Anakin did not mention the incident in the hold once to either Siri or Ferus. He correctly assumed they knew about it, but he was loath to speak of it, so he was immensely grateful that they chose to hold their silence as well. In actuality, the Master and Padawan had furiously debated the point for quite some time, Siri believing that they should confront him and Ferus insisting that they should say nothing. To what would have been Anakin's great relief, had he known of the argument, Ferus won out in the end and took over Anakin's chore of feeding the remaining prisoners.

When they reached the Temple docking bay, Anakin was the last one out. The last thing he wanted was dozens of friends coming up to him in the hallways, oozing sympathy and remorse for his loss, touching him on the shoulder and saying that they would always be there for him. There was no help for it, of course—delaying his exit could only last a few minutes. With heavy steps, Anakin followed Siri and Ferus out into the bright sunlight.

Numerous Jedi milled around the docking bays, but only one seemed to be waiting for them: a young boy of about twelve, standing next to one of the pillars. Anakin had spoken with him a couple times, but somehow couldn't remember his name.

"Master Tachi," the boy said as they approached, bowing clumsily. "Padawan Olin, Padawan Skywalker—the Council wishes to see you immediately in their Chamber."

Anakin felt Siri look at him, but refused to meet her gaze.

"Thank you, Morel," Siri said to the boy. "We will be there shortly."

Morel bowed again and ran off. Siri turned to the two Padawans, as though inspecting them. Ferus was unconsciously straightening his tunic—Anakin watched a party of Jedi walk by with a disproportionate amount of interest.

"Anakin," Siri said gently. Reluctantly, Anakin turned to look at her. "The Council will wish to speak to you about him. If there is something you don't want to talk about, they will understand."

He nodded, disliking the topic immensely, and with a sigh Siri led the way through the Jedi Temple until they reached the Council Chamber. The doors slid open at their approach, and Anakin saw, like twelve condemning demigods, the members of the Council.

The three Jedi moved to the center of the room and bowed—Yoda was the first to speak.

"Unfortunate, it is, that unable, you were, to recapture Karan Toi."

Siri nodded. "My apologies, Master Yoda," she said. "Toi was very clever. However, we did manage to arrest several of his counterparts."

A murmur of approval swept across the room. "They should be delivered to Galactic Prison as soon as possible," commented Master Fisto. "Despite this failing, you are to be commended for the job done."

"Thank you, Master," Siri said, inclining her head. From the right, Master Windu spoke suddenly.

"We would like to speak with Anakin alone, if that is all right with him."

Ferus shot an inquisitive glance at his friend, and Anakin shrugged a shoulder. Bowing again, Siri and Ferus departed, leaving Anakin alone to face the Council. It was not a fate either of them envied.

For a few moments after they left, the room was in silence. Anakin could feel their eyes upon him, coldly scrutinizing him, trying to figure out what to do with him now that he had no Master. Anakin sensed their uncertainty, and felt a twinge of fear.

"Anakin, the Council was extremely saddened to hear of your loss," Windu said finally. "Master Kenobi was a great and respected Jedi Knight, and we know how much he meant to you. Rest assured, he will be greatly missed."

Obi-Wan, Anakin thought desperately. He kept his gaze fixed determinedly on a patch of sunlight that fell across the floor, and watched the dust fly about in it, twinkling cheerfully. But the Council seemed to be waiting for him to speak.

"Thank you," Anakin managed quietly, not taking his eyes from the sunbeam on the ground.

"As Master Kenobi was in charge of your training," Windu continued, "the Council has not been privy to several details. However, since you were nearing the end of your apprenticeship in any case, it would be entirely possible for you to take the Trials this year."

So shocked was Anakin that he completely forgot about the sunbeam and stared at Master Windu. Force, how many millions of times had he fought about that very subject with Obi-Wan? It had seemed all-important then—now, Anakin could not have cared less.

"I—" he began, at a loss. "My Master felt that I was unready to become a Knight."

Windu nodded slowly. "You must make the decision for yourself, Anakin," he said. It suddenly occurred to Anakin that this was the first time he had ever heard Master Windu use his first name in conversation. "Now that Obi-Wan is no longer here to do it for you."

Anakin felt as though he had been hit in the gut. He swallowed hard. "I will—" he tried again. His voice shook and cracked. "I will think about it, Master Windu."

