AN: HAPPY 100 CHAPTERS YOU GUYS! WOOOO! PARTY! Honestly, thank you all so very much for all your support, and a special than you to those who share your thoughts, your comments, your questions, your suggestions, etc. I have had a blast writing this because of you all, and I can't believe how much we've actually managed to cover on this journey of ours. I don't respond to you guys as much as I should (I'm writing the next chapters for you guys instead) but I read each and every one and take the things you guys say to heart. I really think about the things you guys say, so thank you for helping me craft something fun. Now, sentimentality out of the way, let's get to it! I've made this one EXTRA long, just for you! To celebrate! Tiny bit sexy, isn't it? Onwards, my lovelies, and please enjoy!
Chapter 100: The Battle of Coruscant
"Sit, Anakin," Qui-Gon said softly, the Master kneeling upon the cold, hard ground of Skywalker's Vigilance and watching with calm detachment as the Knight furiously paced back and forth, back and forth, occasionally shouting at Tarkin when he passed the Admiral at the helm, the command of the ship passed to him by Qui-Gon until they reached their destination. Anakin fought the decision, of course, insisting instead that he maintain control of his own ship, that they continue on their course for Karkaris, the Separatist world where Kenobi's Negotiator and Liberator were last seen,. The Sith Lord had shot down the Republic Star Destroyer that had been fighting there, and Anakin was getting ready to rush after him with support for the rest of the Republic ships taken by surprise by Kenobi around the aquatic planet when Qui-Gon arrived to redirect him.
"Sit, Anakin..." Qui-Gon said again when the fuming man strode past again, and with a sigh, Qui-Gon grabbed Skywalker with the Force, lifted him in the air, and deposited the squirming man before him, taking his hands in his grasp and allowing calm to flow through him, and a moment later, Anakin's body slumped, his eyelids heavy as he relaxed for perhaps the first time in two months. The Master patted his hand. "There's so much darkness in you, Anakin," he said softly, and Skywalker's hand twitched with sudden tension brought on by a flash of anger.
"Kenobi put it there!" Anakin shouted, would have rose to his feet, but Qui-Gon held him fast. "He's killing Jedi, he's tearing apart the Order, he's making this war impossible to win, he's turning Jedi into Sith, he stayed in my brother's home, he's making me chase him all across the galaxy, and he had sex with Padmé!" Qui-Gon winced when Skywalker's mechanical appendage tightened so hard around his hand he thought the bones may break. "He's taking everything from me, Qui-Gon, everything!"
"You are allowing him to, Anakin," Qui-Gon said sternly. "Distance yourself, my student, set aside your feelings, put them in their place."
"Their place is fueling my lightsaber as I drive it through his vile heart!"
"He has already beat you." Anakin's eyes, blazing and furious and betrayed bore through Master Jinn, but the Jedi was unaffected. "Anakin," Qui-Gon said softly, "you are following him into darkness. He doesn't even need to lead you into it, you are willingly rushing after him in your obsession with his death because of what he has done to you." Anakin sucked in a sharp breath, still furious, but now listening. "You are a Jedi, Anakin. You cannot beat a Sith Lord when darkness is concerned, and you are drawing dangerously close. It has left you unbalanced, and it is making you stupid."
"...but Padmé-"
"Is under Sith influence, and your relationship with her has made her a target," Qui-Gon growled. "Your involvement, your passion, your obviously violent reaction to what Obi-Wan has done has only served to put her more at risk, not to mention putting you in the sights of the Sith Master, who, may I remind you, may sit in the Senate, and even if he doesn't, he's close enough to exert his influence over Senator Amidala."
"...y-you think he's watching me?" Anakin asked, his voice little more than a high, thin whisper.
"I don't know, Anakin," the Master said softly. "What I do know is that if I were Sith, I would know all the threats to my power, as Obi-Wan has done. I would know you are a vergence in the Force, and I would watch you closely because of it. "And," he said firmly, "I would be certain that the threat were neutralized, be it through death, or through his own fall to the Dark Side." The Master's dark blue eyes narrowed. "Guess which one you are, Anakin."
"You think I'd fall to the Dark Side?!" Anakin asked, outraged.
"You already are." Qui-Gon took a deep breath and stroked the back of the boy's shaking hand. "When we get to Coruscant, we'll be facing our greatest challenge yet. The bulk of the Separatist fleet is over Coruscant, the Chancellor is aboard General Grievous' ship, and it's likely we will be facing more than one Sith Lord when we go to rescue him."
"It shouldn't be a problem," Anakin growled, and a sharp tug on his earlobe made the boy hiss in pain.
"Arrogance," Qui-Gon hissed. "You are reckless and angry and unbalanced and you're making stupid mistakes, and when we're on the Invisible Hand, these things will get you killed." Anakin's gaze dropped from his Master's face, sufficiently cowed and reticent. "You need to be perfectly balanced in the Force, or you will die. They didn't attack Coruscant without bringing their best."
"Kenobi-"
"Will be there," the Master said softly. "Even if his ship is not." Qui-Gon smiled softly. "The Sith deal in passion, Anakin, they are trained to harness and embrace their anger, but you aren't. You may feel the swell of power if you embrace that darkness, but it will be wild, unfocused, untrained. You are a youngling to them in matters of the Dark Side, and they are Masters, all of them. You may find additional strength, but you will also be off-balance. Do not give them this advantage. If you are lost to the Jedi, than we have truly failed."
Anakin nodded without hesitation, his breathing deepening as he relaxed. "I understand, Master," he said softly. "I'll...try to control my anger."
"There is no try," Qui-Gon said, a soft smile on his lips. "Not in this."
Anakin laughed softly. "Help me?" he asked, and Jinn took the boy's hands tightly in his own.
"Let go your fear and your anger, Anakin, and replace it with sympathy and understanding. Your enemy is a Sith Lord, a man that has done horrible things, not just to the galaxy, but to you personally. But the evil in him was not born, it was made, just as it will be made in you if you continue to follow the path your anger takes you on."
"...he's trying to take Padmé from me," Anakin softly growled.
"Yes, and he wouldn't if his involvement with her left you untouched. You see a man trying to take what is yours, but I see a man who has lost everything and is struggling to reclaim balance. If you meet Kenobi with hate, Anakin, you will lose."
"...he needs to be killed, Master, he is a danger to us all."
"...I agree he must be dealt with," Qui-Gon said softly. "And the Jedi may yet defeat him, but a fallen enemy may rise again. It is a reconciled one that is truly defeated."
Anakin scoffed. "You think you can reconcile with him?!"
"I know I can." The strength of Qui-Gon's conviction startled Anakin for a moment, and slowly, he begun to relax again, his eyes closed as he opened himself to his Master.
"Alright," he said quietly. "Help me be what I need to be, help me understand."
Grievous tossed Chancellor Palpatine to the ground of the ship, the feeble old man giving a sharp yelp of pain that was met by the deep, cruel laughter of Pong Krell. They bowed deeply to the men that stood before the viewport, the two looking out at the battle that raged around them, the space above Coruscant alight with the red and green of lasers fired by starfighters, the blues of ion cannons, the purples of proton torpeedoes. The Invisible Hand was the mightiest ship in the Separatist fleet, and any stray fire that managed to strike their mighty shields was insignificant. Their defenses were still at nearly a hundred percent, but the bulk of their reenforcements hadn't arrived yet. Soon enough, more Star Destroyers would fill the sky as Anakin Skywalker's fleet emerged from hyperspace to chase back the invasion.
"My Lords," Grievous said, cruel laughter playing at the edge of his metallic voice. "We've brought you a gift."
"You monsters won't get away with this," Palpatine said, his voice wavering and afraid, and Krell laughed harshly.
"We can kill him now, Master, and be done with it."
"Patience, my apprentice," Dooku growled. "We must give the Chancellor an opportunity to surrender the Republic to us. After all, we have conquered them."
"Having him alive on this ship will be the only thing keeping Skywalker from destroying us," Kenobi said softly. "His success cannot be discounted, and his piloting skills are said to be among the best in the galaxy. We are not to underestimate him."
