Chapter 38: Aftermath

Padmé sat poised in the throne room, listening to her advisors gabber and discuss the situation at hand. While outwardly she was calm and stoic, inside her nerves wrangled in a knot that settled deep in her stomach. When Satine landed and fumbled down the ramp of her (smuggler's?) ship, Padmé knew something terrible occurred. Only when Satine drew closer did Padmé noticed her injuries. Padmé hailed a medical team to assist Satine, but Satine stubbornly refused until she relayed everything to Padmé.

And now, Padmé found herself sitting amongst her advisors, debating over the situation and Naboo's place in it. To be frank, Padmé would have ordered their private military to assist in rescuing Obi-Wan and Anakin. But, as Queen, she could not drag her entire planet into a war with another planet. A more militarized planet going off Satine's description.

So her dilemma heightened her worries. She wished to help Obi-Wan and Anakin, just as much as they helped her win her planet.

"We are still recovering from the Trade Federation's occupation," cried Governor. "We cannot spare the resources to engage in another battle! A battle not of our own."

"But these individuals are the reasons behind our occupation," claimed another. "And they are holding Naboo's heroes hostage. We cannot abandon them in their time in need."

"Heroes as they may be, but they are not our citizens," called another. "They are fugitives of the Republic. Criminals!"

"Criminals who risked their lives to save our Queen and people," corrected another. "Without them, we would not be sitting in this circle."

"We cannot drag Naboo into a war with Serenno. Not if we take the Duchess' word on their military. We would certainly lose!"

"We will not go in alone," said another. "The Jedi will be arriving soon and they will assist."

"Jedi are monks. Not warriors."

"Yet they carry a lightsaber. A weapon is it not?"

Padmé nearly had enough of the gabbled debate, tired that a compromise had yet to blossom from their constant back and forth. She sighed, thinking of possible solutions to help Obi-Wan and Anakin without igniting a war. She and her handmaidens thoroughly researched Serenno and Dooku and Qui-Gon all last night, piecing together the history. She understood that Obi-Wan was a former padawan, under Qui-Gon's tutelage before he fled. During the time he lived there, transactions with a variety of planets and banking clans occurred. Money, land and business dealings were passed, under different government officials that made it difficult to connect it back to Dooku or Qui-Gon. A tactic, Padmé believed, was to keep their identities clean and blind the Jedi Order of their dark dealings.

As her court continued to argue on what to do, Padmé heard a shuffle behind her. Then a voice whispered in her ear. "Your Highness, the Jedi have arrived."

Finally, Padmé thought. She gave an appreciative nod to her handmaiden before turning to her court. "Thank you councilors for your wisdom," she interrupted their argument. "There is much to think about. Let us adjourned and return later in the afternoon."

No one argued against her. They all rose and formally saluted her as she exited the chamber with her trusted handmaidens and her new captain, Gregar Typho. "Have the Jedi be brought to the antechamber overlooking the waterfall," she ordered. "It will be relatively quiet there."

Captain Typho pulled out his comlink and relayed the message to the security team charged in escorting the Jedi. They arrived at the antechamber quick enough. Padmé took her seat, unsure how she would react upon seeing the Jedi. Her first experience with them was not kind. They had arrested Obi-Wan and Anakin on false charges and then they enticed her former captain to betray not only Obi-Wan, but also herself. To be truthful, she would not have called for a meeting with them, but it was Master Yoda who called, seeking an audience with her after he informed her of Anakin's abduction. Padmé, remembering Yoda's involvement in releasing Obi-Wan and Anakin, granted his request. Still, she felt uneasy about meeting a team of Jedi.

It was another ten minutes before the doors opened again. Eight Jedi strolled through the doors, escorted by her security team. They all worse the same face. Stoic and phlegmatic. Unemotional to the point it looked like they were mere machines than sentient beings.

