A/N: Alright, folks, here is the end of Reprise II!


The Great Rotunda in the Galactic Senate was rarely filled to capacity. Oftentimes, senators whose worlds had little invested in the daily agenda would take the time to work on personal projects, visit home, or (and this was an alarmingly popular choice) spend the day eating, drinking, and being merry. Today, however, the senators had made a real effort. It was difficult to justify having a drink in your office when the agenda included discussions on another Sith Lord, a clone army, and the possibility that the Jedi Order might have been attempting to stage a coup d'état.

Two repulsorpods floated by the Chancellor's podium, their occupants turned to address the hall of politicians over the echoing broadcast system.

"If the Jedi were the ones to commission the creation of this army, then it is the Jedi who must bear the burden of proof." Sheev Palpatine spoke with righteous anger, and turned from the hall of senators to the Jedi Order's chosen representative. "Chancellor, given the magnitude of this incident and the Jedi's involvement, we must demand a full investigation."

Chancellor Valorum regarded the senator with a skeptical, concerned look, before turning to the opposite pod. "Master Windu, what does your Order have to say on the matter?"

Mace Windu, face like a stone and eyes cold as ice, stood and stepped toward the microphone. "The Jedi Order never commissioned the Kaminoan cloners to create any clones, let alone an entire army. We have only recently uncovered the project on Kamino over the course of an investigation into the death of a Jedi Knight who went missing some years ago."

A large holoprojection of Sifo Dyas appeared in the center of the room, rotating for the senators to see. "Jedi Master Sifo Dyas was reported missing in action several years ago. The Order has had no contact with him in all that time, despite our efforts to locate him. Last month, his ship was discovered - destroyed - during an unrelated assignment by one of our knights. We were able to determine his destination from the data recovered from the scene, which led us to Kamino - a planet which, I might add, was completely unknown to the Jedi until we uncovered the coordinates from Dyas' astromech droid." Mace dared a glance at Palpatine, and was deeply gratified to see a flash of surprise, and then anger. He turned to regard the rest of the hall, which was strangely silent; he was used to senators making a fuss. He glanced at Valorum, who was standing tall and umoving, figure impartial but facial expression drawn in reserved interest. Mace continued,

"We sent a dispatch to Kamino with no other intention than to follow up on the activities of a knight whom we presumed dead many years ago. It is not often that we lose contact with one of our own in such a profound way. Investigating their actions retroactively is procedure."

Sheev Palpatine lifted his chin and edged, almost apologetically, toward his microphone. His voice remained relentless. "Of course. I do not wish to cast any undue aspersions on the Jedi Order, such a lofty and vital institution of this Republic - but if the affair was an internal one, Master Windu, how can this Senate accept your reports without question?"

Mace Windu was at his breaking point, and despite all his efforts to prepare to face a man he knew was the enemy, Palpatine's infuriating smile cut his fuse to the quick. "If the affair were internal, Senator Palpatine," he said, with barely controlled ire, "how could one of my most talented knights have ended up in a coma in the ICU for a week?"

Neglecting Obi-Wan's exact rank and relative skill at the time of the event, the outburst had a dramatic effect. Senators muttered amongst each other and shifted in their seats. Mace did not let the buzz die down before he said, "I understand your misgivings, senator, but you cannot neglect the Sith's involvement. The name of the Jedi has been used in vain by enemies of the Order and the Republic itself."

Sheev tilted his head innocently. "And can you prove it, master Jedi?" he asked, hidden venom welling up. Mace enjoyed watching the anticipation grow until he knew he could topple it all at once.

"Yes, I can."

He did not wait to stand to see Palpatine's shock, though as he stepped up to the console of his pod he could sense the ripples of anger and confusion rolling toward him. A series of forms and account records appeared alongside the projection of Dyas. "In the weeks following the events on Kamino, the Jedi Order has been investigating the affair as far as our jurisdiction allows. We have uncovered startling information. The commission to the Cloners was paid for by Republic funds, from a Medical Studies Grant, the likes of which has been passed in every annual budget for the past seven years. The payment from this account sent to Kamino lists the Jedi Order as a beneficiary, but was was formatted in such a way that neither the High Council nor myself, nor any other person in the Jedi Order was notified of the transaction." He saw a few furrowed brows as senators studied the documents. "In short, the payment was made by someone else without our knowledge or authorization. Due to Sifo Dyas' knowledge of the project and access to Republic resources, we believe that he was the one to send in the commission. Without approval of the High Council, his actions must be considered as separate from the Order and the Republic. We believe that, after going MIA, he may have defected into the ranks of an enemy - possibly the Sith." He let that sink in. Sheev Palpatine watched him like a hawk.

"And how has the Order come across this information, Master Windu?" He asked. Mace looked up at the man and blinked at him, utterly unfazed.

"We are Jedi, senator, we admire discipline; we keep meticulous records of everything." He even got a few chuckles out of that one.

Unfortunately, Palpatine had learned better than to concede. "So you do. And is it not possible, then, that in this intermediate time before the Senate has had access to your reports, that your Order meticulously doctored the paperwork and this supposed evidence of a Sith?"

Mace squinted at him, unbelieving. "You are suggesting treason of an entire institution, Senator."

Palpatine raised his brows and scoffed. "I am suggesting that we must consider the facts and every possibility attendant to them." He addressed his colleagues: "If we disregard the evidence uncovered by the Jedi - and objectively, we must, for it is the Jedi Order now under suspicion of sedition - what proof remains?" He gestured to the projection of Sifo Dyas, which was still spinning slowly in front of them. "What do we know of this Sifo Dyas?" and to Mace Windu, "What do we know of this Jedi Knight who - supposedly - fought a Sith?" He spat it, and for a moment, Mace saw the Sith Lord he'd been trying to ignore standing just across from him. He balled his fists and went to the edge of his 'pod.

