Okay, I'd like to say something general: there is no such thing as being "just" a Guest reviewer; you guys all make me smile every time you leave feedback about the story. Just because you're anonymous/don't have an account doesn't mean your opinion/review doesn't matter - I love every single one of them! You guys are the sweetest reviewers I've ever had, haha, so never feel like you're not being listened to. ;)

Back to the story, lol. Do you want to help Erwyna with her investigation? I left hints about Padmé's fate strewn throughout part 2 and the end of part 1, and I'll start pointing them out as we go along. Go back to chapter 30 and see if you can find the three hints I left behind if you'd like to assist Erwyna! :)

"He's too dangerous to be kept alive!"

"I will decide that for myself."

"We left that decision to you, and now we've lost fourteen people!"

"My mistake was allowing your people to lead the interrogation. That mistake will not be repeated."

"This is our fault?"

Obi-Wan shifted uncomfortably by the back wall. He and Siri had followed Qui-Gon and the Grand Master as instructed, and as soon as they'd entered a conference room the Jedi had been confronted by General Crix Madine, one of the Rebel's top generals on the Alliance war council and the man who had organized the attack on the emperor's fleet. He had been less than happy with what had happened, but what apparently infuriated him the most was that Darth Vader was still breathing after that fiasco. Bail Organa had arrived shortly after, but he was mainly watching the argument unfold between Gen. Madine and the Grand Master.

The Togruta Jedi sighed heavily. "No. This is not your fault. The fault is mine, as I said. You were not prepared to face a Sith Lord; I shouldn't have put that burden upon your men."

"Perhaps not," Bail finally interrupted. "But our main concern still stands. Can we even control Vader? If there's a chance this will happen again, we shouldn't keep him alive. It isn't worth the risk."

"We lost a lot of good people to ensure both Sith were killed," Gen. Madine added gruffly.

"We can't make any guarantees about his actions," the Grand Master shook her head. "But we may have found a solution."

Obi-Wan listened intently, leaning in slightly, when he realized with a lurch that the Jedi was suddenly looking at him.

Siri seemed to catch on before her husband. "Obi-Wan? Look, just because he startled Vader doesn't mean he can fix every problem the Sith presents."

"He didn't startle him," Qui-Gon corrected her before anyone could offer an argument. "Darth Vader listened to him."

Obi-Wan felt his heart beat a little harder. It wasn't as if he hadn't observed the fact already, but having it confirmed by his master somehow made it sink in, and all he could do was ask, "Why?"

"That is what we need to be figuring out," the Grand Master said pointedly before looking at her fellow Master. "Qui-Gon, I need you and your Padawans to answer that question immediately. In the meantime, no one is to approach the Sith."

"He's not much use to us if we can't even interrogate him," Madine sighed irritably, crossing his arms.

Bail, however, was more inclined to trust the Jedi. "Very well. I see no harm in it, so long as he doesn't cause any more trouble. Master Ti, I must warn you: if Vader has another outburst like that, we'll have to put him down."

Master Ti nodded gracefully. "I understand."

With that, Bail guided the flustered general out of the room, speaking softly to him. The silence in the room was heavy as Master Ti faced Qui-Gon fully. "Be swift and thorough, Qui-Gon. For everyone's sake. If there's any way I can help, let me know. I have to go survey the damage."

Qui-Gon bowed, and his Padawans followed suit as the Grand Master left. Then it was just them, and Siri immediately spoke first. "What the blazes are we supposed to do?"

"First we must eliminate all preconceived notions about Vader," Qui-Gon replied, walking over to the conference table with his hands behind his back. "We cannot make any assumptions about this."

Obi-Wan nodded and eyed his wife, who he knew was the real target of that statement. She understood that too, and sighed. Of course, Obi-Wan would have to let go of a few sentiments as well, including the theory that Vader had murdered his little sister.

Blast it. Just thinking that made his chest clench. He wasn't sure if it was sadness or anger, and he didn't like that. Breathing deeply, he focused on the conversation at hand.

"You've met the Sith Lord before. How did he interact with you in the past?"

Obi-Wan snapped back into focus at the question. He mulled over his previous dealings with Vader objectively. "He was always calm, blunt… there was one point in the beginning when he seemed interested in my dealings with the Alliance but it never panned out; he latched on to Padmé instead. He never really noticed me after that."

"So we have a Sith Lord who—as I recall you describing him back at the enclave—is unflappable, cold, and manipulative. He's known for his self-control, always obeys orders, and had little interest in you." Qui-Gon summarized. "Master Windu had said that you brought some other information to him some time ago."

Siri turned, looking at Obi-Wan confusedly. Obi-Wan sighed. "I… it was what Padmé had told me. I wasn't sure how reliable it was since she was… conflicted about Vader, but I'd figured I should at least report it."

"Conflicted?" Qui-Gon repeated.

Obi-Wan glanced at Siri. She looked a little upset that he'd brought this up, but it wasn't as bad as the last time. When he'd almost told Qui-Gon about Padmé's romantic feelings back on Ghanu'jivo, Siri had stopped him dead in his tracks. He supposed now she trusted Qui-Gon more, felt more comfortable around him. He knew he had to tell Qui-Gon, but Obi-Wan still waited for some sort of approval from his wife.

Siri sighed, looking away. Go for it.

"There's something we haven't told you about Padmé," Obi-Wan finally said slowly, looking at his master once more.

Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow. He crossed his arms, leaned against the conference table, and waited for Obi-Wan to continue.

The Jedi Padawan cleared his throat. "Padmé… had a plan to distract Darth Vader. This was long before we even knew of your existence, before the final recess. I'd told you that he had interacted with my sister a lot before the recess, but… that was her own doing. She wanted to distract him from our operations, to ensure that even if he did find out he would be… less inclined to turn us in."

Qui-Gon continued to listen patiently, showing little reaction. Obi-Wan sighed, struggling to find the right words. "She took Vader to Naboo with her for the recess. Siri and I weren't very happy about it, but Padmé had said she could handle him so we could go to Salkende. When we reunited… she…"

"She'd gotten a bad boy complex," Siri finished for him, her voice low in some bizarre mixture of regret, shame, and annoyance. "She was convinced she was in love with him."

Qui-Gon stood straight, his arms slowly relaxing to his sides. His brow furrowed in surprise.

