Author's Note: Finally! Sorry it took so long, real life kept butting in. But another update is here!

To Anakin's Girl 4eva: Hmm. That might work. We all know Anakin and his guilt trips . . . though Obi likes them too. Onasi hanging on a window ledge minus a few limbs . . . there's an idea . . . .

To Eruvyweth: The Author? --looks wildly around-- You mean--me? All kidding aside, I'm actually glad Onasi is creeping you out . . . that means he isn't a failure as a baddie. Hee hee! And as for Ani . . . the pace is slow but sure. And Palpy--evil grin Let's just say he may soon be learning a basic Jedi lesson--"always in motion is the future."

To Quill of Molliemon: They are rather like oil and water. I wanted to get across the feeling you get when you know you can't possibly have formed a real opinion about someone yet, you just don't like them. Talk about incompatible personalities! But we still have Ani and Padme . . . ahhh. I loved finally writing that.

To Anakins Force: And I love the Vader thread! And yes, Onasi--well, let's just say that Obi-Wan wouldn't mind Onasi meeting up with the end of his lightsaber either. Purely by accident, of course. Anakin needs a new arm and a leg--just so he can do stuff! Arrgh! "Action Anakin," forced to lie on a bed and think? Not good!

To KTfanfic: Umm, yeah, Onasi has problems. He didn't get the memo--"only a Sith deals in absolutes." Glad you liked the Anakin/Padme scene--I enjoyed writing it--and I hope you continue to enjoy.

To MissNaye: I didn't think it was half bad myself. Ruthless, yes, but would it have worked? Also yes. Now, you'll just have to see what happens . . . .

To Fragile Dreams: I love your long reviews--please don't stop. Yay! I'm glad the Ani/Padme lived up to your expectations. I'm actually glad you started out liking Onasi. I didn't want him to be completely black or white, though he's leaning toward the baddie side of things of course. His main problem is a surfeit of self-righteousness, I think, and a difficulty seeing the color gray. I'm so glad you like Explosive!Obi-Wan. I thought he deserved some vehemence by this point.

To Obi-Wan Skywalker: Glad you like it so much! Interesting name . . . .

To Alley Parker: He is, isn't he? Of course, if he wasn't, that wouldn't be as much fun (for me at least). It's a good thing Ani and Obi can't see what I write here, or else I'd have one PO'd Sith Lord and Jedi Master to deal with . . . .

To Mrs. A.Skywalker: Hah hah! Success with linkage! And no, Anakin's face isn't burnt, just a little--sensitive from such close proximity to heat. He's just missing a leg and a rather badly damaged mechanical hand, and only his back and the back side of his missing arm were badly burned. His lungs are still recovering from breathing super-heated air, however. Hope that makes sense . . . . I'll try and work an overview of Ani's physical condition into the next chapter.

To Princess-Aiel: That's certainly how Obi-Wan feels. So glad you thought it was beautiful . . .

To Queengoddess: Well, even the little green troll gets a character arc. Who knew? And Mace--I'm so glad he's dead already in this fic. If he weren't, I'd kill him all over again. Gah is exactly right. I'm glad you liked Padme and Anakin so much! And I'm even more glad you liked my imagery/parallel thingy. (You aren't the only one who's glad there's no kissing in the original--gack!) Hee hee!

To Hieiko: He's getting on mine, too, and I made him up. Grrrr . . . Onasi, Carth is very ashamed of you.

Disclaimer: The Flanneled One owns all. I own nothing and I make no money. Pretty much.

Twelve

"I'd like a word with you." I deliberately let a moment pass before I added the word, "Commander."

Onasi turned around at the door, his shoulders straightening subtly into that ramrod-straight military posture he had shown when we first met. "Kenobi?" he asked stiffly. His voice was cold, rimed with frost. I ignored the warning in his tone. If Onasi thought he could intimidate a Jedi Master and General of the Clone Wars, he needed to be educated in a few home truths about Jedi.

I locked eyes with him and gave him a level stare. "I suppose there are many ways of saying this, Commander Onasi, but I think I'll go with the simplest this time. I don't trust you."

