STARKILLER: A STAR WARS STORY

For four long years, the Clone Wars have been fought on without an end in sight. Fear and violence run rampant across the galaxy as more and more solar systems have joined the Separatist movement and its sinister leader, Count Dooku. There are heroes on both sides and evil is everywhere.

The Jedi have been spread to the far reaches of the galaxy to aid in the war effort and establish peace amidst the carnage. Incalculable losses, including the departure of young Knight Anakin Skywalker, threaten to break the ancient order as the Dark Side continues to grow and fester.

Senator Amidala, the former Queen of Naboo, has been summoned to return to her homeworld to debate a response as public outcry to secede from the once great Republic, continues to grow while war rages on in the galaxy….

CHAPTER I: Changing Tides

Her footsteps echoed against the old marble floors of Theed Palace as she walked with a natural grace that so many others could never hope to master. Behind her, Jar Jar muttered under his breath while Sio Bibble grumbled about some newly imposed tax that had neither been voted on by the Senate or debated in a public forum. While she agreed with him, Padmé refused to say so outright, lest she encourage the old advisor to further expand upon his opinions.

"Polling numbers have been flooding in," Bibble's new aid spoke softly. His head was bent down while reading from his data pad.

"Over seventy percent of citizens are in favor of secession."

"With numbers that high, Queen Jamillia will have to bring a vote to the Advisory Council floor."

"It's the last month of her term, surely she'd try to push the New Energies Bill to the floor. It was one of the main pillars of her platform."

"She will if she wants to be re-elected next term," Bibble's voice was gruff and certain, "nothing helps secure a victory like an issue that almost everyone is agreed upon."

Padmé valiantly tamped down the overwhelming urge to roll her eyes. Re-elections. Popular votes. Approval ratings. Meaningless measurements that lead to ill informed leaders and completely oblivious civilians. Suddenly, she felt so much older than her twenty-eight years. Countless debates, battles (both physical and political) and personal losses weighed on her heart and made every step so much more difficult. When had it all become so… exhausting?

When had public service become an endless struggle for power and control? Had it always been this way? Or had she just been too young and naive to notice? Had the galaxy simply changed as countless systems and millions of lives fell victim to a war she began to understand less and less? Or had all her sacrifices and heartbreak simply begun to pile up around on her until she could see nothing but the pain that had settled in her heart so long ago. What she wouldn't give to blast it all to kingdom come.

Sounds an awful lot like aggressive negotiations, doesn't it, Senator?

Bibble and Aid Rylo prattled on.

"Surely the Jedi will be able to apprehend General Grevious,"

"I am afraid that the only thing that public seems to agree on is that the Jedi Order has become almost completely incapacitated. Ever since Knight Skywalker left, trust in the Order has been… shaken," Sio Bibble spoke in an even and measured tone, "especially since they never bothered to issue any kind of statement to explain his departure."

"Seems horribly selfish, if you ask me," Bibble's aid spouted off.

Padmé bit the inside of her cheek so as not to lash out at the young and inexperienced young man. He knew as much about politics as her eight and ten-year-old nieces. And even less about Anakin Skywalker.

"Now, now," Bibble began to correct the young man, "Knight Skywalker did many great things in the name of the Republic. There is no room for judgment in his choice, especially when we have no knowledge of his reasons to leave."

Bibble's Aid didn't seem to hear his mentor, and kept rambling on, "The Hero With No Fear. What a joke. How brave could he be to run off and leave the Republic army in tatters?"

"If the Army of the Republic cannot withstand the loss of a single individual then it was already in tatters," Padmé replied cooly, belying the fiery anger smoldering in her chest.

"I only meant to say," Aid Rylo stuttered, "I just find it rather odd that a Jedi so central to the war effort left without provocation or reason."

"Yousa no nothing abouts Jedi Skywalker," Jar Jar stated rather loudly.

Apparently he couldn't hold his tongue any longer. Padmé didn't know if she should scold him or applaud for standing up for Anakin.

"What would a Gungan know about the Jedi?"

Jar Jar visibly slunk.

His shoulders fell and an obvious flash of hurt danced across his face while Padmé stopped dead in her tracks and whipped her head around to stare at the young man.