"Would you like me to bring him in to show you the scars?"

The hall erupted with sounds of suspicion and pity, and outcries of objection! "Order!" Mas Amedda pounded his staff on the floor of the podium. The Force pooled with confusion and alarm. "Order!" The speaker said again, and pounded his staff. The senators calmed down - somewhat. Palpatine got in the first word as the noise died down.

"We cannot let a grievance of such severity go unchecked. Chancellor, Senators, I move to appoint a committee to investigate the Jedi Order for sedition and conspiracy against the Galactic Republic."

"Seconded!" Called a senator from a pod that Mace could not see. A chorus of agreement went about the room. The Master of the Order swallowed, heart sinking. He straightened defiantly.

"The Jedi Order has served the Republic and outer reaches of the galaxy faithfully for a thousand generations. The Republic is our life, not our enemy. You may do as you see fit, Senators, but the more time you waste on this investigation, the more time the Sith have to regroup, and the more of these meetings you will have to attend - and next time, there will be more than scars to show for it." A rumble of agreement grew from a mutter to a chorus, and it was difficult to tell which had been louder: the seconding cries for Palpatine, or the concurrence to Mace Windu's advice. Arguments began to break out in the Rotunda.

"Order! Order!" cried Mas Amedda. Chancellor Valorum raised his hands.

"Senators, Master Jedi," he addressed the clamoring assembly, "We will table Senator Palpatine's motion and reconvene after a brief recess." His microphone went off, and he addressed the pods hovering by at normal volume: "Master Windu, I would like to see you in my office."

The Jedi bowed to Valorum, but glared at Palpatine on the way down. "Of course, your excellency."


"Good afternoon, senator," Ben smiled at the new arrival. Bail smiled back, jogging down the landing ramp.

"Smoggy and hellish traffic, but yes, overall, it is," he grinned back. Ben laughed.

"Isn't our world a wonder?"

"Only from a certain distance. I'm surprised you Jedi stay here, I thought you were naturalists, the lot of you."

Ben shrugged. "Perhaps we are; but the Force is with us. We've eked out what we can."

"I look forward to seeing it."

They walked into the Jedi Temple together at an unrushed pace, Ben slowing his gait so Bail could tip his head and ogle the vast ceilings and halls, the carefully adorned floors and the mammoth statues lining the great hall beneath the mezzanine. Bail was unsure if he'd actually been here before; last time, he'd only really seen the medical wing. Everything before that was a blur of running behind Ben. He turned fully around, taking in the sheer size of the hall.

It was stunning.

"So this is where you spend your days?" The Jedi Temple was well-lit, spacious, and airy on the inside despite its blockish appearance on the outside. The massive bronze statues shone in the daylight filtering in from outside. He shook his head. "And they call you ascetics."

Ben chuckled. "Simple pleasures. I've seen where you live, you're hardly one to talk."

"Yes, but I don't keep it a secret. The way you Jedi parade around so maudlin, I'd expected the entire complex to be one giant cell block."

Ben let out a laugh, which drew a few looks as they walked deeper and deeper into the temple. "According to Obi-Wan, we do have one of those. It's what he calls our medical bay."

Given the circumstances, Bail was not sure if it would be polite to laugh. He chuckled anyway, but sobered quickly. "How is he doing?" Ben had sent him updates over the past several weeks as Obi-Wan recovered and adjusted. However, hearing and seeing were two different realities.

Ben shrugged. "Why don't you see for yourself?"

Bail followed Ben through more of the Temple, passing great halls and training rooms and a shimmering labyrinth Ben told him was the archives. He nodded at Jedi as he passed. The older ones nodded back; the younger ones often gave him puzzled expressions, looking at his odd robes. He smiled at them anyway. He almost missed it when Ben stopped in front of a door.

When the door opened, Bail was met with a lean, bear-like man whose beard twitched when he smiled in greeting.

"Master Jinn," Ben said, smiling, "I'd like you to meet my friend, Senator Organa."

"It is an honor to finally meet you," Qui-Gon said as he shook Bail's hand. "Please, come in."

The went inside, all smiles. "Likewise, Master Jinn. Ben speaks of you often."

"As he does for you. It's strange we haven't met before now." He sent an accusatory look at Ben. "It's good to finally meet the man turning our dear friend into a politician."

"And here I was thinking that it was Ben who was trying to turn me into a Jedi."

They all laughed. "Oh, if only," Ben lamented.

"And you must be Obi-Wan," Bail said, reaching out a hand to the freshly-appointed knight appeared by Qui-Gon's side. Obi-Wan reached out very carefully and shook it, one eye and hand coordinated somewhat clumsily in that unforgiving field of depth perception. "It's good to see you up and healing," the senator said earnestly. Obi-Wan smiled.

"It's good to be up. I think if I'd stayed in that prison one more hour I'd've gone mad." Bail and Ben exchanged a look of private humor. Obi-Wan frowned. "What?"

"Nothing," Ben laughed, and snuck past Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. "I'll put the kettle on."

Small talk became shop talk as soon as they were all settled in for tea. Obi-Wan, ever the scholar and cooped up for weeks as he recovered, was one of the most well-informed among them. Still, being holed up in the Temple did limit one's sources; Bail presented an irresistible chance at the latest news.

"So, Senator, how did Master Windu represent us to the Senate?" the young knight asked.

"Very well, very direct." An odd look overcame the Senator's face. Entirely serious, he said, "You know, I think he might be the most terrifying man I've ever met."

