When Anakin awoke, every muscle of his body was aching, if not from the fall then from his long trek to the plateau and back.

"I told you it was too hard," said Obi-Wan when he brought in breakfast and saw Anakin wince.

"I'm fine," Anakin told him. "Nothing you need to be worried about."

The food was good, and Anakin ate hungrily. Between mouthfuls he answered the questions that Obi-Wan asked him. Did he have a Padawan yet? Were all his old friends still alive and well? Whatever happened to Karan Toi, anyway?

"We captured him," Anakin answered, "and by 'we' I mean I did. The Senate voted for capital punishment, and he was put down."

"When was that?"

Anakin screwed up his face in concentration. "Maybe four years ago? I forget."

Obi-Wan's breath left him in a swift exhale. "Shax, it's been a long time, hasn't it?"

"Seven years," Anakin said.

"I can't believe—everything's changed," said Obi-Wan, shaking his head. "I suppose I never really thought about the fact that time kept moving outside of my own little world. Here I was, imagining you as a Padawan with a braid in your hair, and now you're a Master at—how old are you now?"

Anakin hesitated before answering, "Twenty-six."

Obi-Wan cocked an eyebrow. "You actually had to think about it?"

In imminent danger of looking very foolish, Anakin scrambled to defend himself. "Jedi don't celebrate birthdays," he said. "You know that."

"But you always did."

Anakin shrugged. "I guess there wasn't much point after you left," he said quietly. Then his eyes brightened. "Do you remember my twelfth birthday, when you took me to the podraces?"

"Of course," Obi-Wan recalled. "That was the first time I'd ever eaten a rat on a stick."

Anakin laughed—it hurt, but he did it anyway. Simultaneously there was a thudding knock on the door. Obi-Wan frowned.

"Must be the grocery droid, I suppose," he muttered, then, turning to Anakin, "I'll be right back."

The house was small enough that Anakin could hear him walking to the door. When it opened with a swish, Obi-Wan sounded almost confused.

"Can I help you?"

"I'm sorry to disturb you," said a familiar voice, "but I was wondering if you'd seen a friend of mine."

Anakin couldn't help himself. "Drin!" he shouted. There was a stunned pause, then his friend came rushing through the door toward his voice.

"Oh-thank-the-Force," Drin breathed, kneeling down by the bed. "Anakin, I thought you were dead."

"So did I," Anakin muttered wryly. "Drin, this is—" He stopped, thoroughly overwhelmed once again. The introduction he'd planned died on his lips. "This is Obi-Wan Kenobi."

Drin nodded shortly. "My thanks for caring for my friend," he said. He turned back to Anakin—stopped—comprehension dawned. "Did you say—Kenobi?"

Anakin couldn't keep a broad grin from his face. "He's alive," he told him, hearing the joy spill through his voice. "He never died at all!"

Drin's mission was momentarily forgotten in the face of such a miracle. "Anakin, that's amazing!" he said. He stood to face Obi-Wan again, but this time accorded him a bow, reserved in the Jedi Temple for superiors. "Master Kenobi, it's truly an honor to meet you. After everything I've heard—"

"It's not nearly as exciting to meet me in person, is it?" asked Obi-Wan, his eyes twinkling at the formality he hadn't seen in nearly a decade. Drin, taken aback, was lost for words.

"Um—"

"Never mind," said Obi-Wan, smiling. His eyes grew intense. "From what I hear, there are serious matters at hand for you and Anakin to deal with."

"Ah—yes, yes sir, there are." Drin turned back to his friend, and his expression grew serious as well. "Anakin—things didn't go well after you left."

Anakin's grin faded.

"No one was killed," Drin assured him. "Aside from you, I mean. We couldn't get through, but all ships were brought safely back to Coruscant. Almost everyone thought you were dead, except me. I had to come looking for you. Your ship's tracking signal stopped on this planet, so I looked around until I found it, and then from there, I followed the pathway that led down here. I didn't think I'd be lucky enough to find you so quickly."

"So none of the hostages were rescued?" Anakin asked, losing hope fast.

Drin shook his head. "And Grievous is absolutely shavved—excuse me, sir—I mean, he's absolutely furious. He hasn't blown up another planet yet. Some of the Masters think he doesn't have enough power in the hyperspace engines yet to move something that big, and if that's true, we might have a few more days before he attacks again. But after the Jedi retreated, he followed them.

"He's got more ships than you could imagine, Anakin, Star Cruisers and TIEs and Force knows what else. He set up a blockade around Coruscant. No one gets in or out, and that includes me. I'm only here because I never went back. I went looking for you instead."

Anakin was still trying to absorb all of this. "I'm really hoping," he said finally, "that this doesn't mean what I think it does."