He was pale and lanky. His head was a bit too big for his body and his face seemed to be in a permanent look of annoyance and arrogance.

"What do you mean, exactly?" Padmé's calm tone covered the simmering rage underneath her measured words.

"I… simply that,"

"Did you know that Representative Binks fought on the front lines during the Trade Federation Blockades," Padmé questioned fiercely.

The young man's eyes widened in surprise, "No…no Mi'lady."

"Then I'm sure you didn't know that Representative Binks was instrumental in the peace talks and alliance negotiations between the Naboo Advisory Council and the Gungan Governance?. Or that he was crucial in procuring The Clone Army and saving my life and hundreds of Jedi on Geonosis during the First Battle?

"No, Mi'Lady."

"Then I suggest you learn a little more about your planet's history and those that have actual pages written about them in data books before you think to insult a civil servant like Representative Binks."

Aid Rylo balked at the characteristically reserved and controlled Senator's fiery outburst and walked past both Padmé and Jar Jar as they reached the Advisory Council Chamber doors.

"I'll be right in, Aid Rylo," was all Sio Bibble said to his staff member before turning to Padmé, "I ask that you show him some patience, Padmé. He's young and inexperienced."

"Age means nothing in the face of bigotry, Sio," Padmé spit back at her former advisor, "I will tolerate a great many things but that is not one of them."

Sio was silent for a moment.

"You're right, Padmé," he conceded, "you are. I'll talk with him, make sure he doesn't say anything so… prejudiced in the Representative's company.

"You'd do better to find yourself a new aid."

Sio looked at Padmé carefully.

"Is this solely about Representative Binks? Or is it it possible that Mr. Rylo's comments regarding Knight Skywalker have something to do with such an… unreserved reaction?"

Padmé's eyes narrowed for the briefest moment before her expertly practiced "politician face" as her family called it, slipped back into the place.

"Advisor Bibble," she addressed her former mentor with a detached professionalism, "I appreciate your attempts at impartiality and fairness. But make no mistake, I will not tolerate the racist drivel directed at Representative Binks. Nor will I allow the ill informed babble regarding political matters Aid Rylo has no business weighing in on. And as for his comments about Knight Skywalker…"

Padmé's voice caught in her throat, just slightly, too subtly for anyone but Jar Jar to notice, "I know you're curious. You've asked me several times and my answer is always the same. I cannot begin to understand what compelled him to leave the order. But I can assure you, that he is a good man… and a dedicated servant of justice and peace. If he left the Jedi Order, it was for good reason."

Sio Bibble eyed the young senator, suddenly very aware of the carefully concealed emotion behind her words. Padmé silently berated herself for the momentary slip of control, desperate to change topics.

Anything to stop talking about Anakin… no… Knight Skywalker.

"Furthermore," she continued, "I would think idle political gossip would be the last thing on your mind. Especially considering what is about to happen inside those doors in just a few moments, Advisor."

Bibble cleared his throat, "Quite right, Senator Amidala. I apologize for Rylo's comments… and my line of questioning. I will speak with him personally on the matter."

Padmé gave a respectful nod as she watched the statesman walk past her and into the Advisory Council chamber. She could already hear the clamoring and argumentative words being shouted out. She could hear the cries of secession, the demands for patience. And it all made the headache she'd been nursing since the morning throb incessantly.

Padmé gently raised her hand and began to massage in between her eyes.

"Mesa sorry for the arguings, Senator Padmé," Jar Jar whispered, "Mesa couldn't stops from talking."

Padmé lifted her eyes to stare up at the Gungan. Jar Jar's ears, normally so perky, lay tucked almost behind his head. A clear sign of his shame. A pained smile crept up on Padmé's face. Jar Jar had become so good at hiding his emotions. So well versed in the political game he'd barely begun to play. Some senators took a lifetime to become as adept in the political arena as Jar Jar had in just a few short years. And yet in moments like this, he would trust her with his private shame. It was moments like this that she so often wished she'd never asked Jar Jar to join her staff. It was moments like this that she could truly see the tole the life of a politician had taken on Jar Jar. How much of his innocence had been stolen, how much turmoil he'd endured simply because she'd asked him to. How much guilt he'd carried since the Clone Wars had begun.