Obi-Wan snorted into his tea. Qui-Gon smiled. "He'd be flattered."

Obi-Wan's mind was still occupied with the Senate. "And what about the vote? Will there be an investigation?"

"What?" Ben looked surprised. "Was that today?"

Qui-Gon turned to look at Ben. "I'm shocked you didn't know - it's all Obi-Wan's been talking about."

Bail set down his tea and leaned back. "It was yesterday morning, actually." He glanced at Ben. "I was meaning to tell you, I suppose I forgot."

"Forgot?" Obi-Wan sounded hopeful. "Then it's not so bad, then?" All Jedi turned to Bail, expressions expectant and hopeful. The Senator took a breath and spoke in a level voice:

"Before the vote, Chancellor Valorum presented his own thoughts on the affair. He holds your Order in great esteem, you know. The added weight of his opinion swayed the vote to a marginal victory. The Senate will not pursue an investigation."

The Jedi sighed in relief. After a beat, Qui-Gon said, "They wouldn't have found anything anyway. We've got our own versions of bureaucrats here, and they keep better records."

"An investigation would have put everything else on hold," Ben cut in, emphatic, "and we would never get the clearance to continue our own investigations into Kamino. It would give the Sith a perfect escape from all this."

Obi-Wan's eyebrows were raised high. He sipped at his tea. "Well then, it's good that an investigation won't happen." The unspoken addendum of for now hung in the air. "Anyway, whose idea was it in the first place? The holos are reporting the leaders of for and against, but not the instigators."

"Oh, yes. It was Naboo - Sheev Palpatine, actually."

The Force ran cold. Obi-Wan nearly dropped his cup and Qui-Gon's fist clenched. As one, they looked in surprise at Ben, who was sitting, stock still and face set in a pleasant expression. He set his teacup down with a small, polite clink. "I see," he said.

"I was rather surprised, actually," Bail admitted, looking somewhat hurt. "He's always seemed to have a benevolent view of the Jedi."

"I'm afraid Sheev Palpatine is a politician of the Old Guard, Bail," Ben said with a smile. Obi-Wan's hands were beginning to freeze from the icy choler radiating out from his older self. "He does not share your honest heart."

Bail gave a wavering smile, flattered but confused. Immune to the movements in the Force, no matter how dramatic they might be, he breathed a light sigh and picked up his tea to drink deeply. "We do not agree on all things. Still, I'm sure he had his reasons."

"Of course."

There was a silent pause as Bail poured another saucer of tea and Ben fought to bring his own emotions in check. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon waited on him, almost motionless, until the frigid currents had passed. Obi-Wan sent his older self a wide, one-eyed what the hels glare over the rim of his cup. Ben ignored him.

Sitting between the two Kenobis, Qui-Gon remained silent. He almost reached out to Ben mentally to ask what was wrong, but before he could, a thought struck him, and he held his proverbial tongue.

At length, Ben set down his empty cup and stretched out in his chair. "So," he thought aloud to the room, "what will happen to the clones?"

The spell broken, Qui-Gon shrugged. "The whole operation will be shut down, I suspect."

The new topic brought Obi-Wan out of his distraction. "Yes, but there are thousands of them, some of them children, or not even born," He thought of Cody, and the nursery, and the numbered child who'd never seen another human before. "They're not to blame for any of this."

"No, but they are at the center of it."

Bail shifted in his seat. "You know, I don't think I'm strictly allowed to talk about this, but..." which immediately got everyone's attention. He sighed, and dove headfirst. "Ben might've mentioned that I am a member of a Coalition, the Sentient Rights Coalition."

"Yes, he did mention it," Qui-Gon said.

"Well, it's not complete, but we're in the process of drawing up a set of accords, a resolution to ensure the safety and humane treatment of the clones. We hope to present a rough draft to the Senate next week."

"Really?" Ben asked, delighted.

"Yes," Bail perked up, warming to his theme. "I got the idea when Master Windu was presenting the financial paperwork before the Senate. If I've understood the accounts correctly, the Kaminoans have been paid far in excess of what they've created so far. With the operation shut down, the funds will be stagnant. The money has already left Republic hands, and since it was legally moved and Kamino has no official ties to the Republic, we can't get it back unless the Kaminoans give it back, which I can't imagine they will. And so, I've suggested that we extend a set of accords to the Kaminoan government, an agreement they halt their current clone productions and use all remaining funds to raise the clones currently living in their facilities. Once the clones are ready to leave the planet, the Republic will accept them as citizens and find productive civic employment for them."

The Jedi listened in impressed silence. It was a grand proposal, and would require a project of massive scale, expense, and time, but…it was, in all, entirely doable considering Kamino's resources.

Ben was smiling and nodding. He could see in his mind's eye all the clones with real lives, and jobs, and maybe even families. "That's really quite ingenious," he said. Bail beamed.

"Thank you."

"Why civic employment?" Obi-Wan asked.

"If the clones are required to work in the federal sector, the senators are less likely to go after the money and more likely to see the benefits to the accords," Ben explained.

"So the clones are to become an army after all?" Qui-Gon asked. Bail shook his head.

"Not necessarily. They should be able to choose any field of Republic service, I think. They have military training, so perhaps they will gravitate toward police work or the Republic Guard, but they could also become pilots, administrators, interpreters, maybe even officials one day."

"Do you think Kamino will agree?" Obi-Wan asked, skeptical. Qui-Gon seemed more at ease.

"The Kaminoans seemed very dedicated to their clones. I'm sure they would like nothing more than to see them safely raised and sent off."