Obi-Wan tried to elaborate before the Jedi came to any bad conclusions. "Padmé claimed that Darth Vader wasn't exactly what we had perceived him to be. She'd said that she'd gotten to know him and realized that he was… I suppose brainwashed is the best word to describe it."

"Brainwashed?" Siri repeated, looking at her husband. "Wait, I didn't hear this part; just the romance."

"Yes, well, that's about all there is to it," Obi-Wan shook his head. "Padmé wouldn't elaborate much. She said that Vader was raised to be obedient, was raised to be a soldier. That was enough explanation for her, apparently. He…"

Again, Obi-Wan faltered. He was reluctant to admit this last bit of information simply because he'd kept it hidden for so long, partly to prevent Siri from blowing a gasket on Padmé when she'd been alive and partly because he'd forgotten in the storm that had blown through since her death. In either case, he knew it had long since passed the point where both his wife and his master would be upset that he hadn't mentioned it earlier, particularly in light of what had happened today. "He asked Padmé for help."

Both Siri and Qui-Gon stepped closer to Obi-Wan, the air thick with anticipation and tension. "What?"

"I don't know what kind of help he wanted, or if he even wanted any – he could have just been playing her." Obi-Wan shook his head. "All I know is what she told me… and she wouldn't even tell me why. She said he had some sort of secret, and she didn't trust me enough to elaborate."

Admitting that hurt. He still couldn't believe Padmé hadn't trusted him. What could he have done to change that? If he'd made her feel more welcome, would he have been able to prevent her death?

Stop it. Jedi don't deal in what-if scenarios. Obi-Wan internally rebuked himself, clenching his jaw. Releasing this emotion was particularly difficult, but he eventually exhaled deeply and focused on the conversation at hand.

Siri was gaping at him, her brow furrowed in utter shock. Qui-Gon was stroking his beard, mulling it over.

"We must meditate on this," Qui-Gon eventually said. "Together we can review the information and find an objective conclusion. After that, we can test our theory."

Obi-Wan was about to question exactly what test our theory meant (he had a bad feeling it would include Vader directly), but Siri stepped between him and Qui-Gon, facing the exit. Her eyes were downcast, and her fists were clenched. The Force revealed very little, which indicated Siri herself hadn't quite settled on a proper reaction to what she'd just learned. It was expected, but in this case it was a little unnerving – Siri tended to be swift to act but slow to react. She could respond to a situation immediately, come up with counterarguments in a heartbeat, prepare for a mission in a minute, and she always did so with far more gusto and emotion than was really necessarily… but her true feelings never came until later. She never actually let the situation sink in until long after the situation had ended, or at least long after the initial spark.

In this case, however, she didn't even seem to know how to respond to the immediate situation, even though Qui-Gon had laid out a pretty clear plan. Perhaps it was just the meditation itself? Obi-Wan knew she wasn't particularly fond of it.

"I'll join you two later," she muttered, walking swiftly towards the exit.

Obi-Wan turned to walk after her, but Qui-Gon placed his hand on the Padawan's shoulder. "Let her go, Obi-Wan."

Mild irritation coursed through him; he was Siri's husband and had been dealing with her for many years, and now his master was telling him how to handle her? He took a deep breath. No emotion. There is no emotion.

Once he'd calmed himself, Obi-Wan surmised the true reason for Qui-Gon's statement was simply to ensure Obi-Wan focused on the mission. Was this because of the rule of non-attachment? He couldn't worry about his wife?

Obi-Wan sighed. He supposed that really was the case. He had to focus on the mission first, then Siri. This Jedi training was going to be far more challenging than he'd originally thought.

Erwyna coughed as she disembarked the shuttle. Imperial Center's air was just as foul as she remembered it. She'd heard that without the air scrubbers it would be infinitely worse. She couldn't even imagine it; the atmosphere smelled like a chemical factory. Even a hospital didn't have as sterile a taste to it. It felt as if anything healthy had been sucked out alongside the pollution. And it wasn't like the pollution couldn't be detected – Erwyna had observed on her last visit that the air had a distinct odor to it at the rush hours of the day.

The ground beneath her feet moved slightly. Erwyna tried to ignore it. With all the skyscrapers as tall as they were, the wind was a very familiar friend to all the planet's inhabitants… to Erwyna it was more like an unsettling nuisance.

Erwyna exited the docking hangar where her shuttle was parked. Her pilot would stay at a nearby hotel and worry about the ship while she ventured into the city. She'd already reviewed the information Capt. Brek had provided for her, and she'd figured she would indeed save Odeki Rubar for later; apparently he was quite new to spying in general, and Erwyna neither had time nor patience to deal with a fumbling operative. She'd contacted Okima'yak as soon as her shuttle had exited hyperspace, so they were going to meet at the Drunken Dewback Cantina in the lower levels.

The trip to the cantina was uneventful. The lieutenant spent most of her time pondering her investigation. She carried the shoto with her wherever she went, stashed away in her knapsack that she hauled over her good shoulder. It would serve as a good reminder to keep focused (not that she really needed one, but it also was good to keep it away from Éothen) and it might just come in handy; she'd seen what these kinds of blades could do firsthand.

The Drunken Dewback was just as noisy as she'd remembered it. Erwyna smiled and walked over to the bar; though she didn't like Imperial Center itself, she could never refuse an opportunity for a good drink, and she would be the first to admit this place had excellent drinks. After obtaining one, she strolled to the back of the main room, sitting in the shadows at a booth.

Erwyna observed the clientele and sipped her refreshment, keeping an eye out for the slicer. Eventually she saw the familiar face of the Twi'lek female, and Okima'yak locked eyes with her. Okima'yak smiled and approached the booth.

"How's it goin'?" she asked, taking a seat across from the lieutenant. "Where are your other friends?"

"Seeing the sites," Erwyna shrugged. "They're not part of this job."

"Uh huh," the Twi'lek grunted, plopping her elbows on the table. "So what's the job?"

"I need access to security feeds in an apartment complex," Erwyna explained. "500 Republica."

"So one of your friends is part of the job," Okima'yak remarked, leaning in slightly.

Erwyna furrowed her brow, shaking her head. "No. It's just me."

"500 Republica is Amidala's apartment complex, isn't it?" The slicer asked. At Erwyna's startled expression, the Twi'lek chuckled. "Relax, it's not like I had anything to do with her death. Didn't even realize I'd done a job with her until I saw her face plastered all over HoloNet a few days later. Guess somebody else didn't keep her involvement quiet?"