"Jar Jar," Padmé raised a calming hand to his shoulder, "never apologize for defending a friend. I should have said something as well… I just…"

It was so difficult… so painful to even think of him, let alone say his name and… how could she possibly begin to explain….

And then Jar Jar raised a comforting hand to her shoulder. Padmé looked up at him, tears shining in her cinnamon eyes, only to see the Gungan's glassy expression. A moment of silent understanding passed between them.

"Yousa not alone, Senator Padmé. Not while Mesa is with yous."

Padmé nodded quickly, so scared to even open her mouth, lest the ugly sob she'd been holding back escape her lips. Jar Jar returned it.

"Senator Amidala," a young aid addressed Padmé, curtsying slightly as she did, "the session is about to begin. Would you and Representative Binks take your seats, please?"

"Of course," Padmé replied kindly, "thank you, Aid Kelen. We will be in momentarily."

Aid Kelen smiled shyly, clearly enamored of the young Senator and former Queen. She turned to walk back into the Council chambers when she suddenly stopped and turned back around to address Padmé.

Padmé's eyes narrowed in concern, "Is everything alright, Aid Kelen?"

Kelen nodded her head quickly, "Yes Mi'lady. I only wanted to… I just wanted to say how much I admire and respect you."

Padmé bristled at the aid's words. She'd never been good at accepting compliments, nor had she'd ever been good at handling such open admiration gracefully.

"Aid Kelen - "

"You've been my hero and my idol since I was a child. You're the reason I wanted to have a career in Politics. I just… I just hope I can serve Naboo and its people as honorably as you have since the beginning of your career.."

Aid Kelen gave a meek grin as she finished.

Padmé smiled weakly and waited for a moment before she answered Aid Kelen's unspoken question, "May I offer you a piece of advice, Aid Kelen?"

"I welcome it!"

Padmé's smile grew at the innocent and infectious excitement in Aid Kelen's voice.

"No on is perfect and people, especially people you respect and admire, will let you down. It is inevitable. All you can do wake up every day and try and be better than the day before. All you can do is to try your best to help your people. You will make mistakes. Own up to them. But never be afraid to stand up for what is right. No amount of power is worth compromising your beliefs and morals."

"But surely you've never," Aid Kelen started.

"I have done plenty of things I'm not proud of. I've done plenty of things that I regret," Padmé countered, "but I have always tried to do what is right by the people of Naboo… by the people throughout the galaxy. And because of that, I am proud of what I've accomplished and of what I've helped my people accomplish. But do not let your respect and admiration for me or any of my colleagues within that chamber blind you to our faults and failures. Okay?"

Aid Kelen nodded vigorously, absorbing every last syllable Padmé spoke, "I won't, Senator. I promise you."

"Don't promise me," Padmé corrected her gently, "promise yourself. Do that, and you'll do far more than I ever could."

Another bright smile danced across Aid Kelen's face at the compliment from her idol. She nodded respectively before continuing back to the Council chamber.

Padmé and Jar Jar stood outside for another blissfully silent moment before they began to walk through the large, Elmwood doors.

"Yousa ready?" Jar Jar asked as they walked into the Council chamber. His voice nearly drowning out in the clamoring vacuum of debate echoing throughout the chamber.

"As I'll ever be," was all she could think to say.

Bright neon and florescent light encompassed the lower levels of the city. It burned at his eyes and gave him a blistering headache. For all his years on Coruscant, Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi had never gotten used the… manufactured air of it all. Even now, as the rain beat down and soaked through his thick Jedi cloak, a sense of artificiality permeated through everything. Maybe it was simply that a few miles away, the revered Senate and Capitol buildings stood upright with such a false sense of justice and peace that it colored everything he saw and felt.

Be mindful of your thoughts, he told himself. They will betray you.

Or you just don't want to admit the truth of what's right in front of you.

Obi-Wan shook his head, as if the action would force those words… those haunting words… to fall out and shatter on the cement under his feet. But they didn't. No… those words echoed in his head and in his heart, returning to the forefront of his thoughts more and more as the days, weeks… months, went on.

Focus, he berated himself.