"Hmm," Ben rubbed at his beard. "Still. They are practically programmed since birth. The upbringing ought to be changed for the younger ones - among other things."

"All in good time, Ben," Bail chuckled. "I haven't even finished the first draft." The senator stood and stretched. "Which is one of several reasons why I ought to get back to my office."

"So soon?" Qui-Gon asked, standing as well. The Kenobis followed suit. "A short visit for hours in traffic. Did Ben have time to show you around?"

"Only from the docking bay to here," Bail admitted, "but what I saw was magnificent. The Temple is beautiful, I'm glad to have finally seen it."

"Force, Ben was right, you work far too hard. You should see more of it," Qui-Gon persuaded. "Let Obi-Wan take you on a tour."

Obi-Wan seemed taken aback by this suggestion. His eye flicked around helplessly. "What?"

"You need the exercise," Qui-Gon told him. "Besides, you've memorized more about our traditions than Madame Nu herself." Ben laughed. Obi-Wan glared at him. You're not helping.

"And will you join us?"

"Why? Do you need an escort, Knight Kenobi?" Qui-Gon asked sweetly. The younger man blushed.

"No, of course not." Bail was on his right, so he had to turn his entire head to look at him properly. "Please, follow me, Senator. Are you coming, Ben?"

"Bail spends too much time around me already. Let another Kenobi pester him."

Bail laughed, and the Jedi Knight and the Senator left together.

As soon as the door hissed shut, Ben turned to Qui-Gon. "What was that about?"

The master's face had fallen into a frown that suggested something dangerously close to brooding. "He's been hiding," he explained, looking at the door. "Vokara says he's fit enough to fight, but he refuses to leave his room unless he has to." Spotting Ben's puzzled expression, Qui-Gon shrugged and said, "Everyone's heard about what happened. People stare. You know how he is with attention."

"Oh," said Ben. Shame over the defeat, embarrassment over his disfigurement, fear of not measuring up to others' expectations, to his own expectations of recovery. He could only imagine it, but his imagination was vivid.

Qui-Gon let out a long sigh, the pained sound of a parent unable to help their child. "Perhaps it is a cruel remedy, but… he's going to have to get used to it sooner or later."

"Yes." Ben realized that, for all the parallels in Obi-Wan's experience on Kamino and his own on Naboo, there was very little he could offer either master or former apprentice by way of advice. "Yes, I suppose so."

"And what about you?" Qui-Gon asked. Ben looked up at him.

"Hmm?"

The Master studied him and said, "Sheev Palpatine."

Involuntarily, Ben's blood ran cold. Qui-Gon felt it. Suspicions confirmed, the master clenched his jaw and breathed slowly in, slowly out. "He's the Sith, isn't he," he said, voice flat.

Ben's eyes darted up at him. "Yes."

Qui-Gon absorbed this. He was angry, Ben could tell. But he was also too stunned to let it show. "Does Mace know?"

"He's the only one who knows. Besides me. And you, now."

Qui-Gon nodded, soul comforted to imagine Mace as point man on the Senate debacle. If there was anyone fit for such a task, it was him. Mace could be, as Bail had pointed out, as hard as platinum and absolutely terrifying, even when faced with a Sith. But Ben… "If I figured it out, others will too," Qui-Gon warned. "And if he were to sense a reaction from you… it's hard, I understand. But keep your emotions in the here and now, rooted in what is, not what was or what could be."

It was a typical Qui-Gon Jinn maxim. However, coming from a man who'd almost lost his closest companion at the hands of this Sith Lord, the same one that remained hidden in plain sight, it was powerful advice indeed.

"I will try," Ben said.

Qui-Gon did not retort. He nodded. "As must we all."


"And so, I've got this whole posse of children behind me, and I turn the corner and the trafficker is right there, and he sees me, and sees the kids, and says," Feemor screwed up his face in a snarl and dropped his voice as low as it would go and said, "'You chssk-sack son of a vetch'." He chuckled, and fought off more laughter to finish his tale: "And then suddenly, Aola jumps from the roof and lands behind him. He turns around and she slaps him full on the face and shouts 'Language!'"

The table erupted in laughter. Qui-Gon in particular seemed amused by the turn of events. "You are raising a hypocrite, Feemor," he glanced at his grandpadawan. "Aola, I've heard you talking when you pick fights with Garen Muln."

Aola blushed indigo. "Yeah, but Garen Muln is a barve. They were just kids. They'd been through enough already."

"By the looks of it, you have too," Ben commented, stepping carefully around Aola's leg as he carried a pot of rice to the stove. The leg was held together in a decorated splint.

"He tried to run away, so I kicked out his kneecaps. Slowed him down, but apparently he had joint replacements in both." She grimaced at the memory. "Durasteel versus bone… bone loses."

"And what's all this?" Qui-Gon waved a finger at the colorful adornments. Aola smiled at them.

"Ah. Well, we had a long trip back to the embassy, so I let the kids color on it to pass the time." She pulled the injured leg up and propped it on the table, a miniature gallery of juvenile scribbles. She pointed to a crude drawing on her thigh, a green twi'lek and what might have been a human. There was a pink heart between them. "Daria, the littlest one, drew me and her. She didn't have a blue pen, so I'm green."

Qui-Gon laughed. "It's precious."

Ben shook his head. "So we have two collectors of pathetic life forms, now. Lovely."

Feemor leaned back in his seat, looking innocently around the room. "Qui-Gon, remind me, which one of us is it who visits the creche once a week to see a favorite youngling?"

"You know," Qui-Gon feigned thought, "I don't know. Surely Ben would never do that, he's far too heartless."

"Yes, he hates pathetic life forms."

