Author's Note: Again thank you to all my marvelous reviewers. I still don't have enough time to reply to all of you (I've been going through a bit of a time crunch lately, comparatively), but I want to let each and every one of you know how much you taking the time to review means to me.

Seventeen

I had never seen Anakin cry like this.

I had seen him cry before, over the years we'd spent together, though he would have hotly denied it in what seemed like the long ago time before our lives had been cruelly torn apart. First in the desolate days after Naboo, blurred in my memory, when he had cried himself to sleep in his room more than once and I had been too absorbed in my own grief to offer him the comfort he'd deserved. Once or twice on missions over the years, when we had faced some horrendous cruelty, and his eyes would fill and he would turn his back to me and try to wipe the tears away so I wouldn't see, and when he turned around his eyes would be angry. After Geonosis, when he had cried alone in his quarters again and I had felt through the Force that I wasn't welcome to offer comfort and thought my heart would break for him. When I had returned after Jabiim, and his eyes had sparkled with triumphant joy through the moisture glistening in them.

But he had never before cried like this, his face pressed into my shoulder and his whole body shuddering with sobs, his fingers clenching into a fist and then unclenching where he clung to my neck. He had never cried as if his heart had been irrevocably shattered and he hadn't a clue how to go about repairing it, never clung to me as if I were his only shelter from an approaching storm and the one thing holding him together, never cried as if the sins of the entire galaxy were battling free of his heart and tearing him to bits in the process. It wasn't a loud or obvious sort of crying, more of an uncontrollable shaking that seemed to have taken over his entire body, the soft sound of trembling breaths and sniffing back tears, hoarse pants for breath in between sobs, my tunics gradually soaking through with his tears. His bare skin was hot and feverish, damp with sweat as well as with weeping, trembling under my hands as I rubbed his shoulders and lower back where it wasn't covered in bacta bandages as reassuringly as I could. He smelled of bacta and sweat and disinfectant, and I could hardly breathe with his arm looped so tightly around my neck but I murmured words of comfort to him all the same, assuring him that we were together now, that he was still my brother, still the other half of the team, that I wouldn't leave him, didn't condemn him, that together, somehow, we could make this right, though I couldn't even see how myself. None of it seemed to help, and I began to worry that he would injure his still barely healing body with this . . . tempest of weeping.

"Anakin," I murmured, threading my fingers through his hair, damp where my own tears had soaked into it and clinging to my fingers, "Anakin, look at me."

He shook his head desperately and buried his face deeper in the folds of my tunics. The childish gesture twisted my heart up in knots. I pressed lightly on his shoulders, trying to get his attention. "Anakin," I repeated. "Look at me." My own voice was hoarse with the sobs his pain had wrenched from my lips, and my throat was raw and aching from one bout of tears already.

His obedience was another miracle in the long string I'd experienced that day, but he sniffed and blinked and raised his head so that swollen, red-rimmed blue eyes met mine. "I'm sorry, Obi-Wan," he mumbled. "I—I hurt you—" His eyes filled again but he blinked the tears back. "I wanted to hurt you." And the horror in his voice was absolute.

The fact that there was horror in his voice at all was yet another miracle, as far as I was concerned. "Enough," I told him, lifting one hand from his back and rubbing my thumb over his cheeks to wipe away the tracks of tears. "It is done, Anakin."

He shook his head, misery written plainly on his face. "It will never be d-done, M-Master," he whispered, his voice rough and uneven. "I will kill them forever—I will hurt you forever—I-I will hurt P-Padmé forever." His voice broke. "Look—you're crying, Master—"

I braced my fingers on his face and rested my forehead against his. "Out of love, Anakin. Not out of sorrow." Not anymore.

"I—I don't deserve that," he said in a shattered voice.

I gave him a loose hug with the arm resting around his shoulders. "I don't care," I told him fiercely.

For a moment his eyes slipped closed, and he leaned into my encircling arm—

And then they snapped open again, and he pushed me away with the arm that had been around my neck and straightened up, almost falling off the bed in the process but somehow managing to catch himself in time. "No!" he said wildly. "No, Master, it isn't right!"