"That is all we ask."

Anakin did not know whether he had been formally dismissed or not, but he could not have borne another minute in that room for all the spice on Kessel. With as quick a bow as he could manage, Anakin turned on his heel and practically ran out of there. Thank the Force, Siri and Ferus had gone elsewhere, and no one stopped him as he ran up to his room.

As soon as he walked in, the familiarity of it all struck him. Everything was as he had left it—even the datapad he had been reading still lay there on the bed, waiting for him to return. Obi-Wan was gone, and yet somehow everything was normal.

Weakly, Anakin sank to his knees beside the sleep couch—all the strength seemed to have gone from his limbs, and he could barely stand. His shoulders shook, but one could hardly say he was crying, for there were no tears. He wanted to remember the things that he and Obi-Wan had done, the bond they had formed, the tears and the laughter—and stupidly, all he could think about was when Obi-Wan had moved from the window to touch Ferus's shoulder, and Anakin thought furiously that that touch should have belonged to him.

A knock on the door startled him out of what could only be called hysterics. His eyes were not red; there was nothing to betray his emotions to his visitor. Anakin took a shaking breath to steady himself, then stood and opened the door with a wave of his hand. Master Windu stood outside in the hall.

"May I come in?" he asked.

Stunned, it was a moment before Anakin's brain gave him the okay to nod and step aside so Windu could enter. The Jedi Master did not waste any time—he sat down in a chair opposite Anakin's sleep couch and motioned for Anakin to take a seat as well.

"Master Windu, what are you doing here?" Anakin asked bluntly. He was in no mood for pretenses. What might have almost been a smile flitted across Windu's face.

"Anakin," he said quietly, "As well as being a great Jedi Knight, Master Kenobi was one of my closest friends."

All Anakin could think was that he couldn't believe Master Windu even had friends.

"I wanted to express my condolences privately," Windu continued in explanation. "As well as talk to you about your options."

Anakin swallowed hard. "Master Windu," he said hesitantly, "first I—there is something I have to tell you."

Windu leaned forward slightly in his chair, the only indication he would give that Anakin had his full attention. Anakin took a breath—at least it wasn't Master Yoda, he thought miserably—and plunged.

"When we left Tatooine, we'd captured thirteen gang members. Siri and Ferus are only taking four to Galactic Prison." He tried to turn his face away from Windu's stern gaze, but no matter how he tried he could feel the Master's eyes upon him. "The rest are dead. I killed them."

A long sigh escaped Windu's throat. "I sensed guilt upon you, but I had supposed it came from Obi-Wan's death," he said. "This is a dangerous trend, Anakin—first the Tuskens, now this."

"It wasn't like that!" Anakin burst out angrily, but even as the words left his mouth he realized they were untrue. "I mean…they attacked me."

"Truly?" Windu asked skeptically.

It hit Anakin suddenly that if this was how the Council saw him, no wonder they did not trust him. He had hundreds of missions under his belt, showed great aptitude with the Force and with a lightsaber, but to slaughter an entire village, all its inhabitants unprepared, was an unforgivable sin. And now he'd done it again.

"I was attacked," he repeated ashamedly, "but I—I did not have to kill as many as I did."

"First you lost your mother, and then your Master, and both times you murdered several innocents in the aftermath," said Windu sternly. "Anakin, if you are to be a Jedi Knight, this cannot continue."

Anakin bit his lip. "There's no chance of that, Master Windu," he whispered. "I have no one else to lose."

Perhaps the tragedy of the situation hit Windu for the first time, or maybe he simply realized Anakin's pain. Whatever the cause, he did not speak for a while, and when he did, the accusing tone was gone from his voice.

"In the past, several Padawans have chosen to leave the Order altogether if their Master died before their training had finished. However, I have my doubts that that is the path you wish to take."

Anakin nodded shortly.

"I want to be a Knight," he said, and there was no mistaking the fervency in his voice. "More than anything, especially now."

Again, that faint smile passed across Windu's face for a split second. "That's what I thought," he said. "So what do you intend to do?"

Anakin closed his eyes. Force, he didn't want to do this—he didn't want to have to decide for himself. Only now, when it was too late, did he see how right Obi-Wan had been in keeping him under his wing.