Obi-Wan lifted his cloaked head up to read the sign above:

Aurora Bar

With a soft grumble of annoyance befitting a man far older than himself, Obi-Wan walked quietly into the overcrowded bar and lowered his cloak hood. He pushed his way through the ever younger crowd of beings as they danced and drank. The burnt, stale smoke surrounding them reeked of death sticks. The gray, grungy mass of it hung in the air and seeped into everything: his clothes, his hair, and skin. The acrid smell flared in his nostrils and made his eyes water.

Obi-Wan's eyes narrowed as he reached out with Force to seek out the person he'd been searching for for the better part of a week.

For months, shipping routes throughout the Outer Rim specifically designated for civilian supplies and medical aid, had been completely taken over by multiple syndicates. Black Sun, Crimson Dawn, and the Pyke Syndicate had taken control of sections of the Corellian Run and quickly created a black market for the goods. Planets were practically held hostage, forced to give in to any demands in order to provide aid to the civilian population.

And then they stopped….

Whispers of an uncatchable ship and an invincible crew began to travel through the Outer Rim faster than a Naboo starfighter. Rumors of a Twi'lek woman with a white lightsaber, a Wookie with a crossbow blaster, sometimes there was even talk of a Tusken Raider commandeering Syndicate ships and seizing stolen relief supplies, only to deliver it to designated relief areas throughout the Outer Rim.

And sometimes, the story of a man with a yellow lightsaber….

Throughout his investigation, Obi-Wan had heard outlandish tales and awe inspiring feats of bravery, cunning, and compassion. Some seemed too much to believe… and yet… the people he spoke to did believe it. They believed every word as if they'd seen it with their own eyes; this ragtag group of vigilantes stealing from the syndicates and protecting the people.

Somehow, someone was securing peace in the Outer Rim far better than any attempts by the Jedi Council or the Grand Army of the Republic. And so Obi-Wan had been called back from the Siege of Saleucami to find the perpetrators.

"If they are allowed to continue," Master Windu spoke sternly, "then we are allowing anyone and everyone to take the war into their own hands. And when that happens, peace is all a point of view. Mark my words, Kenobi, any peace in the Outer Rim will be destroyed if these vigilantes are allowed to continue."

"There have been no reports of violence or murder," Obi-Wan countered, "and the relief routes are safer now than they've been since the Republic first created out postings there. Surely this investigation can wait."

"Peace cannot wait," Windu argued.

"But there is peace," Obi-Wan practically shouted, "Peace for the first time in years… maybe ever in certain sections of the OR. Meanwhile, Master Koth has been captured by General Grevious and his holding all of Saleucami hostage. Surely, Master Windu, there are better things I can be doing to secure peace for the galaxy than hunting down a group of rogues that are actually doing some good."

"And who have taken the law and peace into their own hands. They're acting benevolently now, but who knows how long that will last. They are not Jedi, Knight Kenobi. They are not soldiers. They are a group of rogues, as you so aptly put it, and they cannot be trusted."

"Not like the Jedi," Obi-Wan spat out, surprised by his sudden anger towards the Jedi Master in front of him.

Mace Windu backed away from him slightly, obviously taken aback, "Careful, Obi-Wan. That sounded a great deal like former Knight Skywalker. Be mindful of your feelings. Keep them in check."

Obi-Wan only nodded, too scared to speak the truth that had been rattling around his head since his friend and old Padawan walked down the steps of the Jedi temple so many months ago to never return.

"Heard whispers of a Jedi asking about the crew on the Sun Crest," a low, tired voice called out through the blaring music of the bar.

Obi-Wan turned his head slowly to find a Falleen sitting in a dark booth by himself, nursing a strong drink. The color was a deep, electric red and even from several feet away, it gave off a pungent scent reminiscent of distilled jet fuel. The male's sin was a dry, faded green. He'd obviously spent most of his life out in the sun. Liver spots covered his hands and there was some odd splotching on his nose and cheeks. He coughed loudly before taking a drag of the death stick he held in his free hand.

Obi-Wan walked over carefully.

"I'm more interested in what the Sun Crest was carrying. Traveling through trade routes designated specifically for civilian supply and medical aid is a risky place to smuggle anything. It's an even riskier place to steal from others that are already stealing while mid jump in light speed."

The Falleen glanced around, checking if anyone was watching his encounter with a poorly disguised Jedi. After deciding they weren't being spied upon, the young male turned back to Obi-Wan, sizing him up in attempt to decipher what he was really after.