Drin looked very uncomfortable. "I think it does," he admitted, with an almost pained expression. "I think—it's just the two of us against Grievous."

Anakin sank back against the wall with a sigh. "That," he said, "is the worst news I've had in a really long time."

"Sorry."

Anakin's prosthetic fist slammed against the mattress in frustration. "There's not even anything I can do to help you," he said angrily. "I mean, look at me! I can barely walk."

Drin looked at him as though for the first time, his lips parted absently, and Anakin knew he was seeing not a human being but simply skin and bone and muscle, bonded together or wounded. "I can fix you," Drin said softly, gazing intensely at his friend. "Some parts…"

His hands wrapped around the bandage on Anakin's knee. A strangled little cry leapt from Anakin's throat before he could stop it. Drin closed his eyes, held the poor broken bones in his hand and willed them to knit together once more and heal. Dimly he heard Anakin's moans of pain as the bones worked themselves around, turning from dust into solid matter once again.

Sweat beaded on Anakin's forehead before it was over, but after what seemed like ages, Drin opened his eyes and stepped back.

"There," he said, breathing hard. "I don't think I've ever done something so complicated, and I don't know how well that will hold up, but you'll be able to walk, at least."

Gasping, Anakin managed, "Thank you."

"Let me look at your chest."

"And let you do that all over again? No thanks."

"Don't be a child, you need this. Sit still."

But this time was much easier, as the damage to Anakin's ribs was a clean break. When it was over, Drin had already moved on, but at the next area of injury was a bit beyond his expertise.

"I can't really re-grow things," he admitted to Anakin. "I don't know if there's anything I can do for your hand."

"Never mind," Anakin replied. "I didn't use those fingers anyway." He pushed himself up and took an unsteady step onto the ground. A nervous grin moved across his face.

"I'm actually doing it," he said happily. "I owe you one."

"Just try not to push it for a few days," Drin said, then added, "Of course, given what we'll be doing, that might not be an option."

"You're a real joy-killer, you know that?"

"Sorry," Drin said again. "So what do you suggest?"

Anakin sighed. He didn't want to be the leader, plan always at hand. He didn't want to save the galaxy, not again. He wanted to sit by Obi-Wan and remember the old days, and think of the days that were yet to come.

"Is your ship in working condition?"

"It's fine," Drin answered.

"Then we'll have to go straight to Grievous," Anakin decided. "I assume he's still in his battle station, so we may have a hard time getting to him."

"Oh!" said Drin suddenly. "I almost forgot. We do have one advantage."

"Please tell me."

"One of our shots damaged a hangar's automatic locking mechanism. It didn't close like they expected it to, but it's absolutely tiny, and in an area of the station that isn't used much, so I don't think they've noticed. They're mostly focused on Coruscant right now, anyway."

"So we actually can get inside?" Anakin asked incredulously. "That's great!" He turned to Obi-Wan. "Master—I'll come back for you as soon as I can."

Obi-Wan had a very peculiar look on his face. Anakin couldn't tell whether he wanted to laugh or not. "I don't know what makes you think that I'm not going with you," he said.

Anakin was lost. "You—you—"

"I can't use the Force," Obi-Wan admitted. "But I'm not utterly useless." He took a step forward. "Seven years I've been waiting, taking every breath, in anticipation of something that I didn't know. This is it, and I will not lose it—or you."

Slowly, Anakin turned to Drin. "Can all three of us fit inside your fighter?" he asked. Drin looked pained at the thought.

"Barely," he conceded. "But I guess…"

"Excellent," said Obi-Wan briskly. "I have a blaster—I assume you two have your lightsabers. Let's not waste time."

He disappeared into the next room, and Drin looked with some bewilderment at Anakin, who shrugged.

"He does take some getting used to," Anakin admitted.

There really were no material preparations to make. Obi-Wan grabbed a blaster, well-modified and sturdy, and Anakin and Drin made certain their lightsabers were working. (They were, of course.) What none of them would admit was their simple reluctance to get up and go, to charge forward on what seemed an impossible mission.

The hyperspace trip was less than a standard hour. Every breath Anakin took felt labored as he sat in the cramped cockpit, and his chest was aching again. The usual thoughts that accompanied the beginning of a mission were strangely lacking. Perhaps he had realized for the first time that he might die, and what he would lose if that happened.

"Leaving hyperspace now," said Drin. The stars trailed back into dots, and Anakin saw once more, so close that it took his breath away, that hideously massive battle station. Its numerous TIE bodyguards were missing.

"They're all at Coruscant," Drin said, reading his mind. "But he has soldiers we might have to deal with once we're inside."

From a very long time ago, Anakin thought of a white oxygen mask on a fire-soaked planet. "The clones," he said. "I remember."

