Anakin went to see Master Xio right after he got something to eat in the creche's cafeteria. She went through the basics, asking him to replay the conversations he had with Palpatine line by line, what happened with him and Siri (which she highly approved of), and then over how well their plans for his reactions to stress had gone over. He told her the honest truth, that the stress ball had helped some, but not a whole lot. He'd completely forgotten about the mints. She told him that neither she nor Girth had expected much different and asked if he wanted to try other ways to cope. He thought about it, but eventually said he wanted to stick with what they'd already come up with, because while the stress ball may not have helped a lot, it had still helped, and he'd take some over none any day. He'd also try to remember the mints and see if that helped as well. He suspected they would.
Anakin had left her office feeling far more centered than he had when he'd come back to the temple earlier that day. Between his mind-healing session and Siri, he couldn't help but feel that everything had been a huge success.
He still wasn't looking forward to going back next week.
That night, he went racing for the first time since he'd returned from the gathering, happily taking his new lightsaber with him, albeit incognito. What Bleersh didn't know couldn't hurt him, right?
The evening went by without incident (if he didn't count nearly crashing a number of times, but that was fairly normal for this particular racing circuit – he blatantly ignored Master Xio's voice in the back of his head telling him he was falling back on not-so-healthy coping techniques because he didn't have much to actually cope with) and he returned to the temple to sleep the rest of the night off feeling tired, but accomplished.
If only his dreams had gotten the memo that he'd addressed everything he needed to. Despite feeling good about the day, apparently something of his visit to Palpatine had sneaked into his psyche as he found himself walking the halls of the Death Star behind Grand Moff Tarkin. Except he wasn't towering over the man, but looking up at him, as if he were still an initiate. Confused, he looked down but found his hands covered in the black armor, despite his size.
Worried now, he looked around. The sight behind him made him freeze in his tracks. There lay a veritable hoard of bodies, some decapitated, other missing limbs and arms, some just run through, all of them very dead. Despite being no longer among the living, they all still moved, crawling and stumbling forward. Mutilated children lead the mob, reaching towards him and crying out for his blood, their eyes accusing and hurt and so, so sad...
A buzzing, crackling sound in front of him caused him to whip around just in time to see Sidious (not Tarkin? Where did Tarkin go?) electrocuting one Princess Leia Organa. She screamed in pain and then collapsed.
"NO!" Anakin yelled, his voice mechanical as he stretched out toward the fallen body while Sidious cackled. He reached her and fell to his knees, turning her over only to find that instead of Leia, it was Padmé lying there. She wasn't breathing.
Horrified, he scrambled away as if his life depended on it, eyes fixated on the body lying on the floor of the platform of Mustafar. Somehow the Death Star had changed into this hated memory and he just wanted to get away. He backed right up into the clutching, grasping hands of the bodies of those he'd killed. They dragged him backwards, pinning him to the ground and looking on with their blank, dead eyes.
"No," he shouted again, shaking his head. "No! They forgave me! They came to help me on Ilum! This is wrong!"
"How could they forgive you?" A voice that sounded awfully like Sidious whispered to him. "They're not even born yet."
Anakin felt his mouth go dry and squirmed to get away. The voice, mercilessly, went on. "And even if they did forgive you, that doesn't mean you deserved it. After all, you were the one who killed them – those souls who were pure enough to forgive even a monster like you."
"NO!" Anakin yelled and sat up in his bed, drenched in sweat. His arms shot up to push the grasping hands of the dead away, but he felt nothing and, now that he looked around, saw nothing. After several seconds of frantically searching his initiate's room, he finally realized that it had all been a nightmare.
Forcing himself to take several deep breaths, he lowered his head into his hands. He hadn't had a nightmare that badly in over a year. He hadn't realized that actually speaking with Sidious would affect him this badly. Besides, he'd worked through it, hadn't he? With both Siri and Xio.
Well, everything today... but his mind kept whispering to him that he had avoided really going into any serious detail regarding what he'd done as a Sith. The people he'd tortured. The civilizations he'd slaughtered. The planets he'd enslaved. The hope he'd very nearly squelched. The lives he'd ruined...
