Chapter Twenty-Four

"If I take my hand from your mouth, will you promise not to scream?"

Satine might had nodded in compliance, but she feared any move she made might push Bo's dagger deeper into her flesh. Though the hand pressed to her mouth appeared injured, Bo maintained a rather deft grip on the hilt of her dagger with her dominant hand. Satine wasn't willing to gamble on the sturdiness of either grip to try knocking Bo away from her. One inadvertent move could leave her throat sliced wide open. Wisely then, she remained perfectly still and pinned her sister with a scornful glare through the mirror. Bo's lips quirked in a mirthless smile.

"I'm going to take that as a yes then," she muttered, slowly removing her hand.

The instant she released Satine and took a step back to sheathe her dagger, Satine swiveled around to face her with a wrathful scowl. "You've some nerve showing your face after all you've done!" she spat haughtily, "I should call for my guards to have you arrested immediately!"

"You're free to do it," Bo invited her, "But somehow, I don't think you will."

Her weary certainty rankled Satine, but she remained predictable nonetheless and made no move to ring for her guards. Instead, she growled in irritation, "What do you want, Bo? How did you even get in here in the first place?"

Bo nodded towards the open bureau that concealed the hidden tunnel from which she had emerged only minutes earlier. A labyrinth of passageways had been built underneath the royal palace centuries ago in the event of a violent siege so that the ruling monarch had a quick route for escape. Very few Mandalorians knew the tunnels existed at all, and Bo-Katan Kryze was one of those people.

"Did you forget that we played in those tunnels as children, Satine?" she reminded her sister dryly, "We were taught they were a way out, but you and I always used them as a way in. I haven't forgotten my way."

There was a profound undertone to her words. She sounded almost wistful when she spoke of their past, as if she missed the bond that she and Satine had once shared…before their polarized political views had eventually driven them apart. As soon as the thought occurred to Satine, she wanted to laugh over the absurdity. Bo-Katan Kryze had never known a modicum of regret in her whole life. She had renounced her sister and joined Death Watch without sparing a backwards glance. And yet, there was a tiny thread of something akin to penitence in her voice which prompted Satine to peer at Bo-Katan closely for the first time since she arrived.

Her younger sister had seen better days to be sure. Bo had never been one to care much for her physical appearance. She had been "rough and tumble" from her beginning, but this was far beyond a tomboyish lack of grace. She was dirty and disheveled, her pretty features slightly puffy and darkened with a plethora of yellowed bruises. There was a makeshift splint wrapped around her left wrist and her left shoulder appeared slightly askew as well. The lines around her tightly compressed lips were pronounced and the flesh beneath her bruises was devoid of color, indicating the fact that she was in incredible pain. Based on her outward condition, Satine was astonished that she was still upright.

"You look perfectly dreadful," she said, recoiling.

Not bothering to wait for an invitation to do so, Bo collapsed onto her sister's bed with a pained grimace because she was unable to remain on her feet a second longer. "Well, I wonder how good you would look if you had spent the last few days running for your life," she replied grimly, "It's been a rough time."

Satine watched with a revolted shudder as Bo casually maneuvered her dislocated shoulder back into place as if she were doing little more than snapping on a pair of ear bobs. The resulting crack and pop caused her belly to roll and pitch with nausea. Satine cringed and gagged at the sound.

"Star's end, Bo! Are you in need of a physician?"

"As you can see," Bo grunted, "I have it under control."

Her dismissive reply caused Satine to snap to attention and she mentally berated herself for the display of compassion. She should have known that Bo would reject any overture she made. Even while it was painfully evident that Bo needed immediate medical attention, she would fall over unconscious before she ever lowered her guard enough to ask Satine for help. The recognition saddened Satine and caused her next question to be peppered with a doleful quality.

"What are you doing here, Bo?"

"I don't know," she mumbled, her words slurred with fatigue, "I suppose I came here to warn you, but the truth is…I had no place else to go." She barked a short, ironic laugh. "You're all I have left in the galaxy now, Satine."

"What do you mean?" Satine queried warily, "What warning? What happened to you?"

"I've been marked for death."

"By whom?"

"Death Watch."

Satine blinked dubiously, certain that she had misheard her. "I'm sorry. Come again?"

Bo expelled a deep, shuddering sigh. "Vizsla's dead, Satine."

She digested that news with little more than a sharp intake of breath. "If you're expecting me to mourn for the man, you'll be sorely disappointed," she said, "He was a warmonger, and his radical views divided this entire planet! He turned my own sister against me."

"You turned your sister against you!" Bo retorted, "A view is only 'radical' when it's not your own. You could never see anyone else's side!"

"Is that why you've come here?" Satine asked bitterly, "To rehash old, bitter debates between us?"

"Like I said before, I came to warn you. There's an evil coming, and you need to be prepared for it."

"Evil? What sort of evil?"

