Chapter 14 – Fives

Author's Note: I am so, so sorry for posting this chapter a week late. I completely forgot that I needed to post it. Lol.

WARNING: Self-harm thoughts, suicidal thoughts/feelings, major disassociation, blood, and general darkness!

~ Amina Gila

The morning after Anakin's last therapy session, he made an effort to get up in the morning and do something, even if that something amounted to nothing more than cooking everyone breakfast. It keeps him distracted and busy, and if he doesn't want to be pressured into going back to a therapist, he needs to start pretending, at least, to be feeling better. Which means that he needs to find new ways to distract himself, so he doesn't spiral and start contemplating violence on himself.

It… is hard. It's very hard, actually, when he doesn't care about anything. He doesn't care about getting up or doing anything, and he's so tired. He just wants to rest, to – to nothing, to be nothing. Nope. Nuh uh. Those thoughts are Not Allowed right now. Or ever. He's not broken or – or wrong, no matter what his mind healer assured him about how it's normal and healthy to seek out help. It seems backwards. Admitting to a weakness means – it means – (it means being defective and worthless.)

So, no. He's not doing that anymore. He's going to try to act better so that Padme and Ahsoka don't worry about him as much. Maybe he can even try to accompany Ahsoka on one of her relief missions. He doesn't want to, not by any means, because if he can't even take care of himself, how does he expect to do anything but fail other people? But – but it might help, and it will at least give him something useful to do so he doesn't feel so much like a failure.

(At least if he's busy helping with relief missions, he won't be fantasizing about what it would be like to slash open his arm, cutting down to bone and feeling the hot, wet blood gushing out, painting everything red.)

Ahsoka shadows him when, after Padme has gone to the Senate, he decides to clean the entire apartment from top to bottom. Himself. Without droids. Well, Ahsoka helps, too, of course, which makes it go faster. And when that's done, he sets about cooking an elaborate meal for dinner. It's not like he has anything else to do, and cooking takes his mind off things. It's something he's good at, something that can show how useful he is.

He knows that he's slipping back into patterns from his childhood, a mindset that he managed to train himself out of once he came to the Temple. It's – it's not good. It's not something that he can deal with long-term, but it will work for now, and maybe – maybe… Maybe, what? Maybe he'll magically start feeling better? Ridiculous. He is not getting better. He is not going to get better by waiting, but he doesn't know what else to do.

Force, he is so tired, and he wants to sleep. He wants to see Obi-Wan –

No.

Nono. Bad. He can't think about Obi-Wan. That's what started the spiral last time, and he absolutely does not need to do something as drastic as sliding the knife in his hands – yes, he's cooking, so he needs it right now to chop vegetables; maybe he should have given it to Ahsoka to do instead – in between his ribs aiming for his heart. Not in front of Ahsoka.

She doesn't say anything when he hands her the knife with trembling fingers and asks her in a flat, detached tone to finish the job. He hardly feels real, here, and – and – stop it. Idiot. Can he not focus on this assigned task long enough to see it through without losing it? Cursing himself silently in Huttese, Anakin shakes his head, all but glaring at the recipe on the datapad and trying to force his muddled brain to work properly. Ugh. There's a reason why he asked Ahsoka to read him the directions in the first place. (Give him orders. Orders. Orders are easy to follow, easy to listen to. He's used to the mindless obedience. He had it beaten into him when he was a child.)

The Force is curled around him. It feels sad, as if it might be crying with him. Or for him; he doesn't really know. If he wasn't so depressed, he thinks he'd be able to passively sense the Force better, feel the ebb and flow of it in the acute way he has ever since all of this started. But he feels distant from it, and if he wasn't so weary of everything, he would care more than he does. The Force, however, refuses to forsake him, silently feeding him strength and support. It helps somewhat, but it's not enough to prevent him from slowly slipping away and yearning for the nothingness of death.

Anakin jumps, surprised, when the door alarm sounds and leaves the kitchen to answer it, if only to give him something to do away from the pointy, sharp things lying in plain sight. He blinks and then blinks again when he sees the person standing there, reaching out to check the Force signature just to make sure. But Fives does not disappear.