"Some," Drin said, drawing the ship close around the false moon, "but he has some recruits, too. They're only misguided, but he's taken them from planets that the Republic forgot and made them believe that we are the reason for their suffering. The clones I don't mind killing, if it gets to that, but those…" He gave an uneasy shrug, and ceased talking.

"There it is," Anakin said after a moment. Far below them was a hangar unshielded, very small, but it meant the universe to the Jedi in the ship. Without warning Drin sped up, forcing Anakin against the back of the seat, and flew into the hangar. The landing was rough, but it stuck.

"Warn us next time, will you?" asked Obi-Wan, whose head had slammed sideways against the cockpit glass at the sudden acceleration. Drin grimaced and apologized.

As they skidded to a halt, Anakin twitched a finger, and the hangar closed behind them. Now he leapt out, lightsaber ready just to be safe, but as Drin had promised, this area was deserted. Weapon still in hand, he turned a slow circle, mind working furiously.

"Our main objective is still to get to the hostages," he said. "We'll need a transport for them."

"We'll find one," Drin said. "There must be some on here."

"As for Grievous…" Anakin bit his lip. "We can't defeat him, not here, with all his soldiers and droids. We'll have to wait—or else destroy this whole thing with him on it. For now—"

He turned—so swiftly that neither Drin or Obi-Wan saw the action in itself, but only its result—and shot out a hand. Dooku was thrown backwards through the open doorway.

"Your powers have grown since we last met," observed the Sith amusedly, already on his feet again. His eyes raked over the little band, especially over Anakin. "And I see the Council has seen fit to promote you."

"Did you know we would be here?" Anakin asked.

"I did not—but I guessed. When I learned of the malfunction in this place, I knew you would have discovered it as well." His eyes hardened. "I saw you die before me on Mustafar."

"Appearances can be deceiving," Anakin retorted. Beside him, he could feel Drin battling fear.

"Apparently. But believe me when I tell you that I will not be deceived again." Then the lightning that Anakin remembered all too well spit from his fingers, and as battle-roar filled his ears he saw Drin and Obi-Wan fall to their knees. Anakin himself felt the heat of the lightning, heard the sparking, crackling energy, but felt no pain. His lightsaber held before his face, he propelled himself forward with the Force.

He landed directly in front of Dooku, and his injured knee protested violently, but Anakin ignored it as he raised his weapon to strike. It was met with Dooku's own, and golden sparks flashed in the air as they thrummed together.

"What makes you think you can defeat me now, Skywalker?" Dooku hissed. "You have already failed."

He whirled, struck again, then leapt back as Anakin lashed out at him, tight-lipped.

"The Sith cannot be killed."

"Your Master and your apprentice are dead!" Anakin cried, his body ever-moving in the dance of combat. "And now there is only you."

Their lightsabers held for a split second against each other, and in that instant Anakin saw Dooku's eyes widen. He had seen in his opponent's gaze something he had not seen before, and it had frightened him.

In sudden desperation he ceased to battle against Anakin's strength, and sought his weakness instead. Hand outstretched, he sent lightning bolts shooting once more toward Obi-Wan, and the former Jedi collapsed once again, screaming in agony.

"I could kill him!" Dooku shouted, backing away.

"Stop!"

"He will die, screaming in—"

His lightsaber dropped; his defense did likewise, and Anakin dove at his chance. Dooku's tirade ended abruptly as Anakin's booted foot connected hard with his throat, cutting off all oxygen. Gasping and choking, when Anakin's lightsaber came down, the Sith had no defense.

The messily severed head rolled across the floor, and Anakin stepped back, breathing hard. He ran to Obi-Wan.

"Are you all right?" he asked. Obi-Wan's face was very, very white.

"That was…" he began, and stopped. Anakin's heart ached to see him in such pain.

"Come on," he urged, taking Obi-Wan's arm and helping him up. Turning to Drin, Anakin was glad to see that he seemed in control now.

"I'm so sorry," Drin said. "Anakin, if I could have helped—"

"I know how that lightning feels," Anakin said shortly, for lack of breath. "I can't blame you. But we'll have to hurry. Someone will notice he's gone before long. Obi-Wan and I will look for the hostages—Drin, you find a transport."

Drin nodded and left, cloak flapping behind him as he ran down the black-tiled hall. Anakin stayed there a moment, waiting.

"Are you ready to go now?" he asked. Obi-Wan was still pale, but he nodded. Together they set off opposite of the way Drin had gone, alert for any unexpected visitors.

"That was impressive," said Obi-Wan, when he had regained his breath fully. "When did you learn to fight like that?"

Anakin's face seemed momentarily unaware of the seriousness of the situation, because he grinned. "I've been practicing," he told Obi-Wan.