"I underestimated him," Bo muttered, "Vizsla tried to warn me, but I thought he was being a coward. I lost faith in him. I mistrusted him…but I was wrong. And I paid the price for my arrogance. Vizsla is dead because of me. He murdered him right in front of me! He killed everyone, Satine! I am the last. The rest stood with him."

Alarm fluttered in Satine's chest as she leaned forward anxiously, unnerved by her usually stoic sister's raw grief. It struck her in that moment how small and frail and delicate Bo appeared. A stirring of sisterly protectiveness unfurled in Satine's breast. Right then, she didn't see the callous, battle-hardened warrior that Bo-Katan had become but instead the gangly, contrary little sister with endearing freckles and a wide smile that Satine remembered. "Stood with whom, Bo?" she urged softly, "Who did this to you? Who hurt you?"

"His name is Maul," Bo replied, unaware of just how much her answer chilled her sister, "He's the new leader of Death Watch."

"We were not expecting you, Master Kenobi."

That much was abundantly clear by the less than enthused greeting they received. By the time Obi-Wan and Ahsoka had disembarked from their ship, there was already half a dozen Kaminoans standing in wait for them with Nala Se situated at the forefront of the group as their spokesperson. It was far from the welcome she had given him when he had come to their planet more than three years earlier. Back then, Nala Se had been eager to usher him inside and show off the accomplishments that she and her fellow Kaminoan scientists had achieved in the ten years they had spent constructing a secret clone army.

In contrast to then, she didn't strike Obi-Wan as the least bit hospitable this time around. In fact, she seemed rather impervious to the sheets of torrential rain poured down over them because she made no move to invite them inside. Truly, there was blatant indication that there would be no such invitation. The way in which the Kaminoans purposefully blocked the entrance leading into the Tipoca City cloning facility made it clear that they had no intentions of granting their unexpected visitors entry today. The realization had Obi-Wan heaving an inward sigh of resignation.

Clearly, he and Ahsoka would be unable to do this the easy way. He had suspected that might prove to be the case, but he'd decided to err on the side of optimism. After all, negotiation was his greatest specialty. Even now, when it was evident that they were going to meet resistance, Obi-Wan remained inclined to make overtures towards a peaceful resolution. He was far too civilized not to attempt a more diplomatic approach first.

Obi-Wan flipped up the hood of his cloak, though it served as futile protection against the downpour. "Hello, Nala Se. I am pleased to see you again. My padawan and I have come to seek an audience with Prime Minister Lama Su."

"I am afraid that Prime Minister Lama Su is not entertaining visitors today," Nala Se informed him politely.

"Surely he could make an exception for me," Obi-Wan replied with his most charming smile, "We are closely acquainted, after all, dare I even venture to say old friends. I've come to speak with him about the recent incident on Coruscant."

"Yes, we have heard of your tragic misfortune," Nala Se replied, "Quite disturbing."

"Perhaps, you may be able to shed some light on what happened with this clone. We are at a loss."

"If your clones are malfunctioning, Master Kenobi, it is no longer the business of the Kaminoans," Nala Se said, "They are no longer our intellectual property as they were confiscated by the Republic Senate shortly after the war ended as you are well aware."

"I do understand your position, Mistress Nala Se, but certainly you could help us to understand why this clone went rogue in the first place, and how we can prevent more from following suit."

"Sadly, I am unable assist you in this matter, Master Kenobi," Nala Se replied, "I regret that you have wasted a trip here, but I do wish you safe travels on your journey home."

After summarily dismissing them, Nala Se and her detail turned back towards the facility and disappeared inside of it without a backwards glance. Ahsoka stared in their wake, her brows drawn together in a disgruntled scowl. "Well, that was a bust," she muttered, "I feel like they're hiding something, Master. Don't you?"

"There's a definite air of resentment that's impossible to ignore," Obi-Wan agreed, "The Kaminoans were not at all pleased when Chancellor Organa discontinued their cloning program. I daresay they are holding a grudge…hence their disinclination to help us now."

"That seems rather petty considering the circumstances," Ahsoka said, "People are dying after all."

"Yes, but what is precious life in the face of wounded pride, my young padawan?" Obi-Wan posited with his trademark sarcasm, "There's really no comparison."

"You're not seriously going to take no for an answer, are you, Master?"

"Are you suggesting that we enter this facility illegally?" Obi-Wan tsked, "Clearly, you've been spending far too much time in Anakin's company."

Ahsoka wasn't the least bit deterred by his weak show of disapproval. She crossed her arms and regarded him with an expectant expression. "Well…"

"Yes," Obi-Wan sighed tiredly, "I suppose we have little choice but to move on to plan B now."

He and Ahsoka ducked back inside their ship and, once they were out of the rain and the listening range of the Kaminoans, Obi-Wan raised Rex on his communication device. The former army commander greeted him with a cheerful smile. "General Kenobi! To what do I owe the honor, sir?"

