AN: So after that last chapter, I had to take an emotion day. Emotion day is over, and now it's time to get back to work!

Chapter 110: Grief

He didn't know how long he sat in darkness. Without sleep, without hunger, without light to mark the passage of time, it was impossible to tell. He felt nothing - nothing! - but bitter hatred and rage and it sat deep inside him, heavy and painful and toxic. He hadn't thought it was possible to sink deeper within the Dark Side, and yet, here it was. He had felt what it was like to drown before in the waters of the Force. He had struggled against it, paddled feverishly to stay afloat, to catch his breath. Grief had driven him mad, the waters themselves catching with flames that could not be put out, and he felt himself drown, the water filling his lungs, the more he struggled, the more he burned, the more he hurt. But now, it was different. Now, the crashing waters of the Dark Side pulled him under, and he did not resist, did not try to swim, made no move to catch his breath. When he stopped sinking, he breathed deeply, allowing the dark waters to fill his lungs and the void left inside him with vehement rage and unquenchable hatred so strong that nothing else was left, and he found that he didn't drown, didn't gasp for air. He could breathe it like he was born for it, and filled with the Dark Side, he sank deeper.

Lumis didn't know the darkness went so deep, didn't know how completely it could blot out the light. Even Qui-Gon, in all his brilliant, blinding radiance couldn't reach him here. It was calm here. There was nothing to see, nothing to hear, nothing to feel but the bitter cold. In the perfect darkness where he now sat, there was only rage, so powerful, so pervasive, so encompassing that it's violence seemed to stir nothing at all. This was wrath, patient, calm, focused, devoid of the flames that drove him to insanity, free of the grief that shackled him to the passion of revenge, irrational and reckless. Any shred of madness left within him was destroyed in an instant, any remaining smouldering embers doused by encompassing darkness and focus so refined, so sharp that nothing could deter him from his course. This was the domain of the Sith, laying in wait for a thousand years, generation after generation building toward a final revenge that only the future would ever see, the groundwork laid by those with revenge still burning unfulfilled within them, only for that wrath to carry to the next Sith that took the mantle of Master. Truly, the Force had set him free. But he was not here often.

Most of the time, it was blind, screaming rage.

The kind that lost all reason or logic or rationality, the kind that forgot every plan, every carefully laid trap, everything in favor of immediate and bloody revenge. His plans, so carefully laid, had been lost, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered, because Quinlan Vos was dead. This was a routine mission, an inspection, and one that Vos had complained about because it was too boring, too safe for the reckless Kiffar, especially compared to the danger he put himself in daily on the battlefield. Obi-Wan was certain that after the death of Satine, after the death of his son, insanity had burned away his ability to feel pain, but he had been so, so wrong. Passion was the way of the Sith, and he felt, and he felt deeply, the Force offering him no relief, no comfort, no mercy from the pain that was quickly converted to blinding hate that tempered his rage into a razor-sharp weapon held in the hands of one who sought only revenge.

All he could see was Anakin Skywalker. All he could think about was Quinlan's lightsaber clutched in that hateful, mechanical hand, his friend laying dead on the ground before the loathsome fallen Jedi. The war didn't matter. The Sith imperative no longer mattered. He would tear this galaxy apart, he would destroy a thousand years of careful Sith planning and manipulations if it meant he could get his hands on Anakin Skywalker. The only thing that mattered was revenge, cold and consuming. He wanted, needed to get Vos' lightsaber. It wasn't his, but he had a right to it far more than his murderer did, and he had every intention of cutting it from Skywalker's cold, cybernetic grasp.

He slowly opened his eyes and was met by darkness streaked with wild, crossing scars that burned molten yellow on the distant walls of the room, the result of his lightsaber in his latest fit of explosive rage. The air was still and heavy with the stench of burnt flesh and death and decay, the faintly glowing gashes casting minimal light on the bodies that lay still and hopelessly dismembered around him. Their deaths, Twi'leks and Korun and several other species that he kept as slaves within his palace, hadn't been intentional, hadn't any meaning, hadn't died usefully or with purpose, as so many of his murders did. They had simply gotten in the way, as did droids and equipment and doors and walls and the floor, all things that intersected the path of his grief-fueled rage. Rage that had turned to revenge against Skywalker, revenge that was to be carried out swiftly and immediately, and would have been if hateful, hateful Cody hadn't stolen all his ships. This clone, his supposed friend, the only one he had left, had left him stranded on Mustafar, with only his palace and those trapped within to absorb the violent outbursts that should have been put to Anakin Skywalker.

A low, deep growl sounded behind him, his robes and hair moved by the long, slow exhale of Yoda, the beast driven to exhaustion and now lay recovering in the hopelessly destroyed room. When he heard about Quinlan's murder, a grim report that was delivered by cold, unfeeling command droids, a devastating thing that was repeated as a basic, simple matter of fact, a number on a casualty report that didn't differentiate between lost droids and a lost best friend, Obi-Wan had lost it. The droids that delivered the report were destroyed. So was the room where the message was delivered. So was everything else that stood between him and his random, hate-driven path through the palace. He had known before he was told, of course. When it had happened, when his friend was cruelly torn from this world, he had felt it, a sharp stab in his chest that staggered him and knocked him out of his careful focus and sent him reeling. He had pushed the feeling aside, unwilling to believe it, unable to accept that his friend was dead, the denial so vehement that Force seemed to lash out at the very idea. The news from the droids had simply been a confirmation.