"...yes, Master," Krell said softly.
"My death and my capture brings me no closer to victory," Palpatine said in a shaky, fearful voice, his thin shoulder quaking with nerves, unable to find the strength to rise to his feet.
"We shall see," Dooku said, looking back out the viewport. "Grievous, Krell. Leave us. Prepare to face the Jedi." Both men bowed deeply and turned to leave, their footsteps echoing as they walked into the elevator, talking softly to each other and chucking deeply, clearly amused and excited at the prospects of facing the Jedi. The elevator hissed open, carrying the two away, and the fearful look on Palpatine's face dropped away into one of cold, emotionless indifference. He rose, his soft steps making hardly a sound as he slowly made his way to stand between his two apprentices.
Dooku frowned when Sidious slid his hand up into Kenobi's hair and the young man moaned softly and leaned into the touch. They had agreed that their Master needed to live until the end of the war, that he was necessary to the foundation of the Empire, but today may very well be the end. Perhaps not the end in the way their Master had planned, but Sidious had several contingencies in the event things didn't play out exactly as he anticipated. But Obi-Wan was in no condition to destroy his Master now, and Dooku knew that Sidious had taken very careful steps to ensure Kenobi's loyalty, especially after he had discovered that Darth Lumis had discovered a route to immortality.
Dooku had noticed that Obi-Wan was extremely youthful in appearance, and while his beard did make him appear older, Kenobi had aged not at all in the thirteen years he had known him. It made him invaluable to Sidious, and in the past month, the Sith Lord had been bordering on obsession on learning what his apprentice had somehow discovered. Torture had done nothing to tear a confession from him. Reaching into his mind had yielded nothing but burns from the flames of his mind. Whatever it was, the information was lost to Sidious, and if he were to obtain eternity, Lumis needed to be kept close, kept loyal, kept mad enough to be controllable, but sane enough to destroy all that opposed him. It was a delicate balance, but Sidious had seemed to strike it.
"Today," Sidious said softly, "is the day you kill Anakin Skywalker." Kenobi closed his eyes and shivered.
"Yes. Yes, my Master..."
"Are you strong enough to do it, my apprentice?" The younger Sith scoffed, disgust flowing off of him, and Dooku couldn't help but smile softly. Something had eased Lumis, soothed his feverish mind and left him clear, focused, powerful. His insanity was far from his mind, the power of the Force he commanded laced with the burning embers of his madness, but far from consuming. They wouldn't kill Sidious today, it was still premature. But they could.
"I am one with the Dark Side, Master. The Sith are my strength. I will not fail." Sidious smiled, his hand dropping from Obi-Wan's hair, and the young Sith reached up to smooth it back. "What's it like to pretend to be Palpatine before all these fools?"
The Master frowned deeply. "Soon enough, there will be no need for disguises." He said nothing else, simply strode to the command chair at the center of the deck and sat upon it, making himself comfortable as he awaited the Jedi that were certain to come to his rescue.
"...you seem better," Dooku said under his breath, leaning down to speak near the other Sith's ear, his eyes focused on the Master that sat in meditation. He could feel Kenobi's pleasure through the Force.
"I find my mistress to be...soothing." He smiled, shifted from foot to foot as Dooku snorted in amusement.
"Is that all it takes to bury your grief?" Dooku asked. "Stealing a woman from a Jedi so you may slip inside her when you please?"
"...no." He took a deep breath as he laid his hand on the viewport and pressed his forehead to the cool, thick transparisteel. "Nothing will heal that wound. But she is pleasing to me, and thoughts of her children help keep me centered and focused within the Force." Dooku arched an eyebrow and looked at the young, apparently excessively virile man.
"Children so soon?" Dooku asked, bemused. "I would not have thought you'd be so quick to become a father again."
"...perhaps its what I needed," Obi-Wan said softly. "The children...my children..."
"...does our Master know?" Obi-Wan looked over his shoulder at the Sith Master and back to the concerned face of the Sith he used to hate and had come to deeply respect.
"I don't know," he said softly. "I haven't told him, but I feel he's watching her closely. If he knows, he has said nothing to me."
"Our time is fast approaching, Lumis." Kenobi nodded, but said nothing. "You have something he wants. Badly wants, and desperation to learn it will one day reveal a weakness."
"I can't teach him what he wants, Tyranus, I don't know how I do it myself. It's...instinctual, I suppose." Dooku held his breath as he looked at the man, and a small smile tugged at the edge of his thin lips.
"Could you...confer youth upon others?" Kenobi bit his lip, eyes closed as he lost himself in thought.
"...I don't know. I've never tried it. I suppose it's possible."
"Then our Master is never going to let you go." Obi-Wan thought that would relieve his fears about being replaced, but he felt the Force run cold, tug at his being in warning, and he knew that Dooku was right, and it filled him with dread.
Even in the protection of Coruscant, the Jedi were divided. Reenforcements were slow to arrive, and with so many Jedi off the planet fighting in defense of a thousand other planets, many could not return without losing the worlds they were fighting for. It was a sacrifice the Order was not willing to take, and so they called in Anakin Skywalker and his fleet, the General that led a thousand victories, to save the Republic and rescue the kidnaped Chancellor. Droid armies on the ground in Coruscant left the clones stationed there and the Jedi that remained in the city to launch the defense, and in doing so, the Masters of the Council that remained were forced out into the streets to defend the billions of civilians that lived on their planet. Victory over the Separatist fleet was left in the hands of the most talented pilot in the galaxy, and there was no question that Skywalker would return in triumph.
The problem was that Chancellor Palpatine was being held hostage inside the Invisible Hand, the largest ship Anakin had ever seen, and there was a very real fear that Palpatine would be executed by jumpy Separatists if the Jedi came too close, if the massive dreadnaught took too much damage, if it seemed the Republic was winning. So far as Anakin figured, this was very much like any other mission he had embarked on. At the end of the day, it would come down to a couple of Jedi with a clever plan to save the day, and Anakin had a very clever plan.
"The plan isn't clever," Qui-Gon growled from the passenger seat, his arms crossed over his chest, and Anakin rolled his eyes, his hands on the yoke and the accelerator as he pressed the starfighter forward, the yellow ship swerving and spinning around the field of battle with practiced expertise, his copilot Tarkin shooting down any droid fighters he could get a lock on. Qui-Gon always knew what was on his mind. Always.
"This plan," Anakin drawled as he deftly avoided the green lasers of the vulture droids, "is reckless and completely foolish and suicidal, really." He smirked. "They'll never suspect it."
Qui-Gon groaned, putting his face in his hands as the ship looped around and flew through the fiery explosion of a ship they had hit. The Invisible Hand loomed overhead, its open hangar drawling ever closer, even with Skywalker's meandering path. The plan was madness, of course, but it was the sort of madness that the Jedi excelled at. Anakin in particular had a knack for the impossible, and for three men to sneak deep into the heart of the largest, most well-defended ship in the Separatist fleet, rescue a valuable, elderly hostage, and escape again would take nothing short of the miracles that Skywalker had become famous for.
They were nearly there, the talented pilot directing them almost effortlessly along the belly of the dreadnaught, and with a sharp tug of the yoke, the ship spiraled upwards, a sharp turn up the side of the ship and heading directly toward the exposed hangar, the orange environmental shield covering the open bay. Alerted to the presence of a fighter along it's flank, the heavy doors began to slide closed, and Anakin pushed the ship harder, his focus on the rapidly narrowing entrance. Just as he was about to swing the ship inside, twisting sideways to enter the narrow space, a beam of green plasma struck the ship's engines, the explosion rocking the fighter enough for the wing to hit the doors as they entered the hangar, smoke pouring a trail after them as the ship slid to a crashing stop.
