Episode 3 Chapter 4

Politics

Disclaimer: I still own nothing. Star Wars and its characters are owned by George Lucas and Lucas Arts. Buffy the Vampire Slayer and its characters are owned by Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. Certain scenes were taken from the novelization by Mathew Stover mostly verbatim due to their overall importance in the story.

Bail Organa stopped cold in the middle of the Grand Con­course that ringed the Senate's Convocation Chamber, staring up in disbelief at one of the huge holoprojected Procla­mation Boards; these had recently been installed above the con­course to keep the thousands of Senators up to the moment on news of the war and on the Chancellor's latest executive orders.

His heart tripped and he couldn't seem to make his eyes focus. He pushed his way through the press to a hardcopy stand and punched a quick code. When he had the flimsies in his hands they still said the same thing.

He'd been expecting this day. Since yesterday, when the Sen­ate had voted to give Palpatine control of the Jedi, he'd known it would come soon. He'd even started planning for it.

But that didn't make it any easier to bear.

He found his way to a public comm booth and keyed a pri­vacy code. The transparisteel booth went opaque as stone and a moment later a hand-sized image shimmered into existence above the small holodisk: a slender woman in floor-length white; with short, neatly clipped auburn hair and a clear, steadily intelligent gaze from her aquamarine eyes.

"Bail," she said. "What's happened?"

Bail frowned at the woman. "Have you seen this morning's decree?"

"The Sector Governance Decree? Yes, I have—

"It's time, Mon," he said grimly. "It's time to stop talking, and start doing. We have to bring in the Senate."

"I agree, but we must tread carefully. Have you thought about whom we should consult? Whom we can trust?"

"Not in detail. Giddean Danu springs to mind. I'm sure we can trust Fang Zar, too."

"Agreed. What about Iridik'k-stallu? Her hearts are in the right place. Or Chi Eekway."

Bail shook his head. "Maybe later. It'll take a few hours at least to figure out exactly where they stand. We need to start with Senators we know we can trust."

"All right. Then Terr Taneel would be my next choice. And, I think, Amidala of Naboo."

"Padme?" Bail frowned. "I'm not sure."

"You know her better than I do, Bail, but to my mind she is ex­actly the type of Senator we need. She is intelligent, principled and ex­tremely articulate and she has the heart of a warrior."

"She is also a longtime associate of Palpatine," he reminded her. "He was her ambassador during her term as Queen of Naboo. How sure can you be that she will stand with us and not with him?"

"There's only one way to find out,." Senator Mon Mothma replied serenely.

"I am no happier than the rest of you about this," Padme said, gesturing at the flimsiplast of the Sector Governance Decree on Bail Organa's desk. "But I've known Palpatine for years; he was my most trusted adviser. I'm not prepared to believe his in­tent is to dismantle the Senate."

"Why should he bother?" Mon Mothma countered. "As a practical matter—as of this morning—the Senate no longer ex­ists."

Padme looked from one grim face to another. Giddean Danu nodded his agreement. Terr Taneel kept her eyes down, pretend­ing to be adjusting her robes. Fang Zar ran a hand over his un­ruly gray-streaked topknot.

Bail leaned forward. His eyes were hard as chips of stone. "Palpatine no longer has to worry about controlling the Senate. By placing his own lackeys as governors over every planet in the Republic, he controls our systems directly.'' The statesman folded his hands, and squeezed them together until his knuckles hurt. "He's be­come a dictator. We made him a dictator."

And he's my husband's friend, and mentor, Padmé thought. I shouldn't even be listening to this.

Well, if it works…Anakin's voice suddenly rung out in her head as she recalled that picnic long ago on Naboo.

"But what can we do about it?" Terr Taneel asked, still gaz­ing down at her robe with a worried frown.

"That's what we asked you here to discuss," Mon Mothma told her calmly. "What we're going to do about it."

Fang Zar shifted uncomfortably. "I'm not sure I like where this is going."