Cody had managed to escape the room when the news was delivered, quickly running as the red and black blades were ignited, and Obi-Wan hadn't seen him since, because the clone was too busy stealing his ships. When he found the hangar empty, new rage gripped him, this time toward the clone that had effectively stopped him from jumping into the Umbra and flying away in search of Skywalker. He raged across the lower levels of the palace, the part that had once belonged to the Black Sun that now existed only in memory, and he destroyed everything in his path, including dividing walls that were slashed into molten pools were they to be in the rampaging Sith Lord's path.

He had tried to contact his ships, the Negotiator and the Liberator which he knew hung in orbit over Mustafar, snapping for them to send a ship to the palace, but the clones had politely refused him, claimed that they had been removed to guard the outer edges of the system, and they could not be diverted. In his indignant rage, Kenobi had broken the communications array, and several times after, had contacted his ships via his personal comlink to try and coax his way off-world, ignoring the voice in his head warning him not to take Skywalker's bait. It never stopped him for long. Only exhaustion stopped him, his body shaking from effort after who knows how long, and he collapsed upon the ground, literally unable to move, but his rage still drove him onwards, assuming control of the rancor instead and using the beast to continue his expression of fury until he too lay upon the floor in exhaustion.

His considerable rage only grew, but the edge had been worn off in his destructive frenzy, and in his exhaustion, he fell into the Force, deeper than he had ever been, and there, he had found his focus, clear and sharp and patient in its wrathful calm. There he would stay, long enough for his body to recover, long enough for his temper to flare, and it would begin once again, a cycle that repeated and repeated until the violence of his grief tempered and hardened into something cold and frightful. The first time he had reached the state of clear and focused fury that came from the deepest depths of the Dark Side, Sidious had contacted him, but he had ignored the call. He ignored the second one as well. The third call prompted him to remove himself from his place in the depths of the palace and venture to the top spire, where he promptly destroyed the holotable through which he would communicate with his Master, beginning his destructive wrath once again, but this time, from the top down.

Obi-Wan now sat in the dark, his holodisc in his hand and playing back his final conversation with Quinlan, the recording stored in temporary memory and was quickly saved before the data could be dumped. He lost count of how many times he watched it. So many that he had committed the words, the expressions, the gestures to memory. Each time he watched, it hurt more, the pain acting as a forge to temper and strengthen his hatred and anger. He didn't have the energy for anymore outward expressions of anger, and without the means to leave Mustafar, he turned his hatred inwards, allowing it to center and focus him, allowing the Dark Side to awaken and wrap around him in calm and patient rage, a soft promise of vengeance whispered in his ear instead of the furious roar for blood. It reminded him of what he had always known. There were things, so many things, that were worse than death.

Death was too good for Anakin Skywalker. Death was far, far too easy, too simple, too painless. Perhaps keeping Skywalker alive and suffering would be a detriment to the galaxy as well as to the fallen Jedi, but Kenobi didn't care. If Skywalker's eternal torment would be one shared by the galaxy, then so be it. He needed to suffer, because Obi-Wan was suffering, because he deserved it. For Quinlan Vos, who he had murdered. For Satine Kryze and their son, who he hadn't been responsible for directly, but it was his fault anyway. For the parents he never knew, nor cared for, but they had been slaughtered anyway simply for sharing his blood. Even for Asajj Ventress, which surprised even him to realize how sharp her death stung as well. They had been close once, after all, and she was dear to Quinlan, even when he wanted to crush the very life out of her. He supposed he should mourn Ahsoka as well, though her body wasn't found on the ship. She still existed in his visions, so he supposed she was still alive, though in the throes of his own grief, it didn't feel like it. Obi-Wan knew what it was like to lose a Master. She may as well be dead. Death was kinder.

Death would have been kinder for him as well. He was far past the point of acceptable losses. The war didn't matter anymore, and it was lost anyway, and he had half a mind to pull Cody and Barriss and Grievous and Boba from the frontlines and send them to live in obscurity in the Mandalorian territory, though he knew that wouldn't work. Skywalker was proving to be relentless in his attacks on everything he cared for. He would find them, and they would be dead too. The only thing to do was to keep them close where he could protect them all. Of course, he'd have to kill Cody first for leaving him stranded.

The only solution was Skywalker's destruction, and while it would be extremely rewarding to rip the man apart, he knew that his death or his prolonged, eternal suffering would do nothing to heal him, would do nothing to fix the problems he now faced. None of Kenobi's problems could just be fixed, there was no simple solution, and dealing with Anakin in the most brutal way possible was simply administering a treatment for symptoms indicative of a larger problem. It was no cure. There was no cure for what ailed him. Still, his grief could be pushed to the side, his pain forgotten in favor of pure, clear rage as he sat there in the dark and thought of all that could be done to ruin the man that had murdered Quinlan.

The large doors creaked open, the metal groaning as the mechanics and hydraulics strained against the melted metal and the shredded ribbons of the twisted durasteel, and light flooded the room, Kenobi hissing in rage and shutting his eyes, burying his face in the crook of his elbow. Yoda roared his displeasure as well, his large eyes shutting against the offending light, but he lacked the energy to physically do anything about his irritation. The door groaned closed again at the violent discomfort of the beings within, enclosing the room in darkness once again, but the interior lighting was switched on, the light dim, but enough to cast the grim skeptical of the large, cavernous room in clear view. The footsteps echoed, slow and methodical and drawing closer and closer, and Kenobi's eyes flew open and narrowed in rage at the man that approached.

"Get away from me!" Obi-Wan snarled, his voice rough and raw from what felt like days and days of screaming and misuse. The footsteps stopped, but the man didn't back away.