The cockpit shielding slid open, and Anakin and Qui-Gon jumped out, lightsabers igniting in the air as they deflected the onslaught of the blasterfire the sentry droids rained down upon them. There weren't nearly as many as anticipated. Anakin had been right. They never expected anyone to get this close to the Invisible Hand. Reenforcements poured in through blast doors that opened wide, and the two Jedi raised their weapons, ready for combat when their burning ship groaned, turned, and opened fire on the droids, releasing its full armament into the hapless mechanicals, explosions rocking the hangar as the powerful missiles detonated and destroyed the enemy ranks. When the smoke and flames had cleared, the hangar stood still, the droids destroyed, the sound of their ships engines burning as Tarkin climbed out of the hatch, securing his pistols to his belt and his rifle to his back. Qui-Gon pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned.
"There goes our chance of escape..." the Master complained. "Honestly, Anakin, we were so close..."
"It's better than not getting in, Master," Anakin said, laughing as he looked around the empty hangar and watched R2-D2 eject himself from his place on the burning starship and quickly make his way across the hangar to a wall where he could plug in. "They stole a ship from me, maybe we'll steal the Invisible Hand."
"There are Sith Lords on this ship, Anakin!" Qui-Gon hissed as his former student fiddled with the wires in a console on the wall, and a door beside them opened, the hallway beyond dark and cold.
"And Grievous," Tarkin said casually, adjusting the extra ammunition he had brought with him upon his belt. "And two million battle droids." He shrugged. "Perhaps stealing the ship is a bit out of our skill range. Even for a Jedi."
"Tarkin, I have proven-"
"That you are an idiot, sir," the Admiral droned. "One month of chasing Kenobi around the galaxy and ignoring the advice of your advisors does not instill confidence in your leadership abilities." He scoffed slightly when Anakin activated his lightsaber to light the dark corridor, keeping close to the two Jedi as they slowly navigated the Separatist dreadnaught. "Perhaps the Jedi shouldn't be leading the war. Victory would be achieved quicker without your Code to get in the way, or without your ridiculous feud with this Jedi offshoot."
"Perhaps you're right..." Qui-Gon said softly. "It's true that our rules often get in the way of our mission."
"You and General Skywalker are refreshing exceptions to that rule, sir," Tarkin said, checking the datapad where the schematics of the Invisible Hand had been downloaded, the plans accessed by R2 from his mining of the ships data from the port he plugged in to. "Connection established with your R2 unit, sir. It has activated alarms in the posterior of the ship and has disrupted security monitoring devices in our area. Left down this way, Generals."
The Jedi silently did as directed, with Anakin taking the lead and Qui-Gon bringing up the rear, the three men close and silent as they infiltrated the ship. They stepped out into a wide corridor, brightly lit unlike the others they had been in, and Anakin rushed forward to begin taking apart the control console on the wall when Tarkin pointed to the elevator that would bring them to where he believed they needed to be. While Anakin worked, Qui-Gon and Tarkin stood guard, weapons in hand and watching down opposite ends of the corridor. There was no movement, no sounds save for the groaning of the ship, the hum of the engines, and the sound of the futile attempts to break through the shields of the massive dreadnaught.
Qui-Gon smiled softly when he felt Skywalker's focus and determination. It had been difficult to talk him away from the edge, so close had the boy been to darkness, so consumed by fear and jealousy and hate and anger that there was almost no reaching the boy. He had seen far too little of his former Padawan in the months since he had soothed the raging boy after the mess with Padmé, but his duties to the Republic had sent him to distant Mygeeto. There was nothing to be done about that, but when they returned, he would make certain that he never left Anakin's side. Obi-Wan had been correct about the vision that he had shown him within the Force, of that he was certain. It had everything to do with Anakin., and the prospect of the boy's fall was a terrifying one, one that would certainly signal the end of the Jedi Order. Perhaps they could survive the might of a Dark Side nexus in the form of Obi-Wan Kenobi with a counter on their side, but without that balance, without Anakin, they would certainly be lost.
It wasn't too late, not yet. The Dark Side was difficult to turn away from, yes, but it was possible and it could be done, and Anakin was in a better position to do it than most. Yes, he was impulsive and passionate, but Qui-Gon had centered his training of the boy around managing his emotions instead of repressing them. He needed guidance and help, but young Skywalker was never shy on seeking it, and Qui-Gon had always been there to render aid whenever needed. He had tasted the Dark Side once on Tatooine after his mother had died, but he had been pulled away from the edge then, first by Owen, then by Qui-Gon, and while he may never fully recover from the incident, he had managed it. He would manage this as well. Padmé's infidelity due to Sith manipulation had been carefully discussed on the way here, and logic had slowly prevailed, leaving Anakin centered and focused, rooted in the Force like he had never been.
The challenge would be in maintaining his cool, his calm, his detachment in the face of Obi-Wan, but Skywalker had faced greater challenges before. He would overcome this one. He could feel it through their connection, the calm resolve, the slow, even pulse of his heart that belied his ease, his measured confidence, his soft, easy pull for strength from his Master, and Qui-Gon willingly gave it. They were one housed in two bodies, one mind sharing every thought, every feeling, and any flare of nerves, of fear, of anger, was quickly countered with patience and understanding, so Anakin remained serene. The conditions were ideal. However, if their opponent was at his best, if Obi-Wan had managed to push through the insanity that tore through him, then the man would be fearsome, powerful like that hadn't seen from him in the past. It was a serious problem, especially considering how much could go wrong.
"This would be faster if we had your droid do this, Anakin," Qui-Gon said quietly, and Anakin smiled, amused, and rolled his eyes in mock irritation.
"We went over this before, Master, R2 is going to be covering our infiltration, accessing anything on our path will give anyone who looks a clear idea of where we are.."
"He isn't doing a good job."
"He's trying, Master, and I don't see any droid patrols, so he's doing something." The elevator slid open with a hiss, and with a cocky grin, Anakin gestured for the other two men to enter. Once inside, the elevator swiftly rose through the ship, the three men focusing or checking their weapons in silence until Anakin quietly asked, "What do you think we can expect?"
"General Grievous is on board," Tarkin said quickly. "And we know Count Dooku is here as well, supposedly discussing terms with the Chancellor. If we are fortunate, we can end the war today, General Skywalker. I cannot stress the importance of killing those two in particular." Anakin looked to Qui-Gon, the old Master standing tall and silent, his eyes closed as he reached through the ship with the Force.
"...Obi-Wan is here," he said softly, and Anakin tensed, his heart beating faster as anger rushed through him, but it was quickly soothed by the Master. "We knew he would be, Anakin. We are ready for this. Remain focused. You are a vergence in the Force, its energy naturally flows to you. Do not disrupt the flow by losing your balance."
"Yes, Master," Anakin said, smiling softly as calm spread over him. His mental walls were in place, strong and impenetrable, just as Master Yoda had taught him. His lightsaber felt weightless in his hand, an extension of himself less than an object that existed separate from him. And he was balanced, focused, calm like the Jedi Master by his side, confident and unafraid. Their opponents may be Sith, but they were Jedi, and their strength was eternal. They could not be beaten, not here, and not today. After all, as fearsome as they were, these were just men, angrier than most, but they still bled when they were cut, and they would die just like everyone else must. The Sith walked a path of pain and suffering, and for that, they deserved to be pitied, not feared.
The elevator stopped, the doors slid open, and Qui-Gon Jinn, Anakin Skywalker, and Wilhuff Tarkin were met by the staring faces of twenty plus MagnaGuard droids, and in the middle of them all stood General Grievous.
"Oops..." Anakin said sheepishly, slouching as he felt the angry, disdainful eyes of his companions upon him. The ends of the weapons in the droids' hands ignited in a cackle of pink and purple energy as Grievous cackled. Palpatine was nowhere in sight. "Wrong floor."
"Wrong floor?!" Tarkin snapped, aghast. "We're all going to die, and that's what you say?"
"Hey, I'm cracking into high security areas using wires! Give me a break!"
"Focus, boys..." Qui-Gon said softly, igniting his lightsaber when Grievous' arms disconnected, thin and dangerous, and held four glowing blades in each hand, each one belonging to a Jedi he had killed. "The space is small, and their greater numbers may work to our advantage." Anakin's eyes lit up when he saw what his Master did, and a slow, sly smirk spread across his face as he nodded to his fellow Jedi.
"General Skywalker," Grievous growled, an amused ring to his hollow, mechanical voice. "We've been expecting you."