"None of us likes where anything is going," Bail said, half ris­ing. "That's exactly the point. We can't let a thousand years of democracy disappear without a fight!"

"A fight?" Padmé asked. "I can't believe what I'm hearing— Bail, you sound like a Separatist!"

"I—" Bail sank back into his seat. "I apologize. That was not my intent. I asked you all here because of all the Senators in the galaxy, you four have been the most consistent—and influential— voices of reason and restraint, doing all you could to preserve our poor, tattered Constitution. We don't want to hurt the Republic. With your help, we hope to save it."

"It has become increasingly clear," Mon Mothma said, "that Palpatine has become an enemy of democracy. He must be stopped."

"The Senate gave him these powers," Padmé said. "The Sen­ate can rein him in."

Giddean Danu sat forward. "I fear you underestimate just how deeply the Senate's corruption has taken hold. Who will vote against Palpatine now?"

"I will," Padmé said. She discovered that she meant it. "And I'll find others, too." She'd have to. No matter how much it hurt Anakin. Oh, my love, will you ever find a way to forgive me?

"You do that," Bail said. "Make as much noise as you can— keep Palpatine watching what you're doing in the Senate. That should provide some cover while Mon Mothma and I begin building our organization—"

"Stop." Padmé rose, her clear voice wavering. "It's better to leave some things unsaid. Right now, its better I don't know anything about... any­thing."

Don't make me lie to my husband was her unspoken plea. She tried to convey it with her eyes. Please, Bail. Don't make me lie to him. It will break his heart.

Perhaps he saw something there; after a moment's indeci­sion, he nodded. "Very well. Other matters can be left for other times. Until then, this meeting must remain absolutely secret Even hinting at an effective opposition to Palpatine can be as we've all seen, very dangerous. We must agree never to speak of these matters except among the people who are now in this room. We must bring no one into this secret without the agree­ment of each and every one of us."

"That includes even those closest to you," Mon Mothma added. "Even your families—to share anything of this will expose them to the same danger we all face. No one can be told. No one."

Padmé watched them all nod, and what could she do? What could she say? You can keep your own secrets, but I'll have to tell my Jedi husband, who is Palpatine's beloved protégé...

She sighed. "Yes. Yes: agreed."

And all she could think as the little group dispersed to their own offices was Oh, Anakin—Anakin, I'm sorry...

I'm so sorry…

Anakin was glad the vast vaulted Temple hallway was de­serted save for him, Buffy and Obi-Wan; he didn't have to keep his voice down.

"This is outrageous. How can they do this?"

"Very easily, apparently," Buffy shot back evenly. Deep down, she was getting increasingly worried. These outbursts of his were becoming more emotional and more frequent. Something else is bothering him, and I've got to get to the bottom of it…

Meanwhile, Obi-Wan countered on his own. "How can they not? It's your friend­ship with the Chancellor—the same friendship that got you a seat at the Council—that makes it impossible to grant you Mastery. In the Council's eyes, that would be the same as giving a vote to Palpatine himself!"

He waved this off. He didn't have time for the Council's political maneuvering—Padmé didn't have time. "I didn't ask for this. I don't need this. So if I wasn't friends with Palpatine I'd be a Master already, is that what you're saying?"

Buffy remained silent, even as Obi-Wan looked pained. "I don't know."

"I have the power of any five Masters. Any ten. You know it, and so do they."

"Power alone is no credit to you—"

Anakin flung an arm back toward the Council Tower. "They're the ones who call me the Chosen One! Chosen for what? To be a dupe in some slimy political game?"

Obi-Wan winced as if he'd been stung. "Didn't I warn you, Anakin? I told you of the... tension... between the Council and the Chancellor. I was very clear. Why didn't you listen? You walked right into it!"

"Like that ray shield trap," Anakin snorted. "Should I blame this on the dark side, too?"

"However it happened," Obi-Wan said, "you are in a very... delicate situation."

"What situation? Who cares about me? I'm no Master. I'm just a kid, right? Is that what it's about? Is Master Windu turning everyone against me because until I came along, he was the youngest Jedi ever named to the Council?"

