Chapter 54 – Mourning

Author's Note: Sooo... I might have been rather unfair to the Jedi in the beginning of this fic. In my defense, this was the second long fic I ever started/posted and I didn't really understand the Jedi at that time. Also, I fixed a plot hole in this chapter. :')

If any of y'all have any suggestions, theories, or comments for what you want to happen next or for what you think will happen, please feel free to let me know! I get my best ideas from my readers. :D

~ Amina Gila

Ahsoka awakens to a dull pulsing throb in her head, and a strangle groan escapes from her as she opens her eyes to see the glowing red ray shield across from her. Right. Everything floods back in, from the… explosions to her capture, and she slumps back against the cool durasteel floor of the prison cell. The Force's absence is like a lost limb, and she hates it. It wasn't this bad in the cells that Dooku had, but then again, that's probably because they weren't actually designed to restrain Force users for an indefinite period of time. They were primarily intended to punish Anakin – and maybe other acolytes in training.

Without the Force, she can't truly sense anything or anyone outside her cell; all she can feel is an aching numbness where her bonds are. She doesn't know if Anakin is alright or what state he's in. She doesn't know where Obi-Wan is, either. All she knows is that she's alone here. And it terrifies her. Even now, she can distinctly remember what happened the last time she was in a cell like this.

Ahsoka knows that she's in the Jedi Temple – or at least she can assume so – but that doesn't stop the fear and panic from bubbling up as she remembers Last Time, as she recalls how Palpatine forced her to kill for him, how he pushed her to touch the Dark Side. And perhaps the Darkness has given her strength, but she cannot go through it again.

She can't. She can't.

Everything happened so fast, so abruptly, that she's still reeling from it all. Shmi – Shmi… And Boba. They're – they're dead, gone. Like so many others. It hurts so much worse though because they were Anakin's family. They were his family, and they were her family, too, by default. And now, they're gone, just like that. She doesn't know if she's angrier at the Jedi or at Palpatine. It's an irrational anger, she knows, because only the Sith Master truly deserves her fury, but… a part of her is too far gone to care.

They – they came for Shmi. They came for her, and she died because of that, when all of them could have escaped from Palpatine's clutches. They could have been free, been happy. They could have healed and taken down Palpatine on their down. Now, none of that can happen. If she's struggling this much, then what of Anakin? How will he handle it? Will he be alright if he's alone? Will the Jedi even leave him alive?

It's something that Ahsoka shudders to think about since the Jedi have every reason to want Anakin executed; he is dangerous and brutal, and he would not hesitate to kill if it means protecting his family. But – but he's Anakin. He is – he is her brother, her master, her – her everything. Anakin is… he is like a star, burning so brightly that she can't help but love him even if she shouldn't. He should not be so dear to her, being a murderer as he is.

But he is also a victim, and she cannot and will not forget that.

Anakin did not want this. He's gone along with it to protect his mother – who is now dead – and to protect Padme. One of them, at least, is still alive.

And now, she and Anakin and Obi-Wan are all prisoners of the Jedi, the Republic. But what now? What will happen to them now? What will their fates be? What will the Council do with them? Will they remain here, imprisoned? Are all of them down here?

Ahsoka pushes herself to her feet, feeling dizzy and achy from the stunbolt as well as the drugs, and her head pulses sharply, reminding her of the headache that she cannot dissipate with the Force. She sways but doesn't fall, and cautiously steps up to the ray shield, peering each way as best she can. She sees no one, but in a cell diagonal to hers – it's the one on the left of the cell across from hers – the ray shield is activated as well. Is… someone there?

"Hello?" she offers hesitantly, but only silence answers her. Sighing, Ahsoka slumps down on the small bench which serves as a cot, leaning forwards, her elbows resting on her knees, feeling dejected. She feels… cold. Freezing. Without the Force, she is… lost. It feels like she's suffocating with no way out.

**w**

Anakin knows where he is as soon as he returns to wakefulness. The dampening of the Force is the first thing he notices, even before he's fully conscious again, and he can hear the buzzing of the ray shield. Also, he remembers his brief talk with Obi-Wan while they were enroute to Coruscant; there is only one place that this can be.

