What was meant to be a two-minute rest lasted much longer than that; Anakin awoke several hours later, and immediately recalled his Master's command of last night. He was dressed in an instant, then pulled a cloak over his shoulders as he strode out of the room.

The halls were still dark, but passing the windows near a hangar Anakin saw the sun beginning to show over the horizon, casting muted light down over Coruscant. Beautiful morning colors of pink and gold, crimson and blue were cast over the clouds. Anakin had intended to go straight to the Council chamber, certainly not wanting to keep them waiting, but the temptation proved too much, and he needed a moment to collect his racing thoughts. He opened the door and stepped out onto the docking bay.

The cold, crisp air hit him immediately, playing with the ends of his cloak and ruffling his hair. Anakin crossed his arms across his chest for warmth, but he enjoyed the cold. It seemed to heighten his senses, making him feel more alive than usual.

Me, Anakin thought, throwing his mind back to the matter at hand. Me, a Jedi Knight. A bit of the original reluctance still lingered, but he could hardly keep himself from being excited, or a little scared, for that matter. At last, what he had longed for almost all his life was coming true, and now that it was here Anakin couldn't help but have misgivings.

"But he trusts me," Anakin told the wind quietly. "If he thinks I can do it, then maybe I can."

The sun was higher now, and the light was growing brighter as it shone in Anakin's eyes. He squinted, but did not look away, as it slowly rose in all its golden glory. And then he went back inside.

Knowing he was late, Anakin sped up his pace, feeling ashamed now that he had wasted the Council's time for a sunrise when there was so much that needed to be done. By the time he reached the Council chamber, he was almost running.

For the first time since the attack, all twelve members of the Council were seated in their places. It was a blessing, Anakin knew, that none of them had been killed. He stepped forward into the middle of the room and bowed, and realized for the first time the magnitude of what was to happen.

"Anakin Skywalker," said Master Windu from his chair, his voice solemn. "You come before the Council today to take upon yourself the title of Jedi Knight, and with it all the duties and responsibilities of such a rank. Do you consider yourself ready for this step?"

Before Obi-Wan's death, Anakin had seen Windu as sternness embodied, and couldn't have helped fearing him a bit. Over the months, that feeling had faded, but the man that sat before him now was almost a different person, and Anakin was beginning to remember why he had been afraid of him.

"I do, Master," he said, meeting Windu's gaze unflinchingly, but not without effort. Master Yoda rose from his seat.

"Kneel, young Skywalker," he commanded. Anakin stepped forward until he was only a foot from where Yoda stood, and fell to his knees before him. At any other time, he would have thought it amusing that, even now, he was taller than the most esteemed Jedi Master on the planet. But the solemnity of the occasion pressed down upon him, and Anakin was not the least bit tempted to smile.

In a voice that was low, yet still heard by all in the room, Anakin repeated the words Master Yoda gave him, swearing with a powerful oath to uphold the Jedi Code, protect those that were weaker than he, fight until his last breath against the evils of the Dark Side. The phrases were nothing new, simply a different version of what was drilled into children's heads from the first day they came to the Temple, but now each word seemed imbued with an unconquerable power. They filled him with strong, wild purpose, with a hunger to realize the promises he was making, and Anakin felt as he spoke that he could have done anything at all in that moment.

He closed his eyes as the last utterance fell from his lips, and felt a gentle pressure on the side of his head. A hand moved his curls aside and reached for the familiar weight of the braid—Anakin's breath caught in his throat as he felt it slide from his shoulder to the ground. In that same instant he felt a tugging at the back of his head, and his ante-lock was suddenly gone as well. Over eleven years he had grown so used to them that he felt oddly off-balance now. He opened his eyes, his head bowed, strangely calm.

"Much you have endured," said Master Yoda softly, "and long you have waited for this moment. Rise, Anakin Skywalker—Jedi Knight."