"No one cares about that—"

"Sure they don't. Let me tell you something a smart old man said to me no so long ago: Age is no measure of wisdom. If it were, Yoda would be twenty times as wise as you are—"

"This has nothing to do with Master Yoda," Obi-Wan replied quietly.

"That's right. It has to do with me. It has to do with them all being against me. They always have been—most of them didn't even want me to be a Jedi. And if they'd won out, where would they be right now? Who would have done the things I've done? Who would have saved Naboo? Who would have saved Kamino? Who would have killed Dooku, and rescued the Chancellor? Who would have come for you and Alpha after Ventress—"

"Yes, Anakin, yes. Of course. No one questions your accom­plishments. It's your relationship to Palpatine that is the prob­lem. And it is a very serious problem."

"I'm too close to him? Maybe I am. Maybe I should alienate a man who's been nothing but kind and generous to me ever since I first came to this planet! Maybe I should reject the only man who gives me the respect I deserve—"

"Oh Ani, would you get over yourself!" Buffy suddenly shouted, interrupting Anakin's pity party. "Just listen to yourself! It's not just that you're too young; it's not just your friends with Old Dirty Bastard… no. It's because when you don't get your way you whine like a spoiled two-year-old! Just look how you behaved in the Council chambers - it's no wonder they won't make you a Master if you can't even master yourself."

Anakin's eyes widened at Buffy's outburst. She hadn't yelled at him like that since they were both Padawans. After a moment, he passed his hand over his eyes and drew a long, heavy breath. In a much lower, calmer, quieter tone, he said, "What do I have to do?"

Obi-Wan frowned. "I'm sorry?"

"They want something from me, don't they? That's what this is really about. That's what it's been about from the begin­ning. They won't give me my rank until I give them what they want."

"The Council does not operate that way, Anakin, and you know it."

"That's bullshit, Ben, and you know it," Buffy interrupted, and then turned to her brother. "There is something the Council wants you to do, little brother. Whether or not it earns you a promotion - well, that's not up to me…"

Anakin sighed, tired of all of the politics. "Just tell me what they want, sister dearest."

Buffy looked to Obi-Wan, whose eyes shifted. The sick fatigue in Anakin's guts turned darker. How bad did it have to be to make Obi-Wan un­able to look him in the eye? What startled him more was the look in his sister's eyes; he had never seen that look before.

"Anakin, look, we're on your side," Obi-Wan said softly. He looked tired, too: he looked as tired and sick as Anakin felt. "I never wanted to see you put in this situation."

"What situation?" Still Obi-Wan hesitated. Finally Anakin said, "Look, whatever it is, it's not getting any better while you're standing here working up the nerve to tell me. Come on, Obi-Wan. Let's have it."

Obi-Wan glanced around the empty hall as if he wanted to make sure they were still alone; Anakin had a feeling it was just an excuse to avoid facing him when he spoke.

"The Council," Obi-Wan said slowly, "approved your ap­pointment because Palpatine trusts you. They want you to report on all his dealings. They have to know what he's up to."

"They want me to spy on the Supreme Chancellor of the Re­public?" Anakin blinked numbly. No wonder Obi-Wan couldn't look him in the face. "Obi-Wan, that's treason!"

"We are at war, Anakin." Obi-Wan looked thoroughly mis­erable. "The Council is sworn to uphold the principles of the Re­public through any means necessary. We have to. Especially when the greatest enemy of those principles seems to be the Chancel­lor himself!"

"Besides, it's only treason if you get caught," Buffy added, trying to lighten the mood. Anakin looked darkly in her direction, and she shrugged. "Well, it's true."

Anakin's eyes narrowed and turned hard. "Why didn't the Council give me this assignment while we were in session?"

"Because it's not for the record, Anakin. You must be able to understand why," Obi-Wan answered.

"What I understand," Anakin said grimly, "is that you are trying to turn me against Palpatine. You're trying to make me keep secrets from him—you want to make me lie to him. That's what this is really about."