"Which is odd, you know, he's always seemed rather fond of himself."

Feemor snorted. "Aye, both of them."

Aola burst out laughing.

Ben sighed. "You're all ridiculous."

"So how is Anakin these days?" Aola asked, putting her leg back under the table.

"Well enough. Growing a bit restless, I'm afraid. Thankfully, he's starting another basic robotics course in a few weeks, hopefully that will occupy him."

"Oh, that reminds me," Feemor grinned at his apprentice, "you should tell them about that thing with the kid and the protocol droid at the embassy."

Aola smiled. "Oh, of course. I was going to wait until Obi-Wan got here."

"Yes, where is Obi-Wan?" Ben glanced around. "I thought he'd be out here as soon as he smelled food."

"In his room, I think," Qui-Gon answered. "Apparently he's taken knighthood as a chance to become the reclusive scholar we all knew he is, deep down."

"Hmm." Ben finished stirring the spices into his curry and wiped his hands. He went over to Obi-Wan's door and knocked. "Obi-Wan? We'll be eating in a little while, and Aola's sharing all her best stories from Boz Pity without you." He waited for a response, and received none. "Obi-Wan?" He knocked again. "Obi-Wan?" He opened the door. "Obi-Wa- oh." He looked around, and closed the door.

"He's not here," he announced to the table, going back to stir his dish.

Qui-Gon was frowning. "What? That's odd."

"Did he say he was going somewhere?" Feemor asked. Qui-Gon shrugged.

"No, he didn't." He got up to get himself a glass of water. "Of course, he doesn't have to. I'm just glad he's not cooped up in his room." He smiled, trying to make light of it. "He's probably cooped himself up in the archives, now. Anything to drink?" he offered. The table politely declined. Ben was staring at the wall above the stove, mind running through the possibilities. Obi-Wan was not ready to start going out in public again, not from what Ben had seen. He might've gone to the archives, but he would not have stayed there. Surely he would not be visiting friends; he still wanted very much to be alone. If he had wanted company, he would have sought it out here, in the safety of his own home. And if he wanted to meditate, he would never go somewhere public - not even the gardens. So where on earth was he?

"Ben?" Qui-Gon broke into his thoughts. "A drink?"

"No, thank you," Ben said, wiping his hands and turning around. "Look after this, will you? It should be done in a half hour or so."

"Where are you going?"

"I'll be back soon."


"Uuuugh!" a sheet of flimsi was torn away from its perforated base, crumbled up into a frustrated wad, and thrown off the edge. It landed near Ben's foot. The Jedi master looked up at the ledge from whence it had been launched. He could see the sole of a boot dangling there, kicking at the wall with unnecessary force. He glanced down at the crumpled flimsi and saw half a dozen other crumpled balls just like it, sitting dotted around the floor. He picked one up and smoothed it out.

"Are you designing a lightsaber?" he asked aloud. The question echoed in the vast hall. He looked up at the boot, above which a face appeared. The face sighed.

"What are you doing here?" it asked.

"Are you referring to me me, or you me?"

Obi-Wan scowled. "Very funny." He kicked pebbles down on his older self as he drew up his boot.

Ben pocketed the design and climbed up the stairs, around the boulders, and over the broken pillar to the ledge where Obi-Wan sat with a pad of flimsi, some books, and a floating lamp.

"Sorry. You set yourself up for that one." He lowered himself into a seat, and peeked over at Obi-Wan's work. "You are designing a lightsaber."

"How did you know I'd be down here?" Obi-Wan asked, scribbling away.

"Because you were not in your room, and there is nowhere else you'd go right now." Ben picked up one of Obi-Wan's discarded designs and studied it. "This is a beautiful design, why are you redoing it?"

"It's not right," the knight rubbed furiously to erase a portion of his work and redraw it.

"How do you mean?"

"I don't know," he said, a little angrier than he'd meant it. "I don't…" He breathed in, and out. More calmly, he said, "It's just not right."

"Ah." Ben watched him for a few moments, glancing occasionally at his holobooks, gripping his stylus so hard his fingers were white. Sighing often. He glanced back at the 'not right' design in his hands. "A Makashi hilt; a bold choice."

Obi-Wan shrugged. "It works better."

"Does it?"

"With the… my… my vision," Obi-Wan said eventually.

"Oh."

"Master Dooku was here last week - just a few days - and he was training with me. I was using one of Master Drallig's sabers, and it wasn't going well. Master Dooku leant me his, and it went better. Much better."

"Well that's wonderful," Ben said, looking again at the design. Makashi hilts, with their distinctive curved design, were cumbersome for those who did not know how to handle them. But, for duelists who valued speed and precision and the ability to feel their blade turn as well as see it, it was an advantageous tool indeed. "I'm sure he'll be thrilled to see it."

Obi-Wan sighed. "If I ever complete it," he growled through clenched teeth, tore off the sheet, crumpled it up, and tossed it off the ledge. Its fall was met with a quiet echo. Obi-Wan immediately started drawing it again, jawline tense, hand cramping.

"Obi-Wan, what are you doing?" Ben asked.

"I'm designing my lightsaber," said the knight stubbornly.

"It's supposed to be a meditative experience, you know, you're far too angry for this right now."

Obi-Wan slammed down his stylus and wheeled on him. "I'm not angry," he snapped, and blushed when he realized he'd yelled it. "I'm just… I need to get this finished."

"Why?" Ben asked, half listening, devoting more attention to studying the lines in Obi-Wan's brow, the rapid tempo kept by the muscle in his jaw, the slight rocking motion he kept up subconsciously as he drew.

"I need it. I need a saber to train, to get better."