All eight Jedi bowed before standing erect, waiting patiently to be addressed. Padmé reviewed each Jedi. She knew Master Yoda well enough, but the others she knew nothing at all. There was a female Tholothian with deep indigo eyes. Next to her, a petite, but tom-boyish female human with blonde hair stood at attention, but her eyes watched the Tholothian closely. A braid dangled on her right side. Another was an Iktotchi, a species Padmé never seen, but heard of. He had two horns protruding from the sides of his face, resting on his shoulders. Beside him was Master Yoda, his leathery face far older than she last remember. On the other side of Master Yoda, stood a tall, scarred man. He had a cybernetic eyes that rolled over the room with ease and a prosthetic right leg that he had no qualms of revealing. A Kiffar male stood next to him, chest puffed out a little and, unlike the rest of the Jedi, expressed an easy smile in her direction. Almost flirtatious.

Padmé ignored him, eyes scooting down the line as she saw a Kel Dor, forced to wear a breathing mask and goggles, and a female Chalactan.

All of them gazed back at her, waiting for some sort of recognition or acceptance. Padmé was hesitant to give it, but she knew better to let her feelings cripple bridges. The Jedi realized their mistake and have come to make amends. That was the first step. And she needed to extend her hand to help them.

"Thank you for coming," Padmé addressed the Jedi, giving them permission to sit on the seats provided. The Jedi all took their seats, Master Yoda taking the one directly in front of the Queen. "The situation is grave."

Master Yoda dropped his ears. "Grave news it is," he responded. "The Duchess, how is she?"

"Recovering," Padmé answered. "She relayed all her information directly to me before accepting healers' care."

"And?" came the deep, penetrating voice of the Iktotchi. "What information did she pass on to you?"

Padmé inhaled deeply. She remembered witnessing Satine stumbled and wobbled with the twisted ankle, the scratches on her hands, arms and ankles. But, what really drew her to gasp was the deep gashes on her collarbone and shoulders. Those were not made by mere brushes against foliage.

Padmé knew then what happened to her and when Satine imparted her story since Mandalore's fall, Padmé ire grew.

"Master Kenobi is imprisoned on Serenno," Padmé informed the Jedi. "By Dooku and Qui-Gon."

"That is to be expected," came the human with the artificial eye. "Qui-Gon will not let Kenobi out of sight." He straightened up, the eye rotating. "What of Skywalker? Was he with them?"

"She did not see Anakin. She was secluded to a room. Only saw Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon."

Master Yoda darkly hummed. "Obi-Wan fare in captivity, how does, hmm?"

Padmé recalled the words Satine passed onto him. "She saw no signs of injury, if that is what you ask," she said. "Physically well-cared for, but she is clear that he suffers."

Master Yoda nodded, understanding the underlying words. "Expected."

Expected? How could they simply expect such horrendous things and not show any signs of surprise or disgust? The only signs to show any uncomfortableness came from the younger Jedi. Padmé took note, analyzing that they were around Obi-Wan's age. Peers or… perhaps even friends at one point. Still, that was not good enough.

"Was there anything you were not expecting?" Padmé decided to throw at them.

That brought the Jedi to heel. They all reacted as she expected. Irritated, ashamed and proud. A mix of all three flittering across their faces.

Master Yoda was not amused by her retort. "Angry, you are. Understand this, I do," he tried to ease the tension in the room. "Here to help, we are. Hostility, needed not."

Padmé's gaze hardened. "Then let me be blunt," she said, turning on her regal voice. "We have two innocent people trapped and tortured on a planet controlled by two Sith Lords who were once considered Jedi a mere few days ago. What I ask is simple—what are the Jedi willing to do?"

The tall man shifted, taking the center of attention as his artificial eye found her. "We came here, to Naboo, to rectify the mistakes we made which resulted in Kenobi's and Skywalker's capture," he answered her demand. "We are willing to do what is necessary to prevent the Sith from rising to power. Is that what you want to hear, Queen Amidala?

"Or do you wish to hear an apology?" the man offered. "Though I find giving an apology pointless seeing as the two who deserve it are not here."

Padmé glared at the man, unafraid by his jab. "I do not seek an apology nor did I invite you here to condemn you," she informed him. "I seek to know what the Jedi plan to do to rescue Obi-Wan and Anakin. As citizens and heroes of Naboo, I wish to see their safe return."