"It isn't," Obi-Wan insisted. He looked wounded. "It's about keeping an eye on who he deals with and who deals with him."

"He's not a bad man, Obi-Wan—he's a great man, who's holding this Republic together with his bare hands—"

"By staying in office long after his term has expired. By gath­ering dictatorial powers—"

"The Senate demanded that he stay! They pushed those pow­ers on him—"

"Don't be naïve, Ani," Buffy added. "The Senate is so intimidated they give him anything he wants!"

"Then it's their fault, not his! They should have the guts to stand up to him!"

"That is what we're asking you to do, Anakin."

Anakin had no answer. Silence fell between the three like a ham­mer. Finally, he said, "He's my friend, Buffy."

"It would surprise me if he had any real friends," Buffy said darkly. What she didn't want to admit was that Anakin seemed to be the one friend Palpatine actually had. But she didn't want to exactly talk about it in front of Obi-Wan, who was still grey-faced and surly.

"You don't know how kind he has been to me," Anakin's voice was hushed. "You don't know how he's looked after me, how he's done everything he could to help me. He's like family.''

"I thought I was your family," Buffy said, somewhat sadly.

"You haven't been here," Anakin replied softly, turning to look at her. "You've been out making your own family." Buffy was silent at that - she couldn't very well dispute that, could she?

"Listen: we're not asking you to act against Palpatine. We're only asking you to... monitor his activities. You must be­lieve me." Obi-Wan stepped closer and put a hand on Anakin's arm. With a long, slowly indrawn breath, he seemed to reach some difficult decision. "Palpatine himself may be in danger," he said. "This may be the only way you can help him."

"What are you talking about?"

"I am not supposed to be telling you this. Please do not re­veal we have had this conversation. To anyone, do you under­stand?"

Anakin said, "I can keep a secret."

"All right." Obi-Wan took another deep breath. "Master Windu traced Darth Sidious to Five Hundred Republica before Grievous's attack—we think that the Sith Lord is someone within Palpatine's closest circle of advisers. That is who we want you to spy on, do you understand?"

"If Palpatine is under the influence of a Sith Lord, he may be in the gravest danger," Buffy continued, relieved that Anakin wasn't going to start ranting again."The only way we can help him is to find Sidious, and to stop him. What we are asking of you is not trea­son, Anakin—it may be the only way to save the Republic!"

"So all you're really asking," Anakin said slowly, "is for me to help the Council find Darth Sidious."

"Yes." Obi-Wan looked relieved, incredibly relieved, as though some horrible chronic pain had suddenly and inexplica­bly eased. "Yes, that's it exactly."

"You have to do this, Ani," Buffy added. "Help us find Sidious and end this war. And if Palpatine's innocent, I will personally get down on my knees, in his office, and kiss his ass. Okay?" That got a small grin.

"I look forward to sending a holorecording of that to Mother." Anakin replied. "Speaking of which- you need to giver her a call. She worries about you."

"I'll call her tonight, little brother."

"Who are you calling little?"

Later that day, a Republic gunship streaked through the capital's sky. Obi-Wan stared past Yoda and Mace Windu, out through the gunship's window at the vast deployment platform and the swarm of clones who were loading the assault cruiser at the far end.

"You weren't there," he said. "You didn't see his face. I think we have done a terrible thing."

"We don't always have the right answer," Mace Windu replied. "Sometimes there isn't aright answer."

"Know how important your friendship with young Anakin is to you, I do." Yoda, too, stared out toward the stark angles of the assault cruiser being loaded for the counterinvasion of Kashyyyk; he stood leaning on his gimer stick as though he did not trust his legs. "Allow such attachments to pass out of one's life, a Jedi must."

"Very dangerous putting them together," Mace said, glancing out of the door as they flew in and out of traffic. "I don't think the boy can handle it. I don't trust him."

"With all due respect, Master," Obi-Wan started, "Is Anakin not the Chosen One? Is it not said that he will bring balance to the Force?"

