AN: Happy Friday the 13th! This chapter actually went through a serious rewrite. The first one was pretty dark, but it sort of backed me into a corner, but this one...hoo boy, I let this thing run with me, and I really like where it went. It opens up SO much for us to play with. Enjoy, my lovelies!
Chapter 99: The Shifting Tide
Obi-Wan put his lips to the bottle and threw his head back, swiftly drinking the liquor in large, thirsty gulps, the sweet liquid burning as it went down, his eyes locked with Quinlan Vos, who did the same with his own bottle. They were already suitably drunk, this being the third bottle they had consumed in this fashion, but this one was the one that had counted. Vos had won the first one, Kenobi had won the second, and this one would decide the victor, as had been their tradition for the past month when they jumped to the safety of hyperspace from the world they were assaulting. It had become something of a pattern, starting with the assault on Onderon, Quinlan's idea after Kenobi had returned from seeing his Master not only distressingly close to death, but shaking and laughing in the throes of madness. Clearly, the man needed to unwind, and the best way to do that, in Vos' estimation, was to wreck havoc on the galaxy with his best friend at his side. It was working.
Vos groaned loudly around the bottle when he heard Kenobi's clatter to the ground, the Sith Lord smirking and swaying from where he was seated before the forward viewport on the bridge of the Negotiator. The blue and white of hyperspace filled the view as they made their jump from Antamount, a Republic held world in the Outer Rim of little significance that they had been attacking until Skywalker's fleet had appeared. Skywalker always found them, and quickly, never taking more than a day to follow the chaos of the Sith Lord's assaults. Kenobi never stayed, always making the jump when the Jedi appeared, making the jump anyway when Anakin broke his established pattern. Any more than a day screamed of a trap, an ambush, and with the Jedi spread thin, all of them each engaged in their own battles, with the brutally slow mobilization of a Republic bogged down in procedure, it always took more than a day to bring significant numbers to Skywalker's aid. By the time they arrived in force, Kenobi was already gone. Staying wasn't the point. The point, of course, was to make Skywalker chase him, and make him angry and frustrated when he couldn't catch him.
"I win again," Kenobi drawled as Vos finished his bottle, the Sith Lord laughing when the Kiffar laid back on the floor and covered his eyes. Kenobi may have been able to drink faster, but he was also significantly more drunk.
"You're cheating," Quinlan slurred. "You're using the Force to purge the effects." They both did it, of course, but that was neither here nor there. They always purged afterwards anyway. They needed to be clear when they arrived at their next destination, and they always were, gleefully leaping into the Umbra when they arrived to deliver a more personal assault on their selected planets.
"You're jealous," Kenobi said, attempting to stand, but failing horribly and opting instead to lay on the ground next to the Kiffar. He chuckled slowly when he felt the flames of madness lapping at his brain, not taking over, but making its presence known. It had been the state of things since Quinlan had gotten him stable. The madness had become something of a constant companion as he fixated on Skywalker, a persistent voice in his mind that urged him toward destruction, toward murder of his Master, toward jealousy, toward possession, toward paranoia. He always felt it. Padmé had soothed it before, but...he was trying not to think of that, not now.
"I'm not jealous," Vos drawled. "This is just so much better done on Mustafar, there war women there..." He pointed his thumb in the air in Cody's direction where the clone stood close to Boba Fett, the two examining a map of the galaxy projected upon the wall. "All I have here is Cody, and he's just not very good."
"Better than you, Vos," Cody droned, clearly uninterested, and the Kiffar began laughing.
"Cody," Kenobi said softly. "Where's our next destination?"
With a grin, Boba rushed to a table and picked up a handful of darts and rushed back to Cody's side, took aim, and threw it at the wall, the section sticking easity to the hard metallic surface. "Colonies," Cody said, and Boba threw another dart when the map zoomed in on the Colony Region. "Tapani Sector," the clone said when the dart landed on the area and again zoomed in.
Kenobi whistled. "That's a good sector, lots of activity, very big."
"Reenforcements will be at hand, we won't be there long," Vos whispered. "Which sucks, I want to blow something up..."
"We all want to blow something up," Kenobi said, closing his eyes and slowly beginning to sink into the Force. "But this isn't about us, it's about making Skywalker chase us."
"And partying hard when we escape..." Vos drawled, slurring his words a bit, and Obi-Wan nodded.
"That too...system, Cody?"
Boba threw another dart. "Soterios system, sir."
"Soterios..." Obi-Wan repeated, his voice distant as he drifted off into the Force. "Maybe you'll get what you want, Vos, there are almost seven billion people on that planet...we can cause a good deal of damage before Skywalker arrives..."
"A few hours, yes, but they're a major source of the holonet, word will got to Coruscant quickly. Have you calculated the new jump yet, Cody?"