The voice in his dream had been right. He didn't deserve any forgiveness, and he'd known that. He'd known that for a long time now.
He didn't know how long he sat there in the dark feeling more and more depressed, but he knew he wasn't getting back to sleep again that night.
Eventually, a light tapping on his door brought him out of his trance.
"Who's there?" he croaked, wincing at how broken his voice sounded; like glass shattering.
He didn't get an answer except for another knock. Frowning, he got up and practically stumbled over to the door, palming it open once he'd reached it. To his great surprise, on the other side of it stood a little Togruta who looked like she'd been crying. He blinked at the almost five-year-old and then glanced down the hallways. He saw no one.
"Ahsoka?" he asked, shoving aside his own dilemma for the moment and squatting down in front of her. She was a little taller than him when he did that now. Did children always grow up this quickly?
"S-sky-guy," she said hesitantly.
"What are you doing here?" he asked. His clan was at least two hallways up from the Clawmouse clan, and she wasn't supposed to be able to leave her wing without permission. Then again, Anakin knew how easy it was to pick a lock if one really wanted to. And hadn't he taught her class some of the basics a month or two ago?
Oops.
In his defense, he hadn't thought they'd actually, you know, catch on. They were five for the Force's sake!
"I... It was cold again. Y-you said if it g-got cold to come and b-beat you up and tell you to st-stop it."
Anakin blinked at the little girl for several seconds before his shoulders slumped and his head dropped. He reached a hand up to rub at his face as he berated himself. How could he keep forgetting that he couldn't let himself fall into traps like that because it dragged others down with him. He was actually kind of surprised Siri wasn't right there with Ahsoka, lightsaber in hand.
"I did say that, didn't I," he said, looking back up at her and then opening his arms. "I'm sorry, Snips."
"Y-you better be!" she said as she ran forward and threw her arms around his neck.
"I didn't mean to make you cry."
"It was so cold and you were so sad and... and... don't do it again! Understand?!"
He couldn't help but snort. "Yeah. Yeah, I do. I'll do my best, alright?"
He felt her nod.
After a few seconds like that, he stood up, picking her up with him. "How about we get you back to your clan, huh? And maybe we won't let them know that I taught you to pick the lock."
She giggled into his shoulder. It was strange, but every moment having her there seemed to drive the doubt and depression further and further away. It wasn't gone, and he could practically feel it at the edge of his psyche, ready to pounce the moment he let his guard down, but he refused to focus on that. Instead he chose to focus on the warm body in his arms as he hacked his own way out of his hallway (seriously, why could padawans and knights enter and exit at will without setting off any alarms, but not the initiates?) and carried the younger initiate to the nearest lift and down to her own hallway.
As he started down towards her room, he felt her arms tighten around his neck and stopped.
"Snips?" he asked quietly.
"Can... you stay with me? For a little while?"
He blinked into the dim light of the hall for a few seconds before a small smile made its way onto his face.
"Sure," he said. "But let's stay out in the common area." He'd rather not be caught in her room. Taking her in to tuck her in was one thing, but actually staying there, well staying in the room of a member of the opposite gender, no matter how young, was strictly forbidden. The initiates learned this at a very young age and realized there were dire consequences for disobeying. Anakin agreed with those consequences too. Besides, he really didn't want to give the wrong idea here. But just sitting with her until she calmed down enough to go to bed was something he could do in one of the softer cushions in the common area.
He didn't expect to find two other children Ahsoka's age sitting on one of the couches, slumped in sleep and illuminated only by the window looking over Coruscant.
"Did they follow you?" Anakin asked Ahsoka, who turned around and blinked.
"I don't know..." she said slowly.
"I'm going to set you down now, okay," he said to her. She nodded and he set her on the other end of the couch. Then he walked over and gently shook the two initiates awake. He'd gotten to know the other members of her clan fairly well when he'd volunteered to teach them as Yoda had suggested he do. The girl was a zultran named Hala. She had dark pink skin and hair just a couple of shades darker and had become rather good friends with Ahsoka. The other was a Mon Calamari boy named Raekar who had been far shier than both of the other girls on their worst days, combined.