Erwyna considered it for an instant. Éothen obviously wasn't a suspect. Capt. Brek wouldn't squeal on his friend – there was no reason for him to have told the Imperials that she'd busted into one of their prisons. Okima'yak had just admitted she was innocent; while Erwyna was far from stupid enough to take her word at face value, she also realized that the slicer wouldn't be volunteering both her time and knowledge so easily if she did have anything to do with Amidala's death. Unless, of course, she was just very good at covering up her emotions and was taking the job to ensure Erwyna didn't find anything incriminating on her… but that seemed highly unlikely. The woman had no motive, and if Erwyna recalled correctly, the slicer had asked Amidala for her name; she hadn't recognized her.

So had something happened in the prison that had caused someone to identify Amidala? She hadn't removed her helmet the entire time they'd been inside the prison or anywhere within its perimeter. No skin had been exposed, so there couldn't be any DNA left behind. No, the more she thought about it, the less likely it seemed that the prison break had played into Amidala's demise.

"Yeah, glad you figured out who I'm looking for," she eventually said. "So I guess that means you know what I want specifically?"

Okima'yak shrugged. "Security feeds from the apartment the morning she died."

Erwyna nodded. "You think you can get me that?"

The slicer barked out a laugh. "It's the fancy district in town; they've got higher security, so it'll cost you more. But yeah, I can hack it just fine. Mind you, if your stiff liked her privacy, she probably doesn't have any cameras in her apartment. I can get you all the halls, lifts, entrances, and exits, but I can't guarantee getting inside her home."

Erwyna took the information in and waved a dismissive hand. "Get me everything you can – forty-eight hours, from the day before the murder to the end of the day it happened."

"Got it," Okima'yak acknowledged. "I'll have that ready for you by nightfall; say six hours, give or take a bit. Same place?"

"Yeah," Erwyna affirmed. "See you in a little while."

The slicer stood and left. Erwyna sighed, running a hand over her face. While Okima'yak busied herself with the security cameras, Erwyna would have to look through every report of the senator's death to see what she could glean from HoloNet – not that she trusted that source too much, especially since she figured the Empire fed people what it wanted them to hear rather than the truth, but it at least allowed her to do something. She had to start from somewhere, and her main source of information was going to be the security feeds themselves.

Pulling out her data pad, Erwyna accessed HoloNet and started sifting. The drink she'd had gave her a warm fuzzy feeling and dulled most of the pain in her ribs and arm, so she was able to relax as she scrolled through different articles and videos. They all basically said the same thing: dead senator found murdered in her apartment by Rebels. One piece of information, however, caught her eye.

Her body was found by one of her faithful handmaidens in the early morning hours of last Natunda.

A handmaiden had been there. She had found the body. She would have seen the scene of the crime before any Imperial touched it. Erwyna hastily looked up the senate in order to find the Chommell Sector's employees. When she pulled up the site dedicated to the Imperial Senate, she was bombarded by pictures and propaganda statements about how the senate had such history to it and led the great Empire and blah, blah, blah – holy Mother did it go on and on. She selected the link to the list of senators and was presented with an enormous list. After spending a good five minutes sifting through irrelevant data, Erwyna finally found the Chommell Sector and selected it… which then led to a site talking about the great senator who would ensure that the Chommell Sector was properly represented and would bring up key issues and by the stars did they ever shut up?! She just wanted to figure out who was working with this guy!

Erwyna moaned. She really missed having military access to information. She had no authority here, and it was starting to grow extremely annoying. It was a good thing she had some money to throw around so she could use people like Okima'yak.

Eventually, Erwyna spotted a section that talked about the delegates under the senator. There were three representatives: one for Naboo, one for Nimo'alk, and one for the colonies in the sector. This was still irrelevant.

Growing frustrated, Erwyna pushed the data pad away from herself, huffing an irritated breath. She doubted she'd be able to find out who the handmaidens were by looking it up on HoloNet. Maybe she should just go to the senate? She could meet up with Tlenden… but she didn't really want the senator to know she was here. Tlenden was the head of her clan and was extremely busy, and if the Imperials found out that the senator of the Tsograda Sector was investigating something pertaining to the Chommell Sector it might cause problems. Perhaps one of the representatives could help? Or maybe Erwyna could go undercover as one of Tlenden's aides? The lieutenant smiled. That sounded way better than looking up information on HoloNet.

But… how would she explain it to her elder?

Erwyna muttered a Salkenden curse under her breath. She would have to face Tlenden… but she didn't have to tell him the whole story, she supposed; she just wanted to ensure that she still led this investigation and that Tlenden didn't shut it down – Erwyna knew the man didn't like getting involved in situations that could get him killed or expose Salkende to harm. Besides, considering how he'd reacted to her last escapade with Éothen, she doubted this would go well if she told him exactly what she was doing. She really didn't like this; although Tlenden was the leader of her clan, she didn't know him that well, and she didn't hold him in high regard since he was heavily involved in politics. Nevertheless, she'd have to tell him something; she couldn't do this alone, even with Okima'yak's expertise, or she'd be paying that slicer so much she'd go broke by tomorrow.

Erwyna swore again and then grabbed her comlink. When she called Tlenden, she got an aide instead.

"Senator Tlenden's office," he acknowledged with a polite smile. The aide recognized Erwyna, however, and he immediately added, "Lieutenant, I'm afraid Senator Tlenden is busy at the moment; the senate is in session."

Erwyna bit her lip. She figured this comm. channel wasn't secure, so she didn't quite know how to phrase this without raising suspicion. "Well, just tell him I'm in town for a bit and would like to say hi. I'll avoid the senate—not a place for socializing, anyway—so I'll just meet him at his earliest convenience at his apartment."

The aide seemed to understand her meaning, and he nodded. "Of course. I'll inform him of your visit."

Erwyna thanked the man and cut the connection. Grumbling, she dragged herself out of the cantina and to the nearest street so she could get a taxi to the senator's apartment. It took almost an hour to get there, and once she finally arrived her arm and ribs were hurting again. Thankfully she knew the security code to enter the apartment, and once she'd gone inside she made her way to the den and delicately laid down on the sofa. It was likely that Tlenden would come quickly once his aide informed him of her visit, so she should have time to talk to him and figure things out before she had to meet up with Okima'yak once more.

Erwyna mulled over how she would explain the situation before slipping into a comfortable nap. The sound of someone entering the room startled her awake, and she saw her clan elder pause in the doorway. He was examining her, his brow furrowing as his eyes settled on the sling that held her arm.