The clone rolled his eyes. "You're such a nag, Vos. It's already done. Dropping out of hyperspace now, and we'll make the next jump as soon as we're out." Vos grinned at Kenobi, but the Sith Lord was already gone, the man's eyes closed, his breathing imperceptible, his heartbeat slowed significantly, his consciousness lost in the Force. Quinlan sighed, closed his eyes, and purged his body of the effects of the alcohol as he felt the dreadnaught come out of hyperspace. Selecting their targets at random made catching them by predicting their movements an impossibility, something Obi-Wan had decided on when they began their gleefully destructive romp through the galaxy. He had learned from before, the brush with Tarkin's trap far too close for the cautious Sith Lord, and now, his goal was focused much less on his own revenge and more on simply driving Anakin Skywalker and Wilhuff Tarkin into a frenzy.
Leaving them alone was no longer an option, and neither was tracking them. They were causing too much chaos, too much damage, taking too many lives to be ignored, but hunting them proved to be a fruitless endeavor. They appeared suddenly, randomly, caused chaos and destruction in their wake, and then they were gone, just as soon as Skywalker's ships arrived, jumping too quickly for the Republic vessels to get a lock on their jump coordinates, and even when they did, the Sith Lord's ships always dropped out of hyperspace before reaching their destination, and then jumping again to their new target a moment later. And through it all, Kenobi and Vos had been partying, drinking themselves into a stupor while in transit, only to be ready for a renewed assault a few hours later, where they gleefully tore through space and spread panic and chaos to large planets and small, important space stations and insignificant moons. From the Inner Rim to the boarders of the New Mandalorian Empire, even venturing into Separatist Space when the darts demanded it, using the Star Destroyer Liberator to make Confederate worlds believe that the Republic was attacking, which, predictably, attracted the attention of Skywalker, who had been relentlessly chasing the Sith Lord since this pleasure tour began.
He was angry, clearly, chasing them with the determination and single-minded focus of a man obsessed, refusing to give up, break off the chase or relent, having had Kenobi out of his sights previously for nearly a month. During that time, Skywalker had grown so desperate at drawing the Sith Lord out he had even made the mistake of attacking Mustafar, a disastrous assault that ended in a humiliating retreat for the young general. Fear of losing Kenobi again drew him out now, his pursuit vicious and relentless, though the Sith never stayed around long enough to engage him. He didn't need to. Anakin would always be where Kenobi appeared, and after a month of tireless chasing, Skywalker was clearly beginnign to show his anger, lashing out at Separatist worlds where he was called to do battle on, and in his fury, he was beginning to make mistakes. Small ones, yes, but as they continued, they would grow larger, and when the time was right, Kenobi would engage.
The shop hitched as they entered hyperspace once again, and Vos sighed, watching over his friend and taking the Sith lightsaber in his hand, looking at it and slowly feeling the recent memory of the weapon, as he always did to get an idea of Kenobi's mental state. It wasn't good, the Kiffar immediately struck with the feelings of grief, resignation, and anger, the fires of insanity clear and defined, and Vos couldn't help but laugh manically when he felt his own sanity temporarily suffer under the assault of Kenobi's madness. He was more stable before he had left to see Darth Sidious, and when he was returned, the Umbra carrying him on autopilot back to Mustafar, Obi-Wan had barely been alive. He wouldn't have died, of course. This was a lesson, a test, perhaps, that came in the form of extensive injuries to his thin frame, spidering red welts left by Force lightning, long, dark, fresh burns caused by a lightsaber turned down to just below fatal, just below maiming, but far above torturous, deeper, blacker holes and burns left by the same saber at full power marred his entire body.
He had been absent for a week, and it had been clear to Vos that the week for Kenobi had been nothing but torture. It was no wonder he was insane. So when Kenobi was returned home to Mustafar, Quinlan set to discovering what had happened to his freind. The question was why Sidious had seen fit to torture his apprentice, and for that, Quinlan took the lightsabers from Obi-Wan's belt, drew deep of the Force, and dove into the history of the weapons he knew must have been used. He got far more than he bargained for when he touched them, the flashes of thousands of years of a bloody history on the blade of the darksaber, far too much, far too overwhelming for Quinlan to read anything of use from the blade, but Kenobi's standard red saber was different. He got the quick flashes of memory from the kyber crystal's previous owner, all rage and hate and death that Quinlan breathed deep of and felt his own pulse race with anger, and then, the images slowed, still faded, but visible. Obi-Wan's history with the weapon wasn't extensive. He used his lightsaber infrequently, but in the blade, he saw the blurred images from his days before his fall, his training, his fight with Qui-Gon and Anakin on Geonosis, against Mace Windu and Depa Billaba on Haruun Kal, of all the hundreds of battles he had taken part in, so many more than the Jedi knew. As the memories grew more recent, the visions became more clear until the warm bedroom of Mustafar seemed to fade away, his surroundings changing to a cold, dark room, a shrine of sorts, lit red by the lightsabers in the hands of the Sith.