"I want to continue my training," he said finally, forcing himself to meet Windu's gaze. "Assign me to whomever you want, I don't care." He stood suddenly and, turning his back on Windu, pretended to be fascinated by something on the wall.

"That's a bold choice," Master Windu commented—Anakin could hear the surprise in his voice. "Not many would be willing to put what might well be the next five years of their life randomly into someone's hands."

Anakin's gaze fell down to the floor, and his shoulders slumped. "Obi-Wan taught me for ten years," he murmured. It was the first time he had spoken his name aloud since that day on Tatooine, and the word felt oddly strange and familiar on his lips at the same time. "He tried to teach me everything, but the thing he taught me most, whether he meant to or not, was that I needed him."

Anakin paused, searching for a word that could somehow express how deep had been Obi-Wan's necessity, how profound was Anakin's own destitution. But such a word did not exist, and Anakin was forced to make do. "I needed him like—like food, like sunlight, like air—and now he's gone." His voice cracked horribly on the last word as the truth of it seemed to suffocate him—Anakin leaned his head against the wall and wished with all his soul for Obi-Wan's arms to reach around him and tell him that it was going to be all right, wished that he could bury his face on his Master's shoulder and cry. But no answering touch came to him, no reassuring words reached his ears, and slowly, Anakin remembered that he was not alone.

He shook the tears away, pressed his lips together tightly, then turned back to Master Windu. His voice trembled slightly, but he did not cry.

"I know that no matter who tries to take his place, they will fail," he said simply, almost defiantly. "It does not matter to me."

And Windu did not make a hurried excuse to leave, did not clear his throat uncomfortably and say something about Obi-Wan living on inside Anakin's heart, did not spout Jedi philosophy about death being only a natural part of life. He only looked up at Anakin with solemn eyes.

"I understand," he said simply. "I myself will miss Obi-Wan greatly—I cannot imagine your pain."

Anakin felt slightly breathless, shocked at Windu's suddenly display of humanity. Master Windu rose.

"In three days time," he said, "I will call you before the Council again, to declare your choice of Master. If that Knight agrees to teach you, then you will have found a new Master." Anakin thought he would go then, but Windu stayed a moment longer, and his eyes met Anakin's firmly, as though he could channel strength to the boy through the gaze. Then he strode quickly through the door, and Anakin was left alone.

Three days later, Master Windu called a meeting of the Council to hear Anakin's decision. Mace could not explain, even to himself, his sudden urge of sympathy for the abandoned apprentice. After all, he himself had been foremost among the group of Council members that had not wanted Anakin to be a Jedi in the first place. But something had changed in Anakin—he was not more trustworthy, per se. It was more that it was suddenly much harder to imagine him doing something wrong.

Only a few minutes after he had been called, Anakin walked into the Council room and stood in the center, his gaze fixed firmly on Mace, as if to say, This was your doing. Mace tried to get some hint as to whom he would choose, but Anakin's mind was completely closed.

"Anakin Skywalker," Mace said loudly, his voice ringing through the room. "Have you made your decision?"

"I have,'" Anakin said quietly. He had not bowed or made obeisance of any kind upon entering. "With your permission, Master Windu—I ask to be made your Padawan."

One by one, all heads in the room turned toward Mace, who felt stunned. He had not seen this coming in the slightest degree—was he serious? But Anakin's steady gaze did not waver.

There was a long silence. Then Mace broke the silence.

"You know that what you ask is not a light matter," he said. "Much is expected from the apprentice of a Jedi Master, especially one who is on the Council."

But that, he thought suddenly, was exactly what Anakin wanted: to be driven as hard as he could, to be forced to his limits, to be sweating and bleeding and exhausted, as though it was some kind of penance for losing Obi-Wan. What was more, Mace had expressed a sorrow at Obi-Wan's death that Anakin had needed desperately. Now that he thought of it, Anakin's choice made perfect sense.

"I understand all the connotations of my decision," Anakin said firmly, "And I accept them."

"Very well," Mace conceded slowly. "If you are certain, Anakin, then I will take you as my apprentice."

For the first time, he sensed Anakin's confidence waver as the enormity of what he had just done hit him. He had done it—his Master was no longer Obi-Wan Kenobi. For a moment, Anakin's entire soul seemed to tremble. Then the doors to his mind slammed shut, and there was only final, brutal serenity once again.