"Far," she acknowledged, using the man's proper title. She tried to sit up and winced as a result.

"Stay there," the senator said quietly as he entered the room and sat in a chair beside the sofa. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm taking some leave," she lied smoothly. "Just got out of the fight of my life and my body's still recovering from it."

"Fight? The war is over." Tlenden noted confusedly and worriedly. "What have you been doing?"

Erwyna bit back a laugh. She would have thought he'd known by now, but this actually worked perfectly. "I was sent to our buddies to see if they were doing okay, and they happened to find the emperor's fleet while I was there."

Tlenden's eyebrows rose sharply, and his body tensed. "What happened?"

"You'll hear about it soon," Erwyna assured him. "I can't give you details because if you know before everybody else it'll look suspicious. Suffice it to say my leave has to do with that. I'm going to need your help with something."

The senator narrowed his eyes slightly, automatically suspicious. Erwyna hid a smirk; she supposed she did have a reputation of being just a little mischievous when she was with Éothen and they were on leave… but Éothen wasn't here. This was business.

"I need to know who all the personnel in the Chommell Sector are," she explained. "Specifically the helpers: aides, handmaidens, everything. I need to know who they are and how long they've been there."

"I'm sure one of my assistants can find that information for you," Tlenden nodded, still looking suspicious. "Why do you need it?"

"I already told you I can't say," Erwyna answered, happy that the man was still in the dark about recent events. "It has to do with our friends. When will I have what I need?"

"Tomorrow." Senator Tlenden replied, standing. "I'll have guest quarters arranged for you. Is the Perillinen here?"

"No, Éothen's not here. It's just me."

Her elder nodded before looking her over one last time. "Do you need any medical attention, lieutenant?"

Again, she shook her head. "I'm fine, Far. I'll just rest in my room."

Tlenden acknowledged her and told her to contact him if she required anything. Then he left the room, probably to attend to other duties; she hadn't been expected, after all. Sighing, Erwyna referenced her chronometer and figured she still had a few hours before she needed to meet up with Okima'yak. When a servant told her that her room was prepared, she slowly rose and made her way there, ready for another nap, but her mind was buzzing with a million different theories about what she might find out from the slicer. She certainly hoped the security feeds yielded useful information, especially when she added what she would learn from them to what she could learn from the handmaiden.

She was off to a promising start.

The cold chill of Hoth was normally held at bay by the heating units in the Rebel base, but all of a sudden Siri felt as if ice had formed inside her veins. Her stomach churned, tightening into knots. Her breath hitched, her chest tight. Even though she was in layers of white winter clothing, she felt like she was already dying from exposure to the elements.

Padmé had withheld vital information about Vader. Obi-Wan had withheld vital information about Vader and Padmé… he'd withheld it from her. From his own wife. Why would he do that?

Siri stopped walking and squeezed her eyes shut, pinching the bridge of her nose as her body violently reacted against everything that was happening. She knew why. He hadn't trusted her. He still didn't trust her. Obi-Wan had faith in his wife, he would trust her with his life, but when it came to this one issue he wouldn't reveal anything. Siri wasn't stupid; she knew it had everything to do with how she would react. Obi-Wan didn't want her to get angry, to let her emotions take over, to be anything but a perfect Jedi Padawan.

Well she wasn't perfect, damn it. She was a human being. Of course she was going to get angry, of course she was going to take it out on someone, of course she would be upset about this! Vader had asked Padmé for help?! It hadn't been pure foolishness on her part - he had tricked her! This was important information!

Siri didn't know whether to be angrier at herself, Vader, or Obi-Wan. Seeing as one of the three was a murderer and a Sith Lord, she was eager to lay all her emotions on him. Honestly, if she just made herself stop and think about it, she might have prevented herself from walking down this hallway, but she really wasn't in the mood to think right now. She just had to get rid of this feeling.

Resuming her walk, Siri stormed by several Rebel guards and into the viewing room for the prison cell. She paced back and forth, glaring through the ray shield that had been reengaged after the earlier incident. Darth Vader was again slumped in his seat, breathing slowly. She didn't even know if he was conscious or not, she didn't even know if he could sense her—she herself couldn't really sense anything in the haze of emotions swirling through her mind. Right now, she didn't care about any of that.

Siri walked to the cell door. One of the guards put his hand on her shoulder. "Hey, Master Ti said nobody's supposed to go in."

"I'm a Jedi. Let me through." Siri said firmly, glaring at the man.

The guard watched her uncertainly. "Do you have Master Ti's permission?"

"Yes." She replied automatically. Some part of her mind cringed at the immediate lie, but she ignored it.

The guard exchanged a glance with the other, who shrugged. They were hesitant to argue with a Jedi, especially since most people in the base implicitly trusted them based on their reputation and how much they'd helped in the fight against the emperor. Sighing, the man stepped aside.

Siri entered the cell. As soon as the door closed behind her she took several large steps towards the Sith Lord, having forgotten any previous fear or discomfort about being near him. The Force was still mute to her (or she just couldn't hear it over the din in her head, the constant screaming of he doesn't trust you and there is no emotion; there is peace and just get rid of the problem like everybody wants to do and a million other things). Anger and hurt were primarily what she felt; hurt at Obi-Wan's lack of confidence in her, anger at him for the same, anger at herself for reacting exactly as he'd known she would (which was the exact reason he hadn't wanted to tell her—she was a kriffing idiot, wasn't she?), anger at Vader for being at the root of all of this. And he was – this monster was at the root of everything wrong in her life personally: all the turmoil since Kuna's death, Padmé's loss of judgment, her murder, everything. And now he'd set his eyes on Obi-Wan for some reason; with just one action Darth Vader had made Obi-Wan everyone's new test dummy to see if they could use this Sith Lord.

She'd had enough of this.

A part of her didn't even know why she was in here. She'd left the conference room to just blow off steam—or at least that's what she'd thought she would do—and then immediately after the door had closed she'd just lost any semblance of control over herself. She knew she wasn't supposed to feel anything, that she was supposed to release it to the Force, but what the hell did that even mean?! Imagine it floating away and then prancing off in a flurry of Jedi bliss? Why couldn't anyone give her concrete help, concrete solutions to all the problems that she and everyone else had?!

Whatever was left of her rational side reminded her that she was standing barely less than a meter away from the most dangerous man in the galaxy. Focusing, she observed the Sith Lord, but he hadn't seemed to have noticed her. He probably was still unconscious.