I blinked. "Anakin?"

"You should—hate me!" he burst out, rubbing his hand across his face as more tears trickled out of his eyes. He wavered and barely caught himself on the bed before he fell. "You should want to . . . kill me, to . . . hurt me, like I h-hurt y-you." He moaned a little. "Please, Master." His eyes were desperate and unseeing and blank when they focused on my face. "Please, I don't want to—"

I couldn't let him finish that sentence. Instead I dragged him back into my arms, tightening my grip on him so tightly on his shoulders and waist that he gave a small gasp of discomfort. "Don't say that, Anakin," I begged. "Please. Please don't talk like that."

"But I—I never want to hurt you—ever again," he whispered into my shoulder, "and I-I will, I know I will—I'll hurt you—and I'll hurt Padmé and—please, Obi-Wan, don't let me hurt her, don't let me ever hurt her—"

"Anakin," I said through the lump tightening my throat, "stop this. This isn't helping you."

But whether he was too lost in despair to hear me or just wasn't listening, he kept talking, almost babbling now, hysteria plain in his voice. "And he'll find me—I know he will; he'll never let me leave him—and I'll fall—I can never escape, Master, never—"

"Anakin!" I said desperately, truly frightened now. I reached out with the Force, trying to send him calming, soothing energy through the current between us that our training bond had evolved into, but it slammed up against the mind-blurring drugs that dulled his connection to the Force and slipped off the wall his inconsolable anguish had built beneath them.

The door swished open and Shian stepped inside, and relief sweep through me in a rush that left me weak and shaking. "Shian," I gasped out. "Help me."

She took one look at the situation and quickly crossed over to my side. She rested her hand on Anakin's shoulder and he didn't react, except that his words started breaking down into sobs all over again. "He's hysterical, isn't he?" she said softly, running her hand gently through Anakin's hair as she brushed it away from his face. He turned into her touch slightly, still crying, but showed no other indication of realizing she was even in the room, and she sighed. "I can sedate him, if it's all right. It might be the only way we can quiet him at this point. He'll hurt himself if he keeps this up much longer."

I shook him a little again, trying to get him to really look at me. "Anakin," I said firmly. "Anakin, would that be all right?"

He looked at me blearily as if he still didn't really see me. "W-what, Obi-Wan?" he said distantly.

"If Healer Risto gave you a sedative, to help you sleep," I said, and brushed his mind gently with the Force. Please, Anakin, please, you need to rest.

I had no idea if the message reached him or not, but he sagged against me and gasped out, "Please," in a wavering, desperate voice, then squeezed his eyes shut and turned his face away.

Shian's mouth compressed into the thin, tight line that meant she was displeased, but she got up and picked up a hypo from the table of basic medical instruments that was attached the bed beneath the computer consoles that monitored all of Anakin's vital signs. "Give me his arm," she said, and I tugged his arm down from around my neck and rolled his shoulder until the vulnerable skin at the inside of his elbow was facing up, tightening my grip on him with the other hand. Shian laid a hand on Anakin's shoulder to steady him further and laid the hypo against his arm. One press and the drug was injected into his bloodstream.

It didn't take long. Anakin flinched and gasped, then, slowly, his tears eased and his breaths deepened from quick, shallow pants to the measured breathing of sleep, and he finally collapsed, limp, against my chest. I steadied him before he could slide off. "Thank you," I said.

She shook her head and tightened her hand on Anakin's shoulder. "I'll take him," she said, "and you won't thank me once you know why I came to get you."

"Oh?" I knew what was coming, and I suddenly felt too tired for it.

Her next words confirmed my guess. "Master Yoda would appreciate your help in dealing with one Commander Aerdin Onasi." She gave me a weary grin. "And you know that when a Jedi Master says they'd appreciate something it means 'get your behind down here, youngling.'"