"A prophesy, misread might have been," Yoda countered softly. "The more we learn, the more we discover how much we do not know. In motion, are the events of our time. Approach, the crisis does."

"Yes." Mace interlaced his fingers and squeezed until his knuckles popped. "But we're in a spice mine without a glow rod. If we stop walking, we'll never reach the light."

"And what if the light just isn't there?" Obi-Wan asked. "What if we get to the end of this tunnel and find only night?"

"Faith must we have. Trust in the will of the Force. What other choice is there?"

"Anakin's problem had always been that his loyalties, first and foremost, lie with people," Obi-Wan said carefully, "Abstractions like peace don't mean much to him. He's loyal to people, not to prin­ciples. And he expects loyalty in return. He will stop at nothing to save me, for example, because he thinks I would do the same for him." Mace and Yoda gazed at him steadily, and Obi-Wan had to lower his head. "Because," he admitted reluctantly, "he knows I would do the same for him."

"Understand exactly where your concern lies, I do not." Yoda's green eyes had gone softly sympathetic. "Named must your fear be, before banish it you can. Do you fear that perform his task, he cannot?"

"Oh, no. That's not it at all. I am firmly convinced that Anakin can do anything. Except betray a friend."

While Yoda was preparing to leave for Kashyyyk, Anakin was sitting with Padmé on the veranda of her apartment. While normally just being with his wife was soothing, today nothing could seem to calm his nerves.

"I heard about your appointment to the Council. Anakin," Padmé said, taking his hand in her own. "I'm so proud of you."

"There's nothing to be proud of," he said. "This is just po­litical maneuvering between the Council and the Chancellor I got caught in the middle, that's all."

"But to be on the Council, at your age—"

"They put me on the Council because they had to. Because he told them to, once the Senate gave him control of the Jedi." His voice lowered toward a growl. "And because they think they can use me against him."

Padmé's eyes went oddly remote, and thoughtful. "Against him," she echoed. "The Jedi don't trust him?"

"That doesn't mean much. They don't trust me, either." Anakin's mouth compressed to a thin bitter line. "They'll give me a chair in the Council Chamber, but that's as far as it will go. They won't accept me as a Master."

Her gaze returned from that thoughtful distance, and she smiled up at him. "You must be patient, my love. Soon they'll recog­nize your ability."

"They already recognize my abilities. They fear my abilities," he said bitterly. "But this isn't even about that. Like I said: it's a political game."

"Anakin—"

"I don't know what's happening to the Order, but whatever it is, I don't like it." He shook his head. "This war is destroying everything the Republic is supposed to stand for. I mean, what are we fighting for, anyway? What about all this is worth saving?"

Padmé nodded sadly, disengaging from Anakin's arms and drifting away. "Sometimes I wonder if we're on the wrong side."

"The wrong side?" He frowned at her. "You can't mean that."

She turned from him, speaking to the vast airway beyond the veranda's edge. "What if the democracy we're fighting for no longer exists? What if the Republic itself has become the very evil we've been fighting to destroy?"

Anakin sighed, biting back his temper over the line of conversation. "Everybody complains about Palpatine having too much power, but nobody offers a better al­ternative. Who should be running the war? The Senate? You're in the Senate, you know those people—how many of them do you trust?"

"All I know is that things are going wrong here. Our gov­ernment is headed in exactly the wrong direction. You know it, too—you just said so!"

"I didn't mean that. I just—I'm tired of this, that's all. This political garbage. Sometimes I'd rather just be back out on the front lines. At least out there, I know who the bad guys are."

"I'm becoming afraid," she replied in a bitter undertone, "that I might know who the bad guys are here, too."

His eyes narrowed. "You're starting to sound like a Sepa­ratist."