Well to hell with that. She wasn't going to let him stay unconscious; if the blasted Rebels wanted information out of him, she would get it. Heaven only knew what the Jedi wanted out of him. But she would make sure he didn't get anywhere near Obi-Wan again, she would make sure—

Siri shook her head, grasping her hair and growling. She didn't even know what she was doing in here. She just wanted all of it to stop. She didn't want there to be a reason for Obi-Wan to keep secrets from her, she didn't want any of her friends and family to be threatened anymore, she didn't want this freak to be alive!

Siri kicked the Sith Lord squarely in the chest. She heard a soft grunt, and the force of the blow knocked the chair on its back, taking Vader with it. The anger in her grew; she needed more of a reaction than that. She grasped his shoulders and shook him harshly, his head hitting the floor a few times. She couldn't blasted stop herself, and her heartrate rose in a panic as she continued to shake the man.

He still wasn't reacting. His eyes were open, but he wasn't even looking at her. Siri punched him in the face, flinging his head to the side. He did nothing. She punched him again.

This was pointless. She didn't care. She hit him a third time.

The baby. You're putting the baby in danger.

Siri froze.

Darth Vader was panting slightly, blood trickling from his lip. It also began to slowly leak out of a few other cuts; none of his previous injuries had been treated, and her roughhousing had reopened a handful of them. His eyes stared blankly at the wall, his head still turned to the side. As soon as Siri had stopped, as soon as her priorities had shifted, the Force came rushing back to her as if a dam had been released. She gasped at the anguish that tore through her, and she suddenly wasn't sure if the influx of emotions she felt were hers, his, or a mix of the two.

Siri shuffled back on her knees, taking a few deep breaths. When she looked at the Sith Lord again, the hatred she felt drained out of her. Her muscles tensed in anticipation to some kind of reaction, but Vader was motionless. The more she stared at him, the less she felt of… anything. Exhaustion overcame her, and then she finally made an observation that she hadn't noticed in the past.

This guy was too kriffing pathetic to hate.

Siri couldn't feel any sort of positive feelings towards him, but she suddenly seemed devoid of much negativity towards him too. She supposed she felt a bit of pity, but now she honestly felt guilty more than anything else for basically pummeling the guy needlessly. Of course, she wasn't too guilty – he'd done far worse. But he wasn't even defending himself now. He was a broken mess. He was just broken. There was nothing left to interrogate and nothing left to fix.

Siri watched him for a few seconds longer, catching her breath, and then she started to tremble, overcome by everything she'd felt and done. Standing shakily, she backed out of the cell just as the guards entered, looking startled and confused. They weren't sure if Vader had hurt her or the other way around, but she wasn't in any shape to explain it. Siri hurried past them and ran out of the area, heading for the farthest corner of the base. Once she'd reached it, she slumped against a wall, hugging herself tightly and using what little training she had to just make herself disappear.

She hadn't seen Intelligence this worked up since a terrorist attack had taken out a grand moff and a military base seven years ago. Of course, this most recent catastrophe was far more… devastating than that. A grand moff could be pretty easily replaced, after all.

Tarkin's spy walked through the crowds of frantic agents who were dashing back and forth around headquarters. Analysts were being hassled to get more data, minders were being ordered to interpret it faster, and handlers were being briefed for new missions that they had to organize whilst operatives ran to and fro, preparing for whatever new assignment they'd been given.

"Fixer 23?"

Years of training prevented her from curling her upper lip in distaste at her new title, so she simply turned on her heel and faced whoever was calling her. It was astonishing that after three years she still had such a repulsive reaction to being called Fixer. She used to be a cipher, Cipher 8, and that was always what she would be; no forced "retirement" from the field would tell her otherwise. Still, it had its perks; being part of the internal security gave her far more freedom to maneuver, which allowed her to operate as Tarkin's spy.

An elder handler approached her, looking haggard. "Keeper wants to see you. He's in his office."

Tarkin's spy nodded. "I'll proceed there immediately."

As she headed to Keeper's office, her mind whirled as to what was going to happen next. She'd heard the news from her comlink implant basically as soon as it had happened – Emperor Palpatine was dead. It had… not been expected. It also meant her life was going to be quite interesting for the next few weeks, possibly even months. She'd heard nothing about Darth Vader, and even Palpatine's death had taken a while to actually confirm – analysts were still acquiring what little data they could recover from the Dominator. Intelligence would certainly have its hands full for quite some time.

Of course the biggest problem for Cipher 8 was simply that this would cause quite the headache for Grand Moff Tarkin, which inadvertently caused a headache for her. She would have no clout with any other official if someone else took the throne. She had to ensure Tarkin won the oncoming power struggle… assuming Darth Vader was dead, which was an entirely different problem. In either case, she was going to be busy; the fact that Keeper was sending for her also indicated that he suspected the Rebels found the emperor through a leak in Intelligence.

As she assumed, the first thing out of Keeper's mouth when she arrived in his office was, "Fixer 23, I have an assignment for you."

Cipher 8 nodded and stood still, her hands clasped behind her back. The tall, tan skinned, elderly man in front of her paced restlessly, somehow looking even balder and greyer than the last time she'd seen him. "I stand ready, sir."

"Emperor Palpatine assigned us with the simple task of ensuring he arrived on Naboo safely and without anyone's knowledge." Keeper explained. "We were the only ones who knew of his trip to the Chommell Sector. I'm having outside sources investigate the possibility that someone in the military leaked the information to the Rebels, but it's far more likely that their agent is in our own ranks. I need you to lead a team of fixers and investigate the matter."

"Give me background. What do I have to work with?" she requested.

Keeper held out a data chip. "This contains all the personnel who were involved with the mission. They should be the only people who knew of its existence. Do not limit your investigation to them, however; this is only a starting point."

Naturally; she'd be a sloppy agent if she didn't explore every possibility. "Yes, sir."

Taking the data chip, she left Keeper's office and headed towards the section of headquarters that served as the home base for Internal Security. She would assemble her team there and begin the investigation. Then she would check on the grand moff; she had to make sure Tarkin didn't stumble and fall… at least not yet.

Tarkin paced the conference room impatiently. He hadn't left the palace since his arrival, so it was immensely useful that the building had amenities for just about anything. This particular conference room was just what he needed; its walls were sound proof and, most importantly, the seat at the far end of the table was larger and had the controls for the entire room; it exuded power without having to say anything. Tarkin would make his station quite clear when the others arrived.