"I don't care about the crew of the Sun Crest," Obi-Wan reiterated, "I simply need information about why the ship was boarded and who boarded the Sun Crest mid jump."

The Falleen didn't respond. He only continued to stare down the Jedi in front of him.

Obi-Wan decided to change tactics, well aware of the complete lack of trust that prevented the Falleen crewman from saying anything.

"I just need to know why you were boarded," Obi-Wan said as he slid into the booth seat across from the Falleen and leaned in, "I need to know what was on that ship and who was responsible. The Order has been tracking this group for several months and we are no closer to discovering their identities now than we were the first time they did something like this."

"Why would you care," the Falleen grumbled, "they're keeping the relief routes clear. Supplies and medical kits have been arriving more often and more reliably since they've shown up. Don't understand why the Jedi are trying to stop them."

"So it was supplies and medical aid you were running?"

The Falleen looked over his shoulder once more before finally leaning in close enough to whisper to Obi-Wan, "yes. Alright? Yes. I… look. The Sun Crest is a Black Suns ship, alright? We were told to steal the kit off a supply cruiser headed for Christophsis. We were gonna take it to Christophsis and sell it for double. We're half way through the jump when all of a sudden this fucking ship comes flying in right beside us. I didn't even know it was possible to do that mid jump."

It's not supposed to be, was all Obi-Wan could think. Whoever is responsible for this is a remarkable pilot with a remarkable ship.

"So the sidle up and just start boarding us. They load all the kit up, tie the crew up and then leave.

"No one was injured?"

Rather odd for a pirate crew to come aboard and not at least maim someone.

"They just wanted the supplies far as. I can tell. But the leader or whatever, some Togruta, she said if we ever did it again she'd blow the Sun Crest and whoever was on it out of the sky."

"A Togruta," Obi-Wan's voice screeched slightly. Finally some new information, "I'd heard it was a Twi'lek woman."

"I'm sure a bunch of backwater hicks told you that," the Falleen grumbled before taking a sip of his drink, "I know what I saw and I'm telling you it was some Togruta bitch. She had two of those light swords," he gestured to the lightsaber clipped onto Obi-Wan's belt.

"Two of them?" Obi-wan's interest piqued at that, "are you sure?"

"Why do I have to keep repeating myself with you? I thought Jedi were clever."

"Humor me," Obi-wan responded dryly.

The Falleen rolled his eyes but continued, "Yes. Two light swords. And they were white. Looked like the damn twin suns blazing around us. Next thing I know, we're cornered, tied up, and they're taking kit and racing through the shipping lanes like it's another day at the Podtrack."

"Was there anyone else with her?"

"Yeah… strange group if you ask me."

"How so?"

The Falleen scoffed, "You ever seen a Changeling, a Wookie, a Togruta, and a Tusken Raider working together? Hell, you ever seen a Tusken doing anything besides killing anyone that ain't them?"

He couldn't say that he had. But still…

"And that was it?"

"No," the Falleen countered, "she was talking in some language I couldn't understand over her comm. Sounded similar to Huttese… but I'm not sure. I think it was to whoever was piloting the ship in front of us. It was a male's voice though. I know that much. And the bastard could fly. Fly like I've never seen."

Obi-Wan's interest grew as the battered Falleen continued.

"And you never saw his face?"

"No, but I can tell you what kinda ship he was flying. ST-70. Assault class. But it had been modded. It was lighter, streamlined for speed and maneuverability. But still packed a hell of a punch."

"Did you happen to catch its call sign? Anything to help identify it?"

"No. It just looked like your standard ST-70, minus the mods. But I heard the Changeling call it something… The Ghost, I think? But that's all I remember. Honest."

Obi-wan nodded. He didn't believe the traveler in front of him, but he'd garnered enough information to continue his investigation. For now, that was enough.

"Well I thank you for your candor," Obi-Wan said in his best Negotiator voice, "the information you provided has been most helpful."

And with that, Obi-Wan walked out of Aurora Bar and into the cold, rainy night.

The cantina was loud. Far too loud for the sensitive ears of a Wookie. Every clink of glassware and every scrape of a fork vibrated in his head like a poorly pitched tuning fork. The constant hum left him with a throbbing headache.