"Anakin, the whole galaxy knows now that Count Dooku is dead. This is the time we should be pursing a diplomatic resolu­tion to the war—but instead the fighting is intensifying! Palpatine's your friend, he might listen to you. When you see him tonight, ask him, in the name of simple decency, to offer a cease­fire—"

His face went hard. "Don't ask this of me, Padmé. Don't ask me to do this." Anakin rose and headed to the balcony. "Make a motion on the Senate floor, where that kind of request belongs." Anakin spun back around and stalked over to her. "Don't I get any say in this? Does my opinion matter? What if I don't agree with you? What if I think Palpatine's way is the right way?"

Padmé was stunned. "Anakin, hundreds of thousands of beings are dying every day!"

"It's a war, Padmé. We didn't ask for it, remember? You were there—maybe we should have 'pursued a diplomatic resolution' in that beast arena!"

"I was—" She shrank away from what she saw on his face blinking harder, brows drawn together. "I was only asking..."

"Everyone is only asking. Everyone wants something from me. And I'm the bad guy if they don't get it!" He spun away from her again, and found himself at the veranda's edge, leaning on the rail. The durasteel piping groaned in his me­chanical grip.

"I'm sick of this," he muttered. "I'm sick of all of it."

He didn't notice as Padmé rose and came up behind him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Anakin, what is it? What is it really?"

He shook his head. He couldn't look at her. "Nothing that's your fault," he said. "Nothing you can help."

"Don't shut me out, Anakin. Let me try."

"You can't help me." He stared down through dozens of crisscross lanes of traffic, down toward the invisible bedrock of the planet.

"I'm trying to help you."

He'd seen something in her eyes, when he'd mentioned the Council and Palpatine. His eyes narrowed at her.

"What aren't you telling me?" Her hand went still, and she did not answer. "I can feel it, Padmé. I sense you're keeping a secret."

"Oh?" she said softly. Lightly. "That's funny, I was thinking the same about you."

He just kept staring down over the rail into the invisible dis­tance below. She moved close to him, moved against him, her arm sliding around his shoulders, her cheek leaning lightly on his arm. "Why does it have to be like this? Why does there have to even be such a thing as war? Can't we just... go back? Even just to pretend. Let's pretend we're back at the lake on Naboo, just the two of us. When there was no war, no politics. No plotting. Just us. You and me, and love. That's all we need. You and me, and love."

Right now Anakin couldn't remember what that had been like.

"I have to go," he said. "The Chancellor is waiting."

Anakin hurriedly made his way the Coruscant Opera house to the box that held the Chancellor and his entourage. As he ran through the crowded opera house, he looked around at the throngs of high society that had made their way here to see the Mon Calamari Opera Group's new show. He marveled how they could act like this was just another day in Coruscant, rather than the day after the invasion that had nearly leveled huge portions of the city-planet.

Anakin slowed his pace as he approached the entrance to the box and quietly slipped inside. He supposed that, if he was supposed to spy, he should remain quiet for a time to listen in to the conversations around him, but the sour taste that idea left in his mouth led his to discard that idea and approach the Chancellor.

"Chancellor. Sorry I'm late."

Palpatine turned toward him, and his face lit up. "Yes, Anakin! Don't worry. Come in, my boy, come in. Thank you for your report on the Council meeting this afternoon—it made most interesting reading. And now I have good news for you— Clone Intelligence has located General Grievous!"

"That's tremendous!" Anakin shook his head, wondering if Obi-Wan would be embarrassed to have been scooped by the clones. "He won't escape us again."

"I'm going to—Moore, take a note—I will direct the Coun­cil to give you this assignment, Anakin. Your gifts are wasted on Coruscant—you should be out in the field. You can attend Council meetings by holoconference."

Anakin frowned. "Thank you, sir, but the Council coordi­nates Jedi assignments."

"Of course, of course. Mustn't step on any Jedi toes, must we? They are so jealous of their political prerogatives. Still, I shall wonder at their collective wisdom if they choose someone else."

"As I said in my report, they've already assigned Obi-Wan to find Grievous." Because they want to keep me here, where I am sup­posed to spy on you.