"You don't scare me, sir," Cody said, firmly, his voice unwavering and assured. He looked around the room at the broken instrumentation, the dead bodies, the glowing mess of recent lightsaber strikes that covered the walls, and then he focused on Kenobi. The man dangerous, more so than he had ever been, much more than when he had been gripped in madness and wanted to burn the galaxy. This was the opposite of the unpredictable, blazing danger of insanity. This was cold, hard calculation, a surface calm that hid a dragon just beneath the surface, which he felt a moment later when the air snapped to a freezing chill that burned his lungs and a tight, unyielding grasp closed around his neck. The Sith hadn't moved, hadn't done a thing, and Cody fell to his knees with a silent command.

"You stole my ships," Kenobi said, soft and menacing, but otherwise not moving from his place. He didn't need to move to kill, the Dark Side would do it for him. "You kept me from my revenge, Skywalker could be dead by now if it weren't for you. You! You dare try to control me? What right have you to dictate what I do!" Cody looked back at him, eyes defiant and afraid, challenging the Sith, and it only made him more angry. "Nothing will stand in my way, Cody. Not even you. You're going to die for this."

"Oh, stop it, no I'm not," the clone said, his voice strained under the tight grasp, but otherwise untouched by fear or panic or any other emotion, save for mild annoyance, deep concern and...sympathy? Kenobi drew back slightly, his grip loosening. The emotion seemed foreign to him. "You won't kill me, sir, I'm all you have left," Cody gasped when the tight hold relaxed, and Obi-Wan stared at him for a long moment before the clone's logic asserted itself, and he let him go with a frustrated hiss.

"Shut the lights off!" the Sith snarled, shutting his eyes and turning his head away from the other man. "It burns, it hurts, I can't see in it."

"It burns because you've been crying, my Lord," Cody said softly, rising and crossing the short distance to sit before the scoffing, offended man.

"I have not been crying!" he snapped, his anger rising again for just a moment before it instantly cooled when Cody reached out and touched his face, his thumb running over his cheek. "I am a Lord of the Sith, we don't cry!"

Cody smiled gently as he looked at the red, bloodshot eyes of the man before him, the dark circles under his eyes, and wiped his finger over tear stained cheeks. "Whatever you say, sir. Have you been sleeping?"

"I don't need sleep, I am-"

"One with the Force, I know," Cody groaned. "You know, I don't think the Force can actually sustain you." Obi-Wan opened his mouth to protest, but Cody quickly cut in with, "No sleep, from the look of you, no food...you don't happen to have a sudden compulsion to burn it all, do you?" Kenobi shook his head, and Cody sighed in relief. It had been a real concern that this would push the Sith Lord into a permanent state of insanity, and he had only just recovered from madness long enough to begin to resemble himself again. A final push back into the flames he saw everywhere would consume him, of this, Cody was certain, and he had feared that exactly that had happened when Kenobi got the news and rage gripped him in violent, destructive storm. But...it seemed he was just grief-stricken and angry, and without another way to express the powerful emotions, he had lashed out at everything. It was...understandable.

"How long has it been?" Kenobi asked softly.

"...five days, sir."

"You took my ship," the Sith Lord said, accusing and angry, but the hoarse tremor of his voice lessened the threat. "You took all my ships."

"I had to, my Lord," Cody said firmly. "To do your work. I needed them."

"I needed them!" Kenobi shouted, his hand swiftly reaching out and wrapping around the clone's neck. Cody didn't seem bothered. "I needed them to hunt down Skywalker, he needs to pay for what he's done!"

"I agree, sir," Cody soothed, prying the strong fingers from his neck. "Which is why I left you here. You are grieving, you are angry, and I couldn't have you doing something stupid." His anger rose again, but the clone's finger sharply jabbed against his chest. "You said you wanted Skywalker angry. You said you wanted to take everything from him so he would be out of his mind with hatred for you. You said that you would rather deal with a powerful, unbalanced Sith Lord than one that was calm and centered, and he's doing to you what you want to do to him."

"Quinlan-"

"Will be avenged, my Lord," Cody slowly stressed, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. "But not like this, not when you're angry. You would run off to challenge him, you would take his bait, and you would die."

"Do you really think so little of me?" Obi-Wan snapped, and the clone bowed his head.

"No, my Lord, I don't. But if you are unbalanced and angry, you're going to make mistakes, and there's no guarantee that you would come back. But if you're centered and focused..." The clone whistled. "I can't think of anyone that could beat you, especially not some rabid dog." He shrugged carelessly, a small smirk on his lips as he watched the Sith Lord's brow furrow in focus as he considered everything. "So I took your ships to keep you here, so you could be angry and unbalanced where you can't hurt yourself."

"...you should have asked," the Sith grumbled, and Cody smiled, helped the man to his feet, and slowly started to lead him out of the room.

"Apologies, my Lord. I couldn't have you ruining our plans when they're so close to complete." He covered Kenobi's eyes when the door opened, the Sith Lord hissing in pain as the light filtered in. "So, what we're going to do is this. We're going to handle our grief like normal people by drinking ourselves into oblivion, and when we're through, we're going to focus and prepare ourselves for Skywalker. We have a plan, and it's ready to execute. We can't waste it."

Kenobi nodded, squinting against the light as they made their way through the palace. "...you said you were doing my work." Cody nodded and drew up to his full height, chest puffed in pride. "What work?"

