The room was quiet; fire-lit torches flicked in their brackets against the walls that were made of claustrophobic stone. This place was specifically designed to unnerve all who entered it. Anakin, breathless, rested a moment against the wall, his hand on his lightsaber.

That was when she struck, seeming to leap out of nowhere to slash at his arm. Anakin dodged quickly, and managed to trip her in mid-jump so that she tumbled awkwardly to the ground. Her lightsaber and its red blade fell from her hand and rolled to a stop across the room.

"Cursed Jedi!" the Sithess spat, crouching on the floor. Without warning she sprang, clutching at his throat in an act of desperation. Anakin had no time to reach for his lightsaber as her fingers tightened around his windpipe—he kicked, hard, and her grip loosened. Once more, and her head flew back as she sank into unconsciousness.

Almost immediately, the dark walls faded into generic white, and the Sithess disappeared. Anakin pulled the sim helmet off his head and left the room, satisfied but tired and still a little out of breath. Though he would be loath to admit it, he still had not quite gained back all the weight he'd lost while in the bounty hunters' clutches, and this still affected him adversely.

"Anakin—" Windu, who had been standing by the wall talking to a Knight, swiftly ended the conversation and walked over to his former apprentice.

"Master?"

"The Council has asked me to inform you of a new mission."

"What kind?"

"A simple escort. One of Grievous's ambassadors has requested a bodyguard while on Galantos. He'll be traveling through some places that are very unwelcoming toward the Alliance."

"If it's so simple, why are you giving it to me?" asked Anakin. Windu smiled.

"Because I know you want something to do. If you're planning on taking it, by the way, you should leave very soon."

Anakin considered. On the one hand, he tried to avoid the Alliance altogether; on the other, Windu had been perfectly right when he'd said Anakin was bored. "All right, I'll take it, then," he said. He waited only for Windu to give him a few more specifics as to the meeting place, then headed for the east hangar to grab a ship.

It took Anakin less than two hours to reach Galantos, close as it was to the city planet, and less time than that to find the hotel in which the ambassador was staying. As Windu had promised, the man was waiting for him in the lobby. Anakin spotted him easily.

"Ambassador," he said, coming up to stand before him, "My name is Anakin Skywalker. The Jedi Council sent me to protect you."

The man looked about forty, with little crow's feet at the corners of his eyes and a tall figure. He smiled kindly when he saw Anakin.

"Ambassador Horan Simay. I am glad to meet you," he said, shaking the Jedi's hand. "Glad to have you with me, as well. I've met enough animosity already—a rogue ship tried to fire upon my own as I entered Galantan atmosphere."

Anakin nodded. "The Alliance is distrusted in several places," he admitted, trying to sound nonpartisan. "Hopefully things will calm down after a while."

Simay gave him a wry smile. "General Grievous's Alliance has been officially established for nearly three standard years now," he said. "I doubt more time will change anything. Now, I assume you will want to leave soon, and I have no desire to keep the Galantos officials waiting, so my bags are already packed and in the landspeeder outside. Whenever you are ready, Master Jedi."

The man spoke with such swift-moving pragmatism that Anakin, expecting yet another dull-minded politician, had trouble keeping up for a moment. The landspeeder was waiting outside as promised, droid driver included, and they left with no further ado.

It didn't take long for Anakin to decide that he didn't like Ambassador Simay.

It wasn't that he disliked Simay himself. On the contrary, he found the ambassador to be intelligent, kind and judicious—but he also worked for Grievous, and Anakin could not reconcile these two facts in his mind. Grievous was a monster—therefore, he ought to have only monsters doing his bidding.

Perhaps it shouldn't have bothered Anakin at all, but it did. What was worse, he had plenty of time to ponder it during the long hours in that landspeeder, when there was nothing to do but talk with the ambassador and think. At the occasional stop that they made, civilians often noticed the Alliance insignia on the speeder's door and approached it with malignant intentions, but their bravado quickly failed them when they saw Anakin's lightsaber clipped to his belt. Only once did one of them go beyond that, and he was obviously drunk—Anakin dispatched him with a strong hold on his arm and a swift mind trick, and they were no longer bothered there.

After three days they safely reached their destination, the Galantan city of Ne-Hala, which had been specially designated as neutral ground for this purpose. The droid took them to the hotel where the ambassador would be staying, and as Simay was pulling his bags out of the back, Anakin, watching him, knew he had to do it or be driven insane.

"Ambassador," he said hesitantly, "May I ask you something?"

"Of course," Simay replied.

"Have you had very close dealings with General Grievous?"

The ambassador nodded. "He has given me my instructions before."

Anakin hesitated again before asking, "What is he like?"

Simay considered, placing a thick leather case on the ground. "He is intent on making sure that no mistake can be made. Sometimes that leads to his being considered stern, exacting, even harsh. But he also rewards those who do his work well. He took a great burden upon his shoulders, and overall I believe he bears it well." Then he looked askance at Anakin. "Have you not had dealings with him yourself?"

"I have," Anakin answered stiffly. "But that was before his treaty with the Republic, so I couldn't say what he is like now."

Due to the nature of his or her job, every good ambassador must be able to read other people's emotions and thoughts like a book. Anakin had grown more experienced of late at hiding his feelings, but it was not yet a perfected skill; Simay looked at him and smiled, knowing.