Obi-Wan was furious, the gold eyes glowing brighter than the burning plasma in his hand, the blade pointed accusingly at a dark, hooded figure. Quinlan looked at him and immediately felt hazy, almost nauseous, and he was compelled to look away. That, he understood, was Darth Sidious, Master of the Sith, and even now, so close to him in the vivid memory, he still couldn't see him. The room was thick with the Dark Side, not the calm, inky darkness that he expected, but a raging blaze, a tempest of hate and anger and suspicion clashing against the cold walls of Sidious.
"What is the point of this?!" Kenobi snarled, his saber clutched tightly in his shaking hand, his mind alight with fires that burned calm and sense away, and Quinlan felt almost giddy at the rush of warm, consuming flames he felt as well. Kenobi's insanity was real, almost tangibly so, and he felt it now, the furry of consuming madness creeping into the Kiffar as he gazed closer, and he found he had to pull away from the blaze, lest he be burned as well. "Why else would you have manipulated her like this if not to orchestrate the fall of Anakin Skywalker! Why would you want him when you have me! We can't both be your apprentice, we stand opposed in the tides of the Force itself!"
"Calm yourself, Lumis," Sidious hissed, the red saber in his hand casting sinister red shadows upon his face that seemed to flicker and dance, and Quinlan found he couldn't look at them for long without feeling ill. "You are Sith. You do not bend to the Force, the Force bends to you. Its tides, its plans, are nothing. And furthermore, you don't know what you felt."
"I felt you!" Kenobi shouted. "I felt your influence, your hand within her mind, and I saw Skywalker there! Why would I see him if your hold didn't have designs on him!"
"You are insane, Lumis, and you can't trust your senses."
"I am insane because of you!" Obi-Wan snarled, rushing forward and striking at the Sith Master with his blade, but it was casually, easily blocked. "You wanted Mandalore to fall! You allowed Satine to die, you wanted this so you could take everything from me!" Sidious hissed, deep and disapproving as he gracefully spun out of the way and slashed across Kenobi's back, the raging fury of new pain making the apprentice fight stronger, harder, faster, but it was also wild and uncontrolled. He was dangerous, yes, unpredictable and so, so strong, but the Sith Master seemed unconcerned. Consuming madness was no danger to him.
"And why should I want that?" Sidious asked in a calm, measured voice, almost offended at the notion, and Quinlan watched Kenobi's eyes focus on his Master, his gaze unfocused, but he was listening, confused, suddenly uncertain in himself as Sidious spoke. "Satine was an asset, and your progeny was remarkable. His loss is a detriment not just to you, but to the Sith. He was to be mine." A deep, disgusted frown came over Sidious' face. "Even if you thought not to allow it. You would have failed to kill me then, just as you will fail to kill me now, my apprentice."
With an outraged howl, Kenobi threw himself against the Master again, as wild and ferocious as ever, but it was far from enough. Sidious was ready for it all, and as his blade spun around Obi-Wan's and brought it down, the Master's hand shot out and struck the insane man with lightning. Kenobi stood against it for a moment before he dropped to his knees, his jaw clenched against the pain, but making not a sound, the blazing blade still clutched in his hand. The fight was hardly a fair one. Sidious was balanced, centered, calm and unconcerned, water to the blazing inferno that was Darth Lumis. Madness raged in him like a sickness, a weakness, and Sidious preyed on this, counting on it not just to hinder his furious apprentice, but to strengthen himself.
"As for Padmé," he drawled slowly, "she has been a nuisance to me since the beginning. My manipulation of her mind has been to the end of discrediting her and damaging her position in the Senate, and with your sudden...fascination, it gives us a chance to not only end her career, but force her to serve the Sith as not only a vessel for your child, but as a way to weaken Anakin Skywalker." Sidious smiled, a sinister light coming from his yellow eyes in the shadows of his hood. "That is your intent, is it not, Lumis?"
"...yes, Master," Kenobi gasped, his eyes closed as he shook his head in an attempt to clear it, and Quinlan found confusion and doubt within him, the soft, smooth words of the Master caressing the fevered mind into an uneasy trust. He had to trust Sidious. He was insane, and he knew it, and he couldn't trust himself. Sidious chuckled softly.