"And this is how you treat your guests?" Anakin asked, taking his lightsaber into his hand as Tarkin drew his pistols from his holsters and pointed them at the cyborg. "Really, I'm offended."
"You won't be for long," the cyborg threatened, the lightsabers in his hands spinning in his grasp two held out before him and the other two held over his shoulders. "After I've beant you and killed your friends, I'll be taking you to Lord Kenobi."
"You may try," Anakin said as he smiled, and the moment Grievous moved, he held out his hands and blasted the mechanicals back with the Force, clawed feet screeching and leaving trails of sparks upon the ground, and with a little space created, Anakin took two steps into the room and jumped over the heads of the droids, twisting in the air and angling his lightsaber down at the cyborg General, the furious Grievous slashing the air and batting Skywalker's blade out of the way. The Jedi landed in a crouch at Grievous' feet, and the cyborg swept his lightsabers in a wild, vicious arc at the young man, and Anakin easily ducked under them, the General's weapons connecting with the droids that stood closest to him. Grievous didn't seem to mind as he continued his aggressive pursuit of the swift, athletic Jedi, his own elite droids unable to get out of the way of his furious assault, and Anakin wanted to keep it that way.
His glowing blue blade held out before him, light and easy in his relaxed grip, Anakin focused on the Force, allowing it to guide his hand as he blocked and dodged Grievous' flurry. It was...taxing, even at his best, and defense and retreat never came easily to impulsive Anakin, though he knew that in order to thin the numbers, in order to deal maximum damage to the sturdy, highly advanced MagnaGuard, he would have to utilize Grievous' fury. His bodyguards weren't fighting him, after all. Keeping his hand held out behind him, Skywalker casually threw the droids out of the way when they rushed him, when he felt an attack coming, clearing his way for his retreat and more often than not throwing them into others, their weapons damaging their own comrades, the electric ends of their weapons shorting and frying their circuits and making them move slower and disrupting their refined movements. A droid was a machine like any other, and if Anakin Skywalker knew one thing better than anyone, it was mechanics.
As he retreated, ducking under Grievous' blades and agilely dodging out of the way of the electrostaffs the MagnaGuard carried, he looked over to see Qui-Gon standing in the door of the elevator, his weapon held defensively as he held his ground and protected their exit and the Admiral that stood behind him unloading his blasters into the droids that surrounded them. Qui-Gon never budged as he cut through droid after droid, one by one falling as easily as the one beside it, the Jedi and the Admiral working in tandem to disrupt, distract, and destroy their assailants. From Tarkin and Qui-Gon, all Anakin could feel was cold, clear resolve, calm in the face of danger, and before they knew it, the MagnaGuard lay in pieces upon the floor of the bridge. The way clear, Qui-Gon shifted his grip on his weapon, clutching it in both hands and signaling his intent to his former student. With a wide grin, Anakin dodged two swift cuts and slipped under Grievous' guard, forcing the cyborg to back up and defend just as Qui-Gon struck. The tide had turned, and the Jedi began their offensive.
Grievous' increasing fury only made him hit harder, move faster, his anger not unbalancing him but making him far more dangerous than he had been before, but Anakin and Qui-Gon stayed close, their minds open to each other, knowing each other's movements before they had been executed. They were not a team, they were one, and Anakin knew that there was nothing Grievous could do to come between that. He was done. They pressed their assault, their blue blades blazing trails in the air and countering what they could of the cyborg's rapidly spinning weapons, one using the Force to pull him off balance while the other struck at him, but Grievous had managed to block and deflect every strike so far. It wouldn't last. Grievous may be tireless, but without a connection to the Force, he was simply no match for two that lived and breathed it.
A sharp, sudden crack echoed through the room, and Anakin and Qui-Gon both backed away, ducking low and wincing against the ringing in their ears, and shielding their eyes as they were showered by sparks and shrapnel. They looked up to see Grievous, beginning to hear his pained, outraged howling through their deafened senses, the cyborg's arms on his right side and a portion of his chest shot clear off by a perfectly aimed shot by Tarkin, who stood ready and aiming outside the elevator. The Jedi didn't waste a moment, and together, they attacked Grievous again, the crippled General struggling to retreat and hold off the two dangerous men.
Even badly injured, Grievous proved to be a dangerous opponent, and despite the ragged, labored breathing that echoed behind his skull-like mask, despite the limping caused by severed wires and connections, he felt no pain, and his crippling injuries only made him more angry, his movements more random, and Anakin was reminded that an injured enemy may still hold victory when the tips of the General's green lightsaber grazed his ribs, making the Jedi recoil and hiss in pain as robes and skin burned and smoked. That small stop was all Grievous needed to throw himself at the viewport, his fist slamming on the console and his lightsaber thrusting through the transparisteel, and with an earthshattering roar, the forward viewport shattered, sucking Grievous out into the vacuum of space, along with all the air and everything that wasn't bolted to the deck.
Anakin and Qui-Gon felt themselves pulled toward open space, and they both reached out and grabbed the command chair, their arms stretching and straining against the pull. Anakin looked up to see Tarkin firmly grasping the frame of the elevator, his breath held and his face discolored as space rushed in to meet them. Jaw clenched, Anakin reached deep into the Force, felt its warmth fill him, and let go, pulled quickly toward the opening. He reached out and grabbed the control console, grunting in pain as his arm was violently pulled with the sudden force of his stop, and he reached out and slammed his hand on one of the furiously blinking, beeping lights of the console. Protective ray shielding slammed down over the exposed viewport, obscuring the battle before them behind hard, black tempered steel, and with a hissing rush, oxygen began to fill the room as it was pressurized, the three men collapsing to the ground and taking large gulps of air. It only took a moment before the men were back on their feet, checking themselves for damage and making certain their weapons were fixed to them.
"Do you think he's dead?" Anakin asked, but he already knew the answer, even before Qui-Gon shook his head. Grievous was almost certainly alive. It wouldn't be unreasonable to think that the General's enhancements could allow him to survive for at least some time in the vacuum of space. "A slugthrower rifle, Tarkin?" Anakin asked in disbelief when he turned to face his Admiral, the man quietly securing the weapon in question to his back once again.
"It may be primitive," Tarkin said in his crisp accent, superiority affecting his every word, "but I was led to believe that we would be fighting opponents that wielded lightsabers, making modern blaster technology ineffective." He allowed a small smirk to grace his lips. "They cannot be blocked by plasma, and it is shockingly effective at punching holes through most energy resistant armor."
"Shit, let's just have Tarkin shoot holes through the Sith!"
"If it was that easy," Qui-Gon said softly as he stood, "then someone would have done it already. It will be up to us to defeat them."
"And we will do nothing that interferes in the mission to rescue the Chancellor," Tarkin said firmly. "Ideally, we can save him and kill Dooku and Kenobi and whatever other allies they may have gathered, but his rescue comes first, even if it means letting them escape with their lives if they run."
Anakin frowned, his heart beating faster as anger burned within him, cold and hard and deep. He wouldn't be letting them escape. Not today, not when victory was in reach, not the end of the war was in sight. "We will kill them, Tarkin," Anakin growled, but the Admiral just shook his head.
"With all due respect, General, the Chancellor outranks even you, and I will submit to his authority. If you wish to run off and die in your quest for revenge, fine, but I'm bringing Palpatine safely back to Coruscant."
"He's right, Anakin," Qui-Gon said softly, laying his hand upon the younger man's shoulder. "We will do our best to end this here, but if it puts the Chancellor at risk, we must relent. Life before death, Anakin. We are Jedi. We aren't like them." Anakin bit his lip and slowly nodded, the anger fading as he accepted Qui-Gon's wisdom.
"You're right, of course. There will always be another chance to get at Kenobi."
"Your droid is assuming control of our path, Skywalker," Tarkin said swiftly, striding to the Jedi and handing his General his datapad. "He has located Chancellor Palpatine on the observation deck at the front of the ship." Anakin groaned. It was a long way through a ship that would now not only be aware of their exact location, but very keen on destroying them. "Also," the Admiral said softly, "the Invisible Hand's shields have been significantly reduced. It seems our allies are tired of waiting. We have been here for some time. The assumption of our death is a good one."