I couldn't help a smile in return, even if it was half-hearted. "Very well," I said. "Take care of Anakin for me, please."

"Always, Obi-Wan," she said. "For you."

I could feel my cheeks flush deep red, and I escaped from the room as fast as I could to prevent any further embarrassment.

My heart had lurched oddly at those words.

I pressed my hand against my too-hot face and hoped I wasn't coming down with something.

I could hear Yoda's low, gravelly voice before I entered the room. Out of curiosity and a desire to erase the lingering vestiges of embarrassment before I went inside, I stopped just outside the door.

"A cowardly—" thump "—dishonorable—" thump "—unworthy—" thump "action it was, Onasi." Yoda sounded as angry as I had ever heard him. "Agreed, we had, that your plan was not to be used."

I keyed open the door, feeling unaccountably satisfied. Yoda's irritation made the room seem to buzz slightly with energy. Onasi stood in the middle of the room, his arms crossed belligerently across his chest and a sullen look on his face. Or was that his normal expression? I had ceased to care.

"You called for me, Master Yoda?" I said. I didn't look at Onasi. I was afraid I might lose control again if I met that self-satisfied blue gaze and remembered what he had done to Anakin.

Yoda ignored me and jabbed his gimer stick forward, banging it against Onasi's legs with a loud whack that made the commander flinch visibly. "Fragile, young Skywalker is. Appreciated your interference is not."

Onasi's face was set, his jaw working. "I don't see what other chance we have, Master Yoda," he replied. "We are in a desperate tactical position, outnumbered and outgunned, and our options are getting narrower all the time. Why not use the weapon of the enemy against him? Vader is no great loss, but even if he were we cannot afford to be sentimental. We need every advantage we can possibly acquire."

He was looking at Yoda, but I had a feeling he was addressing his words to me. I could feel the fury rising within me again, but this time I was prepared for it and took a deep breath, letting it flood through me and then ebb away.

Yoda gave me an approving glance, almost as if he were surprised, then turned back to Onasi and thumped him again. I don't envy him the bruises he'll have tomorrow morning, I thought before I could stop myself. "A tactical advantage only, Skywalker is not, Commander," Yoda said shortly. Thump. "Enough of being used as a tool, he has had."

I was surprised to hear Yoda's words echoing my earlier thoughts so exactly. With a tight, tiny smile, Yoda turned away from Onasi and back to me. "Master Obi-Wan," he said. "Glad to see you, I am."

"Thank you, Master Yoda," I said. "I see you have heard of Commander Onasi's . . . deeds." I swallowed hard and tried to focus on the moment, not on the ache in my heart that my time with Anakin had left there.

Yoda thumped his cane firmly against the floor. "Heard, I have," he said. "Young Skywalker—how is he?"

I sighed. "He understands what he has done, Master. He is sedated now. Shian—I—I mean, Healer Risto—is attending to his new injuries." I could feel myself flush at the slip, but no one else seemed to notice.

What was wrong with me?

Yoda's ears perked up, but all he said was, "Ah." He folded his hands on his cane and looked up into the air. Need you, we do, old friend. I could hear his voice echo around the room.

You called? Qui-Gon's voice was full of amusement, and I could feel my mouth fall open in shock at the sound of it, still unaccustomed to hearing the voice of my old master again after all this time. Qui-Gon chuckled. Close your mouth, my Obi-Wan, unless you are waiting until a tiera-flea jumps in.

I closed it obediently and couldn't keep back a smile. Yes, Master. It was the first time I had reached out to the Force in a deliberate and conscious attempt to communicate with him.

I could feel his answering smile. Well done, Obi-Wan. I see Master Yoda's meditations with you have paid off. I always knew you would be able to do it. There was the feeling of a warm, solid hand resting on my shoulder, and I almost jumped. You wish me to speak with the young one, I presume? Qui-Gon's ghostly voice continued, and I reflected, smiling, that apparently I wasn't the young one anymore. Not so fast, my old apprentice, Qui-Gon's voice replied quickly. You will always be a young one to me.