If anything, his posture grew straighter and his eyes colder. "That's odd, General Kenobi," he replied. "I could say the same thing about you."

He doesn't trust me? Who's the only living Jedi who can honestly say he's faced three Dark Lords of the Sith and defeated two? Who defeated General Grievous? Who—calm down, Kenobi. Take a deep breath. This isn't helping. I crossed my arms over my chest. "Then we understand each other."

He braced his feet against the floor as if settling into a fighting stance. "I think we do. Master Jedi." His words were sneering, scornful.

If he thought his scorn could hurt me he truly did not understand what I had faced over the years. "Then you understand what I will do to you if you destroy Anakin in this . . . quest of yours." I didn't know what else to call the fiery compulsion I had seen in his eyes as he spoke of luring Sidious and putting an end to the Empire.

It was a threat, I don't deny that, and not particularly well done of me. I just didn't know what else to try.

Onasi's eyes flashed at that, his mouth tightening into a thin line. "Anakin has already been destroyed, Kenobi. There is nothing left of him in that murderer, nothing! I don't understand how you, of all people, can be so blind. He destroyed your very life, everything you've fought for, and still you defend him? What is wrong with you? What evil casts a shroud over your eyes to cloud your vision? What fog obscures your judgment? The boy is lost!"

"He is not lost!" It was the first time I had said those words since his fall, and they burst out of me before I even really had time to examine them. But as I said them I realized how firmly I believed them, how I had to believe them. That hope alone had kept me moving the last few days when all I wanted was to curl in on myself and sob until the huge rift that had torn my heart in two scabbed over, until I no longer felt my soul's blood ebbing slowly away into the dark and echoing chasm that had once held the presence of the other Jedi. That hope, fragile and insubstantial as it was, was all I had left to cling to. For if I failed here, if I failed now, then Anakin was truly lost. I had truly failed. And the Empire had already won. At least for me.

"Jealous tears do not redeem him, Kenobi!" Onasi's cheeks had mottled red with passion. "The boy has been flawed from the start. Let go! I thought the Jedi preached the danger of attachments. Can't you see how attached you are to this Skywalker? Can't you see how your refusal to admit his fall endangers us all?"

"I do not deny his fall." My voice was calm and cool in contrast to his raging intensity, but inside I trembled with rage and emotion that I struggled in vain to bring under my control. My once-vaunted restraint was fraying now as I reached the edge of my reserves. I was tired and shaking, empty inside, my emotions rubbed raw and bleeding, by entire body bruised and cut and one massive ache. I simply didn't have anything left to call on. "I—Force." My voice cracked and threatened to break. I relaxed my stance and rubbed at my aching forehead, just too tired for this any longer. "I haven't given up hope."

Onasi's eyes were bleak and as empty as the vastness of space. "I suppose that is where we differ, Master Kenobi. You see, I have."

I sighed and felt the weariness seeping through me again. "I am sorry for that, Commander Onasi. But don't you see that is exactly what the Emperor wants?"

Onasi's face was as unyielding as the mountain carvings on Duro. "I see you playing into the Emperor's hands, Kenobi, not me. Skywalker—Vader—is a war criminal. He deserves to be condemned, not coddled, executed, not excused."

"And where will that get us?" I nearly screamed. "How will that bring back the Jedi? How will that defeat the Sith?"

"I don't know anything about the Sith," Onasi said. "And I don't care much about the Jedi. But I care—" he took a deep, shaking breath "—cared for the Republic. And I will destroy the Empire."

"The Empire is the Sith!" I snapped. "They are one and the same. How do you hope to defeat the Emperor without the Jedi?"

"I'm starting to think I'd have a better chance alone than with a Jedi by my side," Onasi bit back. "Good luck with Vader, Kenobi. When he chokes you to death, remember what I said, will you?"

My hand was suddenly on my lightsaber, with no memory of how it had come to be there. "Promise me you will not go after Anakin to carry out this plan of yours," I demanded.

Onasi's eyes flicked to the weapon in my hand, but his lips just twisted into a bitter parody of a smile. "Will you kill me if I don't agree, Kenobi?" he asked.

"I'm sure you can find the answer to that yourself," I answered. "I am a Jedi, after all."