"Removing the twins and their incubator from here, for a start. And judging by how many bodies are scattered around the palace, well..." Kenobi frowned, but didn't respond. It was...a good call on the part of his observant commander. He had only recently finished repairing the damage to Padmé's mind and body, had just brought her to Mustafar so he could keep an attentive eye on her while he worked, and while the twins were no less hidden in the Force, they had relaxed considerably, the fear still present, but no longer at the forefront of their developing minds. It wouldn't do to wreck the will of the Force in a mindless rage. "I also brought Shaak Ti." He paused. "That was for me, not for you."

"Where did you take them?" Kenobi asked softly, the two heading into the elevator that would bring him to his rooms. Those weren't damaged. At least. He didn't think...

"Raxus. It's a more defendable position. Skywalker's going to have a harder time getting there, and when you find out his wife is gone, he's going to be pissed." Cody grinned when the smallest hint of approval flitted across the Sith Lord's face. "Everything in line for your revenge, sir. You just need to say the word, and we will execute."

"Everything?" The elevator hissed open, and they stepped out, quickly opening the doors to the Sith's rooms, and they locked themselves inside.

"Everything," Cody affirmed, grabbing two bottles of Mandallian Narcolethe and tossing one on to the bed next to the Sith. The stuff wasn't good, but it was extremely potent, and if severe intoxication was the point, as it was now, it got the job done quickly. "My men," he started quietly as he cracked open his bottle before sitting beside Kenobi, "have infiltrated Skywalker's company and have selected a target for the experiment. They're saying that his men are questioning his behavior, and it's causing them some undue mental strain since they are programmed to follow Jedi orders." He scoffed. "Barriss finished the impulse charge that you started, and we tested it on three clones we captured with the same effect. It triggers the biochip, sir."

Obi-Wan drank long from the bottle, ignoring the burning in his lungs and throat as it went down. "What's Skywalker doing these days, where is he?"

"Colstev, sir. Chasing Ahsoka Tano." A bitter, angry look passed over the Sith's face, and with a deep, dangerous growl, he threw back the bottle and drained the rest of its contents. "Seems the girl got away, and Skywalker seems to think she has something very important."

"...Quinlan said he had proof of what happened on Stewjon," Obi-Wan said, snatching the bottle out of Cody's hand and starting at that one too. The clone rolled his eyes, got up, and grabbed two more bottles. "Perhaps he gave it to her." Obi-Wan looked at the bottle he held, his mind already hazing with the effects of the strong liquor, and he frowned and thrust the bottle back at Cody, his mind racing furiously as he quickly cleared the effects of the alcohol from his mind. "Skywalker may have executed this plan, but something about all of this feels...off."

"You think?" Kenobi nodded and closed his eyes.

"When Sidious was getting concerned about Ventress' powers, he ordered Dooku to kill her. He didn't want Tyranus thinking the Master could be challenged, and the first step toward an apprentice becoming the Master is taking an apprentice of their own. It's always been this way." He took the bottle back from Cody and drank deeply from it. "He couldn't turn me against Quinlan, I think he knew that, but he has a tool now at his disposal that could do the job for him."

"And Skywalker is after you, so it was only a matter of time," Cody said, laying a hand over Obi-Wan's when he saw the man tremble. "I think this plan looked a lot like the work of Admiral Tarkin. The man's a hunter, and they walked into a trap."

"Sidious," Obi-Wan whispered, "Tarkin, and Skywalker. That is a dangerous team." He absently drank from the bottle as he thought. "Our plan targets both Skywalker and Sidious, and without Quinlan's part, I believe turning the Jedi against Skywalker will be difficult." Kenobi drummed his fingers against his leg, slowly working the pieces around in his mind. He had plans, yes, but Sidious worked and prepared for every eventuality. He was truly a master of manipulation. Regardless of the outcome, he would find some way of pulling out on top. "We have a way to bring Skywalker back to Coruscant, and we have a way of making Sidious very nervous, but without proof of what Skywalker has become, and with the Jedi too blind to see it, there's nothing we can do to turn them against him."

"...can we at least deprive him of his allies?" Cody asked softly, and Kenobi nodded.

"I believe so. At the very least, I can deprive him of his little bitch of an Admiral."

Cody grinned widely. "I've been waiting to face off against him."

"At the very least, the great hunter will be a fantastic lure." He drank again, this time surrendering to the effects of the alcohol. With his plan solidly in place, his wrath and focus sharp, his hatred making him strong, there was little he could do until he was ready, and he would be very, very soon. He'd have to move somewhat quickly if he were to save and recover Ahsoka Tano. "In the morning," he said softly, his crisp accent beginning to become slightly slurred, "we'll go to Raxus to check on the twins. They should be born soon, yes?"

"Her idiot droid places her at eight months, so I suspect so." With the alcohol dulling his senses, the grief Kenobi felt was less, and though everything still hurt, he couldn't help but be a bit pleased with himself that he had managed to protect the twins and their mother thus far. It had been easy enough to do from the comfort of Raxus. Running a war wasn't too difficult with good help, Dooku complained too much. "I've been fielding your calls as well," Cody groaned as he leaned back against the pillows and watched the Sith finish another bottle. "Your Master called. He seemed very eager to speak with you."

"Disregard that, I'll speak to him when I'm ready."

"Got a call you won't disregard," he said softly, smirking when the Sith's tired, hazy eyes focused on him. "Master Yoda."

Obi-Wan shot up, his eyes instantly clearing, and he stared at the clone in disbelief. "And you didn't think that should be the first thing you told me?!" Cody threw his hands up in the air in immediate surrender.

"I had to make sure you weren't out of your mind insane. Could you imagine going to meet with the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order and sputtering lunacy at him? Every plan you've ever made would be ruined."