He's in the Jedi Temple for the second time in his life, and he doesn't like it one bit. The first time was strange; everything was huge and foreign and too peaceful, and the Council was… nothing like he thought they'd be. He was scared, of them, of the situation, of his mother's fate. They had never understood that, living in their fancy Temple on a fancy, wealthy world. They would never understand slavery… or him.

And the second time is hardly any more welcoming. He's older now, more cynical, and even if he had been conscious for the arrival, he would not have looked at it with awe. Rather, he would have viewed it with disdain. He hates that he's here, hates that the Jedi have caged him like he'd a rabid dog. They, the so-called peacekeepers, lose their compassion when they deal with Dark Siders, not that he expected anything differently from them, but it's still enraging, and it still… hurts. And he doesn't know why, can't properly explain why he would ever have come to think differently.

Perhaps because of Obi-Wan and Ahsoka, because they grew up here, were Jedi here, and they are… they are good people. They are his family. He had questioned the things he was told about the Jedi, about how they're supposedly evil and heartless, and perhaps a subconscious part of him had hoped that the Jedi might not be quite as harsh with him as Sidious always claimed.

But they are. He deserves it anyways, because he knows how dangerous he can be, and he knows that he's not being rational right now. But he hates this. He hates being trapped, hates being confined in a cell like this, one that so painfully reminds him of his… punishments in the past when he was still training, of how he ended up truly bonding with Obi-Wan, with Ahsoka.

Anakin does his best to keep his mind blank, to stare up at the ceiling while trying to keep his mind free of any thoughts about his mother. He can't think about her now. He can't. If he does, he – he thinks he'll shatter. His mind isn't fogged by drugs now, and Obi-Wan isn't here. It shouldn't make that much of a difference, but it does, and he feels like he's… back There. Back with Sidious, locked up because he failed somehow. The lighting is all different, it's brighter, but it's hardly enough to stay calm or composed.

His Mom is – she's – she's –

He squeezes his eyes closed, balling his hands into fists, the gears of his prosthetic squealing from the pressure, as he struggles to maintain his composure.

She's gone, and he doesn't know how to keep moving. He doesn't know if he even can. She was important to him, the one person who he always had. And now, she's gone. More than anything, he wants to feel her warm embrace, feel her stroking back his hair as she hugs him, whispering words of reassurance and comfort. If she was here now, she'd probably say something like 'you'll be alright, Ani', but she's not here, and – and it's his fault, isn't it?

He had a vision of it, the feeling of foreboding, of loss which had been growing. He had known, or should have known, that it was coming, but he was too much of a coward to face it, struggling to hold onto his family instead of looking ahead and trying to protect them. He hadn't – he hadn't taken the time to look hard enough at what Sidious would do, even though he had warned him that he would do something. And – and this happened because of this, because of his weakness. It's his fault.

He rolls onto his side, not having enough energy to sit or stand or even move really, and rests his head on his arm, just… lying there. Thinking. Trying not to think. Trying not to see his Mom's final moments. Trying not to – not to remember. Any of it. Preferably ever. It would be easier if he could forget, if he could erase it all from his mind.

"I'm not afraid to die if it means that you'll be free."

"I don't want this life for you. I never have."

"You're only one person. You can't protect everyone. You can't keep us all safe."

"Death is a natural part of life."

"You have to be prepared for the possibility that Sidious will claim some lives of those close to you before he is destroyed."

"We can never go back to the past, but we can still remember."

"Everything is a choice, Ani. You can still choose to help people if that is what you want."

"You can learn to live without living in constant fear. And if you lose someone, you will learn to accept and move past that too. I have faith in you, that you can do it. I love you, Ani."

It – it was as if she knew, somehow, that her time had come, that she was going to die. And he doesn't understand it, how she couldn't have warned him outright, so he could have saved her. He could have. He could have. He's – the Jedi, Qui-Gon rather, thought him to be the Chosen One. Sidious says he's the Sith'ari. The Force itself birthed him, right? He's stronger than anyone, than any other living being ever. He – he could have saved his mother. She didn't have to die. So… why didn't – why didn't she tell him?