"Hey," Anakin said softly as he gently shook them awake. "What are you two doing out here."
"'Soka?" Hala asked wearily, rubbing at her eyes.
"Sky Guy!" Raekar said, although Anakin couldn't tell if it was out of relief or fear.
"Sky Guy!" Hala repeated, even more excitedly, "you gotta help us! 'Soka's gone and we're not good enough with the doors to follow! She was so sad and—"
Anakin held up a hand, cutting the girl off with a small smirk. "You mean her?" he asked, pointing to the end of the couch.
"'Soka!" they both exclaimed, jumping off the couch and racing towards her.
"'Soka! Are you okay?" Hala asked worriedly.
"You just left," Raekar said softly, practically hiding behind Hala.
Ahsoka looked between the two children, not knowing exactly what to do. Then she just pointed at Anakin.
"It was cold so I had to go kick Sky Guy's butt."
Well, at least they hadn't picked up on the harsher language Anakin had let slip once or twice in their presence. Thank the Force for small favors.
Raekar's eyes went even rounder than normal. "Did you?" he asked.
Anakin managed a laugh. It was a little forced, but he did it. "Yeah, she did. I was going to sit with her until she felt good enough to go back to bed."
Hala's eyes practically lit up. "Can we sit with you too?"
Anakin hesitated. He didn't exactly feel like he was worthy of even touching these kids right now (to be honest, he never did, but it was particularly bad right now). Ahsoka was an exception because she was his padawan and family and somehow that mattered, but with these two...
"Um," he said slowly, then looked over at Ahsoka. He couldn't say no to them, so maybe she could? "Is that okay?"
The torgruta seemed to study them all for several (incredibly long) seconds before smiling brightly and nodding.
"Yeah, that's fine."
Which is how Anakin found himself sitting in a cushion with three squirming 4 and 5-year-olds snuggling next to him, wondering just how he'd gotten into this situation. Eventually they coerced him into telling them a story. So he thought back to his days on Tatooine and picked up a myth from the legends his mother had told him. This one was about the goddess Leia.
Five minutes later, they were all asleep and Anakin had no idea how he was ever going to get them all off of him. He could use the Force, but it always became more difficult with sentients and while he was sure he could do it, it could also wake them up seeing as they were Force Sensitive themselves.
So he took a moment to revel in these bright, innocent souls who still, for some reason he could not fathom, wanted to be around him – who trusted him.
He'd betrayed that trust once in another life.
Never again, he vowed.
The next morning, the caretaker was surprised to find all four of them peacefully sleeping in a pile on the cushion. She didn't have the heart to wake them.
xXx
"Ah, Siri," a familiar voice that would normally have Siri brightening up instead made her wince ever so slightly. Still, she pasted on a smile, not entirely faked. She did like seeing her Master. She just... didn't care for their conversations as of late.
"Master!" she turned around and said it brightly.
"Former Master," the dark-skinned woman replied. "How many times do I have to ask you to call me Adi?"
Siri snorted a little, although her smile had begun to feel more genuine. "It feels weird. It sounds weird. It is weird. You'll always be my Master, you know?"
Adi's smiled warmly. "And you will always be my Padawan. But you are still a knight and one I consider a friend, so please, call me Adi?"
Could the blond help it if she was practically beaming now? "Fine," she conceded, "Adi. But it's still weird."
Her mentor laughed heartily and Siri savored the moment. It wasn't something that happened often.
"How are you feeling?" Adi asked as she began to walk down the hall. Siri fell into step beside her (which also felt weird, she should be just behind, flanking and protecting her back).
"I am well, Mas—er, Adi," that was going to take some getting used to, but the approval she felt through their bond was like the sun peeking out from behind the clouds. She couldn't help but feel grateful that they'd decided not to separate the training bond yet (on account of her mental health, but still). "Getting stronger every day, and I haven't had a relapse in... months now." Well, not a true relapse. She still tended to have issues when Anakin was in a darker mood, but she was getting better at resisting the void that she could still almost feel – that wanted to pull her back.
"Excellent," Adi said with a smile, then she stopped and turned to Siri with her hands on her hips. "I hate to bring this up again, but are you going to tell me about your bond with the boy and the future now?"
