Author's Note: Yay! 101 reviews! This is the first story that I've ever gotten over a hundred reviews for. I'm so happy... Ok, there's something you should know: as Jedi Master Kekelina so astutely pointed out, Anakin is not "the first Jedi in a thousand years to become a Knight without taking the Trials." That was actually Obi-Wan, whom I completely forgot about when writing the last chapter. So I offer my humble apologies to anybody else who noticed that and thought with shock, "Could the author have been mistaken? Surely not!" She was.

When they arrived back at the Temple, Anakin was shocked. He had known, of course, that a battle had been taken place, but the connotations of that had failed him. Now looking down as they began, he saw a mass of white things dotting the stone below them, and realized with a start that they were bodies.

As soon as they landed Anakin practically jumped out of the seat. He couldn't bear to be still a moment longer, knowing what had happened. It was the strangest sensation—it would have been easier to comprehend if there had been fires and destruction, piles of rubble and blood everywhere, but instead all else was as he had left it. Pristine statues gazed serenely down at them, unmoved by the disturbance; tall, elegant stone columns remained, unchanged, in their place—but among them lay the bodies of perhaps hundreds of men. Anakin ran a hand through his hair breathlessly as he surveyed the surrealistic scene.

"Have any bodies been identified?" he asked.

"A few," Windu replied, "but we had no time for a thorough investigation. That, I'm afraid, is the unpleasant task before us."

Something caught the corner of Anakin's eye, a spot of darkness against all the white. He moved quickly toward it, fear pounding in his chest, and Windu followed him.

Half-buried underneath the body of a clone was another body, that of a boy who could hardly have been fifteen. Even as he fell, it appeared, he had stabbed his attacker through the heart, and the clone had collapsed on top of him. Anakin gingerly turned the boy over. His hair was dark brown and hung over his eyes, his features sharp—he looked faintly familiar, but Anakin could not have guessed at his name.

"We should take him inside," Windu said softly. He moved to lean down and pick up the body, but Anakin stopped him, never taking his eyes from the boy's face. He could have sworn… Quickly, he moved a hand to the boy's open mouth, praying that he had not been mistaken. But there was nothing.

And then he felt, very faintly, a puff of air on his fingers.

"He—he's alive," Anakin breathed, his voice shaking. The wonderfulness of what he was saying hit him, and he couldn't stop a smile from breaking over his face. "Master, he's alive!"

"Are you sure?" Windu asked. Anakin had already taken the boy into his arms as though he weighed nothing, careful to put the lesser weight on his injured wrist. The youth's leg was bloodied and torn.

"I think he's in a healing trance," Anakin said, eying the wound. "I can take him to the med ward."

Windu nodded his approval of this plan, but already Anakin was gone, walking as fast as he could with his unconscious burden. When at length he reached the med ward, he tried to find an empty room, but many Jedi had been wounded. A few red-eyed healers who had kept a vigil here all night long still walked the sterile white halls—Anakin intercepted one of these.

"Excuse me," he said, his voice quiet, "Is there some place I can put him?"

The healer looked down at the boy in Anakin's arms, wearily brushing a straw-colored strand of hair from a round face.

"I'm sorry, there aren't any more rooms," she replied softly. "I can get some bacta for his leg and a bandage, though."

She ducked into a room for a moment, and emerged seconds later with the promised items.

"Thanks," Anakin said gratefully, taking them in one hand. Setting the boy down in a nearby chair, he tried to open the jar of bacta, but found that his left hand was almost useless.

"Here, let me help you," said the healer suddenly, reaching for the jar and twisting the lid off easily. Anakin gave a little laugh and took it back.

"Thank you," he said again. "I'm afraid I won't be of much help to anybody just now." He indicated his hand ruefully.

"Well, you're not the only one," the healer said, tossing a glance up the hallway. "There must be at least fifteen, twenty people that got so badly wounded that they couldn't fight anymore."

