Author's Note: So . . . this is sort of a nothing chapter, but it had to be written. Transitions, and all that. Onasi--many times great-grandson of Carth Onasi, wearer of the orange jacket and wielder of dual blasters that have saved me many times in battle--reveals what his place in the story might be, I try to work off of strange plot twists at the end of RotS, and I quote RotJ. I am not happy with it, but--oh well. Let's get on to more interesting chapters.

To Mrsphantom1029: I'm glad you found my story, and I'm happy that you like it!

To Anakin's Girl 4eva: Obi-Wan knows he's not Darth Vader,Padme knows he's not Darth Vader, we all know he's not Darth Vader. Anakin and Sidious are the only ones who don't know. I wonder how long it will take them to figure it out (and I really do, which is a bad sign from the writer.) Poor Ani, he's such a mess . . . .

To Eruvyweth: Glad you continue to enjoy! I aim to please. Hopefully my next update will be more promising than the transitional chapter of doom that this turned out to be. Oh well. Obi-Wan needed some rest, anyway.

To Fragile Dreams: Wow! I'm impressed! Someone caught my pathetic attempt to nod in the direction of my favorite character from the Expanded Universe! I was in need of a career military family and I thought, "if the Onasi's had stayed military it would be a pretty impressive tradition by now," and thus the character of Aerdin Onasi was born. I'm glad you like Healer Risto. I like her too. I needed something to lighten the mood, and Threepio and Artoo are stuck back on the ship. As for the rational Ani/Padme contact . . . well, I'm working on it.

Seven

I felt as if my heart had been scraped raw and my emotions were bubbling right there, next to the surface, ready to boil over with the slightest provocation. It wasn't a feeling I was used to, I who prided myself on my control. I'd faced down countless enemies without so much as breaking a sweat, stared death in the face without so much as trembling, but now it felt as if one wrong word would turn me into a quivering heap of emotional wreckage. It was all I could do to keep myself from breaking down after Anakin turned away from me, shutting me out as clearly as if a wall had slammed down between us.

But I was Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Knight and Master. I didn't break down and cry. No matter how much it hurt.

I was leaving Anakin's room when Onasi found me. "General Kenobi?" he said in that clipped military tone.

"Yes, Commander?" I replied wearily, somehow managing to straighten my shoulders and look him steadily in the eyes. He was taller than me, and that irritated me, I admit, even though I knew the sentiment was entirely unworthy of a Jedi Master.

"I was hoping to speak with you," he said.

I knew I stiffened at that, but I made an effort to be civil, at least. I had absolutely no idea why this man irritated me so much, but there was no reason to be rude. "Very well," I said, and my tone was short even though I was struggling to be polite. I searched for some safe topic of conversation, something that we could possibly have in common, as I followed him away from the medical room to the patient lounge at the end of the hall. Finally, I hit upon a possibility, just as our silence was beginning to become even more uncomfortable than it had been before. "You aren't by any chance related to Admiral Carth Onasi, are you?" I asked.

The man looked surprised. "Yes, he was my many-times great-grandfather. Why?"

I shrugged. "I studied the Onasi defenses at the Battle of the Star Forge and the second battle of Telos and his offensives during the Mandalorian and Jedi Civil Wars while I was at the Temple. They were brilliant. I used some of his strategies at Cato Neimoidia."

Onasi's jaw relaxed just slightly, and his shoulders straightened in obvious pride of his illustrious ancestor. "I'm surprised a Jedi like you would know that, Kenobi," he said.

What a way to give a compliment, as if all Jedi were peace-loving fools without the intelligence to study strategy or tactics. I might not have enjoyed war, but that didn't mean I couldn't understand it. "I've always been interested in military history," I replied as mildly as I could and took up a position leaning against the wall. "What did you want to speak with me about?"

Onasi crossed his arms across his chest and leaned forward in what was obviously a confrontational stance. I sighed and readied myself for an unpleasant scene.

"Do you have any idea what you're risking, Kenobi?" he demanded in a tone so harsh it made even me wince. "What are you playing at? If what Yoda tells me is true, that thing lying on the bed in there—"

"Don't call him that." Even I was surprised at the venom in my tone.

He actually looked genuinely blank. "What?"

"That thing, as if he isn't even—" I took a deep, shaking breath "—as if he isn't even a person anymore."

Onasi looked at me as if I had sprouted another head, true horror in his gaze. "Kenobi," he said, "that man is a mass-murderer. He killed your comrades and destroyed everything we fought for. He would have killed you. He is a monster. Why are you still protecting him?"

I looked away. "Because—because he is my friend. And I don't believe that he is past redemption." But I wasn't sure if that was any part of the truth. The memory of Anakin's hate-filled eyes came to mind and I swallowed hard. Was I being a sentimental fool and letting my feelings for my friend blind me to what he had become? Had I made a terrible mistake? What was wrong with me, anyway, that I didn't want to destroy the murderer of all I had ever known or cared about?

"He is your friend?" Onasi repeated incredulously. "Kenobi, that man is no longer your friend, no longer the boy you trained. Accept it. Anakin Skywalker is dead."

I literally flinched at that, pain blossoming within my heart. I took a deep breath and struggled to steady myself. "From a certain point of view," I replied.

He raised his eyebrows. "A certain point of view?"

"Commander," I said, pushing myself away from the wall. "You'll find that many of the truths we cling to depend greatly upon our own points of view."

I still don't know where that came from. But it shut Onasi up, and as I walked past him he was still staring blankly at me.

I'm not going to pretend that wasn't gratifying.

But as I walked away his words echoed through my head, and I shivered.

What if I was making a mistake? What if Anakin Skywalker was lost, and the only person I'd saved was Darth Vader—his murderer?

What if my desperate actions meant the death of hope for all of us?

"What is troubling you, Obi-Wan?"

It had been a long time since I'd heard that voice. My eyes flew open and I sat up to see Qui-Gon Jinn sitting nonchalantly on the edge of the table, glowing slightly around the edges. "M-Master?" I whispered, hardly daring to believe my eyes.

He got up and came to perch on the edge of the bunk in the room Healer Risto had given me. "Did I not ask you a question, my young apprentice?"

"Not so young, anymore," I told him.

He shrugged. "You will always be young to me."

I sniffed back the tears that had been all too close to the surface lately—at least these were anything but tears of pain. "How—how—?" I stammered.

"I think that can wait for later," Qui-Gon said meditatively. "Listen, my Padawan. You are a wise man. I once told you that you were a much wiser man than I, and to that I still hold. You simply need to learn not to doubt yourself. Commander Onasi speaks from the knowledge of military life, but you and Anakin do not come from military life—you are Jedi."

"But Master, I—what if I am wrong, what if—" I couldn't bring myself to speak the words, even if only in a dream or whatever this was, so I faded off into silence.

Qui-Gon smiled and shook his head. "Why do I sense you are doubting yourself again, Padawan? Don't center on your anxieties, Obi-Wan. Keep your attention here and now where it belongs."

"Yes, master," I said automatically, and then smiled, both at myself and him. "It's . . . good . . . to see you again, master."

He reached out and rested his arm around my shoulders. The weight was comforting, reassuring, and I leaned into it gratefully. "The feeling is mutual, my apprentice," he says softly.

"I missed you," I whispered into his glowing robe. I felt as though he should have been intangible, glowing like that, but for some reason he wasn't.

"I know," he says, and hugs me a little closer for a moment more before he fades away back into the night.