Kenobi growled and put a hand to his head. He drank far, far too much. Oblivion was the point, and he was certainly headed there, but when faced with a meeting with Yoda...

"Where and when?" he mumbled, groaning as he got off the bed and stumbled, barely catching himself, and Cody rushed to help.

"Whenever you like," the clone sais as he slung the Sith's arm over his shoulder. "He said he's fighting on Kashyyyk, but he's well supported and will leave at anytime. The place," he said, grinning, "is Dagobah."

"Dagobah!" Kenobi gasped, stumbling in his shock, but he was caught by the clone. "Dagobah's Confederacy territory, what in the Sith hells is he thinking?"

"Don't know. You can ask him when we get there. Shall I give him a call?"

Cody took the irritated, muttered cursing as a yes.

Dagobah, as it so happened, wasn't very far from Mustafar, but the planets couldn't have been more different. Mustafar was fire, hot and harsh and soaked in the Dark Side. Dagobah was...wet. And murky and cold and nothing but swamps and so pure, so strong in the Force that it physically hurt him to be here. That evil little wretch did that on purpose. He hated it here. He was pretty sure there wasn't a more hateful place in the entire galaxy.

Yoda was there when he arrived, the little creature sitting in calm and peaceful meditation upon a rock in the swamp. Kenobi frowned when he looked down at the ground, his legs nearly knee deep in water and mud. He'd need to throw out his clothes. There would be no getting this filth out of them. He didn't dare draw any closer. The light here was overwhelming, and it weakened him. If this was a trap, it was a damn good one, but he sensed that it was unlikely. This was Yoda, pinnacle of the Jedi Order, and as feeble a thing as that was, the Jedi was not to be underestimated. Kenobi's chest tightened. Since his fall to the Dark Side, he had always been uneasy around Yoda. Kenobi had personally seen what the Jedi could do when they went together to a Temple of the Dark Side on Dathomir, and the Grandmaster had effortlessly kept a powerful Sith spirit away without so much as raising his hand. Yoda had nothing to fear from the Dark Side, and he certainly had nothing to fear from Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Sidious, however, was another matter entirely.

"Unsure, I was, if you would come, Obi-Wan," Yoda said, opening his eyes and looking at the Sith Lord that stood so far away, his arm crossed and his expression irritated, pained, and grief-stricken. Yoda frowned as he stood, and he leapt to solid ground, and with a roll of his eyes, Kenobi quietly followed.

"You catch me at a bad time, Jedi..." Kenobi said, his speech still slightly slurred, and Yoda looked at him with pity. "Drinking, I have been," Obi-Wan said in a mocking voice, but the Jedi brushed it off.

"Sorry, I am, for your loss," Yoda rasped, his voice filled with sadness, and Obi-Wan felt himself tremble. He wasn't prepared to deal with this. "For all our loss. A fine man, Quinlan Vos was."

"Oh no, you don't get to speak to me about Quin!" Kenobi shouted, the echoing of his voice causing the trees to erupt with the beating of frantic wings as a hundred avians left their nests. "Not when you Jedi allow his murderer to run free!"

"Know you what happened on the Enigma, do you?" Yoda asked, and Kenobi could feel new hatred harden within him.

"...no."

Yoda folded his hands within his robes. "Slain was Plo Koon and Asajj Ventress as well. By Quinlan Vos, Skywalker says."

"Of course he does..." He was beginning to wonder why he had come here. There was no way the Jedi would believe a Sith Lord over the precious star of the Jedi Order. He was too drunk to handle this. "Of course, he says I slaughtered the people of Stewjon as well, but I had no business in that mess." He glared down at Yoda and found his features scrunched up in concentration.

"Expressed concerns, Luminara did, about Anakin Skywalker," Yoda said softly. "After you, she talked to." He frowned deeply and clutched his stick. "Believe her, I do." He looked up at the Sith curiously. "Spoke of Qui-Gon Jinn, she did. Lives, does he?" Obi-Wan sucked in a sharp breath and held it.

"No," he said slowly. "But he's not dead either."

"Yoda." Obi-Wan hissed in irritation at the sound of Qui-Gon's voice, and it took him a moment to realize that the tiny Master's ears had perked up, his big eyes appearing even wider, and the origin of the voice wasn't inside his head, but all around them. They were both silent, deathly so, as slowly, the Force seemed to converge, amassing in a bright pull of light, and moments later, Qui-Gon Jinn appeared before them, his body transparent and hazy, a light blue, nearly white manifestation of the deceased Jedi Master. Yoda clutched his chest and staggered back, but Kenobi just rolled his eyes.

"Kriffing hell, I am so drunk."

"Losing my mind, I am," Yoda said softly, shaking his head, but he couldn't keep the smile off his features. "Really you, it is."

"You picked a fine time to figure your shit out, Qui-Gon!" Kenobi snapped, reeling on the Force ghost, but the old Master just chuckled.

"It's an easy thing to do here, the Force is so strong."

"How?" Yoda asked softly, shaking his head in disbelief. "Possible, this has been in the past, but lost, the technique was."

Qui-Gon smiled sadly. "Let's just say that I was bought extra time to complete training I started long ago. I am one with the Force. I should be able to communicate with you, with anyone sensitive to the Force from anywhere, but...the practice of my studies is far different from than simply learning. There has been something of a learning curve."

Yoda hobbled closer to the apparition. "See the future, can you?" Qui-Gon's face dropped considerably.

"Where I exist, there is no future, no past, no time. Only the present." Qui-Gon braced himself for the question he knew would follow.

"Know you, who the Sith Master is?"