"See? A product of your madness, Lumis. Rule yourself, and you will no longer have doubt about my intentions. You are Sith, Lumis. What use have I of a newly fallen Jedi when I have you?" Sidious grinned maliciously when he slid his hands into the apprentice's hair, and the man groaned and leaned back against his Master, yearning for something, anything to ease the flames that burned within him. "He would be new to the Dark Side, and regardless of his...prodigal talent, his power would be unfamiliar. He would be unbalanced, unfocused, and you would kill him. You will kill him, will you not, Lumis?"
"...yes, Master."
"And I can't get rid of you, my apprentice," Sidious said coldly, his hand wrapping tighter into the man's hair, and Kenobi gasped in pain. "It had been so difficult to notice before, but now, after so much time, it's clear to me what has happened." He snarled and yanked Obi-Wan's head back. "You, apprentice, haven't aged a day since I met you," he growled dangerously. "How."
Kenobi didn't answer, only began to scream when he felt Sidious' intrusion into his mind, but the Sith Lord hissed in pain and recoiled quickly, burned by the inferno that consumed his apprentice. With a snarl of fury, Sidious aimed another barrage of lightning at the man on the ground, his lightsaber humming to life in his hand once again as he advanced on his writhing apprentice. Quinlan knew what came next. He didn't need to feel his friend's torture to know it happened. He opened his eyes and inhaled deeply, returning to the room on Mustafar, the vision fading from his eyes, but it took some time for the pain to leave his body, for the screams to stop ringing in his ears. The Sith Master could be killed, but not like that. Not when madness swept like an illness through his mind. He needed to return to his old self, have a moment to forget about the pain, all of it, and begin causing it instead.
Which is why he had plotted to attack Onderon, and Kenobi, in his madness, gleefully agreed, only to be sent into a screaming fit when Quinlan ordered that they flee at the first sight of Skywalker. The Sith Lord had calmed slowly, the clone and the Kiffar plying him with alcohol during their jump, and by the time they had arrived at the next target, Kenobi had at least a sliver of control returned to him, quietly agreeing that the hit and run plan was a good one. Which led them to now, a month into being on the run, and the two fallen Jedi, brothers in the Dark Side, were having the time of their lives.
Quinlan ran a hand through his friend's sandy blond hair as he returned the lightsaber to his belt. They had hit something of a balance between sanity and madness, but it wasn't enough. The insanity needed to be beaten back, as it was before his latest meeting with Sidious. Madness made him unpredictable and dangerous, but it was a far cry from the focused, devastating might that he had been before Satine's death. Quinlan knew that he could regain that, and with it, perhaps the desire to murder the Sith Master would return, not as a product of his insanity, but as a carefully planned, masterfully executed event. It could be done, but not by him. Kenobi kept a mistress in Coruscant, from what Vos understood, and the last he had seen her, he had returned with his mind soothed. Kenobi didn't actually need to be on the ship while they were chased by Skywalker. Perhaps it was time to see her again.
The Force was calm, cool, devoid of the fires that burned in his mind, free of all the doubts, the worries, the anxieties that raged inside him. Insanity, he found, had disrupted his connection with the Force, not weakened it, but changed it, made it turbulent and chaotic, made it so difficult to see clearly, made it impossible to trust his own feelings. The waters of the Force weren't mirror still, a reflecting glass that clearly showed him exactly what he needed to see, but it was close enough, clear enough, still enough to leave no questions as to the visions he saw.
In his week with Sidious, he had been tortured far worse than he had ever been, and he was ashamed for his actions, humiliated by his lack of his control, his suspicions, his paranoia brought on by his madness, but most of all, he was disgusted in himself for showing Sidious such weakness. He promised himself, promised his Master that he would rid himself of this illness of the mind, but he had no idea how to do it. Quinlan had helped, yes, but it wasn't enough. Like all things, he would turn to the Force for his salvation. If he wanted to prove his worth to Sidious, show he was strong enough to succeed him, strong enough to eventually kill him, as all Sith Apprentices must, lest they die, than this thing must be done. Or else, he really was in danger of Skywalker replacing him.
He sat on the shores of the waters, his feet dipped in the icy waters and breathed deeply when he felt darkness wrap around him, the heat of the fires cooling, the raging flames doused by the chill of ice. He was...content, free of madness here, free of grief, free of pain, his fingers entwined with the small, delicate, cold ones that belonged to Satine, their child, strong, blond, eyes of ice blue that bespoke of an intelligence far beyond his five years sitting snugly between them. The pain was always worse when he returned from this place, but at least here, he was sane. Even if it wasn't real, even if he knew it to be a projection of his desires, even if neither of his ghosts could ever speak to him, ever give him any of the comfort he actually needed and actually craved, it was enough, at least for a moment, to be with his Satine and his son again.
