smaller.

"Obi-Wan…" he whimpered as the shadows inched closer. "Help…"

As the shadows pressured against Anakin's collapsing safety net, a burst of light stab the shadows. Anakin threw up his hands, covering his eyes as the light burned the dark away. Sight adjusted, Anakin peeked behind his fingers and saw a human figure standing on the far side. A single path composed of perfect white against the scattering parade of shadows.

Anakin lowered his hands. He couldn't stop the smile on his face from spreading. "Obi-Wan!"

The visage of Obi-Wan didn't move. It stayed exactly where it was. Anakin started to run to him, but Obi-Wan threw up a hand, halting his progression. Anakin's feet welded to the floor. Startled, Anakin flipped his eyes back to Obi-Wan.

"Obi-Wan!" he cried. "Wait!"

Obi-Wan shook his head. Run Anakin! Run!

Anakin shook his head. He was tired of running. "I won't leave you."

Obi-Wan smiled, but only regret reached his eyes. I'm sorry.

Anakin scrunched up his eyes, peering as close as possible to get a good view on Obi-Wan. The shroud retreated and blurriness cleared and all Anakin did upon inspection was gasp.

Obi-Wan's face was covered in scars. Black scars like dark veins branching over his face.

Anakin's mouth dropped in horror. "Obi-Wan… your face!"

Obi-Wan dropped his chin. Go! Run! I can't hold him off forever!

Anakin didn't understand what Obi-Wan meant. He tried again to run toward Obi-Wan, but his guardian changed his direction. He brought up both hands and an invisible, coalesced matter struck Anakin in the center. He felt himself flying backwards, being ripped away from Obi-Wan. Free-falling, Anakin didn't know how to suspend himself from crashing. He flapped aimlessly until the Force caught him, cradling him until a shake against his shoulder reminded him where he was.

He flipped his eyes open, images a collage of mixed colors. He blinked a few times until it cleared and he met alarmed, globular eyes.

"Anakin? Can you hear me?" came Bant's soft voice. Her webbed hand cradled the back of his head and the other rested on his forehead. "Anakin?"

"I'm all right," Anakin croaked and he slowly sat up. He looked around. They were still out in the gardens, but rather than sitting on the bench, Anakin found himself sprawled on the pebbled pathway. His hands were dirtied and hair sandy. "Err… what happened?"

Bant, who had squatted beside him, studied him clinically. Her healer's habits returning to the forefront as she searched for any signs of injuries. Anakin, however, felt fine. With the exception of that mixed feeling of exhaustion and dread. Bant's eyes glowed. "I was going to ask you the same thing," she said, picking away some of the remaining rubble from his hair. "Are you all right? You were fine for a moment, but then collapsed. I never seen such a thing before."

"I… I think it was a vision or, I'm not quite sure what it is," Anakin confessed, pain still lingering across his forehead. "But, I've been having them since Mandalore. Master Yoda said it has to do with mine and Obi-Wan's Force bond. The Siths… they did something and sometimes, I can feel and even see Obi-Wan."

Bant's breathing hitched in her throat. "Did you, um, see Obi-Wan?" she enquired.

He did and didn't. What Anakin saw was not someone he would recognize as Obi-Wan. "I did, but something was wrong. He had these black scars or… or black veins all over his face," he shuddered at the image of Obi-Wan's scarred face. "He told me to run."

"To run?"

Anakin nodded. After Obi-Wan banished the shadows that predatory circled him, he hollered at him to run. That he couldn't hold someone back from much longer. The Force felt polluted then and Anakin came to the realization as to what he confronted.

He curled into himself, arms locking around his knees as he carefully released a breath. The Force around him stilled. All too quiet. "Yeah," he murmured, innocent eyes widening. "He told me to run from the Sith."

Bant heard enough. Her soft features hardened, battle ready. "We need to report this to Master Yoda," she decided, gently helping Anakin back to his feet. His limbs were a bit unsteady, but Bant kept a good hold on Anakin's elbow to balance him out. "He must tell him what you told me."

"What does it mean?" Anakin asked, a quiver of pure fear stroked his heart. "What's happening?"

Bant shepherd Anakin down the path toward the doors. "If it is what I think it is," she said, "then I believe the Sith are trying to invade your mind through Obi-Wan."

Anakin stopped. His face white like the snowcaps on Alderaan's mountains. "They're trying to control my mind? How?"

"Through the use of your Force bond with Obi-Wan," Bant answered and she pulled at him again to start moving. "From what you are saying, it seems Obi-Wan's keeping them at bay. But, we need to report it to Master Yoda. He may have a way to shield your mind from them."