"Rex, I was hoping that you might be able to assist me with something," Obi-Wan said, "Ahsoka and I are on Kamino, and we haven't received what I would term as a 'warm welcome.' We've been denied an audience with the prime minister altogether. However, I need to get into that facility."

"What a coincidence, sir," Rex replied, "It seems that you and I have mutual interests."

"How so?"

"Because I need to get you into that facility. I'm hoping you can acquire some information for me. I assume that you're interested in finding an alternate route inside."

"Indeed. Would you happen to know of any?"

Rex grinned at him. "That depends. How good of a swimmer are you, sir?"

Obi-Wan groaned when he considered the churning, choppy waters just beyond his ship. "Kriffing fantastic."

"Artoo, you're in charge of the ship," Anakin said, sliding from his chair, "I'm going to try and catch a few winks before we reach Malastare."

He had been practically going non-stop for the past 48 hours and while Anakin was used to operating on very limited sleep, even he was beginning to feel the heavy burden of fatigue after the last harrowing hours he'd endured. Considering all that had occurred and in such a short period of time, Anakin was beginning to become overwhelmed. There were so many things happening simultaneously that it was difficult for him to determine which crisis should take precedence. His continued worry over Padmé only served to heighten his anxiety. Anakin felt as if his entire world was starting to spin out of control, and that was not an emotional state that he relished.

Consequently, he didn't expect that sleep would offer much in the way of refreshment. In fact, he fully anticipated that he would be beset with nightmares the instant he closed his eyes. Unfortunately, the need for respite had become a biological imperative and he had reached a point where even the Force wasn't enough to keep him on his feet. It was either rest or risk collapse. Anakin decided not to take his chances with the latter.

As he stretched out on his narrow bunk and stacked his hands neatly behind his head, Anakin briefly considered hailing his wife. Whenever he was particularly restless, hearing her voice alone would always be enough to soothe him. But it was late on Naboo, and likely Padmé had already retired for the evening. Though he knew she would welcome his call despite the late hour, Anakin recognized that she needed her rest as well. She was growing a baby after all.

Anakin smiled when he thought of his unborn daughter. Even now, her signature was strong and pulsed vibrantly within the Force. She wasn't the pure, blinding light that Luke was, but something more electric, almost volatile. Her energy crackled like a firebrand. Anakin suspected that she would be most like him in disposition, stubborn, willful, and determined to set her own rules. He was sure that Leia Skywalker was going to be an absolute headache someday, and he couldn't wait to experience every single minute of her feisty personality.

Of course, for that to occur certain things had to happen first. He needed to find Maul and eliminate him, and he needed to retire from the GFCA. While the former conclusion was hardly optional, he was experiencing quite a bit of conflict over the latter. On one hand, he loved what he did and viewed his work as both an obligation and a privilege. There was also no denying that he enjoyed the flood of dopamine that came with flitting from one dangerous situation to another. He was almost addicted to it. There was a certain thrill that accompanied being poised on the edge of disaster and then successfully finding his way out of it.

But, on the other hand, he loved his wife. He loved his son. And the life he lived meant that he missed sharing incredible milestones with them. Anakin didn't like spending so much time apart from Padmé and Luke. Those feelings had become especially pronounced in the wake of Ruwee's death. Time was so precious and fleeting. He didn't want to waste a moment, especially when he had no way of knowing when it might be snatched away from him. He could almost hear Vader's cajoling whisper in his ear, reassuring him that he did not have to bear that fear at all, but Anakin resolutely closed his heart against that false assurance. Eventually, he closed his eyes as well.

Have you forgotten your promise?

The question tickled at the parameter of Anakin's subconscious. Anakin mentally recoiled when he heard the niggling query. He tried to bat it away and remain snugly embedded in the warm cradle of slumber, but the words echoed out at him through the void once more.

Have you forgotten your promise?

He frowned as the query pierced his consciousness once more, this time prompting him to open his eyes. Still groggy from sleep, Anakin pushed himself upright and surveyed his surroundings. He was still in his cramped quarters aboard the Twilight only now the Father floated across from him, ethereal and luminous with purified light. Anakin scrambled back into his bunk, scrubbing at his eyes as if he thought doing so would clear his vision.

"Am I dreaming?"

"Have you forgotten your promise to me?" the Father asked him again.

"No…" Anakin replied slowly, "No, I haven't forgotten."

Anakin felt guilty at the Father's implied reproof, the insinuation that he had somehow gone back on his word. In a manner of speaking, Anakin supposed that he had. Though he had honestly not given much thought to the surreal encounter he'd had with the Father while trapped in the carbonite, he also knew very well that he had almost zero intention of actually returning to Mortis. On his list of things to do, Mortis was dead last…if it had even made the list at all.