"They are not citizens of Naboo," corrected the Tholothian. "They are Jedi."

"I believe you would find that they'd disagree," Padmé rebuffed and turned to Master Yoda. "Master Jedi? What are your thoughts in going forward?"

Master Yoda hummed, closing his eyes to get a better connection to the Force. "Difficult it is to see," he replied. "A dangerous path we are on. But invade Serenno we must to save them. What does Naboo say?"

"My court has argued the past few hours in regards on participation," Padmé said. "Many believe we should not engage in an act of war during recovery from our occupation. Others state that Serenno was the reason for our occupation to begin with and must be accountable.

"I do not wish to engage in an act of war," Padmé told Master Yoda, "but I cannot sit by and allow others to suffer. Naboo's military force will be unable to participate, but I will, nonetheless, assist in your endeavor."

While the Jedi looked disappointed, Master Yoda understandably nodded. "Most appreciated, your help is."

"Then let us move forward," Padmé said to the Jedi. "I believe we can remove negotiation as a possible solution to the situation. So, let us focus more on physical retrieval."

A murmur of agreement resounded the antechamber. Padmé divulged the specifics she knew from Satine. "According to Duchess Satine, the planet is surrounded by patrol stations," she said. "I assume she meant battle stations. No ships can enter or leave without the Sith being aware."

The dark haired man leaned in his seat. "I imagine that any Republic cruiser that makes its approach would be shot down?"

"I imagined so," Padmé agreed. "The Duchess overheard that Serenno is on lockdown. No proper identification, then no access."

"Well, then, how did the Duchess escaped?" came the young Kiffar with the gold stripe across his face. "Wouldn't they shoot down her ship seeing as she didn't get permission to leave?"

The dark haired man's eye rolled to the younger male, scolding. "Quinlan—"

"She was aboard a smuggler's ship. It had a concealing cloak that hid her ship as she escaped the planet," Padmé explained, interrupting the rebuke.

"Then why don't we do that, then?" Quinlan suggested. "Use her ship to get on the planet."

"It's too small to fit everyone," Padmé replied, recalling the small, battered ship. "Enough room for at least five people, which would not be enough to lead an assault on a highly fortified palace."

That didn't stop the Jedi from pursuing his original plan. "Then we get a bigger ship," he said, nonchalantly. "I'm sure the Republic has several seized smuggler ships in storage we could borrow."

"It would take days to obtain permission to borrow one," breathed the Kel Dor. "Especially with the current political climate."

The Kel Dor Jedi was being kind in his description. In actuality, from what Padmé witnessed and read, it was democracy dying in darkness. Things have exploded since the Invasion of Naboo. The Chancellor struggled to keep the Senate from breaking, but dignitaries from different planets were declaring independence, throwing blame at the Republic's lack of effort and the Chancellor's power seize. Systems were removing themselves from the Republic and banking clans were withholding money to the Republic, making things difficult to get anything done.

"Besides, a cloaking ship is costly and not many can afford it," continued the Kel Dor. "Whoever owned the one the Duchess borrowed was wealthy or important enough to have it."

"Then we get another ship?" came the dark-skinned Tholothian. "One without Republic markings."

"But we would fail to have the access codes to grant entrance," reminded the horned Jedi. "Which would result in termination if the Sith discover us."

"We'll need someone who has access to Serenno and is willing to help smuggle Jedi onto the planet," said the Chalactan. "Otherwise, it will be near impossible to gain entry. Even with a cloaking ship, we wouldn't even know where to land; and there is the possibility that they have scanners to check how many sentient beings are on board."

All valid points. Too many variables to consider and anything could go wrong. For it to be even a decent rescue, they would need help from an unlikely source. The Jedi kept discussing over different variations of rescue. One even presented a fully fledge battle against the planet, but that was knocked down immediately by the Grandmaster, stating that the Jedi nor the Republic have the resources to go on a full assault against a powerful planetary system like Serenno. Even if they didn't have a droid army at their beck and call.

"We need an actual smuggler to assist," came the Kel Dor's voice. "Someone who is willing to help the Jedi."