He gave a harsh laugh. "The Jedi are all dead, Kenobi."

"I'm not," I replied softly.

It wasn't I who looked away first.

Healer Risto caught me on my way back to Anakin's room. "All you all right, Master Kenobi?" she asked softly.

I lifted my eyes tiredly. "Please," I said. "Call me Obi-Wan." I just wanted to hear someone say my name, not "Master Kenobi," not "General." I didn't feel like much of either a master or a general at the moment. I just . . . wanted to be me, around someone.

She looked down at the floor. "Obi-Wan," she said quickly. "Are you all right?"

I sighed, giving her a small grin of thanks. It was impossible for her to know how much that small concession lifted my spirits, when I felt like I'd been caught in a free-fall ever since Utapau. "I'm fine, Healer Risto. Thank you. How's Padmé?"

She smiled a little. "Better, I think. She's resting now, in her own room. I let her stay until the drugs brought Skywalker under again. I think the visit may have helped both of them."

I felt a true smile begin to curve my lips. "Well—good. That's—that's good news. How's Anakin?"

She shrugged, a tired motion that seemed to encompass both all and nothing. "I'm not sure. I've never really had a case like his. He seems so . . . drained."

"Drained?" I repeated, wondering at her use of the word. Anakin hadn't seem drained to me. Hurt, confused, in pain, yes. But he had tossed me against a wall with the Force. More than once. Was that drained?

"Yes." She bit her lip. "I had a question to ask you, anyway, Maste—Obi-Wan." She grinned ruefully. "I'll have to get used to that. Well . . . when was the last time Anakin slept, that you know of?"

I blinked. "Slept?" Force, I sounded like a Rishii, repeating her every word.

"Or ate," she added. Her eyes were serious and earnest.

"Yesterday, I suppose," I said blankly. "Why?"

"His condition reminds me of yours," she said with a sigh. "He's been so worn down by exhaustion and hunger I'm surprised he was still thinking straight. Well . . ." she gave a sad laugh. "I suppose he wasn't. I've had him sleeping and the IVs are bringing him essential fluids and nutrients, so he's balancing, but—" She stole a glance at my stricken face and let her voice trail off.

It wasn't until that moment that I realized how devious, how ruthless Sidious was. Every fiber of my soul ached for Anakin as I got a picture of how the days since I'd left Coruscant must have been for my friend—pulled a thousand directions at once, trapped, torn, not sleeping, not eating. "Force," I choked. I couldn't help the thought, treacherous though it was . . . no wonder he had fallen.

What had we done to him?

"Can I see him?" I asked helplessly. "I won't wake him, I promise, I just—"

She gazed at me for one long moment, then reached up and laid a hand on my cheek. I flinched at her touch, surprised, and she smiled, her lips quirking in a wry, lopsided sort of grin. Her hand was warm against my skin, and I realized how much I'd needed some sort of human contact at that moment. I hadn't even been aware of it until she'd touched me. "Of course, M—Obi-Wan," she said. "Come with me."

She turned away, and she was all business-like medic again. I followed her, still bemused, as she led me to Anakin's room and keyed open the door. "Go ahead," she said, and gestured into the room.

I stepped gingerly inside and walked over to stare down at Anakin on the bed. I felt as if I were seeing him for the first time since I'd left him on Coruscant—the slightly more angular planes of his cheekbones where his face nestled against the pillow, the tautness of the skin around his eyes, over his bones, the lines of pain etched deep around his mouth under the breath mask, the shadowed bruises in the hollows under his eyes. He looked like an old man, broken, used up, and at the same time like a fragile, vulnerable child.

I knelt down and tentatively reached out to touch his cheek, running the backs of my fingers over his too-hot, feverish skin, and I could feel the burning behind my eyes start to prickle, the lump in my throat intensify until the tears were slipping down my cheeks and I could barely see through the wet blur over my vision. "I'm sorry, Anakin," I whispered. "I'm sorry."

It wasn't an apology just for the last week, the last few days, the hell of Mustafar. It was an apology for Tatooine, and the Jedi Council who had used but never trusted him, and his mother, and Padmé, and the last fifteen years of his life.