He's angry, and he doesn't know if he's angrier at himself or at… the universe in general. It won't change anything though. Nothing he does will change it, what happened; it won't bring her back. His anger fades, temporarily, as resignation washes over him. She – she's gone, and he doesn't know how to accept that. It doesn't even make sense, how his Mom could be –

No. No, he can't think about it, can't accept it, even though he knows she would want him to move on, to find happiness. With her… gone, he doesn't know how to do that.

"Anakin?"

Anakin jerks in surprise when he hears Ahsoka's voice, though is somewhat distant; she's not that close to him, or she's not speaking loudly, he doesn't know which. Without the Force, he feels blind. He pushes himself upright, scooting towards the ray shield and peering out both ways, trying to see her. Her cell is kitty-corner from his, but he can still see her standing in front of the ray shield, expression uncertain. She looks unharmed, though it's hard to tell with the two barriers between them.

"Ahsoka," he manages to say, relief crashing into him. He doesn't know if Obi-Wan is nearby, but he doesn't see him, so it's hard to say. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she assures him, nodding, sitting cross-legged on the floor, looking relieved to see him. "I thought… Well, I wasn't sure if I was alone down here or not."

"Obi-Wan –?" he begins, his question obvious, and she shakes her head.

"I don't know. I don't see him."

Anakin doesn't know if that makes him feel better or worse. More than anything, he wants to have Obi-Wan here; he needs the elder man's grounding presence so that he doesn't lose his mind, but he'll never stoop to asking the Jedi if… he can see him. He won't ask them for anything, not after how they treated him in the past.

"I'm sure he's okay," he assures Ahsoka, and he finds that he actually believes it. If the Jedi were planning to summarily execute any of them, they would pick him first. Obi-Wan was pretending to be a double agent, so more than likely, they thought him safe enough to not imprison. Perhaps that is a good thing. Perhaps not. Only time can tell.

"Yeah," she agrees, looking down at the floor, fingers drumming absently on her knee; he knows it's a sign that she's on edge, which isn't surprising given their… location. It has got to be bringing up bad memories for her, just as it is for him. "I wonder how long we'll be here."

"Indefinitely," Anakin deadpans. "Do you really think that the Jedi will let us go?"

Her lips press together, and she doesn't answer; she probably doesn't want to acknowledge the truth of his words lest it make them more real. He hates how he's being forced to work so hard to read her since he can't feel her in the Force. Their bond is still there, but their senses are being dulled, suppressed. He loathes it. It's wrong, like something in him was abruptly ripped out and stuffed back in all wrong.

In some ways, it doesn't seem as though the last day – or however long it's been – really happened. He – he knows that it did, that his Mom is –

And – and Boba too, but it doesn't… seem real? It feels more like something out of a nightmare.

Grief isn't easy, he knows, and it will be a long time before he's able to let go of this, much less accept it. It will be hard for him, for Ahsoka, for Obi-Wan, for all of them. And all he can do now is hold on and try not to break.

**w**

After Master Yoda left, Obi-Wan must have spent at least an hour or two trying to meditate before Siri arrives. She stands inside the doorway, watching him almost uncertainly. "You were right," she says finally, sitting opposite him in much the same way Yoda did earlier.

He raises an eyebrow. "About what?"

"Ferus," she answers simply. "I – I think Palpatine is getting to him somehow. I trust him, but he has… never made a mistake like the one he did. I worry for him."

He bites back the completely unnecessary and snide remark about attachments. There's no reason to antagonize Siri or hurt her feelings. Obi-Wan knows that he is merely struggling with his own grief, and if it's this bad for him, he doesn't even want to think about how much Anakin and Ahsoka must be suffering, the former especially.

They sit in silence as Siri studies him, probing him lightly through the Force on occasion. "You are… upset at the Jedi," she notes, brow furrowing. "I can feel your anger."