"Qui-Gon..." Kenobi growled in warning, and the ghost sighed in resignation.

"My talent," Qui-Gon said softly, "has never been in foresight, but in following the Force to stay in the moment." He looked over the diminutive Jedi Master carefully. "I have seen the Master, yes, but I can't tell you anything that Obi-Wan cannot. He knows his Master, knows his plans, and what's more, feels the pull of the future. Exposing him now could lead to more ruin than if it was carefully planned." Yoda began to object, but Qui-Gon put up a placating hand. "If you can't trust Obi-Wan now, it's truly over for the Jedi."

Slowly, Yoda's gaze shifted from Qui-Gon to the Sith Lord, and Obi-Wan hissed in irritation when the Grandmaster said nothing at all. "It's already over for the Jedi," Kenobi said, the slur in his voice gone and replaced with a cold, biting tone.

"The identity of your Master, I must know," Yoda implored, hobbling closer to Kenobi as the man sneered and backed away, shaking his head. "Defeat him, we can. Together."

"Oh, stop it, no you can't!" Kenobi snapped, and the Master withdrew slightly, a frown on his face as he listened. "Together, yeah, maybe we'd have a chance, but Sidious won't be alone, he has Anakin Skywalker." Kenobi shook his head. "Alone, I may be able to kill my Master, but not now, not when he's so on guard, so on edge, so close to executing the Sith revenge against the Jedi. Together, you and I may have stood a chance, but with Skywalker at his side?" Kenobi laughed bitterly. "I'm good, Yoda, but I'm not that good."

"Underestimate, you do, the power of the light," Yoda said firmly. "Prevail, the Jedi can. Tell me, Obi-Wan, and against your Master, the Jedi will stand."

"Will they?" Kenobi asked bitterly. "Would they really, knowing that you got this information from a Lord of the Sith?" He thrust an angry finger at Qui-Gon. "Would they believe you if you told them you got the information from the Force ghost of Qui-Gon Jinn?" Kenobi crossed his arms over his chest and watched Yoda's face fall. He was right, and the Jedi knew it. "Your Order is fractured, as was my Master's plan. Your Council lays in tatters. You know what this looks like. The leader of the Jedi Order, conspiring with the leader of the Separatists to take down the Republic. Any attack on him now would condemn the Jedi as traitors."

Silently, Yoda sat, his feet clasped together before him, his big eyes closed, his presence calm, but forlorn. After a moment, he looked up at the Sith. "Believe me, the Council will. Fight against this, we can."

"No you can't!" Obi-Wan shouted, his temper flaring, but it was contained, constricted by the oppressive pureness of the Force in this place, and his agitation rose. He felt like he would crawl out of his skin of it could unleash the thrashing Dark Side within him. "You have lost, Yoda! The Jedi are finished! You lost this war long before the war even began! You Jedi are diminished shells of your former selves! There was a time when the Jedi were remarkable, transcendent in their power, when being able to manifest after death wasn't some unheard of, lost art like it is now! Kriffing hell, you can't even sense the Dark Side when it's right beneath you, how can you expect to defeat it!"

Yoda frowned, his wrinkled features drawn in distress and acceptance. "Diminished, the Jedi have been, yes," he admitted, though saying so seemed to pain him, weigh heavy on him, and Kenobi could sense his confusion, his lack of understanding, and it was clear that the Master had been struggling with this for some time. "But why, I know not. Sensed your fall, Obi-Wan, we could not. Neither sensed Dooku's fall, could we. So certain, are you, that Skywalker is Sith?"

"If he isn't now, he will be soon, my Master has had his eyes on him for quite some time now." Kenobi sneered, his anger rising again, but this time, toward Darth Sidious. He should have seen this coming. "He is Sith in action, in any case. His massacre on Stewjon proves that."

"But evidence, you have not."

"No, I don't have evidence!" Obi-Wan shouted, and this time, the Dark Side broke through its constraints and rose up, roaring and furious, the power causing the surrounding trees to violently bend, the water in the swamps spraying up in large waves. Even Qui-Gon's presence wavered, as if he would be blown away like mist on the wind. "I sent Quinlan Vos to get that evidence! And Anakin Skywalker hunted him down and slaughtered him!" He took out the holodisc from the folds of his robe and threw it at the Jedi Master. "There you go, Jedi filth. Our last conversation is recorded on that, look at it if it pleases you." And he strode away. He couldn't bear to hear it again, not when he knew he'd never see Vos anymore. He shouted toward the ship for Cody to bring him another bottle. The pain needed to be dulled now. It wouldn't do to show this Jedi anymore weakness than he already had.

Yoda watched the Sith Lord leave, and when the furiously blowing winds of the Force had died down, he opened the holodisc and played the recording, listening intently and gasping softly when Plo Koon's face appeared, the Kel Dor Master speaking amiably with the Sith Lord. The Jedi had believed the Sith Lord's innocence, had seen the evidence that proved it, and was willing to go and speak with him immediately. There had been witnesses, survivors of the attack that had seen what had happened, and could confirm that Kenobi wasn't involved. But more importantly, Ahsoka was there, she had seen the evidence as well, and she had gone with them. Yoda didn't know how Asajj Ventress figured into all of this, but what really mattered was that Ahsoka Tano, former Jedi Padawan, was not among the dead. She knew the truth, and she was missing.