"Your dealings must have been most unpleasant, then. The General was not at his friendliest to Jedi when he was working for the Separatists. I cannot blame you for being wary of me."

"It's not you I distrust," said Anakin sharply, then froze. He hadn't meant to say that out loud. But the words were there all the same. Anakin bit his lip. "I have dealt with Grievous before," he murmured. "I have seen him do terrible things."

"You do not believe in forgiveness, Master Jedi?" asked Simay softly.

"It's not a question of forgiveness," Anakin said. "Forgiving a murderer doesn't mean they won't kill again."

"Then what about second chances? Do you believe in those?"

"Only if they are merited."

Simay was quiet for a moment. "Forgive me, Master Skywalker," he said finally, "I have heard of your accomplishments, and I know all that you have done. But with everything that you have achieved, has not one innocent person ever died by your hands, due to your own failure?"

Anakin said nothing.

The ambassador continued, his tone in no way condemning. "You and I are only sentient, as is General Grievous—we cannot be blamed for making mistakes, for that is what it means to be sentient. He joined the Separatists, and that was his mistake and his failure. It is true that he killed for them, but it was they who restored him to life after the crash that shattered his soul from his body. He owed them a life-debt. But now he has a second chance. He comes from a savage place, with a savage background, but obviously that was not his wish—why else would he work so hard to end the Separatist war?"

It wasn't an easy thought for Anakin, not when he had spent so many years looking into those red eyes that held nothing but hatred. But he looked down at the ground, feeling only the slightest twinge of shame.

"I hope you are right," he said quietly.

Simay smiled. "It has been a pleasure meeting you, Anakin Skywalker," he said. "I hope it will happen again."

The mission had been simplistic—the flight back home, equally dull. Nothing in Anakin's world had been at all out of the ordinary in these past few days, nor did he expect anything of the sort. But the instant Anakin stepped from his ship onto the Temple floor, he knew something was wrong.

He felt it, a tension that seemed to reverberate like electricity. Anakin frowned; he could sense, like the lingering aftereffects of a bad smell, traces of darkness in the air. No, not here, not again—

Anakin started walking, first slowly, and then picking up speed until he was running through the halls. He didn't stop, but as he ran he could see people looking at him sideways, as though thinking something they would not say. The thought crossed his mind to ask them what was going on, but surely the Council would know best.

Or so he thought. But even as he ran he felt an insistent hand pulling upon his arm, and when he turned he saw Ka'ela Brun standing before him.

He was taken aback to see her. Her face was drawn and pale, her eyes dulled. As they stood there, a strong wind from the nearby hangar entrance blew through the door, playing havoc with her already unkempt dark hair.

"What's happened?" Anakin asked her. It was a moment before she answered.

"It's Drin," Master Brun said, as though every word cost her. "He's gone."

"Gone? Gone where?"

"I don't know!" she cried, anguish in her voice. "It happened the day you left, I thought—I hoped he'd gone with you, but if not—"

"What happened?"

She was forced to slow down then, to give him every agonizing detail. With each one he heard, Anakin felt his heart grow numb.

"The day you left—I didn't know if it was before or after, I suppose it was after—Drin and Aviva Kenmur were talking. He was growing angry with her, she said it was something silly, but they started shouting, and then Drin—" Ka'ela broke off, crying. "We found Aviva on the ground, unconscious, and he was gone. She said he grabbed her by—by the throat, and choked her."

The voice that came out of Anakin's mouth sounded strange and foreign to his ears, as though someone else were speaking for him while he himself stood here, paralyzed by these horrible emotions. "Have you looked for him?" asked the voice. "Do you have any idea where he is?"

"No," she sobbed. "I can't find him; I can't—not if he did it!"

Neither of them had to acknowledge out loud the reason for her aversion to this course of action, and neither of them would.

"Do you think he's run away?" he asked. Ka'ela nodded mutely, and Anakin swallowed. More than anything, he did not want to do what he offered next; but this was his responsibility just as much as it was hers. He had taken it on himself the day he'd allowed himself to become any kind of an influence upon Drin. "I'll talk to the Council and—with their permission—I'll go and look for him."

Ka'ela nodded again, her chest heaving. "Thank you," she whispered finally, and went away. The greater part of the burden was off her shoulders now, and it had landed upon Anakin.

His steps were slow and deliberate now as he made his way to Windu's rooms. His former Master was not expecting him.

"Anakin," said Windu with some surprise, "I didn't expect you back for another day."

"Is what I'm hearing about Padawan Audris true?" Anakin asked. Windu's expression grew serious.

"It is," he replied.

"I want to find him."

"That is Ka'ela Brun's responsibility."

"She can't do it. She doesn't have the strength."

"And what about you?"

"I trust Drin."

Windu was quiet for a moment. "And what if he is no longer trustworthy?" he asked. "What if he has betrayed the Jedi?"

Anakin's face was set, revealing nothing of the turmoil within. "Then I will do what I must," he said, "for the Order's sake."

Windu stood to face him. "I believe you," he murmured. "The Council does not need to convene; I give you my permission."

"Thank you, Master."

And Anakin left, to begin his search for the boy he did not want to find.