When the Empire had first been created, Palpatine had installed Tarkin as a moff over the core worlds. There had been eighteen moffs altogether, each with his or her own territory; their jobs had been simply to ensure everyone within their jurisdiction behaved. The larger the territory, the more prestige for the moff; the game of power was fairly clear and straightforward. But then the Rebels had arrived, and suddenly there were hotspots of activity. Certain moffs failed to keep the Rebels out of their jurisdiction, and the emperor had… replaced them. Other moffs were killed by the Rebels themselves. In either case, it had eventually become apparent that more was needed; the military had been doing what they could alongside Intelligence, but it hadn't been enough to squash out the rag tag team. There had been too many attacks in too many different parts of the galaxy, and the centralized military was spread thin chasing false leads planted for Intelligence to find. As a result, he emperor had reorganized a few portions of the galaxy into oversectors, centralized locations where the Rebels were most active, and he had placed grand moffs in charge of them. That had created an entirely new game; suddenly destroying the Rebels was a great way to curry favor, but one couldn't entirely destroy them or the area would lose its status as an oversector and the grand moff might get demoted. Tarkin had never liked that approach; instead he had worked actively to crush any rebellion in his jurisdictions in order to prove a point, to show the emperor that he could handle any situation. It had worked, and as soon as he had quelled uprisings in one oversector he was moved to another. He'd never lost his rank since he'd first obtained it eleven years ago.

His latest jurisdiction was the Seswenna Oversector, which included his own homeworld, Eriadu. It was strategically important since two major trade routes passed through it, and the Rebels had been trying to obtain access to trade routes for a while before Tarkin had squashed them into the dust (or at least he'd thought he had – apparently he was wrong…). Now he had some of the wealthiest senators in his pocket, the clout of his family name on his homeworld, and partnerships with a handful of officials who he would meet in a few minutes. All the fleets stationed in his oversector were technically under the command of a grand admiral, but Tarkin essentially owned him, so that wasn't a problem.

Tarkin heard the door to the conference room open, and he faced the entrance. Slowly all his allies trickled into the room until they were seated around the conference table. Moffs Jorent, Ukoz, and Lael sat beside each other as if huddling together would give them more clout. Jorent and Lael were simply power hungry and held too little to sate their appetites. Ukoz, on the other hand, was naïve and had allied with Tarkin in order to ensure his own jurisdiction remained at peace. Across from the moffs were Tarkin's three grand admirals, Ran, Ghent, and Otoren. Ran was relatively new to his rank, but he had battle experience, which was far more than Otoren, who had merely gotten his position through connections with other officials; the man wasn't incompetent, but he wasn't nearly as useful. Still, those connections would serve Tarkin well. Ghent was the grand admiral in charge of the Seswenna Oversector, Tarkin's jurisdiction. Several senators and representatives also sat at the table, and they were all looking at the other occupants nervously. Finally, Tarkin's sole fellow grand moff sat across from him.

Tarkin stood at the table, towering over them, and got straight to the point; he'd already told them he'd summoned them for an urgent reason. "The news will spread quickly, but it is essential you learn first: Emperor Palpatine is dead."

The air rustled as the occupants around the table shifted. Gazes drifted, darting from one person to the next. Tarkin could already see the cogs turning in their minds as some panicked and others rejoiced, as some wondered what the blazes would happen next while others wondered how they could benefit from it. Sitting at the head of the table, he continued strongly, "With that comes a reality that we must prepare for: everyone will be vying for the throne."

The grand moff, Governor Mikemna, leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table. "What about Lord Vader? He is the heir."

"The Rebels, the ones responsible for the emperor's death, have taken Lord Vader prisoner." Tarkin explained. "That doesn't the fact that he is still the rightful emperor… but he is not here, and there will be many who will refute his authority or claim that he is dead. We must ensure no one takes the throne until he returns."

"What proof do we have that he's alive?" Moff Jorent asked, a greedy glint in his eye.

"The more important fact is that there is no proof of his death," Tarkin said firmly. "Until Intelligence gets said proof, we are to act accordingly, unless you want to answer to Lord Vader upon his return."

The moff shifted uncomfortably, leaning farther away from Tarkin and remaining silent.

After eying the moff for a few seconds longer, Tarkin returned his attention to the group as a whole. "I need you all to speak to your respective contacts: representatives, get your senators to our side; senators, speak to your regional governors; moffs, make allies; I don't have to tell the rest of you, I trust?"

"What's our first move?" Grand Adm. Otoren asked, slightly nervous.

"I believe he just said it," Grand Adm. Ran sighed before paying the other officer no mind. "We'll have to ensure we have defenses in strategic parts of the Empire, particularly here. There will be some who will go to war for this."

"I know," Tarkin nodded, appreciating the experienced man's intellect. "I will handle Imperial Center's security. I need all of you to ensure other key points are guarded against attack. Never forget that despite the pure lunacy and idiocy that is to come, the Rebels are our greatest threat, and they will take advantage of this."

"Apart from the Rebels, who will we mainly have to worry about?" Moff Ukoz inquired.

"Grand Moff Rhaegon," Governor Mikemna immediately answered before Tarkin could. "The man is a good strategist and fighter, but most importantly, his mother is a power hungry lunatic. She's always wanted the throne for herself; this will be her window of opportunity."

"But if it's just his mother…" Grand Adm. Otoren tried to reason.

Tarkin shook his head. "Rhaegon follows his mother's every order; she's the main reason he's in his position. He has a sizable portion of the galaxy under his control, and her followers are fanatical. Threats will not deter them."

"We need to silence them before they can start a war," Mikemna remarked.

"We can't kill a grand moff!" one of the others argued. "That will cause a war – it'll look like we're part of the succession struggle!"

Tarkin considered sending his spy to do the dirty deed, but he figured she'd be busy at this point. She was still actively part of Intelligence; they no doubt had a list of assignments for her by now.

"But what will we do about the empire as a whole?" one senator questioned. "Let's assume that we manage to keep the throne nice and empty for Lord Vader's return – who rules in his stead?"

"The senate should choose," another senator immediately stood. "We—"

"There is no possible way the senate will agree on who shall rule as emperor regent; there are too many conflicting interests." Tarkin interrupted. "That is out of the question."

"It'll have to be somebody we can trust, then," Moff Ukoz muttered worriedly. "Someone who has the proper authority to make the people accept their temporary rule."