"He's right, you know," Qui-Gon said softly, and Yoda looked over to the Sith Lord, sitting on a rock with a bottle clutched tightly in one fist and his head resting against the shoulder of a clone in armor of black and red, the colors of the Shadow Legion, once the 212th Battalion that served under Quinlan Vos. The Grandmaster frowned. So many things were interconnected, so many things flowed seamlessly together, all guided by the will of the Force. "The Force flows toward darkness, it favors the Sith. For so long, the Force kept pushing me toward him. I suppose that's why." Qui-Gon sighed heavily. "The Jedi have lost their way, my friend. The Sith aren't the answer, but even the Dark Side has its part to play in the balance the Force strives for."

The Grandmaster softly grunted his agreement. "Such pain in him, I sense. Lost so much, he has. Feels deeply, he does, or such grief, he would not feel." Yoda smiled softly, his ears lowering as he relaxed. "Love and friendship, this pain comes from. Darkness, that is not. Work with this, I can." Clutching his stick tighter, Yoda hobbled over to where the Sith Lord sat with his commander, and when the clone saw the tiny Jedi, he jumped up from his place to stand before the Sith, a hand on his blaster and his chest puffed in challenge. Yoda stopped, eyed the clone, and smiled softly. The man was no threat, he was fiercely protective.

"Believe you, I do, Obi-Wan," Yoda said, holding up the holodisc and using the Force to float the treasured possession over to the Sith Lord. Kenobi reached out and took it, handling it with extreme caution, as if the slightest movement would break it. "Nothing, Skywalker said, about Ahsoka Tano." He gripped his stick tight and tapped it against the ground. "Find her, we must."

Obi-Wan put a hand on Cody's shoulder and nudged him to the side, observing the tiny Jedi before him. He reached out with the Force and slowly, cautiously touched at Yoda's consciousness and found him wide open, his defenses lowered and at complete ease. As always, Yoda had nothing to fear from the Dark Side, the power of the Force protecting him and keeping his mind too bright for any creature of the dark to draw too close to without becoming severely weakened. It went both ways, of course, but not here, not on Dagobah. He wasn't the blinding brilliance that Qui-Gon was, but Kenobi had to squint to look at him, and even then, couldn't see what was in his mind. What he felt, though, was compassion, mercy, understanding, sympathy. And it hurt.

"I've sent troops to Colstev, where we believed she escaped to," he said softly. "Skywalker's there looking for her, so I've been told. He won't find her, and he won't be there long."

"A plan, you have?" Yoda asked, and the Sith Lord simply nodded. "How know you that found her, Skywalker hasn't?" A slow, sad smirk came to Kenobi's face.

"Ahsoka Tano was trained by Quinlan Vos. If she doesn't want to be found, she won't be."

"If know where Skywalker is," Yoda said, "why have you not gone? Revenge you seek, yes?"

"...yes," Obi-Wan hissed, his voice shaking with far too many emotions. "But I don't go into fights if I don't know I can win. My trap for Skywalker is set. I'll be springing it soon enough." His jaw clenched and he closed his eyes, the face of his enemy coming into clear view, and he seethed. "I don't know what happened on the Enigma," Kenobi said softly, "but Skywalker walked in and murdered three highly trained Force sensitives. He's focused and he's centered, and that makes him extremely dangerous. I'm going to knock him off-balance, and then I'll be dealing with him. We can't attack my Master until Skywalker is out of the way, and you Jedi can't do any of this. Our revenge is a thousand years in the making. You no longer have the strength to defeat us."

"Diminished, the Jedi are," Yoda softly admitted as he pointed his stick at Kenobi. "Why."

Obi-Wan looked down at the diminutive Jedi and felt him...calm. Centered. Determined. No doubt Yoda was seeking a way to save his coveted Order, but it was too late. It had been too late for a very long time. When the order was given, the Jedi would be dead, Yoda included, and Kenobi would be at Sidious' side, so...

No, wait. Kenobi opened his eyes and stared far off into the distance, the clarity afforded to him by the Force seeming to cut through the careful web that his Master had spun. He was the leader of the Separatists. How was he supposed to be integrated into the Empire when it would rise from the defeat of the Confederacy? New cold gripped him. Sidious may have been backing Skywalker this whole time, may have simply been waiting for the chance to turn him, bring him to the Sith, and destroy his old apprentice, leaving the cunning Master with a new, powerful apprentice that still had much to learn, who was far more easy to control than Lumis. He looked back at Yoda. The creature may be unable to beat Sidious alone, but together, when the time was right, when Anakin Skywalker was out of the way, it could be done.

"The Jedi Temple," he began slowly, "was built on top of an ancient Sith shrine as a testament to the triumph of the light over the dark." A proud, satisfied smirk came across his face. "For a thousand years, the darkness of that place has infected you, weakened you, and now..." He shrugged, satisfaction washing over him as he watched fear spread across the Master's face. "You are nothing." He grinned, the Dark Side within him keening in satisfaction as it fed off the Jedi's fear. "Do you understand now? Your Temple is our Temple. You are finished. All you can do now is hang on long enough to kill the Sith Lord that did it."

"Hopeless, is it?" Yoda asked, not defeated, but curious.

"...no. Not hopeless." Kenobi took a deep breath. "If we can get Skywalker out of the way, if we can undermine his strength by disturbing his balance, than we can kill Sidious. Not before."

"Serious, the accusations against Skywalker are," Yoda said softly. "Investigate this, I must." He gripped his stick and nodded resolutely. "No proof, is there. Your word against Skywalker's, it will be. But powerful is the influence of Plo Koon," he said, pointing to Kenobi's holodisc. "An investigation of Anakin Skywalker, I will demand. Restricted to Coruscant, he will be."