"Come in," Anakin says hesitantly, unsure how and why the clone ended up outside Padme's apartment, much less what he's doing here. Fives is radiating a tense, nervous energy into the Force, and he keeps looking around uneasily, as if expecting someone will see him. What is going on?

"General," Fives nods, entering the apartment immediately, relief curling into the Force. "I'm so glad to see you. I came here – I was looking for you."

I'm not a General anymore, Anakin wants to say, but he can't quite make his mouth work right, and he doesn't have the energy to say it anyway, to argue the honorific that Fives has used. "What has happened?" he asks instead. He can feel the clone's eyes on him, assessing him, and it makes him feel self-conscious, or at least as much as he possibly can be at the moment. Which is almost none.

Ahsoka materializes at his side – or maybe she's been there for a few minutes, and he merely didn't notice; it would hardly be the first time. Focusing can be so hard sometimes – frowning, mostly at Fives. "Why don't you come to the living room and explain to us," she proposes.

He feels stupid for not having said it earlier, but he nods with a smile that probably looks more like a grimace and shuffles into the living room, gesturing for Fives to join them. You look terrible. He can almost hear Fives' thought, though he has no idea if it's really the clone's or if it's just his own, his own self-recrimination. And then more quietly, the whisper slithers up. What would Obi-Wan think of you if he could see you?

Anakin shoves that away with viciousness, refusing to indulge it, though if he curls his left hand into a fist hard enough to dig his fingernails into his palm, not enough to draw blood, no one needs to know.

Fives looks uncomfortable, out of place even, but there's a desperate urgency in his brown eyes, a worry that Anakin is more than willing to listen to. "I'm in trouble," Fives admits. "We were – on our last mission, there was something of an incident. Tup, he had to be taken back to Kamino, because no one could explain why he was acting so… erratic."

"What happened?" Anakin hears himself ask. He feels far away again, unsurprising, since it's a normal thing, that he keeps functioning like his body is a droid, empty of thoughts and feelings. He cares, he knows he cares about what Fives is saying, but he can't find the energy to feel it.

Fives' eyes skirt towards Ahsoka, and Anakin follows his gaze. The Togruta's lips are pinched shut as if she's trying not to say something. She seems to be pointedly not looking at him, but she nods jerkily. "Go on," she encourages as if she needed to give Fives permission for some reason.

Maybe one day when Anakin has the energy, he'll drag himself into the 'fresher and look in the mirror. He dislikes how they seem to be treating him as if he's something… fragile.

"Tup attempted to shoot General Kenobi," Fives admits, and Anakin's heart skips a beat, a chorus of panicked screaming starting up in the back of his head. Suddenly, Ahsoka is squeezing his hand, his prosthetic one, and he grips back, careful not to hurt her, but tight enough to ground himself, to keep himself from snapping entirely.

Not Obi-Wan.

Not Obi-Wan.

He can't – if –

"The Kaminoans claimed they could find nothing," Fives continues, and there's obvious concern in his eyes now, though he doesn't say anything about it. "I investigated on my own, and I discovered an… inhibitor chip." He pauses, taking a shaky inhale and leaning forward. "I found the truth, the truth about a plot, a massive deception."

The intensity of his words is enough to grip Anakin's attention, to rivet him to the present so he doesn't start screaming from the intensity of the pressure building up inside him. The Force curls around him, demanding, incessant, whispering listen you must listen to him.

"There is… a plot against the Jedi," Fives explains. His hands are trembling, and what strikes Anakin most is the sheer fear he's radiating.

"What proof do you have?" Ahsoka wants to know when Anakin can do nothing but stare, unblinking, his mind echoing Fives' words over and over again.

"The proof is in here," Fives insists, tapping the side of his head; his hair, Anakin notices, has been shaved, and there's a scar on the side of his head. "It's in all the clones. I was – I was taken to Tarkin. He knows, General. He knows about it. He – he was in league with Palpatine. He – I – There are organic chips built into our genetic code to make us do whatever someone wants, even kill the Jedi." His fear, his panic, it makes sense now.