I smiled again, a great weight from my heart seeming to lift as my lips curved into a wide grin. Between Shian and my master, I was doing a lot more smiling than I had ever expected to again, even after my experience with Anakin and the ache it had left in my heart.

Your counsel, he will need, Yoda added.

There was a moment of silence, and then, Ah, yes, I see. Qui-Gon's voice now sounded grave, stern. Worried. I will do what I can for him.

And with that, the extra presence in the room dissipated as quickly and abruptly as it had come.

Onasi was staring at us with a look of deep-seated annoyance on his face. "What the kriff was that all about?" he demanded as soon as we turned back toward him.

"Jedi business, it was, Commander," Yoda replied. "Do something about young Skywalker's condition, we must."

"His condition?" Onasi burst out, and then looked away, the muscles clenching in his jaw. "You're worried about that murderer's condition?"

"A condition that you helped put him in," I broke in, unable to keep myself quiet any longer. "You saw him, Commander, saw the state he was in. He is destroyed, and you had to torment him further?"

Onasi turned back to look at me, and his fiery blue gaze burned into mine. "I don't care how he cries for you, Kenobi. That man is a murderer. He slaughtered helpless innocents; he took his blade to the children of your Order, and you can forgive him for that? What is wrong with you, General? Do you not mourn the loss of blameless lives?"

I didn't look away. "To forgive is to be Jedi," I answered. "He may have done . . . terrible things, but he is my best friend, my brother-in-arms. I will not condemn him." I don't even know if I can, Jedi or not.

"I don't understand you, Kenobi," Onasi murmured.

"The feeling is entirely mutual, Commander," I bit back.

"Enough!" Yoda's pebbly voice rang out through the room. "Time for this, we have not. Onasi, wrong you have done. Accept it, you must. Obi-Wan, provoking Commander Onasi, help us does not." He sighed. "Clear it is now, that Sidious his Sith apprentice will find. Track this through the Force he will not fail to do."

I took a deep breath as anger swelled within me again. So Onasi had carried out his plan after all. Anakin, in his agony and pain, had been used to lay a trap for Sidious.

Who did Onasi think he was? Yoda himself had failed to defeat Sidious. Did Onasi think he could succeed where the greatest Master of our Order had failed?

I closed my eyes for a moment. Focus, Kenobi. As I had told Anakin, it was done.

"Ready, we must be," Yoda continued. "Allies you must be. Cooperate, you must." Yoda met my gaze directly. "Much in common, you two have."

Much in common? I thought. With a petty bully who attacks wounded men? I have something in common with an extremist who sees Anakin as a pawn in his strategic game to capture Sidious? I was deeply offended at Yoda's words, but I glanced at Yoda and caught the faint shake of his head.

Very well. Focus, Obi-Wan, I told myself. Open yourself to the possibility. That was what I had been trained to do—it seemed like light-years ago. Wait. Think. What do we have in common?

To my utter shock, Onasi was one step ahead of me. "You are a brilliant General, sir," Onasi said as if he wanted to give me a grudging salute. "I acknowledged to Master Yoda how much I admire your strategic mind and your dedication to the Jedi code. I admit I do not understand the Jedi code, but I admire your devotion, your honor, as a fellow warrior, your courage in battle. What I cannot admire is your stubborn loyalty to a lost cause—this defense of a Sith lord who has, with his Emperor, destroyed the totality of my life—of your life—in the space of a few days."

Focus on what we have in common, I reminded myself. They call you "the Negotiator," after all. I restrained myself from replying that if it had been my choice, the title of warrior would never have been mine. "I understand that you are a good soldier, Onasi, and you fought well in the wars, though your duty was nothing but the defense of Telos. I can respect that." I blew my breath out impatiently. "But what I cannot understand is—" is your callous cruelty and needless brutality to a young man barely recovering from the most horrific experience of his life and injuries of life-altering seriousness—"is this stubborn determination to give up on a brilliant warrior who might yet prove to be our greatest weapon against the very master on whose orders he did those things."