"To find him, yes. But you are the best man to apprehend him—though of course the Jedi Council cannot always be trusted to do the right thing."

"They try. I—believe they try, sir."

"Do you still? Sit down." Palpatine looked at the other two beings in the box. "Leave us." They rose and withdrew. Anakin took Mas Amedda's seat. Palpatine gazed distractedly down at the graceful undula­tions of the Mon Calamari principal soloist for a long moment, frowning as though there was so much he wanted to say; he was unsure where to begin. Finally he sighed heavily and leaned close to Anakin.

"Anakin I think you know by now that I cannot rely upon the Jedi Council. That is why I put you on it. If they have not yet tried to use you in their plot, they soon will."

Anakin kept his face carefully blank. "I'm not sure I understand."

"You must sense what I have come to suspect," Palpatine said grimly. "The Jedi Council is after more than independence from Senate oversight; I believe they intend to control the Re­public itself."

"Chancellor—"

"I believe they are planning treason. They hope to overthrow my government, and replace me with someone weak enough that Jedi mind tricks can control his every word."

"I can't believe the Council—"

"Anakin, search your feelings. You do know, don't you?"

Anakin looked away. "I know they don't trust you..."

"Or the Senate. Or the Republic. Or democracy itself, for that matter. The Jedi Council is not elected. It selects its own members according to its own rules—a less generous man than I might say whim—and gives them authority backed by power. They rule the Jedi as they hope to rule the Republic: by fiat."

"I admit..." Anakin looked down at his hands, "…my faith in them has been... shaken."

"How? They've approached you, haven't they? They asked you to do something dishonest?" Palpatine's frown cleared into a gently wise smile that was oddly reminiscent of Yoda's. "They want you to spy on me, don't they?"

"I—don't know what to say..."

"It's all right, Anakin. I have nothing to hide." Palpatine responded with a fatherly smile. He paused for a moment, and then continued. "Do you remember," he said, drawing away from Anakin so that he could lean back comfortably in his seat, "how as a young boy, when you first came to this planet, I tried to teach you the ins and outs of politics?"

Anakin smiled faintly. "I remember that I didn't much care for the lessons."

"For any lessons, as I recall. But it's a pity; you should have paid more attention. To understand politics is to understand the fundamental nature of thinking beings. Right now, you should remember one of my first teachings: all those who gain power are afraid to lose it."

"The Jedi use their power for good," Anakin said, a little too firmly.

"Good is a point of view, Anakin. And the Jedi concept of good is not the only valid one. Good and Evil are labels we all put on those who threaten us, isn't it? The Sith and the Jedi are similar in almost every way, including their quest for greater power."

"The Jedi's quest is for greater understanding," Anakin countered. "For greater knowledge of the Force—"

"Which brings with it greater power, does it not?"

"Well... yes." Anakin had to laugh. "I should know better than to argue with a politician."

"We're not arguing, Anakin. We're just talking." Palpatine shifted his weight, settling in comfortably. "Perhaps the real dif­ference between the Jedi and the Sith lies only in their orienta­tion; a Jedigains power through understanding, and a Sith gains understanding through power. This is the true reason the Sith have always been more powerful than the Jedi. The Jedi fear the dark side so much they cut themselves off from the most impor­tant aspect of life: passion. Of any kind. They don't even allow themselves to love."

Except for me, Anakin thought. But then, I've never been ex­actly the perfect Jedi.

"The Sith do not fear the dark side. The Sith have no fear. They embrace the whole spectrum of experience, from the heights of transcendent joy to the depths of hatred and despair. Beings have these emotions for a reason, Anakin. That is why the Sith are more powerful: they are not afraid to feel."

"The Sith rely on passion for strength," Anakin said, "but when that passion runs dry, what's left?"

"Perhaps nothing. Perhaps a great deal. Perhaps it never runs dry at all. Who can say?"

"They think inward, only about themselves."

"And the Jedi don't?"

"The Jedi are selfless—we erase the self, to join with the flow of the Force. We care only about others..."