"What of the Council?" Anakin inquires. He sounds dead, even to his own ears, and he resolutely does not look at Ahsoka or react to the sudden, crushing pressure on his right hand, as if she's trying to snap him out of whatever daze is consuming him.

Fives shakes his head. "I don't know. I don't know if they'll believe it or not, but I – Tarkin talked to me, and I just – I snapped. All I could think about was how Tup died for nothing, how I could have been forced to turn on you, both of you, and I – I tried to kill him. They're hunting for me now."

It makes sense, suddenly, why Fives came to them instead of going to the Council with what he knows, and Anakin feels touched that the clone cares for him, trusts him so much. It's a trust that he will not abuse, and if Fives is right… A wave of dread, of revulsion, wash through him. The clones are no better than slaves, and he was complicit in it. They are chipped, and he was their slaver. It doesn't matter how he treated them; he still participated in it, and he has to – he has to make it better, make it right. Somehow.

He hears Ahsoka saying his name, sounding worried, and he blinks, turning to her, feeling as if he just woke up. "I'm trying to think," he says instead of admitting that he might have just zoned out without realizing it. Minutes, maybe longer, is gone just like that. Not that it matters anymore. He's become a failure in every conceivable way, but this is – this is something that he can fix, can try to fix at any rate, and for what feels like the first time in weeks, Anakin reaches for the Force consciously, mustering up the ability to call on its soothing Light.

Tell me, he silently begs the Force. Tell me what to do.

And the Force, it answers, curling around him, all but wrapping him in something akin to a protective embrace. My child, it seems to croon, whispering silent comfort, as if trying to take away his pain. It can't, but it helps that it's at least trying.

"We must go to the Council," Anakin decides, straightening, attempting to act like the general he once was. He must be strong. He has to be stronger than this, falling apart at the seams, being kept together by his loving wife and sister or daughter or whatever she is to him. "The Council will know what to do, and if we can at least warn them, perhaps it will not be too late to act. Until then, you can stay here, Fives. You will be safe, I promise."

"I – are you sure that the Council will… listen to you?" Fives queries, reluctant.

Anakin waves a hand. "They will listen," he assures. If for no reason other than some misplaced guilt that he left. Perhaps they will be upset at him for abandoning them. Perhaps not. He has not given the Council much, or any, thought since he left. He has not cared for what they might think of him. The only person that matters is Obi-Wan. But either way, the Council will… listen. They might do nothing, but they will listen.

"Let me get presentable first," he adds, knowing that he cannot go before the Council and expect to be taken seriously looking like he just crawled out of the gutter. It's a wonder that no one else has commented on it, including Fives, and he loves them for it, because he does not think he could have handled it.

It has been a while since he was at the Temple, but not so long that he doesn't know how to dress or act. This is not for himself; it is for the clones, and even now, Anakin would do anything for them, for these men who have been born into a world where they have no choices. Just like him. They, he and them that is, have been cut from the same cloth. They deserve better, a better world, a better future, and Anakin will give them that much. He will give them whatever he has left of himself.

**w**

"Hello there," Obi-Wan snarks, spinning his lightsaber and pointing it at Grievous. Around him, the Force swells with something akin to glee, a desire for the fight that is coming, a craving for the violence which will be dolt out.

Grievous hacks a laugh – or maybe it was a cough – separating his arms and igniting four separate lightsabers, leaping forwards. Obi-Wan meets him head-on, knowing that Artoo will get into the Separatist systems to extract whatever information they need while Obi-Wan springs the trap that has been set. Artoo is a recent addition, and not one that Grievous or the Separatists will have had any way of anticipating.

It will be their loss.

The duo exchange rapid, furious blows as Obi-Wan calls upon all of his expertise to avoid being injured by the droid general. Soresu, Obi-Wan's preferred form, is excellent in this type of combat. He backs away as needed, biding his time until he gets the chance to sever one of Grievous' hands.

Grievous roars in rage, and the loss of his extremity seems to drive him further into a frenzy. They exchange a few more blows before Obi-Wan feels the distant curl of the Dark Side that warns him of someone else approaching: Dooku. His feelings towards the Sith are complicated, to say the least, but now, he most keenly feels anger. Dooku has caused so much damage, so much chaos and destruction. He hurt Anakin, too, on Geonosis, hurt him in a way from which he can never fully heal.