Ben knew this stance. He'd worked himself into a point of obsession. "Better? Better at what?"

"At… at everything. All over again." Obi-Wan put down his pen and pad and put his face in his hands. He slid them up and around to the back of his head, grabbing his hair. There was not much to grab; he'd cut off the padawan nerf tail some days ago, and now looked like a shorn sheep.

It hurt Ben's heart to see him like this. But at the same time, he knew he needed to drag himself up again. "As Jedi knights, we must be patient with the Force's timing," he said.

"As a Jedi knight, I should be able to complete katas made for children," Obi-Wan snapped back. "But I can't. I can't even make tea without slipping and burning myself."

"You can't see."

"I can see," Obi-Wan corrected, "but not well enough. I'm blind enough to kriff up everything I touch, but not blind enough to make it an excuse. But if I could just get better..." He huffed and picked up his stylus and flimsipad again. "I need this to be perfect."

Ben gave a slow nod, folding his hands into opposite sleeves. "Of course." he said.

"You can't understand."

Obi-Wan had a point. Ben had no idea what it was like to suffer such an injury, much less a permanent disability because of it. "No, you're right. I don't understand. Not exactly. But I do understand what you're doing to yourself."

"What?"

Ben sighed, raising his eyes and leaning back in thought. At length, he said, "When I was knighted, I was knighted for killing a Sith right after that Sith had killed my master. You said you saw that."

"Yes."

"What you didn't see was the day after my knighting ceremony, when I got it into my head to master Soresu. I had seen Ataru kill my master, I knew I would not let it take me down. So I trained in Soresu day and night. If I could just master Form III, I told myself, I would master that thing that had taken Qui-Gon's life. I would, somehow, at least a little bit, make up for what had happened. And do you know what?"

Obi-Wan watched him, and shook his head silently.

"I was miserable at it," Ben confessed. "In fact, I was so bad at Soresu that I had padawans refuse to duel me out of pity. I couldn't even do a simple sunset kata properly. So, to get better, I kept doing them. Over and over and over and over again, determined to get it right. But every attempt ended up worse than the one before." He brushed away a few crumpled lightsaber designs, which tumbled over the wall and joined their many brethren on the floor far below. "I stayed in the dojo for hours - days, even. I once fought for over twenty-four hours straight without even realizing it."

"But… you got better," Obi-Wan said. "Obviously you did."

"I did, in the long run. But fortunately, before I did, Mace Windu found me working myself to death and did the best thing that any person has ever done for me."

Obi-Wan frowned. He did not know Master Windu well enough to imagine what this might be. "What?" he asked.

"He yelled at me, called me a disgrace to Qui-Gon's legacy and the Jedi Order, and whipped my ass - multiple times."

Obi-Wan blinked, looking as though he'd just been struck in the face. Ben ignored it.

"If memory serves, I think he broke two of my ribs. Or just one - either way, I deserved it." He shrugged. "Afterwards, I cried in front of him - just imagine how embarrassing that would be."

Obi-Wan's face, now even more horrorstruck than before, said that he was.

"But, then… he picked me up and led me back to his rooms, and made me tea, and told me the secret to getting better after something like this happens."

Obi-Wan was watching him, waiting on every word. When he received no explanation, he asked, "What?"

Ben waited a moment to reply. "Time," he said. Obi-Wan wilted. Ben felt sorry for him, but continued: "The point is, Obi-Wan, you will get better. But you're not going to get better today, or tomorrow, or even six months from now. But one day, you'll wake up, and someone who's never known you without one blind eye will tell you that you are the most observant, insightful person they know." When Obi-Wan gave him a supremely skeptical look, Ben smiled and shrugged. "Or something to that effect. It will not depend upon this saber design any more than it will depend upon my own past experiences.

Obi-Wan looked back down at his 'pad and his stylus, and the piles of discarded sketches around him. He sighed, shoulders drooping. Ben reached over and swept the remaining flimsi sheets off the ledge. He closed the holobooks and took the pad and pen from Obi-Wan's grasp. "You're leaning too much on what you've lost. Close your eyes."

Obi-Wan couldn't help it when he grimaced at the plural, but he obeyed, closing his seeing eye and his blind eye together. "A saber is not about what you see; it is about what you feel. Both in your hand and through the Force. So, feel the saber that you know you will make. How heavy is? What is the grip like? The switches? How strong is the angle?" He paused to let Obi-Wan think about this. He stole a glance at the man, and his face was screwed up in concentration. Good. "Now, go through your katas in your mind. What does the saber need? What do you need from it? Try to see without looking at it. With the Force, you will overcome your blindness, and with your saber, you will rise above it."

After a while, Obi-Wan nodded slowly. "Do you have it?" Ben asked. Obi-Wan nodded. "Good. Open your eyes." When he did, he could see Ben watching him. "Do you know what it looks like?" the master asked. Obi-Wan nodded. Ben smiled at him.

Immediately, Obi-Wan reached for his pad and stylus, but Ben moved them out of his grasp, "No, not yet. You've drawn enough for today."

"But -"

"You have seen it once, you can consult the image again. But right now, you have other things to attend to. Feemor and Aola are back from Boz Pity, and have been wondering where you've been all evening."

"Oh," Obi-Wan said. Perhaps that's why Ben had gone looking for him. But there was another thing. "It's evening?"

Ben laughed and got to his feet. "Come on, let's clean up this mess." They picked up the piles of discarded designs and packed them away in a bundle with the books and the lamp. Obi-Wan held open a small bag while Ben packed them in.

"Did Master Windu really make tea for you?" Obi-Wan asked. "I've never seen the man drink tea."