Onasi snorted. "You hope in vain, Kenobi. Skywalker's usefulness as a weapon has been destroyed. I have seen men after they have committed such crimes. They do not recover. They are never the same. He will be either racked with so much guilt that he will be a haunted shell of a human, or he will become so embittered that he will be ruthless and cold. Those are his options. I don't hold out much faith in his mental stability either way. Anyone who could commit crimes such as those has obvious psychotic tendencies." His gaze softened a little. "You have lost your friend and comrade, General Kenobi, and I pity you. But we must go on. Our duty is to the Republic, and there is still a chance we might reclaim it from the Empire if we work together."

I took a deep breath. It was possible that he might be right. Anakin was certainly . . . damaged enough that I feared both scenarios Onasi had outlined.

But I was here with him this time. Anakin would not fall again. Anakin would not become haunted and hollow, an empty shell. Anakin would not become embittered and hard. I was here this time, and I was not going to let that happen. I met his eyes. ""I am willing to fight for the Republic, Commander, but not at the cost of Anakin Skywalker." It has demanded too much already from us both.

I could see the rebellion in Onasi's eyes. He swallowed hard and looked away. "You are my commanding officer, by virtue of both rank and experience, General Kenobi. I will obey your orders." He took a deep breath. "I am sorry for my betrayal. It—it was wrong of me. I will not lay another hand on—on—" he took another deep breath, and I could see his throat constrict as he swallowed "—on your friend. My emotions got the better of me, and I apologize."

"It is Anakin who needs your apology," I replied fiercely.

He still wasn't meeting my eyes. "And I will be willing to make that apology, sir."

I felt my shoulders relax and realized belatedly that I hadn't even known my muscles were so tense. "Well," I said in surprise. "Good."

Perhaps we were getting somewhere, after all.

The door swished shut behind Onasi, and I turned to follow him, but Yoda's voice stopped me. "Wait, Master Obi-Wan," he said, and I turned back in vague surprise.

"Yes, Master?" I asked. "What is it?"

"Well you did in dealing with Onasi." His wrinkled face softened. "Proud I am of you."

I blinked, feeling a warm, pleasant sort of shock spread through me. "I—I—thank you, Master Yoda."

He sighed. "I know that hard for you, this is. Close to Anakin, you are."

I swallowed hard and dropped to one knee so it was easier to look into his face. "I'm sorry, Master, and I know I've have broken the Code in feeling . . . for Anakin, but I—do care about him. I understand that attachment is against—"

"No!" Yoda said firmly, thumping his stick against the floor again, and I broke off and stared at him in shock.

"N-no?" I repeated.

"Wrong we were," he said. "For Anakin, no attachments the right path was not. Always in Master-Padawan bonds, attachment there was. Much to each other, you are. Deny that, you should not. Connections—wrong, they are not. Emotions—wrong they are not. Wrong only to let them control you, to dictate your actions." He sighed again, and looked down at the floor. "Wrong we were," he repeated softly.

I could only stare at him in shock. To hear Master Yoda himself denounce part of the Jedi Code so vehemently, no matter if I had voiced those thoughts in my own mind, was like a blast of cold water to my face, one that left me dripping and stunned. "Master," I started, "I—"

Yoda poked me gently with his gimer stick. "Know this already you do, Obi-Wan. Your bond with Qui-Gon—right, it was. Blessed by the Force. A caring person, you are. Natural, it was, that you would bond with your apprentice." He folded his hands over the cane again and leaned on it where it rested against the floor. "What of young Anakin's condition can you tell me?"

I hesitated, once again dizzied by the twists and turns of a conversation with Master Yoda and struggling to get my thoughts in order. "He—he was very upset," I finally began, feeling my way around the words as I tried to find the right ones to express what I knew in my heart. "Hysterical." I squeezed my eyes shut as pain welled up within me all over again at the memories. "He couldn't believe that I would forgive him. He asked me to—he seemed to want me to—punish him, almost as if he wanted for it to have ended on Mustafar." I took a deep breath and opened my eyes once more. "I . . . fear for him, Master Yoda. I fear that his guilt and grief will prove too much for him."