At the time he had made that promise, he had been desperate and confused, hardly even certain if what he was seeing and experiencing was even real. Instinctively however, on some level Anakin had known it was real, which was the reason he felt guilty…because he knew he fully intended to renege on that oath. But rather than acknowledge the shame that accompanied that decision or even confront why he felt shame at all, Anakin took refuge in his irritation instead.

"If you haven't noticed, I've been up to my neck in problems lately! That's the reason I haven't come! The timing is off."

"Yes," the Father murmured with a wistful smile, "So busy running around trying to avert disaster wherever you go."

"Isn't that the point?" Anakin asked, his voice tight, "Maybe all of this wouldn't have been necessary had you not wiped my memories away the first time!"

As soon as the angry retort left his mouth, however, Anakin regretted it. Not because he didn't believe the words to be true but because he knew that it was wrong to hold the Father responsible for his own poor choices. Still, he'd always regretted losing the foreknowledge of the atrocities he would eventually commit. Even now, having mostly undone that bleak future, the memory of his crimes and betrayals continued to haunt him. They were grooved deeply into his soul much like the disfiguring scars caused by Mustafar's molten lava had been. The damage he'd caused was mostly internal now.

But his lack of judgment wasn't the Father's fault. The blame lay solely with him. Furthermore, it seemed ridiculous to rant at the man about actions he hadn't even committed. He didn't even know what Anakin was referencing right then. After all, those events had occurred in a timeline that was now null and void.

Yet when Anakin started to voice his contrition for his outburst, he noticed that the Father hardly seemed confused by his accusation at all. Instead, he stood there regarding Anakin with a rueful expression. Anakin came to the slow, disbelieving realization as to the reason why.

"You know, don't you?"

"That you have crossed time and space and reality to be here?" the Father queried thoughtfully, "Yes, I know what you have done. You possess the potential to wield the Force just as I and my children do, young one."

"Why did you take away that memory?" Anakin asked hoarsely before he could stop himself, "I could have prevented all of this! I could have spared so much pain to so many! You shouldn't have done that! You should have let me remember! I destroyed everything!"

"Sometimes a crucible must happen for refinement to follow," the Father advised him, "Fire can consume, young one, but it can also purify."

"So, what happened to me on Mustafar was purification then? You're saying that I needed to roast alive, to lose everyone and everything I ever cared about so that I could be refined?" Anakin growled wrathfully, "No! That was pure agony, and I will never live through that again!"

"The Force will always seek balance. You are living proof of that. And all that you lost before, you have gained it back and more."

"You're talking about my mother, aren't you?" Anakin whispered, "Because I saved her life in this timeline? Are you saying that I defied the Force when I did that?"

"I am saying that you have a power that you do not yet fully understand," the Father replied, "You have yet to reach your full potential, but I can help you. Do you believe that everything we experience happens for a greater purpose?"

"Like what? Like my fall? Don't try to tell me that it was my destiny all along…that it had to happen! I don't want to hear that!"

"Look at all that you have accomplished because you did fall."

"What about what I could have prevented had I never fallen in the first place?"

"Then you would not be the man you are today," the Father countered quietly, "Come to me on Mortis. That is your true destiny, my son. You've run from it long enough."

The words resonated through Anakin's entire being, pulled at him in a deep, fundamental way. He recognized the truth in the deity's words even though he didn't want to accept them. But he knew. On some level, he had always known, but he had chosen to be selfish then and now. He glanced away from the Father, unable to maintain his probing stare.

"I…I can't do what you ask," he uttered hoarsely, "Maul is still out there, and he's a threat to the entire galaxy! He must be dealt with. And…I have a wife, a family… I can't leave them. I need them. I love them."

"Come to me on Mortis," the Father urged him again, "You will know when the time is right. I will be waiting for you."

Anakin startled upright with a sharp gasp, his eyes flashing wide open in dismay. For an instant, he was completely disoriented, unable to discern whether he was still dreaming or if he was awake. He frantically scanned the interior of the small compartment for the Father only to come to the disconcerting conclusion that he was alone. There was no sign of the Father anywhere. In that moment, Anakin couldn't be completely sure that he'd ever been there in the first place.

He was still trying to puzzle it out and shake off his befuddlement when Artoo's indignant tooting sounded out over the ship's intercom. Apparently, they were coming out of hyperspace and the beleaguered little astromech wanted to know just how long Anakin intended to nap. They would soon be entering Malastare's airspace and Artoo was awaiting further instructions from him. Did Anakin plan on landing the ship or was Artoo expected to do everything himself?

"Alright, alright," Anakin grumbled, rolling from his narrow bunk when Artoo continued to beep and whistle, "Keep your dome on! Anyone ever tell you that you get very grumpy on long missions? I'm on my way!"

But as Anakin hustled his way back to the cockpit, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was someone watching him the entire time.