Palpatine again gave him that smile of gentle wisdom. "Or so you've been trained to believe. I hear the voice of Obi-Wan Kenobi in your answers, Anakin. What do you really think?"

Anakin suddenly found the ballet a great deal more interest­ing than Palpatine's face. "I... don't know anymore."

"It is said that if one could ever entirely comprehend a single grain of sand—really, truly understand everything about it—one would, at the same time, entirely comprehend the universe. Who's to say that a Sith, by looking inward, sees less than a Jedi does by looking out?"

"The Jedi—Jedi are good. That's the difference. I don't who sees what."

"What the Jedi are," Palpatine said gently, "is a group of very powerful beings you consider to be your comrades. And you are loyal to your friends; I have known that for as long as I have known you, and I admire you for it. But are your friends loyal to you?"

Anakin shot him a sudden frown. "What do you mean?"

"Would a true friend ask you to do something that's wrong?"

"I'm not sure it's wrong," Anakin said. Obi-Wan might have been telling the truth. It was possible. They might only want to catch Sidious. They might really be trying to protect Palpa­tine.

They might.

Maybe.

"Have they asked you to break the Jedi Code? To violate the Constitution? To betray a friendship? To betray your own values?"

"Chancellor—"

"Think, Anakin! I have always tried to teach you to think— yes, yes, Jedi do not think, they know, but those stale answers aren't good enough now, in these changing times. Consider their motives. Keep your mind clear of assumptions. The fear of losing power is a weakness of both the Jedi and the Sith."

Anakin sank lower in his seat. Too much had happened in too short a time. Everything jumbled together in his head, and none of it seemed to make complete sense.

Except for what Palpatine said.

That made too much sense.

"Anakin—are you familiar with The Tragedy of Darth Plagueis the Wise?"

Anakin shook his head.

"Ah, I thought not. It is nota story the Jedi would tell you. It's a Sith legend, of a Dark Lord who had turned his sight inward so deeply that he had come to comprehend, and mas­ter life itself. And—because the two are one, when seen clearly enough—death itself."

Anakin sat up. Was he actually hearing this? "He could keep someone safe from death?"

"According to the legend," Palpatine said, "he could directly influence the midi-chlorians to create life; with such knowledge, to maintain life in someone already living would seem a small matter, don't you agree?"

A universe of possibility blossomed inside Anakin's head. He murmured, "Stronger than death..."

"The dark side is a pathway to many abilities some would consider unnatural."

Anakin couldn't seem to get his breath. "What happened to him?"

"Oh, well, it is a tragedy, after all, you know. Once he has gained this ultimate power, he has nothing to fear save losing it. To safeguard his power's existence, he teached the path toward it to his apprentice."

"And?"

"And then his apprentice killed him in his sleep," Palpatine said with a careless shrug. "It's ironic: he can save anyone in the galaxy from death—except himself."

Anakin turned to face his mentor. " Would it be possible to learn this power?"

Palpatine regarding him with that smile of gentle wisdom.

"Not from a Jedi."

TBC…

A/N: Well, this is probably the longest, and the most unsatisfying, chapter I've posted yet. Unsatisfying because I needed these scenes in the story, but I didn't have to change them that much to fit in Buffy. And so- cut and paste.

I really hate doing that.

The good news is that we are getting down to the end now. Soon, Buffy and Obi-Wan head to Utapau, and Anakin learns the truth about Palpatine. And when that happens- things are gonna change. No more cutting and pasting. Oh, and look forward to seeing an old friend make an appearance.

Thanks to everyone for their reviews. I'm sorry I haven't been able to respond to everyone, but work limits the time I have to write each chapter, let alone respond to everyone. So what I'll be doing from now on is responding to the big questions on my Yahoo group, and reply to individuals when and if I have the time.

Next chapter will be mostly original, too- because Buffy finds out she has a sister-in-law…But not before she has a little heart-to-heart with mom, where she'll tell Shmi about her time on Corellia- and about her time with Jacen Solo...