Tarkin hid his smile. This was what he'd been waiting for. "Who do we know has all that is necessary for the task?"

"It can't be anyone from the senate," Moff Jorent nearly spat in the senators' and representatives' direction. "Governor Tarkin has already made that clear."

Grand Adm. Otoren opened his mouth to no doubt throw his name out into the open, but Grand Moff Mikemna spoke first. "It can't be an officer, either; everyone will assume the military is attempting to take over. We have enough paranoia for that – this has to be someone the majority will accept."

The room was silent, and then, just as Tarkin had predicted, the naïve Moff Ukoz looked innocently at Tarkin. "What about you, sir?"

Tarkin felt his heartrate increase. Good boy, Ukoz; that's why I chose you.

The others looked slightly ruffled at the idea, but Mikemna, who Tarkin had befriended specifically because the man desired order above everything else, spoke up. "It is a suitable choice; you know Darth Vader better than anyone here."

"Is this necessary—" someone tried to object, but Mikemna interrupted him sharply.

"Unless any of you wishes to make decisions in Lord Vader's stead and then explain yourself to him upon his return, I say Tarkin is our best option. The Sith Lord is not remiss to kill his own men if he finds their abilities inadequate."

Any argument was immediately silenced. Tarkin took a deep breath and nodded. "Very well, then. Grand Adm. Otoren, I trust you can ensure the high justices will find it suitable for me to take the throne until Lord Vader's return. Now, you all know your duties; go attend to them, for the security of our Empire and our new emperor."

Everyone stood, bowed, and departed. Tarkin didn't relax until he was alone, at which point he slowly sat in his seat once more and smiled widely, letting out a soft chuckle. Now he had the proper backing for his regency. Otoren had half the high justices in his pocket, so convincing them to name him emperor regent wouldn't be too hard a task, so long as Otoren didn't get any ideas. Tarkin didn't trust the man, but he did trust the man's sense of self-preservation; everyone else in the conference would have his head if he did anything against their wishes. The greatest immediate problem now was simply being prepared for people's reaction to his new title. The others would secure key strategic points in the Empire and would ensure that more were brought to the fold. Tarkin himself had to secure Imperial Center, and the best way to do that was through its police force – Grand Adm. Otoren was in charge of the Core's military, so Tarkin didn't have to worry about any naval issues. Just Coruscant Security, or CorSec as it was called.

Of course the only problem with that was Tarkin had… a rocky relationship with the security force's chief. He was fairly certain the man remembered their conversation from the party for the Festival of the Stars. This would be interesting.

Sighing heavily, Tarkin rose from his seat and left the conference room. He probably wouldn't be able to meet with the chief immediately, but he could attempt to arrange something. The man would no doubt make him wait for his earlier transgression. His gut clenched slightly; they really couldn't afford to wait. They had to focus all their energy on the Rebels, on finding Vader.

A thought crossed his mind ever so briefly, but he dismissed it. No, that wouldn't work. Shaking his head, Tarkin made his way to his office in the senate building so he could make arrangements. He was at least one step closer to achieving what he required.

The Force felt so alive. Obi-Wan hadn't meditated since before the emperor's death, and now that he was gone the murkiness seemed to have lifted a little. What was once a stagnant, polluted, partially frozen lake was now a flowing stream; it still had its blemishes, and there still seemed to be a relatively close border blocking his vision beyond a certain area, but it was something, and it felt amazing.

Obi-Wan marveled at the sensations around him for a short while before he felt a mental nudge from Qui-Gon. Taking a deep breath, he focused on the information that he had about Darth Vader. What would motivate the Sith to listen to him? What connection did they have? Was it because of Padmé? Or was it because of the Rebels? Was he still somehow trying to fool them into thinking he was redeemable? That seemed unlikely; killing the Rebels and Jedi wasn't exactly a great argument in favor of his redemption. No, he couldn't be trying to convince them that he could switch sides – far from it. So what was he trying to accomplish?

Honestly, the more Obi-Wan thought about it, the less anything about the Sith made sense.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes with a mild headache. Meditating was peaceful, but sometimes it was also taxing; it required far more concentration than most realized. In meditation one was supposed to just float in the Force, let it flow through them and wash away their ignorance about a situation… for Obi-Wan the floating part was just fine – he was perfectly at ease sensing the life around him and just existing in it. The interpreting part was still tricky, though. He'd only been a Jedi for three weeks; he didn't have enough training to maintain his concentration for any lengthy amount of time, at least when it came to mulling over information such as this. Especially in this case, where there seemed to be so little information to work with.

Sighing, he was about to close his eyes and try once more when the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He felt uneasy all of a sudden, and he looked around, confused. Was that Siri?

Focus. Mission first. Obi-Wan closed his eyes again, but the feeling only grew more distracting. He wasn't sure he could block it out, but he did try.

Do or do not. There is no try.

Stifling a groan, Obi-Wan opened his eyes. Fine. He would do – he would find Siri, figure out what was wrong, and then get back to the mission. He wasn't sure if this was choosing an attachment over an assignment, but right now he just wasn't trained enough to deal with everything concerning Vader and block out whatever was bothering his wife. Besides, before they were ever trained he wouldn't get a feeling like this – something was genuinely wrong.

"Padawan?"

Obi-Wan looked at Qui-Gon, who was now watching him. "Master, I… have to check on something. I'll be back."

"There is no danger, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon assured him. "We must focus on this task."

Obi-Wan felt a twinge of annoyance, and he held back a retort. Instead, he simply bowed his head. My concern for my wife is an attachment, but your obsession over this Sith Lord isn't? He needed to speed this up. "Master… there's only so much we can ascertain through meditation. Shouldn't we seek answers?"

Qui-Gon smiled. "Yes. That is what I was trying to relay to you, but you were distracted. You must speak with Vader."

His stomach clenched. Blast it, somehow he knew that it would end up like this. Why couldn't Qui-Gon look after his own pathetic life forms so Obi-Wan could check on his wife and not have to deal with a Sith Lord? "Will you be there?"

"I will be just outside," Qui-Gon reassured him. "I doubt the Sith will be inclined to speak if he thinks he is being interrogated."

"But it is an interrogation," Obi-Wan insisted.

"You must not let him realize that."

How the blazes was he supposed to do that? Sighing, Obi-Wan stood. "May I prepare?"