Anakin stood, waiting for emotion to overwhelm him. But he felt nothing, no surge of joy, no sadness in reminiscence. It was as though all capabilities for excitement, nervousness, anything, had been sucked swiftly from him. Standing beside Yoda, Windu wore a gratified smile on his face.

"I am very proud of you, Anakin," he said. It was a moment before Anakin could catch his breath. He did not take his eyes off Windu's face.

"Obi-Wan would have been proud of me, as well," he said. It was not a statement, however, but an ill-disguised question. Windu knew this, and he nodded, and it was that small gesture that brought all of Anakin's dormant emotions fully to the front. All of a sudden he felt as though he would explode, unable to contain the enormity of everything. With a shaking breath, he managed to calm himself once more, though leftover butterflies still danced in his stomach.

Sitting down, immediately Windu was all business once again. "Ordinarily, you understand," he said, "the Council would assign you missions of lesser significance, seeing as this is your first time without a Master to guide you. However, every mission that the Jedi undertake now must, for a time, be only those which are of the utmost urgency."

Anakin's mind was still running dazedly over the words, Me, a Knight, but he forced himself back to the present.

"Out of thirty-six groups of Jedi that were on other planets when the clones attacked, we have only heard back from thirty-one of these," Windu continued. "Anakin, you are to choose two or three Knights to accompany you to these planets, discover the fates of the missing Jedi, and—if necessary—transport their bodies back to the Temple. Those you take with you will be under your command. As soon as you choose your companions, we need you to leave immediately."

"But what about the trial?" Anakin asked. "Just the traveling time between all those planets might take us a whole week."

"You will be given the fastest transport at the Council's disposal," Windu assured him, "and if you cannot complete your task in time, then you would have no choice but to come back to Coruscant and wait until the trial has ended to finish the mission. Do you have any questions?"

Anakin shook his head and bowed. "No, thank you, Master," he said quietly.

"You are dismissed, then," said Windu. "Come back as soon as you have chosen those who will go with you, and choose quickly."

With another bow, Anakin left the room, walking swiftly. Yoda's voice followed him into the hallway.

"Master Mundi, perhaps postponed your expedition to Utapau should be…"

Anakin's mind a thousand miles away, he didn't see the person in front of him until he had almost walked right into them.

"Oh, I'm sorry—" he apologized quickly, before he saw who it was.

"So, you were in the Council room," Tanith said, an amused little smile at the corners of her lips. "Classified information?"

"Not exactly," Anakin hedged. In case she hadn't noticed the missing ante-lock and braid, Anakin didn't want to draw attention to them. He changed the subject. "Has he woken up yet?"

Tanith nodded. "That's what I came to tell you," she said. "And I found an empty room. I can take you to him, if you want."

"Please."

In a matter of moments, they had reached the med ward. She led him down the hallway and opened the door at the very end. Like every other room in this ward it was entirely of white; around the walls were cupboards and counters, where were stored bandages and bacta and other, lesser known cures. In the corner was a long, high bed on a steel frame, and on this particular bed, staring moodily at the wall, sat the boy.

At Tanith's and Anakin's entrance, he looked up.

"Who're you?" he asked, startled.

"Anakin," was the instant reply. "Who are you?"

Idly kicking his uninjured leg against the side of the bed, the boy answered, "Drin." He nodded toward Tanith, who had her back turned to the both of them as she rummaged through the cupboards. "She said you saved me."

Anakin shrugged, trying to put Drin at ease. It must have been awkward, hearing that a complete stranger had saved your life. "Somebody would have found you eventually," he said. "I just got there first. Mind if I take a look at your leg?"

"Sure, go ahead."

He crossed the room and gingerly began to unwrap the bandage. His eyebrows shot up in surprise as the white cloth fell away—crusted blood still remained, on the bandage and on the skin, but underneath that Drin's leg was whole and unmarred. Anakin looked up at the boy, surprised.