I told you to just wait back at the loading dock, The Tusken Raider next to him signed, the hyperdrive needs tweaking anyway. Would have saved you a headache and the rest of us some aggravation for when you start throwing a tantrum later on.

The Wookie growled, I do not throw tantrums.

Yes, you do. Don't be such a crawler.

"Both of you can shut the hell up," a Clawdite woman was suddenly in between the both of them.

I never talk, the Tusken signed.

"Signing counts, you dumb ass."

The Wookie growled.

"And so does that, Fuzzball."

"I swear, it's a miracle we've been able to fly under the radar for as long as we have considering all the racket you three are making."

The three companions whipped around to see a young Togruta woman, with radiant orange and white skin standing behind them. A teasing smile playing across her lips as she rested her hands on her hips. A brief flash of the metal hilts of two lightsabers caught in the light before they disappeared under her cloak.

"Shall we?"

The Togruta gestured to an empty booth and soon, all four of them had situated themselves as comfortably as possible. A cocktail droid wheeled over and input their orders before rolling off into the chaos of the crowded cantina.

"So what's the deal," the Clawdite asked impatiently, "are we hitting the caravan tonight or not?"

The Togruta woman raised a hand up, silently asking for patience from the group, "there is a ship that we will be boarding tonight. But it's not a part of the caravan."

The Tusken raised his hands and gestured, What's the cargo?

"Children," the Togruta answered bitterly, "kidnapped children. They're being shipped off to Abafar to work in the rhydonium refineries. It leaves the spaceport at zero hour. We need to board before it has the chance to make The Jump. Having children on board is risky enough. We don't need anything going wrong, especially in light speed."

And is he going to be there? The Wookie signed.

The Togruta and the Tusken gave each other a quick, pained glance before she answered, "Yes. He just had a personal matter to take care of first. He'll be at the Ghost before we bug out."

"Well then," the Clawdite picked up her drink and knocked it back, "let's get ready to kidnap some kidnapped kids!"

Both the Wookie and the Tusken rolled their heads.

The twin suns seemed a bit dimmer as they began to fall past the horizon. The bright warm tones of sunset seemed bloodier than he'd ever noticed before. Sand burned in his gray blue eyes, making the tears falling from them sting just a little bit more.

Sobs wracked his body as the Holy Man finished his blessing on the two graves in front of him. One so much smaller than the other.

A gentle, comforting hand found its resting place on his sturdy shoulder as his vision blurred while reading the names on the grave stones in front of him. Four of them now, and all in a nice and tidy row.

"There is nothing left for me here," Owen spoke softly, agony scratching in his throat as the words escaped his mouth.

The hand on his shoulder tightened its grip.

Owen turned to face him, the fading light of the suns falling behind the figure and the never ending horizon of the Dune Sea. Tears had settled in his dark blue eyes, like the ocean, he'd heard Shmi describe them once. Owen had never seen the ocean. Beru had always wanted to.

Beru… Noa. Fresh tears rolled down his cheeks and into the unkept beard that covered his sun battered face.

"Owen," his brother's voice trembled, "this is your home."

Owen shook his head, "No. My home is buried in the ground. This place…" he looked to the homestead he'd grown up in. So many happy memories… learning to ride his first speeder bike, spending the early dawn hours with Shmi while he helped her pick the mushrooms off the vaporators… marrying Beru… holding Noa.

"This place has too many memories. Memories that will only bring me pain."

"Running from those memories won't lessen the pain," the other man said.

"No, it won't," Owen agreed, "but I can't stay here. I can't sit around while you and Ahsoka try and save the galaxy while I sit in this place and cry for all the things I've lost."

Owen stared Anakin in the eye as he spoke, "I want to help you. I'm strong, quick on my feet. I can drop anything with a single blaster shot from half a kilometer. I wouldn't be in the way."

"It's not that," Anakin argued, placing his other hand, his mechanical hand, on Owen's other shoulder, forcing his brother to remain still, "I'm not worried about whether or not you can handle yourself in a fight. I know you can. I've seen it."

"Then what is it?"