"Can we get a message out?" Anakin asked as he reviewed R2's data feed, frowning when he saw how damaged the ship's systems were because of their fight on the control deck. This ship was doomed, it seemed. The central computers had been damaged, and the machine was now forced to operate on local systems. Ship failure was imminent, and based on the state of the shields and the remaining systems, he put the dreadnaught's life expectancy at two or three hours at best. They had a time limit.
"The R2 unit has attempted, but without any luck," Tarkin said. "We must make haste. Time is no longer on our side."
They didn't need to say more than that. Together, Skywalker, Tarkin and Jinn rushed through the ship, every path closed to them opened remotely by R2-D2, lightsabers and blasters cutting down any droid patrols in their path, but their numbers were surprisingly thin. With their path clear, they quickly made their way to the front of the ship and sealed themselves inside the elevator that would bring them to where the Chancellor was being held by the Sith Lords. They had been calm before, but now, their hearts were pounding in anticipation, and they each had to close their eyes to take deep breaths that would soothe their nerves.
"Anakin," Qui-Gon said softly, and the young Jedi looked up at the Master, his face calm and serene and distant, those dark blue eyes almost seeming to be lost in the Force, and for a moment, Anakin felt fear run through him. "Remember what we're up against. These are Sith Lords, and they are powerful beyond what you can imagine. Hate will make them strong. Pain will make them stronger. You are not to underestimate them for a second. Take no risks, show no emotion, lest they prey on your darker urges."
"I'll put my faith in the Force, Master," Skywalker said, and the Master looked down at him and smiled gently, almost sadly, and the elevator hissed open. The room was much bigger, far more spacious than the closed, cramped quarters of the control deck. In the middle of the room sat Chancellor Palpatine, his knobby fingers tightly grasping the armrests of the chair he sat in, his thin frame shaking. A faint, hopeful smile came to his face when he looked up and saw the three men enter the room, but it quickly faded to be replaced with dread.
"You shouldn't be here," the Chancellor said, his thin voice shivering, and the Jedi stopped dead in their tracks the moment they began to move toward the elderly man. Here, the Force had been blown open wide, the Dark Side thick and oppressive and hanging heavy in the air, almost tactile on the skin like a thick, corrosive mist, and both Jedi took their lightsabers into their hand and ignited them, hoping the soft blue glow and the gentle thrum of the weapons would somehow keep the darkness back. Tarkin remained unaffected, but the sudden pause of his Jedi companions made him unsling his rifle, the weapon primed and ready to shoot at a moment's notice. They were frozen to the spot, none wishing to move, lest they disturb the stillness of the room, though they knew the occupants were alerted to their presence.
The long, sweeping viewport showed the expanse of the battle that raged, green and red and blue and purple light blazing across the black backdrop of space as hundreds of thousands of starfighters raced and spun and burst into flames, a hundred mighty dreadnaughts and Star Destroyers hanging heavy over the planet dotted with a million lights of its expansive city. Standing before it were three silhouetted figures, one a hulking creature with four arms, the one next to it tall, elegant, imposing, and beside him stood a man that came up to his shoulder, smaller than the others, but no less fearsome. Pong Krell, Count Dooku, and Obi-Wan Kenobi. Anakin swallowed his mounting anxiety. They had been anticipating two Sith Lords. They hadn't expected a third, and certainly not one as dangerous as former Jedi Master Pong Krell.
"Tarkin," Anakin whispered, the Admiral leaning toward the Jedi as he spoke. "You need to get the Chancellor to safety while Qui-Gon and I deal with these guys."
"That isn't going to happen, Skywalker," Dooku said, his deep voice rich and echoing across the large room, his lightsaber coming to his hand and igniting as he turned to face the Jedi. "The Chancellor isn't leaving. None of you are leaving."
"Master!" Qui-Gon gasped, stepping forward a few steps before Anakin could grab him, and he quickly rushed to stand beside his friend. He had forgotten that Count Dooku had trained Qui-Gon. This whole thing was...disgustingly personal for Qui-Gon Jinn, and Anakin couldn't help but marvel at how brilliantly the Jedi managed it all, how firsmly he stood rooted in the Force, how unshakable his resolve was. He wanted to be like that. He needed to be like that. His eyes drifted to Obi-Wan, his golden eyes glowing in the dim light of the room, and he could feel anger and bile rise up within him. He forced it back down, demanding his heart to stop rcing. He would be like Qui-Gon in this, distant and removed. There would be time for emotion after Kenobi lay dead at his feet.
"Qui-Gon," Dooku said softly, almost affectionately, his sonorous voice warm and inviting. "It has been a long time, my old friend. You should be pleased to know that I have cared for your student after you failed him."
Qui-Gon bowed his head and lowered his weapon. "And I appreciate it more than you can possibly know," he said softly, and Anakin could feel the Dark Side seem to tremble as the Count lowered his saber as well. "As much as I hate what my failure has made him, I am...glad that there was someone there for him. The suffering and pain he has endured would have been far worse had he been alone."
Dooku took a few steps forward and extended his hand toward his former student. "Come, Qui-Gon. The Jedi have never suited you, as they have never suited me. You understand the corruption of the Republic. Come with me, and we can bring change to the galaxy."
Qui-Gon smiled sadly and shook his head. "I can't, Dooku, you know I can't." The Count frowned, his weapon raising, and Kenobi strode to stand beside him, as did the Besalisk, his twin double bladed lightsabers igniting with a low, menacing chuckle.
"Tyranus," Kenobi whispered, his hand on the Count's arm. "You can't kill Qui-Gon." Dooku looked at the younger man like he was crazy, but he held his gaze. "I mean it. You can't kill him. I don't know if it is the will of the Force, but it cannot happen."
"It is them or us, Lumis, you know that."
Obi-Wan nodded slowly. "I will kill Skywalker first, then. Qui-Gon can be safely managed after he is dead." Kenobi drew his blade, the red weapon thrumming to life in his relaxed grip, and he faced Anakin, a devious smirk on his face. "Skywalker..."
"Kenobi," Anakin returned, his voice steady and smooth and far more confident than he felt, and Qui-Gon drew closer, both men slowly beginning to advance.
"I sense no madness in him, Anakin," Qui-Gon whispered. "Be careful, remain open to me."
"Yes, Master."
It wasn't Dooku or Kenobi that moved first, but Krell, the massive Besalisk jumping high into the air and over the Chancellor, putting himself between the Jedi and their goal, and a moment later, the deadly spinning blades swept at the Jedi, and Anakin and Qui-Gon dashed out of the way, each defending against one of Krell's lightsabers, the quick deflection only causing the double blades to whip around and strike again, the Jedi moving swiftly to counter the fast, graceful movements. The Sith Lords joined a moment later, and it became chaos.
Dooku and Kenobi fought as one, just as Anakin and Qui-Gon did, but the Jedi's focus was divided between what they knew they must engage, and what they were forced to contend with. Dooku and Kenobi were dangerous enough on their own, and Krell's presence did nothing but shift their focus away from defeating the Sith to merely surviving. The Sith pressed hard and fast, the intention to kill clear in their yellow eyes while Krell danced between the two pairs, raining the fury of four additional blades upon the Jedi when the fighting became too even. It was a serious problem, but neither Anakin nor Qui-Gon could divide their attention from the relentless Sith long enough to deal with Krell.
The opportunity arose when Tarkin slipped unnoticed by the combatants to come to the Chancellor's side, take his shaking hand, and run with him up to the easily defendable, elevated position by the elevators. With Palpatine safely secured behind two steel containers, the Admiral used the guard rail to steady his rifle, took aim, waited for an opening and shot at what he perceived to be the greatest threat to the otherwise balanced fight. He pulled the trigger, the deafening crack sounded throughout the room, and Pong Krell effortlessly spun his blades to deflect the shot, enough to deflect a bolt of plasma, but only serving to superheat the metal slug that sped toward him. The steel quickly melted, one projectile suddenly becoming a spray of several smaller, superheated fragments of molten metal, and the burning shrapnel struck the Besalisk in the arms, the side, his face, sending the man screaming and reeling in pain and temporarily blinded.