A snort came from the Iktotchi. "There are few smugglers who are willing to risk their careers in assisting the Jedi. Smugglers know that being associated with Jedi do not get paid."

A grumble of acquisition followed, but for Padmé, a jolt of lightening reawakened her. The cogs in her mind clicked. Louder and louder until a solution pieced itself together right before her eyes.

"There might be someone."

Padmé's utter drew drawing every Jedi's attention. Doubt and curiosity fell on her as they waited for an explanation.

Padmé straightened her spine, chin lifting a tad to take on her queen persona. "Anakin once told me a story about a pirate they encountered," she said, remembering how eager Anakin was in re-telling the tale to her. "This pirate may be of some help to us and our mission."

Master Yoda's ears curled in questioned. "The pirate's name?"

"Hondo Ohnaka."

He failed.

He failed... everything. Everyone!

For the first time in his life, he never felt so dead in the galaxy. Even that time he laid in a pool of his own blood. That pain was nothing compared to what raged inside him, destroying and decaying it to ash.

He knew better. Years living under their roof and suffering from their hands, he should have known where the line was drawn. The extent of what they would do to not only him, but others. The scars reminded him every day and yet... it slipped from his mind. His actions—his words!—brought about a cruel grief for him and Anakin.

A sting reverberated across his back and he tripped forward, falling on right on his face.

A shadow overcast him. "You're distracted. Again."

Obi-Wan ignored the pain and pushed himself back onto his feet. Qui-Gon waited, two staffs in his hand as Obi-Wan wobbly got up. Once off the floor, Qui-Gon threw the staff back to Obi-Wan.

"You think too much," Qui-Gon pointed out. "It's distracting. You do not need to think. Feel."

Obi-Wan said nothing. He spun the staff in his hand, nodding along just to get Qui-Gon to shut up. They returned to positions and restarted the duel. Obi-Wan only paid a little attention to where he was fighting. To him, it didn't matter who won or lost. In the end, he was still trapped. Still at the Sith's mercy. Anakin bleeding and crying…

A sharp jab to his face jolted him out of his mind. He stumbled backwards, hand coming up to cradle the injured cheek.

"Focus!" Qui-Gon's voice boomed up ahead. "Do not let your mind wander from a fight."

Obi-Wan picked his head up, dropping his hand from his face. He already knew that not paying attention would get him kill, but at the moment, he didn't care. None of it mattered to him.

Qui-Gon must have sensed his rebellion for he let out a long sigh, lowering his staff in a non-threatening manner. "Pouting is an unbecoming behavior, young one."

"I'm not pouting," Obi-Wan countered. "I'm just—tired."

"Tired?" Qui-Gon raised a skeptical brow. "I have yet to see you yawn once."

"That's because I released it into the Force."

A brief smile appeared on Qui-Gon, before vanishing into a more somber mask. "You feel guilty for what happened earlier this morning," he analyzed. "You need to let go of that moment. It is in the past. You shouldn't let it hurt you here in the present."

"It shouldn't have happened to begin with," Obi-Wan argued, eyes snapping up to meet his master's eyes. "Anakin did what he had to do to protect me. If Dooku—"

"Count Dooku, padawan."

"Exactly!" Obi-Wan said, dramatically waving a hand at Qui-Gon. "He's an egotistical madman! His fragile ego got hurt and he took it out on Anakin."

"Obi-Wan—"

Obi-Wan scoffed at hearing his master's tone, disinterested in hearing an explanation. "Don't bother trying to normalize it," he said to the Sith. "What Anakin said was the truth! Dooku is a murderer. If he doesn't like it, then perhaps he should withhold strangling me next time."

Qui-Gon was unimpressed. To him, Obi-Wan's act was nothing more than a child's tantrum that he had to witness. "I am truly sorry for what happened to Anakin. I really am," he began. "But, sometimes, pain is the greatest teacher a student can have. It empowers you to grow into your highest self."

"Oh—I see, so Dooku was being altruistic when he was strangling me and beating Anakin?" Obi-Wan mocked. "In that case, he was being far too generous."