"Are they all right?" Anakin blurted out, then quickly corrected himself as the healer gave him a bemused look. "I mean, they're stable? They won't die?"

Finally understanding, she nodded. "Most of them," she said. "One or two, I think, aren't entirely safe, but—most of the ones that were critically wounded died before we even got them here."

Pretending to himself that he hadn't heard, Anakin knelt and began administering the bacta gently to the boy's wounded leg with his right hand. He didn't want to hear about the ones who had been killed—but on the other hand, lending anonymity to the dead created uncertainty, which was far worse than definite knowledge…

"Do you know the names of any dead?" he asked, not looking up. He heard the healer let out a pensive breath as she thought.

"I don't," she admitted finally. "I've been here all night—I don't think anyone has a number yet. No one even knows what happened. It's been so confusing—if the Masters hadn't had warning, no one would have stood a chance."

Anakin fumbled with the bandage, but managed to get it wrapped, if clumsily. He stood. "I know you're busy," he said apologetically, "but could you please look after him for me? You don't have to do anything special—" he said hurriedly, as she opened her mouth to speak. "I know there aren't any rooms or anything, but if you could just tell me when he wakes up—"

The healer was smiling at him, in what was obviously the first time she had smiled in a long time, and her face seemed to light up with relief as she did so. It is a very difficult thing, to be sad for so long.

"I'll make sure to find you," she promised. "What's your name?"

"Anakin," he replied. "I might be in the Council room, so you could look for me there."

She raised a questioning eyebrow, but Anakin had no desire to tell her of his role in this grisly drama.

"Well, let me know if you find out anything worth knowing," she said at last. "Ask for Tanith."

Anakin nodded, repeated his thanks once more, and then left. As he walked, he kept his eyes straight ahead, not daring to look to the side for fear that he would see something besides white. He continued in this way until he reached the doors of the Council chamber itself, then entered without knocking.

Master Koth and Master Windu were the only ones in the room, speaking to the figure of a woman on the holo-projector. Anakin had enough sense to keep quiet; Windu noticed him standing in the corner, but said nothing.

"Forgive me, Master Jedi," the woman said icily, "but the evidence of a mere boy is hardly enough to turn the tide of feeling in your favor."

"Senator Amidala, the Council as well is giving evidence on this matter," Windu said sharply. "You would be a fool to discount all of our words in your prejudice toward the Chancellor." He looked at Anakin and nodded toward the chair at his right. Anakin, uncomfortably aware of the fact that they were speaking of him—as well as the fact that he was sitting where Master Yoda usually did—was hardly at ease as he did so.

"I will not deny that—" the woman began, then stopped as her eyes fell on Anakin, who shifted uneasily in his seat. "This is he, then?"

No one spoke. Anakin, suddenly realizing that he was supposed to answer, bit down on his tongue nervously. "Er, yes—Palpatine's death was my doing," he admitted. Already this woman had marked him as her enemy.

"And you will swear, before Galactic Court," she pressed intensely, "that you did so under the belief that the Supreme Chancellor was a Sith Lord?"

Anakin looked from Master Koth to Windu and back again, but neither seemed to be willing to give him a hint. "Yes," he said finally. "I would. I killed him in defense of my own life, and thousands of others as well."

The senator's eyes narrowed, and then, as if deciding that Anakin was of no further importance, she turned back to Windu. "I will not deny that the Jedi were attacked," she contended, as though Anakin had never even entered the picture. "On that, your evidence is solid. But of the Chancellor's guilt in this matter you have no proof but for this boy's word."

"The Jedi Council believes him," said Master Koth, his words almost a growl. "Every last one of us. Surely that alone is enough proof that what he says is true. And if the clones were under Palpatine's control as he insisted they be, how can you explain the fact that they did, indisputably, attempt to assassinate the Jedi?"