It was enough. Feeling the other's intent through the Force, Anakin and Qui-Gon spun their blades around Sith red, creating an opening they knew they would be too slow to take advantage of, and they flipped backwards into the air, lashing out with spinning blades as they landed, crossing the howling Krell and severing his arms as they hit the ground, the four limbs falling with a heavy, wet thud. Without hesitation, Qui-Gon and Anakin thrust their blades behind them, the glowing blue plasma piercing through the stunned creature as burning filled his lungs. The Sith were upon the Jedi a moment later, but it was too late. The blue lightsabers hissed as they slid out of Krell to block the ferocious strikes, and the Besalisk dropped to his knees and fell dead to the ground.
The satisfaction that Anakin felt at his death lasted only a moment. He had been so pleased that one threat had been dealt with, the field of battle evened considerably in the Jedi's favor, that he didn't see the wicked gleam in Kenobi's eyes, but he felt the effects a moment later when the Dark Side swelled, a vicious, powerful pulse ripping through the air and taking the breath from him. He could almost see the Dark Side in the air, drawn like a vortex to the Sith Lord he engaged, the hard, fast strikes becoming increasingly more powerful as he fed off the death that sat heavy in the Force, the darkness fading from Krell, all the considerable Force energy contained within him ripped out of his dead body and commanded to strengthen Kenobi. Anakin could almost feel his heart stop beating. He had thought this to be an advantage, but the death of Obi-Wan's comrade had only strengthened the Sith Lord.
Anakin struggled to regain his footing and secure an advantage long enough to shift to an offense, but the newly strengthened Obi-Wan was far too fast and far too aggressive to even attempt to do anything other than defend. With deep, even breaths, Anakin connected with the Force and with his Master, and he felt new strength surge within him as he found his footing. He ducked under Kenobi's blade and spun around to strike, only for his blue to meet blazing red, and the Jedi was forced to jump awkwardly back then a sharp whistle signaled Kenobi's darksaber slicing through the air towards him, the second weapon drawn while the Jedi had spun to strike. Obi-Wan dashed forward, both blades crossed, and Anakin met them in the middle with his own, locking them together as the Sith bore down upon him. His heart was beating faster, the chill slowly creeping into him when he looked into those blazing golden eyes, eyes that Qui-Gon said burned with madness wrought by grief, but Anakin couldn't help but feel the rage build, even though he understood, even felt sorry for the creature that stood before him. He was going to kill Kenobi, yes, but once, so very long ago, this man had been Qui-Gon's student, and he was so like Anakin.
"Y-you slept with Padmé..." Anakin stuttered, not intentionally, and not angry, but it was accusatory none the less. A cruel, pleased smirk spread across the Sith Lord's lips, and Anakin knew what Qui-Gon had said was true. This was spite and malice, born out of a compulsive need to harm Skywalker, not out of any obsession with the Senator, and though what had happened angered him, he felt Qui-Gon's words enter his mind and soothe him, and soon enough, Anakin felt himself cool and detached from his emotions.
"And she loved every second of it..." the Sith drawled, and Anakin found himself smiling, his sudden and unexpected shift in emotion stamping confusion and curiosity on the Sith's face.
"That's alright," Anakin said softly. "If that's what you need to feel complete again after losing your lover and your child, do what you must."
Anakin could see the change occur in Kenobi, swift and sudden across his face, like a mask he had been wearing had suddenly cracked. He was amused before, almost indifferent and removed from what was happening. Now, he could see something in those golden eyes shatter, the soft glow snapping suddenly to swirling yellows and reds that blazed more fierce and wilder than any fire ever could. Qui-Gon had been right. Insanity shone clear as day on his youthful, handsome face, and with unrestrained madness came power, more than Anakin had ever seen or felt, and he shivered when a manic, crazed laugh was torn from his throat, melodic and chilling all at once. Sensing Obi-Wan had always been difficult, if not impossible before, but now, it was like staring into a black hole, deep and dark and infinite, unstoppable in its power, impossible to escape were one only to draw close enough, and Skywalker suddenly feared that he had drawn too close.
Another crack sounded in the room, Anakin watching Tarkin out of the corner of his eye as the Admiral took aim at Kenobi, but this time, no lightsaber instinctively rose to deflect the shot. The Sith Lord instead brought his arm up behind him, blocking the shot not with his weapon, but with the flesh of his forearm, and Anakin's face was splattered with blood when the steel ripped through lean muscle and exited through the other side, spraying blood and gore upon the floor and upon the Jedi. Skywalker could feel pain spike through the Sith Lord, pain that was almost instantly turned to blind rage and converted into power, the Force howling in his ears as Obi-Wan extended his hand and shot arcs of blue lightning at him. Anakin brought his lightsaber up and caught the electricity just before it struck him, but the raw power of the blast was enough to send the Jedi backwards, struggling to keep to his feet as his boots left long, dark marks on the ground.
He swung his blade around when the lightning stopped, expecting to find the Sith Lord bearing down upon him, but Kenobi had taken the opportunity to turn his attention elsewhere, the focus of his fury shifting from Skywalker to Tarken. The Admiral was swiftly taking aim again, his finger on the trigger when the Sith Lord's gaze focused upon him, and he fired again, only to find the rifle kicking back against him as the barrel bent, the Kenobi's hand extended as he gripped the weapon with the Force. Obi-Wan tore the weapon from Tarkin, the man's jaw clenched against the sudden pain of the misfired weapon, and the rifle twisted and bent in the air. The deformed lump of wood and metal was thrown at the Admiral, the man groaning in pain as it struck him, and the Force suddenly slammed into him, throwing him against the steel wall hard enough to dent it, and was held there as lightning struck him. It only ended when Anakin rushed Kenobi, the Sith's attention again refocused on the Jedi, and Tarkin fell to the ground, his unconscious body twitching as residual electricity leapt over his body. Palpatine peeked out over the crates, fearfully observing the fierce battle that was taking place and slowly climbed out of hiding to drag Tarkin to safety behind the crates.
He may have been powerful, terrifyingly so, but in the Sith's insanity, Anakin sensed he was deeply unbalanced, wild and uncontrolled. So long as he kept his wits about him, kept centered in the Force, kept connected to the warmth and calm of Qui-Gon, he knew that he could bring the Sith down. Maybe not now, maybe not in the next few minutes, but Kenobi would make mistakes, and he would fall. The Sith wasn't centered, his attention and his focus deeply divided, and yet, the Dark Side still flowed to him, twisting and turning in an uneven cyclone of power, but drawn to the Sith none the less. The battle would be difficult, but as Anakin blocked and dodged the powerful slashes and returned with his own swift, controlled counterattacks, he knew he could win.
They were evenly matched. Long ago, that had not been the case. Once, Dooku had taught Qui-Gon all he knew, instructed him on how best to wield a lightsaber, how to hold the hilt light and relaxed in a delicate hand to facilitate swift, precise movements. Qui-Gon had taken well to the lessons, had always listened carefully, had always heeded his Master, at least he did where their lessons were concerned. In all else, Qui-Gon had been wild, a free spirit confined to a life of rules, and rebellious Jinn had always harbored a desire to break them if it suited him, choosing instead to follow the will of the Force, not the will of those that claimed to interpret it. He would follow his own path, the path the force laid out for him, for good or for ill in good faith that it would always lead him exactly where he needed to be.
Dooku always thought this would lead Qui-Gon to the Dark Side, had always thought that the Jedi would see the truth of the Force, how it yearned for darkness after a thousand years of uncontested light. But as ever, Qui-Gon Jinn was unpredictable. The Force had drawn him elsewhere, and Jinn had made his destiny his own, just as he had taken Dooku's lessons and altered them, adapted them to suit his own needs. He fought now very differently from when he had as a Padawan, as a Knight, as a young Master to the quiet talent that was Obi-Wan Kenobi. Before, he had been wild, reckless, aggressive, not unlike his own spirit, but time and experience had tempered him, made him more cautious, more aware of how an aging body fatigued, and he had changed again. Qui-Gon wasn't offensive, nor was he defensive. He stood in the middle, a perfect balance of careful offense and measured defense, his blade swift and efficient, his movements practiced and conservative in order to increase his stamina. Truly, his former student had become a Master worthy of being considered one of the best in the Order.