"Did you do that?" he asked. There should have at least been a scar, and bacta did not work so quickly. For the first time Drin allowed himself a smile, if a small one.

"Yeah. I'm a good healer," he explained. "My Master says so, anyway."

"No kidding," Anakin muttered under his breath. He threw the bandage away, wetted a cloth from the sink and started to wash the rust-colored blood from his skin. To be able to heal so well, and especially at Drin's age, was an enormous achievement. Natural healers were rare. He spoke again, his voice its normal tone this time. "Who is your Master?"

Drin was watching Anakin's hands with a faint, detached interest. "Ka'ela Brun. Do you know her?"

Anakin's mind ran swiftly over the list of names still in his head, and breathed a quiet sigh of relief. "No," he said; the knot of apprehension in his stomach disappeared as quickly as it had come. "No, I don't." He finished with Drin's leg and threw the cloth away, as well. "Well, you're all done here. Better go find your Master—she's probably looking for you."

"Thanks." Without another word, Drin hopped off the table and left the room. Anakin watched him go, then turned to Tanith, who had finished with whatever she had been doing.

"He's a good kid," she said, smiling wistfully.

"Kind of hard to tell, though, isn't it?" came out of Anakin's mouth before he could stop it. Right, that's exactly how a Jedi Knight talks, he told himself irritably. But Tanith just laughed. The sound was pleasant and soft, and quiet—everything about her was quiet. Looking at her, Anakin was struck by an idea.

"The Council asked me to find out what happened to the Jedi that didn't answer their signal," he said suddenly, almost blurting out the words. "They wanted me to bring some people with me to help, and I—was wondering if you would come."

As soon as the sentence had left his mouth, Anakin was consumed with doubts. As a Padawan, he had been confident to the point of cockiness—ten years had ensured that. But newly a Knight, all of a sudden everything that he had been sure of now turned to uneasiness. He knew how things were done when you were an apprentice, but how after that?

Tanith's round face was thoughtful. At least she seemed to be considering it—and she appeared pleased.

"All right," she said at last. She was smiling at him.

Before noon, all choices had been made. Siri—just back from Galantos—he had taken because, although very anxious to prove himself, Anakin still yearned for the guiding hand of someone older and more experienced than he. She had accepted easily, amused rather than annoyed at the prospect of taking orders from him.

Anakin would have liked to take Ferus, as well, but his friend was not yet a Knight—though he soon would be, when as the Trials took place. So instead, Anakin asked Aelir Thren, a dark, serious person whom Anakin knew vaguely, and not on extremely personal terms. He had been Knighted only last year.

From there, the Council quickly approved his decisions, and urged them to leave as soon as possible. They never actually stated why it was so important that this be done immediately, but Anakin thought he could guess, though the reason was a bit indelicate: should any of the Jedi be dead, as was quite possible, their bodies must be transported quickly, before they began to rot. So it was that, less than eight hours after Anakin had become a Knight of the Jedi Order, he was already on the transport that was to take them on his first mission without a Master to instruct him.

The Council had given them the brief list of planets to visit, ordering outward from the Core: first Kuat, then Aridius, Nar Shaddaa, Kamino, and—Ryloth?

Anakin peered at the screen, as though expecting it to correct itself. That couldn't be right; why would Jedi be on Ryloth? If they had needed help, it would have only made sense to send him and Windu, when they had already been there just a few months before. He sat back in his chair, gazing at the bulkhead of the transport's central room in confusion, turning his gaze onto the datapad, and then back onto the bulkhead. He would have to comm Windu about that.

Until now, he had been alone in the room, but just then the door opened and Tanith walked in. Her light hair, tied back simply to keep it out of her way, seemed to stand out against the colorless lines of steel behind her.

"Where are we going?" she asked, taking a seat at the table across from Anakin.

"Kuat," he answered. He shifted in his chair, and winced as his injured wrist bumped against his leg. An expression of concern flickered across Tanith's face for an instant.