Obi-Wan breathed a sigh of relief. "That may buy me the time I need to set the rest of my plans in motion. Just remember, Yoda, if you follow Skywalker, it will lead you right back to my Master. Be cautious that you don't follow too close. The Jedi can't beat him, not anymore."

Yoda watched as the Sith slid off the rock and told the clone to ready the ship. The meeting was done, at least for now, and the Jedi came out of it with a tentative alliance with a Sith Lord and the knowledge of just how powerless the Jedi have become. "Go wrong, this may," he said softly. "And quickly."

"...yeah, it might." He pointed at the tiny Jedi. "Don't engage my Master. The slightest misstep, and we will lose the small window of opportunity we have to kill him. He's careful, and he's cautious, and it's very likely we're playing into his hand, even now."

Yoda inclined his head and smiled at the Sith. "May the Force be with you, Obi-Wan Kenobi." The Sith didn't respond. He just turned and walked toward the ship, and Yoda couldn't shake the deep sense of foreboding he felt, as if he were trapped in a net, and the harder he struggled, the more entangled he became.

"Saved from the Dark Side, he can never be," Yoda said softly as Qui-Gon came to stand beside him, "but Obi-Wan, he still is."

"He won't be for long if this keeps up," Qui-God said sadly. "He has lost too much, too quickly, and it's destroying him. Asajj Ventress, Satine Kryze, his son, Quinlan Vos...if he loses much more, he's libel to break."

Yoda looked up at the Force spirit beside him and couldn't help but smile. "Allow that to happen, we cannot."

"It's not over yet," Qui-Gon said softly, watching as Kenobi's ship flew away. "Perhaps the Order will not survive this, but the Jedi may."

"Too strong, the Sith Master is." Yoda frowned as he softly growled. "Too weak, the Jedi have become."

"So long as there are Jedi in the galaxy, we haven't lost. I'll teach you what I know, my old friend," Qui-Gon said. "You'll need all the extra strength you can get."

They returned to Raxus in silence. Obi-Wan was through speaking, and he felt the end drawing very, very near. A month, perhaps, at the very latest, and Sidious would be ready to end the war. With any luck, Yoda would pull through and get Skywalker grounded, which was much better than drawing the irascible fallen Jedi to him, as he intended. Oh, sure, he would still set that particular trap in the event that Sidious had a contingency, but with any luck, Skywalker would be trapped on Coruscant with no wife and no Jedi support, and would most certainly draw Sidious' attention. Kenobi didn't want his Master looking his way when the time came, he wanted him focused on trying to contain his new pet, which Obi-Wan knew would be impossible. After all, he had been difficult to contain when he first fell to darkness.

Finding Ahsoka Tano was paramount for turning not just the Jedi, but the people of the Republic against Skywalker, and for as careful as Sidious was, that was certain to give even him pause. He'd have to choose very, very carefully about who his apprentice moving forward would be, and that doubt could only benefit Darth Lumis. For now, he'd done all he could. All that was left to do was wait. He wouldn't be baited by Skywalker, as Quinlan's death was meant to do. He'd have revenge for him soon enough, and when it was finally executed, it would be beautiful, a litany of pain and suffering so exquisite that Obi-Wan could hardly stand it. The visions had taken one new meaning, and while before he had been nervous, apprehensive about the face in flames, now he looked upon it with excitement and sinister glee. Skywalker would burn, and he was going to sit back and watch when he did.

When they landed on Raxus, Kenobi silently strode through the palace towards his rooms, and quietly slipped in to find Padmé sleeping in his bed. She was an important piece in his plans, of course, the one thing that Anakin Skywalker seemed to revolve around, and now it was gone. He didn't know it yet, but when he did, it would be the beginning of the end for Skywalker. Soon. Soon.

He quietly slipped into bed, and the movement was enough to wake the girl. She groaned as she sat up, a hand on her positively enormous stomach, and gently brushed the Sith Lord's cheek, tentative and nervous, as though she was unsure what she would be met with. "Cody told me about Quinlan." Obi-Wan's entire body tensed as grief gripped him. All his anger was channeled toward Anakin Skywalker, and now, when he thought of his friend, all he felt was sorrow, deep and raw and eternal. "Obi-Wan, I am so sorry, I-"

"Hush," Kenobi hissed, grabbing hold of her shoulder and easing her back down to lay beside him, which she quickly and almost gratefully complied. "I can't talk about him." Padmé nodded her understanding, nuzzled in close to him, and said nothing more, and a moment later, the exhausted woman was fast asleep, her hand gently resting on her lover's chest, but sleep would not take Obi-Wan. It hadn't since Quinlan died, and it wouldn't for some time to come.

He gently ran his hand down her arm, pale in color and long free of the bruises that had previously covered her. It had taken some time to repair her mind, but with enough patience and gentle coaxing, the layers of fear in the Force that surrounded her had been peeled away, and once he was in, it had been simple. The twins still lay hidden, of course, the closer they came to birth, the more adept at concealing themselves they became, though occasionally, if he was very lucky, he'd catch the slightest glimpse of them peeking out from behind cover, observing their surroundings, and swiftly retreating back into hiding.

He ran his hand over Padmé's stomach, his eyes closed as he tried to touch the twins with the Force, but quickly gave up. There was not enough calm, not enough peace, too much grief and anger to soothe the children. He lay there for a long while, his hand absently stroking the woman's stomach, and as he slipped into his meditations, Obi-Wan felt warmth, comfort and sympathy reach out and embrace him, his fingers held in tiny little grasps, and the weight of all he had lost came down upon him, and through the flood of grief and anger and torment, the tiny hands never let go of him.