Anakin followed along, but his own well-being fell short from his own concerns for another. "What about Obi-Wan? The black scars?"

"I'm not sure," Bant truthfully answered. "I never studied the use of the Dark Side. That was more align with Shadows' work. Not Healers."

"But you don't think it's permanent?"

Trepidation filled between them as Bant silently didn't answer for a long moment. "I'm no sure, Anakin," her voice returned. "That is something you should ask Master Yoda when we get there."

Anakin would. He needed to know that what he saw… that Obi-Wan was going to be all right in the end. Return to Anakin the same man as when he left him on Naboo. Anakin clutched onto that hope as they neared the doors to the Temple.

Bant reached for the pad to grant them access when the door opened seemingly on its own accord. Bant jerked back in surprise, but then relaxed when it was only a Jedi master standing in the door way. "Excuse me, Master," Bant apologized, bowing deep. She pulled Anakin down with her and Anakin awkwardly bowed too. "You startled me."

"No apologies necessary," came the cool response of the Jedi master.

Anakin straightened his spine and surveyed the new Jedi. He was of medium built, stout and hair shaped far more militaristic than the average Jedi. Black and buzzed, he reminded Anakin of someone who prided themselves as being the perfect soldier. The man's face were schooled with detachment and, yet, Anakin sensed calculation behind those dark eyes. The dark irises moved their gaze from Bant to Anakin, a spark of interest in the latter. It was subtle. No one would notice it. Not even Anakin if it wasn't for the Force that sent a surge of recognition from the man.

The Jedi Master folded his arms. "Why is a child out of bed this late at night?"

Bant curled her lips into a somber frown, her gaze dropping in discomfiture. "I meant to take him to bed, but we are on our way to meet with Master Yoda."

"Master Yoda, eh?"

Anakin narrowed his eyes dangerously at the man. There was something off about the Jedi master. Elusive, yet the Force quivered with anticipation. The Jedi Master's face registered a bland interest in Bant. His fixation, despite not even looking, was at Anakin.

Bant seemed completely unaware. "Yes," she answered. "We were just on our way."

"I can take the child," the Jedi Master said. "You should return to your own duties."

"That won't be necessary," Bant assured him. "I'll need to be there anyway to report my version."

The Force fluttered. Warning. Something wasn't right.

Anakin examined the Jedi master closely. The Jedi was different from all the others Anakin's met in the Temple. Despite his more clean-shaved, military appearance, he even spoke with a different accent. And he kept calling Anakin 'child'. Since Anakin's arrived, Jedi either called him by name or 'youngling'.

He looked passed his outer appearance and studied behind the robe. He look to his waist, spying a belt that hugged him. Anakin trailed it, waiting for the hilt of a lightsaber to appear. It never came. Instead, Anakin saw a blaster where his lightsaber should be.

This man was no Jedi.

Anakin swirled to Bant and shouted. "He's not a Jedi!"

His startled cry set forth an act that would likely haunt the rest of Anakin's life. When he shouted the warning to Bant, the fake Jedi abandoned all pretenses. Like a hawk-bat swooping down its prey, the fake Jedi master whipped out his blaster. He took one aim and fired.

Time must have frozen for Anakin. Everything around him slowed. The red blast charged through the air, coming closer and closer to its target. Anakin followed the trajectory. He called out to the Force to stop the blast from impact, but even he was frozen. His arms wouldn't move and the Force simply abandoned him at the very moment he needed it.

So, to his utter horror, time sped up.

The bolt finished its trajectory and lodged itself right into Bant's chest. When it hit, Bant looked startled, like she was doused in freezing water. Her lips trembled and a small "oh" gasped from her mouth. Webbed hands on her chest where the bolt entered, she timbered, falling straight back as she landed in a loud thump on the ground.

Anakin gaped. She wasn't dead. No—merely stunned. Bant would recover. She'll get up and fight. Anakin waited. Get up!

Bant had yet to get up.

No. No. No. No…

Denial surged, sending his pulse into an erratic beat. He waited, his lung burning from withholding his breath as he quietly begged Bant to stop staring up at the stars.

A whirling sound drowned out his quivering pleas and Anakin turned to see that the fake Jedi discarded his robe, revealing his true identity. A bounty hunter! Anakin snarled at the man, moving onto the balls of his feet to lunge at him.

However, the blaster raised to Anakin's head prevented him.

The bounty hunter smirked in victorious, gleaming at his prize. "Let's get you home, Skywalker."