He stood to lose himself here, he knew. There was always the very real possibility that he would never return, that the Dark Side would grip his body while his consciousness was out of it and he would never find his way back. There were a few time he thought it preferable to stay, that the calm and peace, no matter how pretend it was, was better than the grief he felt daily, better than the insanity that tore through him, made only worse by the anxiety he felt at his Master's interest in Anakin Skywalker, though...that may have been a fabrication of his paranoia. Sidious had said so, which is something Sidious would say if he were lying, but...well, he couldn't trust his senses. He was sane enough to know he was too insane to trust most things he felt. Which...sounded like madness in and of itself.
The surface of the waters showed him visions of Padme's children, the girl and the boy reaching out to the holocrons in his hands, and Kenobi pulled his son closer to him almost apologetically. He hadn't cared before, but now, the idea of Padme birthing these children, his, children, made him almost nauseous. The thought of Padme as his mistress made him almost guilty, not because of what had happened to Anakin because f it, but because it felt like betrayal of the woman whose hand he now held. He looked at her, the woman's face pale and still, full of life only because he couldn't bear to see her lifeless. She didn't care, of course. She was dead, but it hurt him all the same. The waters rippled at his distress, clearing the visions of the children from the waters and replacing them with the old, familiar ones he had seen thousands of times before. At least these were calming, soothing, and he leaned his head against the thin shoulder of the ghost beside him as he watched the visions cycle through.
"This is an improvement." Obi-Wan didn't move, didn't even flinch when the voice disturbed his peace. It was almost as if he expected it, which, he supposed, he did. The Force was shifting, changing, as if reacting to something that had yet to be seen, had yet to happen, and with it came Qui-Gon Jinn. "You couldn't look at her before. You couldn't even think about her before."
"Is nothing sacred to you, Qui-Gon?" Kenobi growled, and the Jedi simply chuckled.
"Nothing is sacred to you. Why should I be held to a different standard?"
"Because you're a Jedi," Obi-Wan said, rolling his eyes. "I'm Sith, I take what I want."
"Including other people's wives," Qui-Gon said coldly. "Without their consent?"
This time, the Sith Lord rose, reeling on the Jedi and snarling, but the Master was unimpressed, his arms crossed casually over his chest. "I didn't rape Padmé, Qui-Gon, she always wanted me! And she wanted me when I finally took her!"
"She was manipulated by a Sith Lord, Obi-Wan!" Qui-Gon said, his voice low and dangerous like Kenobi had never heard before, and he turned his head quickly as he felt the images of Satine and his son disappear before the fury of the Jedi. Kenobi looked back at him, the waters beginning to ripple with choppy waves that indicated an oncoming storm as the Sith's temper flared.
"Yes, she was, by my Master, what of it!"
"Going to her with that knowledge makes you aware of her inability to consent to your seduction!"
"I didn't know!" Kenobi snarled, coming to stand before the towering Master. "I didn't know Sidious had manipulated her, not until after! I went there to seduce her, Qui-Gon, because I knew I could because she has always liked me. Knowing that my Master had a hand in her makes it..." He growled deeply, looking away from the Jedi. "...wrong." Qui-Gon didn't understand, so he stayed silent, but he could feel the conflict in the man, feel his doubts and suspicions through the chill that ran through the Force. "Not morally wrong," he scoffed. "Don't think I'm getting sentimental. If someone has the power to take what they want, they should. But I never needed power to take Padmé. I wouldn't have done it if I knew."
Understanding dawned on the Jedi, and he gasped softly. "You think you're being played as well." Obi-Wan didn't meet his gaze, but he nodded slowly.
"My Master has no use for Padmé Amidala, no care about who she goes to bed with, so his influence within her speaks of something else. I...wanted her not only because she is Skywalker's lover, and I will take everything from him, but she's...in some ways so like my Satine. If I cared nothing for her, I'd just kill her, it would be the fastest way to ruin Skywalker."
"Why?" Qui-Gon asked softly. "Why are you doing this?"
"We stand as opposites, do we not?" Kenobi asked with a cruel smirk on his lips. "If I wasn't dealing with your former student, than I would have been there to save Satine. If I can't have my lover, why should he."
Qui-Gon tapped his finger against his arm, his dark blue eyes running over his lost student and measuring his concerns against what he was saying. "You think your Master has plans for Anakin," the Jedi concluded, and Kenobi nodded, biting his lip.
"I...can't trust my senses, Qui-Gon, I'm insane," he muttered. "It may just be paranoia, it may just be..." He growled in his frustration, grasping his head between his hands. "I don't know, Qui-Gon. I thought...b-but he-" He took a deep breath to calm his nerves. "I wanted to ruin Anakin before I killed him, but his death was always my plan, and if he fell in the process, if his Jedi values couldn't hold him through the worst things in his life than so what. He was going to die anyway, but now...now, my Master may be looking to train him, and Padmé is just a part of his plans, and I...played right into my own replacement."