Yoda's eyes were old and sad. "Difficult times, we face. Wounded, he has been—deep soul-wounds all of us have suffered. For you, too, Obi-Wan, I worry." He peered up anxiously into my face. "How feel you? Hurting you were, earlier."

"Better," I hastened to assure him. "I feel much better, Master."

He nodded in that way he had when he wasn't entirely convinced of something but had chosen to accept it for the moment. "Glad I am, that friends you have here," he said. "And how feel you? Physically? Afraid you would collapse, I was. Afraid, too much asked of you, I had."

"No, Master," I said hurriedly. "You should not have worried. I was prepared to fulfill my duty. And I have rested now. I am well." I hesitated—but Yoda was old, so very old, and this experience had been—had been—well. I had not the words. "How are you?"

Yoda smiled. "As I said, a caring person are you, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Well enough, I am." He frowned, and his face seemed to collapse into a mass of wrinkles, his mood shifting all at once. "Sidious here will track us."

I nodded. "Onasi—" I still couldn't keep myself spitting out the word as if it left a bad taste in my mouth "—has made certain of that."

"Bitterness, help you will not," Yoda said gently. "Focused on the task at hand, we must stay. Leave this place soon, we must."

"But—how can we, when Anakin is so weak?" I asked worriedly. "And Padmé, too—"

Yoda's face was grim. "Rather risk it, I would, than risk being here when Sidious arrives."

I looked at the weary bleakness on his face and swallowed hard. "I agree," I said.

I was returning to Anakin's room with the vague idea that I would check up on him, ask Shian how he was doing and how soon she thought he could safely be moved, when something—the Force, I supposed, though it wasn't often that the Living Force prompted me in such a way; perhaps it was the influence of Qui-Gon's spirit—moved me to stop at the intersection of two corridors, where there was an alcove furnished with several benches set back in the wall, and look inside.

I was surprised, to say the least, to see Aerdin Onasi sitting on one of the benches, shoulders slumped and rigid military posture entirely abandoned, the palms of his hands pressed flat over his eyes and his fingers digging into his hair, disordering the dark strands so they fell forward into his eyes. My jaw tightened at the sight of him, and I was about to turn away and move on when it occurred to me that his shoulders were shaking, almost as if—

Was the oh-so-controlled military commander crying?

I took several steps into the small alcove. "Commander?" I said.

He stiffened, and his head flew up. His face was mottled and flushed as if he had been crying, and his eyes, wild where they locked with mine, looked suspiciously wet. "Kenobi," he said, his voice brittle and taut. There was a moment of silence as we both eyed each other in shock, and then he took a deep, shaking breath. "Please excuse me."

"Of course," I said, and for the first time with him my courtesy was completely sincere.

Onasi sighed heavily and dropped his head into his hand, scrubbing it roughly over his face. "I'm sorry for acting like this in your presence, sir."

"It is not a problem," I replied, and, feeling uncomfortable standing over him, I sought a seat on the bench opposite. "Is—something wrong?" I ventured after another moment of tense silence.

Onasi gave a wrenching, scornful laugh and brought his head up. "Yes, Kenobi," he said acerbically. "Something's wrong." His voice sounded much like Anakin's had—tight, on the thin line between despair and hysteria. I could see his hand clench into a fist beside him, and then he relaxed his fingers, pressing them flat against the cool surface of the bench, grabbing onto the edge so hard his fingers turned livid white with the pressure. "Have you ever been to Telos?" he asked abruptly.

"Yes," I answered, puzzled by the question. "Once, on a mission with my own Master. It was years ago. I haven't been back since."

Suddenly his intense blue eyes were burning into me again. "Ah, yes," he said. "I remember now. It was Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn and Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi who helped to remove Xanatos deCrion from power." He shook his head. "I wonder that I did not recognize that name before. You are a hero to my people, you know, Obi-Wan Kenobi."