Qui-Gon frowned. "You know what I mean, Obi-Wan. Pain is inevitable to one's growth, but suffering is optional," he said coming around to Obi-Wan's side. "In the end, we must choose which pain we can bear: the pain of discipline or the pain of regret."

Without warning, Obi-Wan's chin was taken by Qui-Gon, cradled by calloused hands. "And I can tell you right now that the pain of regret is far more excruciating than the pain of discipline," Qui-Gon finished in a whisper. "You have suffered enough, Obi-Wan. You put up a good fight, but in the end, it brought you back here. The Force wants you here. This is where your destiny lies."

Obi-Wan scanned the dojo, assessing the room. He didn't want his destiny to be here. Not at the palace. He wanted nothing to do with the Siths.

Qui-Gon must have seen how stricken Obi-Wan was at the prospect for he gently patted his cheek. "It'll be all right, Obi-Wan," he tutted. "Remember what I told you? Back at the Temple? You and Anakin have a far greater destiny than anyone. Dooku has seen it. I have too. You will go on to do great things."

Unable to bear Qui-Gon's touch, Obi-Wan stepped back, horrified. He shook his head, surprised that he was able to stay so calm. "You're wrong. Whatever you think you saw or witnessed was wrong," he said, voice getting louder as he spoke. "Anakin and I will not help you or Dooku destroy the galaxy. And the Jedi—they'll stop you!"

The mere mention of Jedi brought a cruel smirk to Qui-Gon's lips, twisting his features into a dark entity that nearly spooked Obi-Wan. "The Jedi are far too tied up with politics to have any real power to do anything," he said. "Too stagnant. Too content with things that it would be too late for them to realize they need to take action."

"Master Yoda—"

"Yoda belong to the past. His mind is many years far back," Qui-Gon all but snarled his reply. "He has led the Jedi into its stagnant union." He took Obi-Wan's chin again, raising it up so that Obi-Wan could not hide from him. "But you and Anakin—you are the future. Which is why Dooku and I are taking every precaution necessary to keep you two on the straight and narrow."

"And that means torturing us?" challenged Obi-Wan, his tone sharper than a steel blade. "Restricting our freedoms?!"

"That means having to do whatever necessary to see yours and Anakin's destiny be fulfilled," Qui-Gon corrected before looking exasperated at Obi-Wan. "I am truly sorry Anakin was whipped. I didn't want that for him. But we cannot allow such disobedience go unchecked. You know this, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan was quite aware of the extreme measures Dooku took to resolve any retaliation. "You're right," he quietly admitted. "I expect Dooku to take such measures, but not you. I never thought you would."

"As you said earlier. A lot has changed since we were all here last," Qui-Gon said. "I do not enact violence for fun, but I will do what I must to follow the will of the Force. Even if one is being too stubborn to listen."

Obi-Wan knew the last sentence was a jab at him. It appeared this battle was going nowhere. Nothing Obi-Wan would say would get Qui-Gon to think of things differently. Obi-Wan didn't even understand why he bothered to reason with Qui-Gon. The man was gone. His old master died nearly ten years ago. This new version—this evil incarnate—was never going to care about him as much as the original Qui-Gon did.

And that broke Obi-Wan's heart.

Qui-Gon released a burdening sigh, wiping his brows with his sleeves. "Let's call it for today," he said, taking away Obi-Wan's staff. "Go and get yourself showered. By the time you are done, Anakin will most likely be in his quarters."

Obi-Wan didn't argue. He hastened to leave Qui-Gon's presence behind him. But a hand snared on his shoulder, stopping him from escape. He turned, spying Qui-Gon holding him steady.

"Before you go," Qui-Gon said, voice suddenly soft and warm like so long ago, "I need you to know that, when it all comes to it, I will do whatever it takes to protect you and Anakin. I know you don't believe me right this second, but it's the truth. I care too much for you and the boy to lose you both again.

"Now, go and get cleaned up," Qui-Gon said, pushing Obi-Wan to the showers at the other side of the dojo. "The guards will be here to escort you to Anakin's rooms. I'll see you around."