Qui-Gon was silent for a long while, looking sympathetically at the student he failed. "It's like what I did to you."
"No, it isn't like it, it is what you did to me," Kenobi growled. "A long time ago, I told him I wouldn't never stand a betrayal like that again, and if he means to betray me..." He turned back toward the choppy waters, taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm them, the shores beginning to glow with the embers of his pervasive madness, but slowly, the waters calmed back to its calm, still, reflective surface, though the pebbles of shore glowed with heat, threatening to set fire to anything that touched it. "I can't see it," he said softly. "Not yet, not until I have purged myself of this...corruption, but when I do..."
Qui-Gon took a deep breath, certain in his course, the Force itself showing him the way to go, and he stood beside the Sith, a hand on his shoulder, and he could feel their bond deepen, the flow of energy between them grow wider and stronger. The Force led him here, and Qui-Gon Jinn would follow the will of the Force. "I can help you, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said softly. "But you must not do anything to contribute to Anakin's fall. If that's what your Master intends, then pushing him toward darkness is securing your betrayal."
"...you may be right in that," Obi-Wan said softly. "But I'm still going to kill him."
"Fine," Qui-Gon said quickly. "I can't stop you from that. Go on, act like children, try to kill each other. But don't play the pawn to your Master."
"It may be too late," Obi-Wan said softly.
"You're right, it may be. But it's not yet, not while I live."
Kenobi nodded. "I may have broken my Master's influence on her last time I was with Padmé. On that front, your student may be safe, but I did swear to protect her."
"Last time..." Qui-Gon smacked his hand against his forehead. "Last time, Obi-Wan! You've already been back to see her?!"
"Just once! I've been terribly busy." He frowned at the Jedi's frustration and leaned over, placing his finger in the water and watching the ripples extend outward until images began to appear. They were hazy at first, Qui-Gon's eyes narrowed as he held his breath and watched the waters, looking intently as one of the visions sharpened, becoming crisp and clear and he saw...himself, standing on the brink, the Force howling around him. Suddenly, his image disappeared, and the Dark Side opened up, howling and furious and consuming. A wave tore through the still pond, ripping the vision apart, and Qui-Gon found himself breathing heavily.
"I've never had your gift of foresight..." the Jedi mumbled, and Kenobi nodded beside him.
"I see it all the time. I have yet to truly understand its meaning, but I feel it may have something to do with Skywalker."
"...you may be right."
Kenobi took a deep breath. "I...promised to take care of Padmé, Qui-Gon, and I will. I failed one woman once, and I won't fail her."
"...she isn't Satine, Obi-Wan."
"No, I failed Satine!" he shouted, the waters rising in dangerous waves as the shore erupted into flames that burned on the water as well. "I failed her, and now she's dead, and it's because of me!"
"...you need to forgive yourself, Obi-Wan," the Jedi said softly. "She would have."
He started to answer, raging and furious as the shore dropped away, and a moment later, he felt himself slam against the cold, hard steel of the bridge of the Negotiator, his breathing fast, his pulse racing, his eyes wide and the effects of the alcohol gone from his system. The source of the pull back to reality chimed again, and he fished the holodisc out of his pocket and answered, the cowled form of Darth Sidious standing before him. He felt anger, cold and hard within him, his conversation with Qui-Gon fresh in his mind. He wasn't sure what to believe, but he did know this. He was going to kill Darth Sidious. It may not be now, could not be now, not when his Master expected it, not when he was diminished by his mental state, but he would, and it would be soon. This was his role as the apprentice to the Sith, and if Sidious feared his death so much that he sought to replace his powerful apprentice in favor of another that needed training, then he was no Sith at all.
"Lumis," Sidious said softly. "I have need of you. How is your mental state?"
"Better, Master," Kenobi said, inclining his head in respect. "Your wish is my command. What do you need of me?" In light of his recent torture, he could play the supplicant apprentice for a time longer. He had been taught patience, and when Obi-Wan knew for certain, he would strike.
"You have done well this past month," he said, smooth and pleased. "Your assault on the galaxy has the Jedi in chaos, spread thin in an attempt to reel you in."
"Thank you, Master."
"I have plans, and the time is right to execute them. General Grievous and the Invisible Hand are on the way. I need you on Coruscant. Now. Keep hidden until I summon you." The hologram faded, and Quinlan chuckled softly behind him.
"Well," the Kiffar drawled. "I was going to suggest that you go see your mistress. Now you have an excuse."