Qui-Gon nodded, but the knowing glint in his eye indicated he understood Obi-Wan's motive behind his question. Still, he didn't stop the Padawan, and so as soon as Obi-Wan was in the hallway by himself he searched for his wife.

For some reason Siri was at the edge of the base. Obi-Wan wondered if she was still mulling over what he'd revealed earlier. The closer he was to her, however, the more he realized that she felt almost as emotionally tangled as Vader had earlier in the day. He hastened his pace a little, and he eventually caught sight of her huddling in the corner of a large hangar. He didn't have to say her name as he approached; she sensed him before he could really do anything.

Lifting her head from her knees, Siri watched him with guilty eyes. Obi-Wan grew all the more ill at ease; he had a funny feeling he wasn't going to like what she had to say, but Siri didn't speak. She just watched him. She didn't have to say anything – her eyes told him enough. I'm sorry.

"What did you do?" he asked slowly, quietly.

Siri swallowed. "Exactly what you thought I would."

For a second Obi-Wan was confused before it clicked. Dread filled him, and he knelt down in front of her, looking her over. She didn't look harmed, so whatever action she did at least hadn't ended up with any sort of injury… at least not on her part. Had she hurt someone else? He had initially kept the secret from her because he feared her reaction against Padmé – he knew she would be angry at her. But Padmé was dead, so who would Siri…?

Obi-Wan's heart skipped a beat. "You didn't."

Siri looked down.

Electricity shot through his body. Obi-Wan grasped her by the upper arms, and he tore into the Force, sensing out the baby's presence. The little life pulsated healthily, and some of the tension in his body relaxed. "Siri—how could you—you—"

"I know," she muttered, interrupting his breathless stuttering. "I know. I shouldn't have gone to him. I'm not hurt. No one is… well, no one on our side. He's still alive. I just… I'm sorry. Obi, I'm so sorry."

He was relieved to hear no one had been hurt, but now frustration bubbled within him. "You know better than to do that, you know better than to let your emotions get the best of you like that! You could have been killed! The baby could have been killed! The guards will report this, you'll get in trouble, the Jedi will be accused of not even keeping their own word—"

"I know!" Siri snapped, pulling her arms away from his hands. Her anger diminished quickly, however, and she sighed, standing. Obi-Wan followed suit. "I'm going to report to Qui-Gon. I am. I just… needed time to collect myself. I'm better now than I was."

Obi-Wan felt another rebuke trying to escape his lips, and so he bit his tongue. Lecturing her would only make things worse right now, especially since she was in the process of resolving it on her own. The best thing he could do was to send her off to Qui-Gon. She did seem far better than he would expect considering what she'd said she'd done – he couldn't even imagine what had happened in the cell. Still, the more he thought about it, the more anxious and confused he became – if Siri had gone to Vader and had vented her frustrations upon him, why hadn't he reacted?

"Palpatine seems to be his trigger," Siri remarked as if she'd read Obi-Wan's mind. He didn't bother pondering whether she really had – it was likely the case. "Just don't mention him and the guy's dead weight."

"He took your hits?" Obi-Wan asked, somehow surprised and not surprised at the same time; Vader had done that earlier, after all, but it was still baffling as to why.

Siri sighed, looking exhausted. "Yes. He… just exists now." She looked him in the eye. "He doesn't deserve mercy, but… someone should kill him. For his sake. They won't get anything out of him."

"We need answers, Siri."

"You won't get answers." She shook her head. "He acted like a rag doll in there when I was beating him. The interrogators didn't get anything out of him but violence. He won't talk. He's too far gone for anything. Just… let him go."

"Don't be so eager to give up on him."

Obi-Wan and Siri turned, not quite startled, as they saw their master approach. He watched them both with mild concern, but judging from what Obi-Wan could sense from their training bond, the man already knew what had transpired.

Siri bowed her head in shame, unable to speak.

"He may be too far gone, but we don't know that." Qui-Gon explained. "It is the duty of a Jedi to try every possible avenue before resorting to violence. You don't know whether the Sith is willing to speak; he may simply need prompting."

Before either Padawan could talk, Qui-Gon looked at Siri. "Come with me, Padawan; we can discuss your actions while Obi-Wan speaks with Vader."

The Jedi Master didn't give her time to acknowledge him, turning and walking away. Siri sagged, leaning against the wall. "Is it possible to get kicked out of the Order even when they're hurting for numbers? That has to be a new all-time low."

Obi-Wan wanted to reassure her, he wanted to just tell her it would be fine, but he himself was a little angry and disappointed in her. He really shouldn't be, though – that secret, though few in words, was enormous, and it had no doubt hurt for her to realize he hadn't trusted her with it. Exhaling slowly through his nose, Obi-Wan released his negative emotions and placed his hand on her shoulder. "Siri, whatever happens, happens. Just don't let your emotions cloud your judgment; don't let them affect you like this. There's no stopping what's to come, and there's no changing what you did. Learn from it and move on."

Siri smiled softly, placing her hand over his. "Your sympathy is overwhelming, Obi. But I understand. Just… be careful around Vader. Don't mention Palpatine at all."

"I won't," he acknowledged eagerly – he had no intention of provoking the man. "I just have to figure out how to interrogate him without him realizing it's an interrogation. Supposedly that will make him more eager to answer me."

Siri stood tall once more, furrowing her brow in thought. "Nobody's looked him over – medically I mean. You could go in under the pretense of treating him."

Obi-Wan grew uneasy. "I'm not exactly an expert at treating injuries, you know."

"Just clean him up, at least," Siri shrugged tiredly. "He's a mess."

It was strange hearing her say that so… calmly, for lack of a better word. He was used to anger tingeing her speech whenever it concerned Vader. Maybe it was just because she looked so tired. Obi-Wan gazed at her a little worriedly. "Are you going to be alright?"

Siri sighed and walked to him slowly, hugging him. "Eventually. I'm sorry, Obi. I'm sorry I gave you a reason to not trust me, and I'm sorry I did exactly as you feared I would. I… I just…"

"I know," he whispered into her hair, holding her tightly.

Eventually the two released each other and exchanged a reassuring smile. Siri then walked away, following Qui-Gon. Calming himself, Obi-Wan cleared his mind of any distractions and headed towards the medical bay to grab some supplies.

Then he would face Vader.

I know, I know, it probably seemed like not a lot happened in this chapter but there was just so much to set up. I promise we'll have Vader/Obi interactions in the next chapter.