And like that, Qui-Gon turned away from him, putting up the staffs before he instructed the team of security droids to wait for Obi-Wan outside the showers. Without even a brief glance, Qui-Gon exited the dojo, leaving Obi-Wan to ponder if Qui-Gon actually meant what he said.

Obi-Wan dejectedly shook his head. No. Of course not. If he cared, then none of this would be happening to them.

Anakin laid on his stomach, trying hard to not breathe too heavily or else send a tremor of pain along his spine. Every now and then, he treated to a slice of pain running across his back. It took a lot of effort not to cry. The bacta patches cooled the heat and brought the swelling to a minimum, but the pain lingered. It latched its dark tendrils straight into Anakin's bones.

Unforgiving and showing no mercy.

Anakin breathed again. His breaths were shallow. Only going high enough to avoid the sharp reminder that his back was still in recovery.

The healers were kind and gentle. They did everything to lessen the pain, promising it would get better in no time. Yet, time ticked by and Anakin found it never left him. It kept him hostage, binding him to this bed and unable to be completely free.

He wished Obi-Wan was here. He gripped the blankets underneath him, fingers curled and pinched to his palm as he took another uneasy breath.

A door opened. Light pooled into the dimmed room for a few seconds before it vanished at the sound of the door closing. Footsteps treaded across the floor, stopping but a few feet away from him. Anakin felt the bed shift as additional weight was added.

Then a hand stroked the back of his head. "You awake, Anakin?"

Obi-Wan!

In his joy, Anakin leapt from his spot to hug Obi-Wan only to wince and collapsed from the ache striking across his spine. Obi-Wan caught him, easing him back down to a more restful position. "Take it easy," Obi-Wan advised. "Just rest for a bit."

Anakin didn't argue. He let Obi-Wan lay him back down on the bed, one side of his face pillowed by a plush comforter. Obi-Wan sat beside him, sad eyes wandering. Obi-Wan kept a hand on his head, gently rubbing that settled Anakin's nerves down little by little.

"I see your back still aches."

Anakin nodded.

"You want me to take a look?"

Anakin considered for a moment. "Okay."

Obi-Wan was careful when he rolled up Anakin's shirt to reveal his bandaged back. A gentle breeze kissed along the exposed skin, sending a shiver up Anakin. Obi-Wan studied his back a little bit longer before rolling his shirt down.

"How long have these bandages been on you?"

Anakin had to think. "Um… a few hours now."

"We should change them," Obi-Wan said, getting up from the bed and moving to the refresher. He disappeared inside the refresher for a few minutes, coming out with wraps and a bottle in his hands. "I know the healers say to change them every twelve hours, but I find that the scars heal better if you change the bacta more frequently."

Obi-Wan would know. After all, Anakin had seen his back. The white scars that crisscrossed left his flesh a mosaic of ugliness and foulness. A sight for sore eyes that even made battle-hardened soldiers cringed. Obi-Wan, Anakin knew, was whipped years before they ever met. He had gone through the same pain Anakin experienced now and knew the best way to care for it.

Obi-Wan unraveled a few bandages and uncapped the bottle. "Don't worry. I'll be gentle."

Anakin wasn't worried. It was Obi-Wan. He wouldn't hurt him. Ever.

Obi-Wan peeled the bandages away. Its sticky substance stretched Anakin's skin, causing him to cringe at the sharp prick, but Anakin admitted that Obi-Wan did a good job not causing even more pain. Soon, a cooling gel touched his sore back, sending a comfortable wave across his fiery back. The pain briefly washed away, leaving Anakin in a state of bliss. No pain. He took a deep breath. Nothing. He could breathe properly again.

Obi-Wan finished applying the bacta and then quickly wrapped the wounds. "Looks good, Anakin. The swelling died down. Far quicker than mine used to," he reported. "A couple of more changes and you'll be almost as good as new."

Almost. Never quite the same as before. Anakin turned his head up to Obi-Wan. "I hate them."

Obi-Wan stopped screwing the cap back on the bottle. "I'm sorry?"