Obi-Wan doesn't know why he's suddenly thinking about this now, but he knows that if he doesn't do something, and fast, he'll be overwhelmed. As it is, he probably won't make it out of here. Well, if he's going to be captured, he will go down with a fight.

He pulls on the Force, his anger like ice in his chest as he hurls Grievous backwards, tapping into the Force more strongly than he ever has in the past when facing the droid general. The chilling power running through him sharply reminds him of how he felt when facing Maul back on Naboo after Qui-Gon was killed. He doesn't let it faze him as he pins Grievous against the wall with naught but the power of his mind and crushes.

Grievous howls in seething fury as all six of his limbs crumple, and he collapses to the floor, twitching as he attempts to leave. Obi-Wan stalks to him, driving his lightsaber through the general's chest armor, withdrawing it and chopping off his head just to make sure he's really dead, right as the door opens again and Dooku enters.

"Master Kenobi," he greets lightly. "I must say that this is unexpected."

Obi-Wan turns towards him, expression ice. "It was a long time in coming," he answers, not even bothering to look back at Grievous' dead body. "And now you will go down with him."

Dooku raises an eyebrow at him, amused. "Will I? Grievous was no Sith. He was no match for the power of the Dark Side."

He gives him a flat look. "Why, Count, you wound me. I am a Jedi. I do not use the Dark Side."

There's a flicker of incredulousness on Dooku's face before it disappears behind his impassive mask. "Do you truly not realize what you have done, Obi-Wan, what you are doing? Can you not feel how different the Force is for you now?"

Obi-Wan takes a step back. "I don't know what you're talking about."

It's instinctive, this denial, of Dooku's words because what Dooku is saying is impossible. He is merely trying to throw Obi-Wan off-guard, trying to distract him before attacking. He suppresses his reflexive urge to think back to the past, to how much things have changed for him.

(He remembers the wild fury that had overtaken him when he went to Anakin's room after his once Padawan walked away, remembers how he had very nearly given in to the desire to destroy the place, to rip it apart for daring to mock him with Anakin's presence. He remembers the ruthlessness, for that is what it is, that has been driving him, the chilling, pervading cold which he can never get rid of. He remembers the brief, momentary satisfaction that he felt on seeing Grievous so helpless before he killed him.)

Dooku hums, indulgently. "Oh, but I think you do. I think you do."

A dark rage lights up his veins, turning his blood to ice. He is not so weak that he would embrace the Dark Side. He is not Dooku. He would not do what Dooku did, turning his back on the Jedi, on all he has fought for, on all Anakin has fought for.

"And there it is," Dooku continues. He sounds curious, intrigued, and it makes Obi-Wan furious beyond words that this Sith thinks to throw such baseless accusations at him.

He doesn't even think; he just lunges forwards.

It's a mistake that he will come to regret.

**w**

Anakin feels much better after getting himself ready to meet with the Council. Given the sensitive nature of the information he has, he expects that he will be readily allowed into the Jedi Temple. It's so strange to go there as a citizen and not as a Jedi. He's scared, of course, because he doesn't know how to react to seeing the building that was his home for so many years. He doesn't know if he can truly handle it, but he doesn't have a choice.

Though he doesn't think that Obi-Wan is actually on Coruscant right now, he might still see him, and he can't – he can't –

He doesn't know how he'll ever handle that. He misses Obi-Wan so much that it physically hurts. It's like a piece of him was torn away, and he wants to fix it. But he can't. He can't. There's nothing he can do. Before – Before, he would have gone to Obi-Wan if something was tormenting him this deeply. He would have tried to talk to him. He would have attempted to communicate with his master. But he can't trust him like that anymore.

No matter how much he knows that, it's like losing Obi-Wan all over again. A part of him has never been able to let go of that, to move on from the death that was so real to him. He saw Obi-Wan die. He carried his body, went to his funeral. It was real, and maybe a part of him is terrified that it was real, that this is nothing more than the frantic attempts of his mind to find some semblance of something lest he lose his mind entirely.