"I know what grief can drive a person to. I know what this kind of pain does to a person. You can't think clearly, you are capable of things that you would nomrally never even think of doing. I don't… I need you to learn from my mistakes. Don't jump into this thinking that it will bring Beru and Noa," Anakin's voice caught on their names, "It won't bring them back, Owen."

"I know that," Owen started to argue but Anakin cut him off.

"I slaughtered an entire village when Mom died," Anakin's voice was cold, stern. Self hatred dripped from every word, "I murdered hundreds of Tusken Raiders in a blind rage because of my grief. I never imagined I was capable of anything like that. And now… now it's always there, Owen. It's like this… dragon, coiling around my heart. There is a hate, a pain there that I can't get rid of. And the rage that feeds it, makes it stronger. It's something I have to keep in check always….

"That won't happen to me."

"You don't know that," Anakin begged Owen to understand, "and I don't want you to ever find out if you're capable of something like that. It's a terrible burden, Owen. One that no one should ever have to bear."

"My heart's already broken, Anakin," Owen shoved his brother's hands off his shoulders and went to stand directly behind Beru and Noa's graves, forcing Anakin to look down at the freshly packed sand.

"I just buried my wife and daughter, tonight!. My father is dead. Our mother is dead."

Owen walked around Beru's grave to stand in front of Anakin again, "You are the only family I have left… and I'm tired, Anakin. I'm tired and sick of standing by and watching while good people are hurt and killed. I'm tired of doing nothing."

Anakin said nothing and suddenly Owen could see the years of war and fighting in every inch of his face. The burn scars high on his right cheek and just below his left eye. The mechanical arm from the First Battle. The gray streak of hair just above his forehead. His strong sturdy frame slightly slumped from the weight of so much violence and death he'd witnessed and been a part of.

And still, "Please, let me come with you. Let me help you. Let me do something with my life while I still can."

Anakin sighed, "Alright. Alright… you can come with me."

Owen pulled Anakin into a fierce hug, clinging to him as the battle weary soldier wrapped his arms around Owen.

Anakin pulled away first and placed his flesh hand on Owen's shoulder once again. The brothers stared at one another for a moment, before Anakin's gaze fell to the two freshly dug graves. Tears welled in his eyes again at the thought of his sister-in-law and his… his niece. They were both so warm, so full of life.

He turned his gaze back to Owen and gave him a brief smile, "I'll be at the speeder. Take your time to… to say goodbye."

Owen nodded silently and turned back to Beru and Noa's graves.

The dark shadows of the setting suns grew as they finally disappeared behind the horizon….

The Falleen stumbled in the alley way, obviously drunk and oblivious to everything around him, save the wall he clung to as he continued to walk. He looked ahead and saw a hooded figure standing at the end of the walkway.

"I told you I don't know anything else," he grumbled to the figure, "just leave me the fuck alone."

"You have something of my mine," the hooded figure replied.

A chill went down the Falleen's spine. The stranger's words were short, gruff… menacing. This wasn't the same man he'd talked to before.

"You a Jedi?"

Through the dark, he could see the hooded figure smile… no, snarl. And he didn't miss the glint of the sickly yellow irises that glowed in the dangerous dark of the bowels of Galactic City.

"I am no Jedi."

The Falleen gulped, suddenly sober and far more alert than he'd been just a few moments ago. He nodded his head in understand before reaching for the inside of his threadbare jacket and pulling a data disk out from the inside pocket. He raised his hand to give it to the hooded figure who was suddenly right in front of him.

"You talked to a Jedi, though," the figure said, "Who was it?"

"I don't know," the Falleen rambled, "he was human. Had a beard. Coruscanti accent."

"Did you get a good look at his lightsaber hilt?"

"Um… I got a quick look."

Silence answered the Falleen and sent his hearts racing, "It had a rounder pommel. With these little raised cuts on it."

The hooded man said nothing as he nodded before pulling out his own lightsaber. The Falleen stumbled slightly as he moved away from the shadowy figure, "I thought you said you weren't a Jedi?"

The man ignited his hilt… and an electric red shot up to form the blade. Suddenly, the Falleen couldn't move, couldn't breathe! And then an indescribable pain seared through his chest, right where his hearts once beat… now incinerated by the heat of the blade now burning through his rib cage.

"I can assure you," the hooded man whispered into his ear, "I am no Jedi."