Obi-Wan nodded slowly. "It seems that the Force keeps pulling me to Padmé Amidala. I can't deny its call." The tides of the Force were changing, shifting, and Obi-Wan felt the favor of the Force was shifting away from Darth Sidious. He'd be a fool not to follow it. As his Master always said, the Force could bite back. Perhaps it was doing so now because of Anakin Skywalker.
It was...unthinkable. Obi-Wan stood in Padmé's apartment, and while the woman had let him in, she was...cautious, uncertain, so different from how she had been before. Gone was the brashness, the surprise to find him there, the initial swell of outrage, but also gone was the pull of lust that sat within her. There was affection, yes, but it was tempered with worry and fear and concern. As he thought, the influence of Sidious within her had been broken, and it left her with all the emotions she previously had, but tempered with her restraint and her inhibitions. And still...
He could barely feel the twins within her now, the pulse of their lives weak and barely noticeable, concealed by the Force itself, and that was what he had felt drawing him to her side. The swell of protection he felt may not have been just for her, but for the children that grew within her, protected by the Force and now protected by him as well. It was...the will of the Force, and it must be followed. No matter the cost, no matter how little he understood, no matter how unthinkable this had all been to him. The Force had always been with him, and it would continue to be so now if he just followed its will. In time, he knew, it would turn him toward's Sidious, the fury of the Force brought to bear because his Master became too greedy, reached too far in his ambitions, thought to control the Force where none could. It still flowed toward darkness, but it had...shifted. He had yet to fully understand, but he would.
The twins were not his. They lacked the strain of darkness, the deep, pervasive pulse that would have sounded from his own child, and even if he was mistaken about what influence his child would exert upon the Force, he felt they were not his. These children belonged to Anakin Skywalker, which meant that her Jedi husband had been within her just before he had, since the conception had lined up with his own affair with his mistress. Her fear was understandable, her acceptance of him being there made so much sense, her resignation as she let him in becoming clear. She knew she was pregnant, but she didn't know who the father was. Her world was coming apart, and she was coming to terms with how to handle it.
He understood less, but it made things...easier. His child was irreplaceable to him, a wound that sat deep and bleeding within him that would never heal, and making a new one did nothing but wound him further, the feeling that he may be replacing his beloved son driving him to the brink of madness. That these were Skywalker's children changed everything, and while he had promised that he would keep from pressing Skywalker further into darkness, soon enough, he would deprive Padmé of her husband, these children of their father, and someone had to remain to raise these powerful children. After all, Skywalker was a vergence, like himself, and the children were guaranteed to be powerful, just as his own son had been, and with the Force itself protecting them, it seemed that there was something planned for the twins.
That had been said of his own son, and Maul had taken the Force into his hands and ripped it apart, depriving the child of the destiny laid out before him, and Obi-Wan knew that this couldn't be allowed to happen again. The Force had drawn him here for a reason, and Sidious couldn't be allowed to have a hand in them, had to be kept far, far away. Perhaps Skywalker could defend his children from the Sith Master, but if that was the case than why would the Force bring Kenobi here? He felt the Force shifting and changing, but to what end? Was this why? Was Skywalker's fall somehow inevitable, just as his own fall had been? It couldn't be, of course. His own visions had made clear that Qui-Gon stood between the galaxy and a fate that must be avoided at all costs, and the old Jedi Master simply couldn't die. The Force was protecting him, as it was protecting Padmé's twins. And if Skywalker were to fall...where would that leave him? They stood as opposites, not fellow travelers on the same path, and Obi-Wan was much too far down the road of darkness to return, so...
"Have you seen Anakin?" Padmé asked softly, her hands folded tightly before her, her eyes cast toward the ground.
"Have you not heard from him?" he asked softly, and the woman shook her head, unshed tears coming to her eyes.
"Not since he left to hunt you," she whispered. "But that was almost two months ago. I haven't heard from him, and I haven't heard from you either," she growled, her eyes narrowing in anger and the movement making the watery film over her eyes break and run down her cheek. "What's the point of having a lover if he isn't around. This was one of the reasons I had you to begin with, I was lonely!"
"I know," Kenobi said quietly, slowly taking a step closer to her, but she drew back, her shoulders trembling in rage. "I'm sorry. It may please you to know that Skywalker has been chasing me, so he's safe."
"That doesn't please me!" she snapped. "My husband and my lover fighting to the death isn't pleasing."
Kenobi winced. He hadn't thought about it that way. "Then would it please you to know that we haven't been engaging?" Padmé was silent for a moment, biting down on her lip as she looked away from the Sith Lord and slowly nodded.
"I just want this war to end," she said softly, gripping the cloth of her dress between her hands. "Anakin would be home, we could be together, we..." She shook her head, her breath coming in shaking, unsteady gasps as she fought back the tide of emotion that flowed through her. "I'm pregnant," she whispered, so quiet, so breathy that Kenobi could barely hear her.