"I hate them!" Anakin repeated, fervently. Flush returned to his cheeks. "I hate Dooku! I hate Qui-Gon! I hate them! I want them dead! I want them—"

"Shooo," Obi-Wan quietly shushed Anakin, his hand resting on Anakin's shoulder. "Calm down, Ani."

Anakin hadn't heard Obi-Wan call him that nickname in years. Others have called him that. It was the name they sometimes used as covers when Anakin enrolled in schools, but Obi-Wan hardly used it after Anakin was aged five. To hear him it say again, brought Anakin to silence.

And tears trickled down his cheeks. He missed those days. Running around and tinkering on machines as Obi-Wan sat beside him, helping him on different projects or instructing him in the Force. He remembered nights where he asked Obi-Wan to tell him a story, laying on his makeshift bed or cuddling up next to Obi-Wan, listening to Obi-Wan's voice until he drifted to a good night sleep. He would say goodnight and Obi-Wan would respond, "Goodnight Ani."

How he missed those days where they were free.

Obi-Wan brushed the short strands of hair from his eyes. Like Obi-Wan, Anakin also got a makeover done. They had cut his hair and scrubbed him to death, removing at least two layers of skin. Obi-Wan, however, didn't comment on his appearance. Rather he rubbed his head gently, massaging the scalp like he used to do when Anakin fell asleep beside him as Obi-Wan read.

Obi-Wan wiped away a few of his tears. "Don't hate, Anakin," he said. "That is what they want."

"I can't help it though," Anakin grumbled. "I hate them for what they did."

"I know, but hate has no room for love," Obi-Wan softly replied. "And without love, there is no happiness. Do you not want to be happy again?"

Anakin shook his head. "No, but… I'm still mad. At them."

"It's hard not to," Obi-Wan agreed, looking back to the doors, "but we must not let it distract us. Remember? Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to—"

"Suffering," Anakin finished, blinking away one of his last tears. "I know. I try. I really do."

"I know you do."

Anakin flicked his eyes up to Obi-Wan. "How did you do it?"

Obi-Wan tilted his head, baffled by the question. "Do what?"

"How did you stay with them for three years?" Anakin clarified, craning his neck a bit more to get a better view of Obi-Wan. "Why didn't you ever try to run away?"

The question surprised Obi-Wan. He leaned back, eyes rolled up in thought as his hand reached for the edge of his chin. "I-I don't really know," he confessed. "I guess… I guess I had this hope that things would get better."

Anakin furrowed his eyebrows. "You stayed for three years because of hope? Even after Dooku and Qui-Gon beat you up?"

"Hope is a powerful thing, Anakin," Obi-Wan claimed. "It is the only thing stronger than fear." Obi-Wan brushed his hand through his hair. "And Qui-Gon never beat me. That was Dooku's forte."

"But he still allowed it," Anakin argued, thinking how Qui-Gon didn't intervene when he was whipped. "He never stopped it, did he?"

Obi-Wan sighed, stumbling over his words. "Err… no, I mean… I suppose he did not," he conceded. "Most of the time Qui-Gon wasn't around when it happened. But I guess he knew and did nothing about it."

"Then why did you stay?" Anakin asked again, confused as to why Obi-Wan wouldn't want to leave. He knew Obi-Wan tried to reach out to the Jedi, but they refused to save him. So why did it take him three years to run away? "You should have tried to run away! Why didn't you?"

A little smile crept on Obi-Wan's face. "What made you think I didn't?"

Anakin was confused by Obi-Wan's smile. "Because you said we didn't escape until after you met me," he said. "Why? Did you escaped before?"

"No," Obi-Wan said, sending Anakin into another spiral of confusion. "But I did attempt to escape a few times." Obi-Wan sat comfortably on the bed while Anakin eagerly listened. "My first time was when I hid on a ship that Qui-Gon planned to take for a mission. My plan was to hop off after he landed and find a com-center to contact Master Yoda. But, Qui-Gon found me before taking off. I tried to convince him to take me with him on the mission, but Dooku insisted I stayed to finish up some of my training. Qui-Gon agreed and told me I could come on the next mission.