I did not know quite what to make of this conversation. "I—I was only glad to be of service," I said.

He looked away. "I'm sure you were." He sighed, and for a moment I thought he was looking at something very far away indeed. "Do you remember what it was like there, Kenobi?" he asked. His voice was distant.

I hesitated. "Telos is . . . a lovely world. Your people are very proud of their natural parks and resources, if I remember correctly."

Onasi's gaze was still far away. "My world is beautiful," he said. "I still remember when I was a child, and Grandfather would stand outside with me and watch the sunrise, before anyone else got up; how the far blue hills would first light with the bright gilding of the sun and it would slowly spread across the sky—I can still remember the patterns of the stars in the night sky and the feeling of the traditional dresses my mother wore under my fingers and my brother's bright laughter as he played in the water of the river." He gave another bitter laugh. "My people," he said. "My people, General? Do you know what will happen to my people now?" He took a shuddering breath. "They will be destroyed. After Xanatos was ousted, the people of Telos became determined to resist any such diabolical influence with everything they had, should it ever again occur. My people will fight this Empire, General Kenobi. They will fight, and they will die, and they will be broken beneath the Emperor's iron fist, and I will be helpless to prevent it."

"Commander," I said, "be realistic. The Empire has only just gained power. It may not yet come to that."

"It will," Onasi said. His hand clenched back into a fist. "It will." His head swung back around and his eyes locked with mine. They were burning with that bright, feverish light that had so unsettled me once before. "I have seen it," he whispered. "In my dreams. My parents told me that I had your Force, that the Jedi came for me when I was a child, but that they could not bear to give me up. And I have seen it—ruin, and destruction, and fire raining from the sky, my homeworld turned to ashes. I have seen it, Kenobi! All my life I have fought against these visions. And now I have failed." There was true anguish in his tone. "It was all for nothing. I have failed, and my visions will come to pass nonetheless. And—Force—Dana, and Lythe, and little Tian—don't you understand, Kenobi? My life is gone. I must kill Palpatine, I must destroy the Empire, or I will have failed my people!" As I watched, a tear escaped from his eye and trickled down his cheek and he swiped it angrily away

"Please, Commander," I said. "Calm down."

"Calm down?" he ground out. "Calm down? Don't you understand, Kenobi? I have lost everything! I swore I'd protect them—would you make me twice a liar? He killed my brother, Kenobi, do you expect me to let that pass?"

He nearly destroyed my brother, as well, I thought. He destroyed my family, my life. How do you think I feel? But I said nothing. I had nothing to say.

After a moment, Onasi continued, as if now that he had started telling the story he couldn't bear to stop. "My brother was taken for training as a Jedi," he said, his voice distant once more. "He was trained in your Temple. But no Master chose him to train, and so he was shunted into working as a mechanic—an Onasi, working as a lowly mechanic?—for the Jedi." I winced mentally, remembering my own long ago fears and the fate I had come so close to. "But he was proud," Onasi continued. "Proud to serve you—and what did he get for that service? Your friend slaughtered him, Kenobi. Just as if he had been one of your precious Order!" He glared up at me, and his eyes were filled with tears. "What did he do to deserve that, Kenobi? Answer me!"

"I can't," I answered quietly. "I have no answer."

"Even you cannot justify it," Onasi bit out, his voice sour and resentful. "And yet you defend him." He sighed and looked down at his hands. "I am sorry, Kenobi. I admit that—" he took a deep, shaking breath "—I admit that physically abusing the boy was wrong. He is in fragile physical condition, and I had no right to take advantage of his weakness in order to torment him. I will apologize, but it will not be for his sake. It will be because I respect both you and Master Yoda." He raised his head and looked me in the eyes. "Can you live with that, Kenobi?"

I sighed. "If you promise that you will do or say nothing further to hurt him—yes, I can live with that."

He gave a short, harsh laugh. "Always the Negotiator," he said.

I got to my feet. "Yes," I said, feeling very tired. "I am."