Senator Amidala dismissed this with a toss of her head. "The clone army has many leaders under the Chancellor," she argued. "Anyone might have given the order." She fixed Anakin with a look that obviously meant him no good. "You are expected in Court, Jedi Skywalker," she said stiffly, "in two weeks time, to make your defense. I will see you then."

Abruptly the holo-projector switched off. Anakin found that he had been holding his breath anxiously for quite some time and now let it out. Windu, seeing the expression on his face, hastened to reassure him.

"Senator Amidala was extremely loyal to Palpatine," he said by way of explanation, "but her loyalty has blinded her to common sense. The rest of the Senate will not be so prejudiced."

Anakin wasn't much reassured, but he didn't show it. Instead, he said, "Master, I came to ask if there was anything I could do to help you."

Windu considered this a moment. "The number of those dead and their names is still uncertain," he said at last. "If you and a few others could make a count for us, it would be appreciated." His eyes rested gently on Anakin's face, and there was a match of knowledge in their gazes. Windu knew the pain that death caused his apprentice, but Anakin had come to understand that whatever his Master told him to do was, eventually, for his own good. He bowed his head in deference, and left the room.

Windu gave the order easily, but actually finding someone to help him in his distasteful task was more difficult than one might have thought. Masters and Padawans had been separated during the fight, friends had gone missing, and no one was willing to stop their own search to participate in Anakin's. At length, however, he found Ferus helping a few Knights to drag some of the clones out of the Temple, and enlisted his help. Ferus was to take the west side of the Temple, Anakin the east.

Walking through the enormous building, Anakin's insides turned to lead every time he stepped through a doorway into the next chamber. Every room unaccounted for meant one more opportunity for more dead. Whenever he did find a Jedi corpse among the clones, Anakin would repeat their name to himself, embedding it into his mind with the Force so he could give a complete list back to the Council. He didn't know what they'd do with the bodies, and he didn't care—he just left them where he found them, and continued on.

By himself, the job would have taken him half the night; as it was, twilight was already falling by the time he and Ferus met in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, their prearranged meeting place.

"How many?" Anakin asked breathlessly as he sat down beside his friend.

"Twelve," Ferus answered. "You?"

"Fifteen."

Anakin had his back turned to the rest of the room as he sat back on his heels on the fountain's wide stone edge, staring into the sheet of water that rushed downward. "Twenty-seven," he said unnecessarily. "It's not so bad, I guess, but…" His voice trailed off, and Ferus understood. Neither of them spoke for a moment, then Ferus broke the silence.

"I found a group of younglings in one of their classrooms," he murmured. "They'd gone in there to hide, but the clones found them. Three of them—"

"I know," Anakin said brusquely. "Master Windu told me."

"One of them was Kahli," said Ferus softly. "I thought you should know."

Anakin did not move—somewhere deep within him, something was screaming at the top of its lungs, cursing the cruelty of a universe that could do this to such good, such innocent people, people that had risked their own lives time and again for the sake of others. Several minutes went by without a word, and then Anakin stood.

"We should go back," he said. "The Council's expecting us."

Together they made their way through the halls. They had almost reached the Council room when Ferus halted abruptly and turned to his friend. Anakin would have kept walking, but the expression on Ferus's face stopped him.

"Anakin, do you think that the Jedi who—who are on other planets now—" Ferus took a breath and changed tacks. "How long do you think it would take someone on another planet to get the Council's message and respond—after they'd sent it, I mean?"

It was rare that Ferus was so ill at ease about anything. Anakin shrugged.

"An hour, maybe two," he said. "And that's stretching."

Something almost imperceptible changed in Ferus's eyes. Anyone else would not have noticed, and Anakin hardly did, but normally his friend's tranquility was so unshakeable that he took it very seriously. "Why? Ferus, what's wrong?"

Ferus turned away from Anakin's gaze, not knowing where to look as he took a shaking breath. "It's Siri," he said finally. His voice was close to the breaking point. "Anakin, I haven't heard from her, not once, and it's been so long—and there were so many clones on Galantos—"

For the first time ever, Anakin saw tears in Ferus's eyes, and his own pain abated. He felt terribly selfish for not having found this out sooner.