Ben laughed. "Of course he did. After Qui-Gon died, Mace was something of a father figure to me."

"Really?" Obi-Wan had a hard time imagining it. "He's a bit stern."

"He is. But it was what I needed at the time." He put the last of the flimsi wads into the bag and zipped it closed. "Come on, dinner will be growing cold by now."

As the two Kenobis made their way to the lift, the lift doors opened to reveal a figure inside.

"Master Windu," Obi-Wan said, surprised.

"Knight Kenobi," he gave a small smile. "Master Kenobi. So this is where you two go off to hide."

Ben shrugged. "It has a nice atmosphere. What are you doing here?"

"Council business," he said.

"Obi-Wan and I were just headed to dinner."

"Of course. But since you're here, Ben, could I have a word?"

Knight Kenobi and Master Kenobi shared a glance. The elder gestured for the younger to go on to the lift. "I'll be along shortly."

Obi-Wan glanced between the two, unable to not consider, if only briefly, what it would've been like to have Mace Windu as a father figure. "Of course. Good evening, Master Windu."

"You as well. By the way, Obi-Wan," Mace said, causing Obi-Wan to turn around in the lift.

"Yes, Master?"

"You're a knight now, which means as soon as I have access to a computer I can grant you access to this level. Next time, use your own access code."

Seven years of postponed guilt washed over Obi-Wan's face in an embarrassed flush. He ducked his head, but had to fight back a smile. "Of course, Master, thank you."

As the knight disappeared in the lift, Mace Windu turned around and began trekking back toward the great hall of rites. Ben followed after him.

"Why are you really here?" he asked.

Mace sighed, and shrugged. "I've been cooped up with senators and councilmembers all day. With everything that's going on...I thought maybe if I went to meditate where this all began, it would clear my head."

"It's a good place for it. The Force is strong down here."

"So Pada- Knight Kenobi has told me. I'm going to have to get used to that name."

Ben chuckled. "So will he."

"Do you two come down here often?"

"Yes. We have a habit of running into each other down here. I suppose we're very alike in that respect."

"And do you always give him such fatherly advice when you're down here?" He emphasized the word and slid his eyes meaningfully over to his companion. Ben did a double take, affronted.

"Wh- you heard all that? How long have you been here?"

Mace shrugged. "Long enough. When I heard you coming I went back in the lift. I didn't want to embarrass Obi-Wan."

Ben was shaking his head. He scoffed. "You have no qualms about embarrassing me, though."

"You're a grown man, a master. He's still in sutures. I'll embarrass him later, when he's not so sensative." Their bootheels clicked against the stone walkway. Utterly alone in the distant levels of another age, it was easier to let the barriers of time blur and converse freely about the never-was.

"Did I really break your ribs?"

"Yes, you kicked me right in the gut."

Mace's eyebrows raised. "You must've been making an ass of yourself."

Ben let out a laugh. "Oh, you have no idea."

Another long pause. The great wooden door into the hall of rites hoved into view. "I am flattered by your regard, master Kenobi. I always have been. But believe me, if anyone is going to be a father figure, it's you. So," he gently pushed the door and it creaked open on its hinges. "How does it feel to mentor yourself?"

Ben smiled and shrugged. "He's not me. He never has been, and now he definitely never will be. So it's not really that odd."

"That's good - I have a feeling he's going to need a lot of mentoring, considering all that's headed our way."

They stepped into the hall. Mace reached into a pocket and tossed out a small glowing sphere, which hovered in the air above them and illuminated their surroundings.

Very little had changed in seven years. The walls were still as broad and soaring as they were the day Ben had erupted into this dimension, the inscriptions just the same, the marble floor still polished by hundreds of thousands of footprints. The massive fissure in the middle of the floor stood with sides propped up on each other, a Force-made testament to balance and destiny.

It all looked so grandiose, Ben thought. It was a real red herring; he knew as soon as he ascended to the real world, he would have to roll up his sleeves and get to work.

"I take it Bail Organa came to visit you," Mace said.

"Yes - I was finally able to introduce him to Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan."

Mace smiled. "Finally. I saw him just as he was leaving. He told me about these accords he's writing."

"And?"

The Korun shrugged. "He has my support. Whether he can get the Senate's approval… that's another story."

"Bail is good at what he does, Mace. He's grown a lot since we met."

"So he has."

They walked around the center of the hall and went to sit on the far side of the stairs leading down to the crevice. "I hear Yan Dooku was back on Coruscant," Ben said.

"He was, just briefly. He got caught in a scuffle with some pirates, his ship needed repairs. He also briefed the Council on his ongoing investigation."

"And?"

Mace gave Ben a look, and pulled something out of his pocket. "I think Bail might be interested in this - and hopefully it'll jog your memory." He held up a small recording device and hit the playback button. A static-laden recording began.

"This is Jedi Master Sifo Dyas. Former Master. Whatever - I don't know what I am nowadays. I… I ordered the Kaminoan cloners to create an army for the Order some years ago. I went to Kamino under a false name to see that they were doing their job and… have discovered something alarming."

Ben looked up at Mace's face, but the councilor's gaze was fixed to the far wall.

"They are implanting each of the clones with a biochip. It contains programming that can control their actions, override their training. The Kaminoans tell me that this is a failsafe, intended to protect against mental insanity, but I am not so sure. I have stolen a copy of the program on the chip. I will try to decipher it. I do not know what to do. I think the Kaminoans may know what I stole. They are very guarded. I sense a deep disturbance. The same darkness I was trying to guard against is now stronger than ever. I do not know what to do. I will do what I can…"

The transmission cut off. Ben's mind was awash in memories. Tup. Master Tiplar. Fives, who Anakin swore had been onto something. There'd been an investigation, but they'd never found anything. Insanity, some had said. Breakdown. But if Sifo Dyas had uncovered evidence of mind control...