"Let me see your arm," she commanded. Without thinking, Anakin obediently held out his right arm, and she laughed.

"Not that one, silly," she chided him. Sheepishly—of course, she's a healer, stupid, he berated himself—Anakin stretched his bandaged wrist across the table for her inspection. He didn't like being tended to by healers, as a rule: they made him feel uncomfortable, like a rueful child who sat back while an ever-patient mother washed their scrapes. But he sat patiently as Tanith gently peeled layers of cloth from the tender skin, examining it with experienced eyes.

"Has the swelling gone down?" she asked. Anakin tried to remember how it had looked before.

"Um…I think so," he said. Yes, it must have—his wrist was now almost its normal size, although the bruises had not yet faded. Fortunately, this didn't appear to be a mission that would require much sparring.

From a med kit in the metal locker in the corner—it was funny how healers always knew exactly where they were, Anakin thought, almost as if they could smell them—Tanith retrieved the small, standard bacta jar and smeared the healing stuff onto his aching wrist. It stung for a moment, and then quickly faded into a soothing coolness. As she took a clean bandage from the med kit, she looked up at him. "When was the last time you took a shower?"

For Anakin, his mind wandering aimlessly as he sat, this was quite a jerk back to reality. "What?" he choked, wondering if he had heard correctly. Tanith tried, unsuccessfully, to bite back a grin at his reaction, and repeated the question. "I don't know—four days ago, maybe." The unvoiced question on the tip of his tongue was "WHY?"

She ducked her head, still grinning broadly. "It's your hair," she said at last, neatly tucking in the white corner of the bandage. "Look—" Before Anakin could react, she reached out and rubbed a strand of hair from the back of his head between two fingers. By now he was quite certain that she'd gone mad.

"What are you doing?" he asked fervently. Tanith opened her hand.

"Look," she repeated. Lying in her palm were several flakes of dried blood.

Anakin stared down at them. Oh, yeah... His hand went automatically to his head; he could feel the raw skin underneath, only just beginning to heal. Yes, now that he thought of it, two severe blows to the head might just have had something to do with this…

Tanith rubbed a comforting hand on his uninjured arm. "You're worried," she said. "I can tell. Go wash up—you'll feel better."

"I thought I was in charge of this mission," Anakin complained.

"Sorry. I mean, go wash up, Captain."

Mutiny already? Tanith's eyes were twinkling, merrily silent; Anakin, unwilling to fight, consented and left the room.

Showering was an awkward chore as Anakin did his best to keep his left hand from getting wet, but inevitably failed. It was a good feeling, despite this—for three days, the stench of Palpatine's evil had clung to him, and now Anakin was finally convinced of the fact that it was gone. The hot water did what the Council's words could not; blood mingled with water and was sucked down the drain, and now at last he felt clean.

Toweling off with his free hand, Anakin went into his room and found a clean set of robes in his suitcase. He changed quickly—another difficult task, but he was growing more adept at using only his right hand—and then wandered back into the central room.

In his absence, Siri and Aelir had joined Tanith in here. Anakin hesitated in the doorway as he saw them all, a wave of doubt washing over him. There was Tanith, the healer; Siri, the mentor, who was tipping her chair back so far that it was in danger of falling over; Aelir, the warrior, sitting in the corner as he stared at the floor, lost in some solemn thought. Where in this perfect triad of Jedi did Anakin fit?

This was not a dangerous mission, and unless they met up with a scattered bunch of renegade clones there would be no combat. He knew perfectly well that this circumstance was entirely different from one in which lives were depending on him—but to Anakin, who had never led anyone but traitorous clones, being appointed leader seemed a sacred trust. He prayed desperately in that instant that he would not fail it.

Author's Note: Ok, granted, this chapter wasn't all that exciting, but it's more of a necessary filler than anything. And besides, there'll be a lot more action in the next chapter. (wink wink nudge nudge)