"You follow the Force, Qui-Gon," Dooku said softly, his blade locking with the other Master's for just a moment before a swift flick of Qui-Gon's wrist sent Dooku's blade swinging outward, and the Sith only just managed to bring his red blade around to block the swift stab aimed directly at his heart. "Surely you must feel the pull to darkness."
"I do," Qui-Gon softly confessed, sidestepping as Dooku stabbed at him, and he slashed down on the blade, only to have the Sith circle around and renew his offensive. "But that does not me all are drawn to the Dark Side. Balance must remain, and even if the Force craves the dark, there can be no balance if the light is extinguished completely."
"The Jedi cannot survive the tide that is yet to come," Dooku growled. "Save yourself and accept that, come to the Sith. We would appreciate your talents more than the Jedi ever have."
Qui-Gon smiled slightly, a sad, secretive thing. "You may be right about that. But no matter what I wish, the Force has guided me to the light for a reason. I will not deny its will, not now, not after all this time, not after all the pain that following it has caused. I believe it will lead me to set things right."
Both men winced as the flow of the Force violently shifted to the sound of crazed laughter, and the older men shifted, their sabers stabbing and slicing with swift, precise strikes as they moved around to see the fury of Darth Lumis, gripped in the claws of madness as he bore down upon the centered and focused Anakin Skywalker. Dooku sneered, his attention snapping back to his former student when he felt the Jedi's blade arch far too close to his face.
"Anakin Skywalker is going to die here today," Dooku growled, and Qui-Gon's face hardened, his blue eyes narrowing as he looked into the face of his Master, so changed from what he remembered by time and by the Dark Side's touch. "You are too. Obi-Wan said not to kill you, but I see no other way to victory here. You will fight until we are slain, and therefore, you must die."
That small, secretive smile graced the Jedi's lips again as he moved out fo the way of a downward slash, his blade sliding over the red and up the hilt toward Dooku's hands, and the Sith quickly twisted the blade to avoid being cut. "I bet that isn't what Obi-Wan said," he whispered, his smile deepening when he saw confusion on Dooku's face. "He wouldn't have said not to kill me. He said you couldn't."
"That's the same thing," Dooku growled, and Qui-Gon just grinned.
"It really isn't."
Dooku had enough. With a snarl of rage, he drew deep of the Dark Side and redoubled his efforts, striking at the Jedi Master with everything he had, the arrogance of the Jedi enraging him into blind wrath. He pushed his body far beyond its limits, could feel the energy and the stamina draining from him, and felt new power surging through him again as his wrath rose. The Masters blocked and dodged, stabbed and slashed, the red clashing with blue and showering the area with sparks. Kenobi's insanity had stirred the Dark Side to terrifying new heights, and Dooku drank deeply of its power, strengthened by the other Sith Lord's strength. He slashed at Qui-Gon, the blue blade circling his, and the Jedi lunged forward, stabbing toward the Sith Lord, but instead of moving out of the way to block, Dooku had sidestepped and moved in, causing Qui-Gon to overreach just slightly, but it was enough. The Jedi couldn't correct his mistake in time, and before he could turn to meet the Sith that was suddenly behind him, pain shot through him, heated the very air he breathed as the red blade pierced through his back and extended out before him, the fatal dead center that Maul had tried to hit but missed so many years ago.
Pain ripped through Obi-Wan, fierce and intense as the Force howled around him, screaming in agony as he did, the roar of the Dark Side the only thing in his ears as he watched Anakin Skywalker, his eyes wide and his mouth opened as he screamed, his attention torn away from the Sith Lord as he watched helplessly as Dooku's blade slew his Master. Obi-Wan couldn't think, couldn't feel, could see nothing but Darth Tyranus before him, Qui-Gon impaled upon his blade, the Jedi Master shivering as his lightsaber dropped to the ground, his eyes closing as his life quickly faded from him. Qui-Gon Jinn was dead, his life ended in a swift, perfect strike. Obi-Wan didn't know how long he watched, but it felt frozen before him, time stopped as the Force suddenly became silent, the roaring ceased, and slowly, slowly, the silence was broken by the sound of heavy breathing, monotonous and regulated, dreadful and awful and so, so close. The red blade retracted, and Qui-Gon fell to his knees, his posture gradually slumping, and he slowly fell. Nobody saw it when it happened, but when the Master's body hit the ground, it had vanished.
Dooku stared at the ground where Qui-Gon's body should have been, nothing but his lightsaber on the ground where he should have fallen. It was...impossible. Qui-Gon Jinn was dead, but there was no evidence of his passing, nothing to show for the murderous deed he had committed, and it took a moment in his shock for him to realize that he may have made an awful mistake. Qui-Gon had said he couldn't be killed, a claim Dooku had mistaken for arrogance, but now he believed it. He didn't know if Qui-Gon had somehow evaded death, or simply transcended it, but the deep foreboding he felt made him believe that whatever it was, he had just helped the Jedi achieve power far beyond his comprehension, the indomitable will of the light made manifest to stand against the oncoming storm, not just in opposition, but to survive it.
In his shock, he didn't see it coming, didn't feel it coming, but he felt it when it happened, and saw it after it was too late. There was pain, thick and sharp and heavy deep within him, not the kind that he drew power from, not the kind that the Dark Side thrived upon, but the kind that sapped his strength, the kind that made him feel weak and old and tired, eighty three years of life sitting heavy upon his shoulders as it never had before. The Force left him, faded into nothing, and it left him frail, deprived of the vitality to life his elderly body, the exertion he put forth in the fight with Qui-Gon weighing heavily upon him, the exertions of a young man preformed by one that should have been far too old to do so, aided by the Force before, but now that aid was gone. Before his eyes closed, before he dropped to the ground, Dooku looked down to see a red lightsaber piercing out of the left side of his chest, his heart impaled upon Obi-Wan's blade. As he fell, he thought it fitting that a Sith should end the Sith, and when he lay dead upon the ground, his body did not vanish.
Obi-Wan stared vacantly at Dooku's body, his own thin form wracked with unconscious twitching and shuddering as the Dark Side drew in vast amounts of power from the death of the other Sith Apprentice. It was as intoxicating as it was terrible, and Kenobi felt his power swell, rise to heights he never thought imaginable, but it felt hollow. All he could hear was the heavy breathing drawling closer with each slow, torturous breath, all he could see before his eyes was the face in flames, its eyes blazing red and gold, it's mouth opened wide in silent screams of pain and anguish. The warnings of the Force were becoming reality as fool after fool worked to undo everything the Force had planned. Qui-Gon was supposed to live. Qui-Gon wasn't supposed to even be able to die, he was supposed to be immortal! And yet...
When Obi-Wan closed his eyes, the visions and the fires of madness dancing before him even then, he could feel Qui-Gon's presence in the Force, strong and vibrant and painfully bright, just as it had always been. Death had not diminished it at all when it should have. Death should have taken the Force out of the man, should have returned him to the waters of the Force's eternal flow, the fire snuffed out, but never truly gone, simply part of something else. But that isn't what had happened. Qui-Gon was still...Qui-Gon. He didn't understand. He couldn't understand, it was madness, all of it, and deep inside him, he knew this simply to be a product of his insanity, the Dark Side warping and twisting his understanding as it sank it's teeth into his neck, dug its claws deep into his arms, took control of his every movement in his consuming madness. Obi-Wan reached his hand out and silently called Qui-Gon's lightsaber - his lightsaber - to his hand, the blade igniting with a low thrum of brilliant blue, and it felt warm and natural and familiar in his hand. His red blade clutched lightly in his other fist, Kenobi turned to Skywalker, his golden eyes blazing with fury and madness and murder.