"Order sixty-six," Ben whispered. He saw, in his mind's eye, Cody turn and give the order to fire. Mind control.

"What?" Mace asked. Ben looked at him, and swallowed against a sudden sick feeling.

"Did Master Dooku find the code that he's talking about?"

"Not yet. He hid this recording and the code separately, probably as a precaution." Mace was frowning, face overcome with sadness. "I'm beginning to wonder if Sifo knew he was going to die. I don't think he was working for the Sith. I think he was scared, and played into their hands. He only realized it too late."

It was a harrowing thought. "We must find that file," Ben said.

"Yan is the best man for it. He'll find it."

Ben nodded. In the meantime, "We'll carry on working with the Senate. If the clones do have biochips implanted, we'll want them removed before they're allowed in the Republic."

"I'll press the Kaminoans for details. You don't think the Sith will come along to destroy their failed army?"

"No," Ben squinted into the dim air. "No, not after what's happened. He won't want to make another move so soon. He's regrouping, licking his wounds."

"Giving speeches in the Senate," Mace grouched. Ben ticked his head.

"He's angry. He's desperate. But he's not that desperate yet."

"What do you suppose he's thinking?" Mace wondered allowed. "What could possibly be going through his mind?"

"New candidates for apprenticeship," Ben said immediately. Mace looked at him in surprise. "If there is one thing my two lives have taught me, Mace, it is that the Sith will not die. They will not allow death to slow them down, they will not mourn, they will move on to accomplish their goals. If Palpatine does not already have his eye on someone, I'll eat my cloak."

Mace raised his brows. "Already?"

"Perhaps even when the last apprentice was still alive. Palpatine has contingencies for everything."

"They're starting to show."

"Good," Ben said, assuredly. "As long as we can keep him running through his plans, as long as we can eat up every angle before he can get to it, we'll stay ahead. And in the end, we will work him into a corner."

Mace regarded him with stale disbelief. "Obi-Wan is half blind, the Senate is in an uproar, and we have twenty-thousand clones to relocate, and that's a good thing?"

"All things considered, yes. The Sith apprentice is dead, Palpatine is panicking, and we're all still alive," Ben gave Mace a bright smile. "Everything is a matter of perspective." The Korun shook his head.

"You're crazy, Kenobi."

"Only because the galaxy is crazy."

"And about to get crazier." Mace sighed. "Did Bail mention Alaris Prime when he was here?"

"What? No, what's happened?"

"The Federation has finally turned over the droids from the Alaris Prime facilities."

"Oh?"

"Yes. There are considerably fewer of them than what you and Qui-Gon reported."

Ben sighed, unsurprised but aggravated. "They've hid them elsewhere."

"So it would seem. The investigative committee is pressing them for answers, but of course no one likes dealing with the Neimoidians, and jurisdiction over intergalactic corporations is always slippery. They don't know how big this is. If we're going to find those droids, we're going to have to push the matter ourselves."

"Maybe not now," Ben said. "Let things cool down in the Senate."

"We don't have to push them officially, just yet," Mace said. Ben turned his head around to fix his friend with a surprised stare.

"Mace Windu, are you suggesting that we break with protocol?"

"I'm saying we hunt down the bastards and stop a war," said the Master of the Order with uncharacteristic abandon.

"You know," Ben said, a smile fighting to break through, "I could not agree more."

"It's going to take time. A long time."

"Yes.

"And Palpatine's got an eye on us all, now. Me. You. Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon. There's no telling who he'll go after next."

"Which is why we keep one step ahead of him," Ben said. "As you most likely heard me telling my nephew, Mace, we will not win today, or tomorrow, or even six months from now. But if we continue to work as the Force guides us, doing only that which is right in front of us, one day we will wake up on a morning when we no longer worry about these problems."

"You're quite the philosopher," Mace admitted quietly. "And you're right. But right now, we have work."

"Actually," Ben pressed up on his knees to stand. He strolled past the mountain of granite and let his hand run across the top fondly. "Right now, I've promised to go have dinner with the rest of my branch. Palpatine can steep in his failures for another day. We'll catch them all eventually, figure out the clones and the droids and the Sith. But leave tonight for the politicians." As he strode toward the door, he turned and asked Mace, "Would you like to join us? There'll be more than enough."

Mace smiled. "I appreciate the offer, Ben, but I've had enough company for one day. If you don't mind, I think I'll stay here and meditate."

"Of course, Master Windu. May the Force be with you."

"It is. And also with you."

Ben bowed and left.

He spend the rest of his evening in the apartments of Master Jinn and Knight Kenobi, laughing at Aola's stories and Feemor's reenactments of their mission to Boz Pity. Qui-Gon slipped between calling Obi-Wan 'Obi-Wan' and 'Padawan', and Obi-Wan tried to fiddle with his braid at least three times at dinner. He bumped into things and missed it when Aola tried to make faces from the chair on his right, but no one said anything about it. They only smiled, and righted the glass he knocked over, explained what he hadn't seen with his head turned, and exuded an air of comfort. At the end of the evening, Obi-Wan felt more useful when he fetched Aola's crutches for her and walked her and her master to their rooms.

They would not grow used to the changes today, or tomorrow. But down the road, a few months or perhaps years in the future, Ben could see a time when all of it would just be another part of life. And then, they could dig their heels into this new monster of a galaxy. They would, eventually, overcome the mountain by taking each small step that the Force had laid in front of them.