"...I know." She looked at him swiftly with large, wet eyes, confused and hopeful and so many things, and Obi-Wan couldn't look at her. "I felt it in the Force," he quietly explained. "I've always been sensitive to these things."
"Do you think Anakin-"
"I don't know if he sensed it. If he did, though, I feel he may have run home to you." Padmé's lip quivered and she gripped the cloth between her hands tighter as she shook her head. She hadn't heard from Anakin. He didn't know.
"If he didn't feel it, he-" She stopped, her voice suddenly raw, and with a surge of emotions and nowhere for them to go, she threw her arms around Obi-Wan, gripping him like he was a lifeline, like he too would disappear if she didn't hold on. Slowly, hesitantly, she felt Kenobi's hand lightly brush her back, her long curly hair, and he gently embraced her. She didn't feel the want and the desire and the longing that she so usually felt with him, she just felt...comfort, warm and encompassing, and it was exactly what she needed to feel safe. This issue was beyond her, and if Obi-Wan could help...
"I don't know who the father is," she whimpered, her grasp around the man tightening. "And if you felt it, then..." She sucked in a sharp breath and fought back the tears once again. "Obi-Wan, if it's yours, I don't know what I'm going to do! Anakin will never forgive me. I can't forgive myself! They said I was influenced, but I have always wanted you, I..."
"Padmé."
"He's going to leave me!" she said, becoming increasingly frantic as she fretted in her lover's grasp. "And I certainly can't be with you, not in the position I have! I'm going to be a single mother!"
Kenobi laughed, kissed the top of the woman's head and held her at arm's length. "I don't think Skywalker will abandon you."
"You didn't see him, Obi-Wan, he was so angry! He wouldn't stand with me to raise another man's child!"
The Sith Lord shrugged. "Your child isn't mine." Padmé stared at him for a long while, her jaw slack, her face blank as she processed his words, and slowly, tears once again fell from her eyes, her hands coming up to her mouth to cover the bright smile upon her lips.
"How do you know?" she asked cautiously, but she couldn't keep the excitement from her voice.
"I have the Force, Padmé," Obi-Wan said, wiggling his fingers in her direction. "I felt it when you conceived, of course I can feel if the child came from me. I've...done this before."
He smile suddenly dropped, replaced instead with sympathy and concern, and Obi-Wan had to look away. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, drawing near him again and laying a comforting hand on his chest. "I forgot, I...didn't mean to bring it up..." Kenobi waved the notion away, and the smile returned to the girl's lips, though she tried to repress it. "This is wonderful, she said, laughter and joy lining her voice and making her sound melodic. And suddenly, the smile faded to be replaced with something darker, something that went beyond her previous fears and concerns. "...this could be bad for Anakin's career. The Jedi don't allow relationships like this, could he even be a father? Would he even believe that he is the father?"
"That's simple enough to prove, Padmé," Kenobi said, taking her hand in his and kissing her fingertips. "A basic medical examination will give you everything you need. Your other concern is much more valid."
She nodded absently. "We'll have to discuss it when he comes home to me." Padmé took a deep breath and smiled at her lover, laid a hand upon his bearded cheek. "Thank you," she said softly. "You've been more helpful than you know." The Senator stood on her toes to swiftly kiss the man, an almost sad smile on her lips. "But we can't do this, not anymore."
"...I know." He swiftly grasped her hand in his and pulled the startled girl against him and held her close, a faint flush on her cheeks from the closeness of this man that she had once loved, and perhaps, in some way, still did. "But I'm not letting you go, Padmé. I promised to protect you, and I sense that you're going to need it. Something's...stirring, Padmé. I don't know what it is, but it claws at me, and I won't lose another I have sworn to protect."
"Anakin-"
"May be the one I need to protect you against." The Senator sucked in a sharp breath as she looked into those golden eyes, saw the sincerity in them, and she nodded, slowly slipping her arms around him, her hands running over the back she knew was crossed with scars, her head resting on his chest and listening to his strong, slow heartbeat. She couldn't help but wonder if all of this was because of what happened to Satine, if some part of him longed and ached to correct a mistake he wrongly thought was his. If this is what he needed to forgive himself, to put that awful tragedy behind him, then...perhaps having the protection of Obi-Wan wasn't such a bad thing.
And...he was right. Anakin had become so angry as of late, perhaps rightfully so, but his anger bred a violence that she had never seen in him before. There was something dark, something monestrous in her husband that lay in wait just under the surface, and it frightened her, not in the least because she felt she may have been the one to put it there. She brushed the thought aside. They were going to be a family now. Everything was going to be alright, though a faint, soft feeling deep inside her seemed to whisper that Obi-Wan was right, and she may come to need that protection after all.