Her pointing it out only makes it worse, and he fiercely tamps it down, because he promised Anakin. He promised. He won't let Anakin down. He won't fail him. He won't fail anyone else. He can't. "Yes," he retorts a little more sharply than he'd intended, "I think that anger is justified. The Jedi failed Anakin. All of this? It happened because the Council did not respect my promise to Qui-Gon. I could have taken care of him. I should have."

This anger, it's nothing new, and a part of him is too angry and bitter to even try holding it back. He's tired of watching Anakin suffer, of knowing that his ability to help is so limited, of being apart from Anakin when the latter needs him now more than ever. And maybe this is also about his anger at the time they lost. They are… close, closer than Obi-Wan thought they ever would be, and he hates that they were robbed of so much more. He's tried to tell himself that maybe things will be better now than they could have been, but he doesn't really believe that.

Anakin is – Obi-Wan doesn't even know what word to put on their relationship. It's far too complicated for a label to be able to define it, and yet, Obi-Wan already knows that he could never truly survive if he was to lose Anakin. In so short a time, they have been bound together in ways he himself cannot even fathom. The Force has willed them to come together, and so, they have, even if ten years went by before.

And he hates that.

He hates that he wasn't able to fulfill his promise to Qui-Gon, that he'll never be able to fulfill it now. Anakin is a Sith; he's been hurt and broken, and he'll never be a Jedi now. Obi-Wan would never ask that of him anyways, not after all he's been through.

"We've talked about this before." Siri doesn't sound frustrated, but she doesn't not, either. "The Council did what they thought was right. Anakin was too old to be trained as a Jedi, and though we can now see that it was a mistake, giving him to the Chancellor, who not only expressed interest in him, but also, had promised to free his mother, was the best option. At the time, the Council thought that he would be safe and well cared for."

Obi-Wan jolts at her words, feeling surprised. "He told the Council he would free Shmi?"

Now, she seems taken aback. "You didn't know?"

"I never got an explanation, except that it was for the best that Palpatine adopt him," Obi-Wan answers, a little harshly.

"I assumed you knew," she admits. "Master Yoda mentioned it to me in passing after I was appointed to the Council and after you and Ahsoka were confirmed as prisoners. I though you would have been told."

He hadn't known, but it hardly makes a difference now, and he doubts it would have mattered then, either. Although, it does somewhat ease the anger in him at the knowledge that the Council had not, in fact, merely handed Anakin over to a complete stranger. He can, albeit grudgingly, understand that the Council had reasons to think Anakin and Shmi would be safe. But he doesn't know if he can forgive them for making him break his promise to Qui-Gon. He would have left the Order to raise and train Anakin if he had known, if he had been given a choice. He would have left later, too, had Palpatine let him see, or even stay with, Anakin.

Obviously, he never got the choice.

He's still angry, but it's an anger he's used to, so he pushes it aside. "What will we do now about Sidious?" he wants to know.

"I do not know," Siri admits. "We are in a very delicate position, because Palpatine is the Chancellor. Technically, he is in control of the Order, and if we make any moves against him without utmost caution, he could turn the clones against us and accuse us of treason."

No, the Jedi really are not in a good position, and Obi-Wan doesn't envy them one bit. He might not have any authority among them anymore, but they will at least listen to him if he speaks. "I feel that you should speak to a trusted Senator or two, or at least someone with political sway," he suggests. He has spent time around Dooku, and he has learned more about politics while with the Separatists. He is not ignorant about political maneuverings. "You will need someone who can organize an undercover effort against Palpatine to expose him and what he's done. If we cannot beat him politically, we will lose."

That was something Dooku had impressed upon him numerous times in their brief discussions about how they could oust Palpatine politically, and while the Count never said so, Obi-Wan has gotten the feeling that Dooku hopes to turn the CIS into an Empire in the Outer Rim.

Siri looks at him, assessing. "I am aware," she replies at last, "And it is something that the Council will keep in mind." As he had expected, she says nothing more to reveal what plans the Jedi might be hatching. She doesn't trust him, and she probably shouldn't, either. Obi-Wan's loyalty lies with Anakin now, and he will do what is best for Anakin's sake… even if that means going against the Jedi Order itself.

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