"I received five lashes for that," Obi-Wan told Anakin, holding out a hand to show the number, "along with extra physical activity that wiped me out completely. I could barely move myself off the floor mat.

"Another time I was on Raxus," Obi-Wan continued. "Dooku and Qui-Gon took me along on some type of negotiation mission. Qui-Gon wanted me to learn how to deal with complicated political heads. Told me it will help me learn a lot about the inner workings of government and negotiation. I played the good padawan. Kept to myself and paid attention. Took notes on how the situation was handled. Brought no attention to myself.

"For that Qui-Gon decided to take me out to the city to explore the culture," Obi-Wan recalled. "We arrived at the city center. It was crowed and I got 'lost'. I almost made it to the spaceport when Qui-Gon found me again. He thought perhaps it would be best to return to our guest rooms. Dooku found out what happened and… let's just say I was unable to move for a couple of days afterwards."

Anakin didn't want to picture what Obi-Wan looked like after that. Already he wanted to cry for Obi-Wan. To live his youth in such a lonely and painful existence was not one Anakin ever wanted to experience. He didn't want to grow up in that environment. He wouldn't be able to survive. He's not as strong as Obi-Wan. Not now and maybe not ever. He wouldn't be able to survive even three days let alone three years in such a dreadful environment.

Obi-Wan didn't noticed Anakin's distress, continuing on with his attempted escapes. "The fifth time," he came dwindling to a close after telling Anakin the story how he nearly got a hold of a comlink from a stranger on Corellia. "Now… the fifth attempt wasn't even an attempt at all. Because I did get away. And I stayed away for as long as I could. I gave them a run for their credits."

Obi-Wan smiled down at Anakin. "You gave me that final push to break away from them," he said. "I knew, right then and there, I had to leave. You and I needed to escape that night. There could be no faults. No mistakes. I didn't second guess or doubt myself. I did what I had to do. What the Force told me to do. So, I picked you up and ran."

Anakin heard of their escape multiple times. It was a story Anakin loved to listen to when it came to bedtime for it was an adventure he and Obi-Wan shared together, even if Anakin remembered nothing of it. He twisted a piece of the comforter around his finger, thinking of all the escapes and punishments Obi-Wan went through his short life. Anakin was so thankful for Obi-Wan, risking his life to save his on that fateful night. If Obi-Wan never decided to escape that night, Anakin would have grown up in this dark shell of life. An existence of hurt, anger and loneliness.

If he could, Anakin would have hugged Obi-Wan. "Thank you."

Obi-Wan puzzlingly looked down at Anakin. "Thank you? For what?"

"For saving me all those years ago."

Obi-Wan's face softened. "Anytime," he murmured. "Anytime at all."

Obi-Wan rose up, looking around for a minute until he reached for the covers. He pulled the comforter out from underneath Anakin. "Here—you should get some sleep," he said. "It'll help you recover a bit and regain some strength."

He threw the comforter over Anakin and readjusted a pillow to fit under his head. "There," Obi-Wan proclaimed. "That should do it."

Obi-Wan disappeared from the corner of his eyes. "Wait—don't go!" Anakin cried out. "Obi-Wan!"

Obi-Wan reappeared in his line of vision. "I'm not going anywhere," he calmed Anakin. "Only bringing over a chair."

"You won't leave?"

"No, I won't leave," Obi-Wan reassured him. "I promise. I'll stay with you until you wake up."

Relieved, Anakin snuggled into the sheets. "Obi-Wan?"

"Yeah?" he called from where he sat in a chair next to the bed.

"I'm sorry."

Obi-Wan's face fell, knowing perfectly well what Anakin meant. "Don't be sorry, Anakin. It's not your fault," he quietly urged. "Now, get some sleep."

Anakin wasn't terribly tired. Sore and a little sleepy, but not enough to make him pass out. And, yet, he felt a pressure in his head that led him down a path to complete darkness of the lights turning off. He would have been afraid to let the dark conquer him, but he still felt the tug of Obi-Wan's Force presence beside him and knew he would always be safe.

He yawned, calling out to Obi-Wan one last time. "Good-night, Obi-Wan."