"Why didn't you say anything?" he asked. Ferus shrugged.

"There was already so much going on," he said, attempting to smile carelessly through the tears, "and I didn't want to jump to conclusions, but I can't help worrying—"

Without a word, Anakin put his arms around his friend, and Ferus clung to him silently. Everything in his world had suddenly been skewed, it seemed: the Supreme Chancellor himself was a Sith Lord, the bodies of the Republic's own soldiers littered the floors of the Temple, and Ferus, the calm, imperturbable one of the pair, was crying. Being the person he was, however, it was not long before he drew back and began to shakily collect himself.

"I'm sorry—being silly—" he muttered.

"Ferus, she's be fine," Anakin reassured his friend. "I'm sure of it. You know Siri couldn't get herself killed by a couple of clones."

Words were meaningless, but they helped all the same. Ferus managed a sincere, if trembling, smile, and together they stepped inside the Council chamber. Only Master Koth was there this time, looking up as they entered.

"Well?" he asked.

"Twenty-seven," Anakin said again, and rattled off the names. He did not let himself connect a name with a face, for then there would be no stopping the emotions that would flow. When he had finished, Ferus completed the list. At the end of the gruesome recital, Master Koth's face was very grave indeed.

"Thank you both very much," he said softly. "Anakin, I believe your Master wanted to see you. He's in the east hangar."

Anakin bowed and turned to leave, and just before the door closed behind him, heard the words, "Padawan Olin, we've just received word from Galantos…". He didn't know what to make of them until he felt Ferus's relief surge almost palpably through the Force, and he smiled. For one more day, at least, Ferus would be spared the same anguish that had tormented Anakin for so long.

The short run to the east hangar took him but a moment—Windu was using the Force to help pile white-armored corpses into the open-sided military transports. Anakin jogged up to him.

"Master, you wanted to see me?" he asked. Windu never took his eyes from his task.

"Did you get the list?" he asked. Anakin repeated for the third time the number deceased, and gave Windu what names he knew. He was answered with a heavy sigh.

"We were fortunate, at least," Windu said. "It might have been many more."

"Is there anything else you need me to do?" Anakin asked, then offered, reluctantly, "Do you want me to tell the Masters and Padawans of the people that died?"

For the first time Windu turned to look at his apprentice's careworn face. He smiled slightly. "No, Anakin, I'll attend to that. You've done enough for today; go get some rest."

Anakin frowned. "Master, I can stay," he protested. "I don't think I should leave now, when there's so much to do."

Windu allowed himself to look slightly annoyed. "Anakin, if you don't consider saving the entire universe to be enough for one day, then I doubt that hauling a few clones around could satisfy you. You need it, so get some sleep."

"I just don't think—"

"Anakin."

His mouth twisted irritably, Anakin bowed and began walking up the steps, but Windu called after him.

"Make sure to be in the Council chamber early tomorrow morning," he said. Anakin turned.

"What for?" he asked. Windu raised an eyebrow.

"For your Knighting ceremony, of course," he said. "Of course, considering the circumstances, I hope you'll understand if some of the usual pageantry is missing, but formalities should still be observed, I think."

A broad grin spread across Anakin's face, and he shook his head. "No, I don't mind," he said. "Thank you, Master."

Within moments, he had made his way upstairs to his room. Per his Master's orders, Anakin laid down on the bed, but he had no intention of sleeping. However, it wasn't long before his eyes fell closed, and his breathing grew slow and even, in the only peace Anakin had known all day. Windu was right; he had needed it.

Ok, I know I said that Amidala wouldn't show up in this story at all, but I simply couldn't resist sticking her in there, as more of a cameo character than anything. Please bear in mind that most/all of the ideas in this story come from me sitting, bored, at my desk, then suddenly sitting straight up with the thought, "Hey, wouldn't it be cool if..."