"We'll be fine," Ahsoka mumbles under her breath, because she had insisted on coming with him to the Temple, to the Council. Anakin is so grateful to her for staying with him, even when she doesn't have to.

He can hope so, at least.

Getting into the Temple is surprisingly easy, especially once Anakin explains that he has obtained sensitive information regarding the clones. Seeing the building, however, is hard, just as he had expected. His heart aches fiercely, longing for the home that was never truly a home, and more importantly, longing to be with his master again, wishing that he could be a child once more where things were simple and where Obi-Wan took care of him.

He and Ahsoka are ushered into the briefing room where Masters Windu and Yoda – along with a few other Jedi – are speaking.

"Skywalker," Windu greets, short and curt, turning towards him.

"Something to tell us you have?" Yoda prompts a little more gently.

Anakin swallows, though his throat feels dry and his mind is scrambled. Still, he collects himself, stepping forwards, with Ahsoka's calm, steady, supporting presence at his side. It has been a while since he has had to give a report, but he is so used to it, that he easily slips back into the mindset, giving a short, succinct summary of what Fives told him. "If this is true," he finishes, "It could mean the difference between the survival and destruction of the Jedi."

A grim silence fills the room, as the Jedi who are present exchange looks. "Thank you for bringing this to our attention," Windu tells him. "We will look into it immediately. The Council never authorized the production of the clone army, and if it was orchestrated by the Sith, it makes sense that they would have installed such a contingency in the form of inhibitor chips."

Anakin nods, understanding, and around him, the Force pulses with dangerdanger. It's indistinct, something elusive and far off, but it's still very present, and it terrifies him. And then, suddenly, a transmission comes through. It's Commander Cody.

"I apologize for the interruption," Cody says without preamble, "But I have urgent news."

Everything turns towards him, and since no one gestures for Anakin or Ahsoka to leave, he remains, hanging onto the clone's every word, because somehow, somehow, he already knows.

"General Kenobi infiltrated the Separatist base. He confronted General Grievous and killed him, but he was subsequently captured by Count Dooku," Cody announces. With each word, Anakin's heart falls further and further, lodging somewhere in his boots. "We tracked the Count's starship leaving the system to an unknown destination with General Kenobi aboard."

"Let me go," Anakin blurts out without even thinking about it, without even stopping to consider propriety or the implications. But this is Obi-Wan, and it's his greatest fear come true. He can't sit here waiting, knowing that Obi-Wan is in Dooku's hands, knowing what kinds of things Dooku will do to him – because he went through those things himself: the torture and electrocutions – and do nothing. He could never forgive himself.

Windu looks at him, disapproving, and even Ahsoka is radiating surprise into the Force.

But Anakin pushes forwards before he can be told no. "I can only imagine how difficult the war effort has been since I left the Order," he continues. "I am not a Jedi any longer, but I can – I can still help. I can find Obi-Wan. If I go, you won't have to spare anyone else."

It makes sense, and he knows that he does not look good, but at the same time, it's an offer he doesn't think the Council will refuse. The war effort is not good, and he's volunteering. They would be foolhardy to deny him. Windu and Yoda exchange looks, an unspoken communication passing between them.

"Very well," Windu agrees. "The two of you will be given temporary command of a battalion from the 501st Legion. Find Obi-Wan, and may the Force be with you."

"Thank you, Master," Anakin murmurs, bowing his head. He's horribly out of practice – he hasn't held a lightsaber in weeks, and he's been so inactive that it will probably take some work for him to get back in shape. And they're running out of time.

"Your lightsabers you will need," Yoda interjects as if reading Anakin's thoughts. "Great care you must take. Sense a plot by the Sith I do. Clouding everything the Dark Side is."

And truthfully, Anakin senses it, too. The Force is whispering to him, curling around him, telling him to be careful, to be cautious, because if he does not watch out, he will walk right into a trap. So, he will be careful, and he will do his utmost to find and rescue Obi-Wan as fast as he can. For now, he can let his own issues rest while he goes after the one person that he would do anything for. If he can't save Obi-Wan, if something goes wrong… he knows that the guilt will destroy him.

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