Anakin felt everything within him come crashing down as he watched Dooku murder his Master. Qui-Gon was his best friend, his greatest ally, his confidant, his kind and understanding father, all of it. Everything Anakin was, everything that had ever been good about him was because of Qui-Gon Jinn, and he was gone. He felt unbalanced, reeling as he helplessly lost his focus, his footing in the Force, and he could feel the light fading, could feel the warm comfort of the Force become dark and cold, a freezing chill that sunk into the heart of him and filled him with darkness. There was nothing. His support was gone, his powerful connection was severed, the strong river of the Force that flowed between them only a moment before had dried up into nothingness, any light at all unable to pierce the impenetrable darkness that he could feel rising inside him. He and Qui-Gon had leaned on each other during this entire ordeal, and now that he was gone, Anakin felt himself scrambling for balance he knew he would never find again.
There were whispers inside his mind, soft at first and growing increasingly louder, a soft, smooth coaxing, a light, freezing touch upon his consciousness that promised him power, promised him victory, promised him balance, promised him everything so long as he submit to his anger, feel it cold and strong and rushing within him. It was the promise of a constant companion, as deep as the Force and far, far stronger if only he were to embrace it. He could feel it calling, could feel the power rising in him, could feel his focus returning as he looked at Obi-Wan Kenobi holding Qui-Gon's blue blade in his filthy, bloody hands, and he knew what he needed to do. With a shudder of rage, Anakin embraced the cold in the Force and felt his power erupt into a storm of raw strength, cold and uncompromising, and all he could think about was the last Sith that stood in the room and how satisfying it would be to pry that saber from his cold, dead fingers. Obi-Wan had no right to that blade. That weapon belonged to Anakin, and he would take what was rightfully his.
It began again when gold eyes met pale, ice blue, but it was not like before. Unbridled insanity clashed with untethered fury, the two combatants more powerful than they had ever been, their weapons moving so fast they left long trails of red and blue light, their movements so swift that they appeared as nothing but a blur of undefined movement. There was focus only in that the two men could see, could hear nothing but each other, their movements wild and random and dangerous, reckless to the exclusion of their own safety, and only the grip of the Force that each employed kept them out of the way of fatal strikes, but all others got through. Within a very short time, both men were tattered and bleeding, burns covering their bodies where the other saber had grazed, the skin seared and smoking and ripping their bodies with pain that only served to fuel their rage.
Palpatine frantically shook Tarkin, the man groaning as consciousness slowly returned, the Chancellor keeping his eyes on the bitter enemies. This wasn't a fight either of them would win, that much was obvious. They wouldn't stop until the other was dead, and as the fight dragged on, it became obvious that they would slay each other, but neither would be the first to fall. It had to end, and it had to end now.
"Wilhuff," Palpatine said in a frantic whisper as the Admiral sat up, and the Chancellor thrust the man's datapad into his hands. "The shields are down, this ship is going to be destroyed." Tarkin bit his lip and looked at the screen, eyes blurry as his dazed mind struggled to focus. He looked over the crates, squinting as he saw the blur of red and blue that was the Jedi and the Sith, and handed the datapad back to Palpatine.
"We're linked up to General Skywalker's droid," he quietly explained as he slammed his hand on the control console in the wall by the elevator and drew his blaster pistols. "Tell him to send a message to the Vigilance, tell them to send Clone Captain Rex in for an immediate pick-up. Bring his best pilots and an escort and have them meet us in the closest hangar bay to our present location." The Chancellor nodded, his eyes wide with fear and understanding, and Tarkin stood, groaning as his body protested the movement. He looked out at the room, the blur that was Anakin and, presumably, Kenobi, a smirk of intense satisfaction sliding across his face when he saw that Dooku lay dead, and then confusion when he saw that Qui-Gon Jinn was gone.
He shook his head. It didn't matter. If the Jedi was not here, they were leaving without him. Nothing would get in the way of the successful completion of this mission. He pointed his pistols, took aim, and fired rapidly at the two fighters, and their blazing pace stopped long enough for Tarkin to actually see who he was shooting at. With Obi-Wan in sight, he unloaded the blasters at the enraged Sith, the twin lightsabers effortlessly blocking and deflecting the plasma, and Tarkin had to dive out of the way to avoid being struck when several of his bolts flew back at him.
"Anakin!" he shouted, and his General's attention snapped to him long enough to see pale, blue eyes glowing furiously in the low light. "Anakin, we need to go! The shields are down, we're out of time!"
"I'm going to kill him!" Skywalker shouted, throwing himself once again at the laughing Sith Lord, and the fight was stopped again by more suppressing fire from the Admiral. Kenobi snarled in anger, his hand raised to command the Force to destroy the nuisance, but Anakin's lightsaber swept at him, and with a snarl of fury, he was forced to ignore the Admiral in favor of the more important threat. Tarkin began shooting again, disrupting the fight for the third time.
"Anakin, we are all going to die if we stay here a moment longer! We need to run now!" Skywalker looked at the Sith Lord, Kenobi cursing and snarling in rage as he knocked back bolt after bolt of suppressing fire, and a sharp tug deep in the back of his mind pulled Anakin out of his furious rage. Tarkin was right. Howling with fury, the Jedi turned and ran, Tarkin covering his escape with rapid fire from twin blasters that was enough to slow Kenobi down just long enough for Anakin to leap onto the elevated platform and rush into the elevator where a shaking, terrified Palpatine stood holding the door. Tarkin rushed in when Skywalker made it to safety, and the door hissed closed just as Kenobi's raging form came into view.
They exited the elevator soon after and entered another, just in case the Sith Lord was following them, and from there, Anakin helped the terrified Chancellor and the limping, injured Tarkin make it to the safety of the hangar where Rex and Jedi Master Saesee Tiin were waiting with their means of escape. R2 had already been loaded on, and when the dreadnaught began to rumble and shake, smoke and flames clearly visible outside the open doors of the hangar, Anakin pushed Tarkin and Palpatine onto the ship as fast as he could. With the valuable cargo loaded and the master pilot Saesee Tiin to fly them to safety, Anakin sat in the hold with Tarkin and Palpatine, his knees drawn to his chest and his eyes closed. He didn't need to see their flight away from the doomed dreadnaught, didn't need to see the Separatist fleet in ruins, didn't need to see the safety of Coruscant swiftly approaching. He knew they'd make it safely back, but in the end, it didn't matter. Dooku was dead, the war likely over, and if not immediately, it would be very soon. The head had been cut off the snake, and soon, the body would die. But none of it mattered, because Qui-Gon Jinn had not lived to see it.
He opened his eyes when he felt Palpatine's hand, gentle and comforting, upon his knee. "I saw what happened," he said softly. "I am so...deeply sorry for your loss. The Jedi Order will not be the same without Master Jinn."
"No..." Anakin choked. "It won't."
"We'll avenge him, Anakin," Tarkin said, his usually hard clip touched with something softer, and Skywalker nodded.
"Yes. Revenge. On all of them. I'll destroy them all, not just Kenobi."
"Do you think he escaped?" Palpatine asked, his thin voice still shaking, and Anakin's eyes narrowed as hatred swelled within him.
"He's alive," he growled. "I can feel it."
Tarkin nodded. "We'll do it together, General. As soon as we're cleared for duty, we'll make up a plan and hunt those bastards down."
Anakin responded with a soft grunt of affirmation and closed his eyes. For a moment in the silence, he thought he heard the voice of his Master, soft and faint and calling his name, and his heart leapt, his body twitching as he moved to answer him, but he stopped suddenly, his face cold and hard and angry as pain and grief pierced through him. Qui-Gon was dead, struck down by Count Dooku, and immediately avenged by Obi-Wan Kenobi, a vengeance that by all rights belonged to Anakin. That Qui-Gon's body disappeared was irrelevant. It was confusing and inexplicable, but he had seen him die, had felt the Force tremble when the blow was struck, and he was dead, whether a body was left behind or not. He slammed the door on the voice, and it was immediately silenced, the void his Master left filling with the cold and the dark, and with a shivering sigh, Anakin laid down on the ground and embraced it.