And there went the good mood. Then again, her Master had never been known for beating around the bush.
Siri sighed. "Please, Master, I keep telling you, it isn't my place."
She expected Adi to get angry – in that calm, disapproving way that she did. Instead, though, Siri was surprised to see (and feel) genuine hurt.
"I'm... sorry you can't trust me."
"No, that's not it! It isn't my secret! I promise, if my feelings and pride were the only thing at stake, I'd tell you in a heartbeat but... " she sighed again, fading off before restarting. "Look, I'll speak with Master Yoda," and everyone else involved, "and try to persuade him to let me tell you, but that's the best I can promise right now."
Thankfully, the hurt faded to worry. "What could be so dreadful that Master Yoda has kept it from the council?"
Unwittingly, a series of images – of people (especially Jedi) dying – flashed across her eyes and she had to repress a shudder. "Whatever you're thinking... it isn't nearly bad enough," she whispered.
Naturally, that only increased Adi's worry, but Siri couldn't do much else to alleviate that. She did manage a thin smile though, as she reached out and touched her master's arm. "We're working on it, Master. We'll prevent it, and when the Force says it's alright, we'll speak of it."
Apparently it was Adi's turn to sigh. "I don't like this, Siri. I worry that the more you keep hidden, the worse the effect it will have on you."
Despite her stern, often no-nonsense demeanor, Siri knew that this was only her master worrying about her. She tried to push her gratefulness across their bond. She was glad they'd been allowed to keep it. They hadn't the first time, but apparently the healers wanted a contingency in case she did have a relapse. As annoying as she found it, she couldn't say she really minded.
"Thank you, Master."
Adi sent an equally weak smile back at her. "What was that?"
Siri rolled her eyes. "I mean Adi."
The older woman's smile became that much firmer, and she turned to continue walking.
"In any case, I'm sure you will be happy to know that the Council has seen fit to assign you a mission."
Siri nearly stumbled. "Wait, what?"
"Well, you are a knight, and they need to see if you can handle the rigors of solo missions."
"Really?" she asked, almost thinking that this was too good to be true.
"It's a simple mission," Adi continued regally, "and you won't leave the core, but... I figured I should be the one to tell you."
Siri grinned. "Thank you, Master! I won't let you down. When do I leave?"
"In an hour. They've even cleared a personal ship for you to use. This won't be a luxury you will always have, so I suggest you take advantage of it."
"Yes, Master! I'll go pack! Thank you, Master!" With that, she ran off, hearing the woman call from behind her:
"Adi!"
Siri just snickered.
xXx
Count Dooku had long since realized that Lars had been right; he'd gotten in over his head.
Palpatine had seen through his deception in moments and their interactions had become, more or less, a sort of stalemate between them. As long as Dooku did as he was supposed to, Palpatine would supposedly 'teach' him what he needed to know about the Sith. Most of the time, the 'teaching' involved the Sith Lord showing off to entice Dooku to 'truly' join him.
He'd been bordering on the brink for months now and they both knew it. It had become a war of attrition, and Dooku knew he'd lose if it went on like this. The problem was, he saw no real way out of this. He was actually rather pleased with himself for hanging onto the light for as long as he had. Palpatine would speak against using only the light, and Dooku would remind him that he was there to learn, not to become. That he would help the man, but he would do it in his own way and dark theories should still be applicable to the light. Palpatine wasn't happy and their discussions were getting more and more heated, even if they both still hid their vitriol behind pleasant smiles and cups of tea.
It was getting harder to resist. Between Dooku's natural curiosity and his desire to get onto Sidious' side, he'd considered letting himself fall almost daily since he'd 'joined' Palpatine. But he couldn't help remembering what Lars had said, about how addicting the dark side was and how it wasn't really more powerful. He didn't want his own mind to be twisted by the darkness... but he was beginning to realize that there was really no other way to gain the Sith's trust.
He couldn't find the information he needed without falling. He couldn't fall and keep his same goals, thus rendering his need to gain the information – and any sacrifices thereof – moot.
It wasn't quite a catch 22, but it was pretty close.
"Unknown ship, this is The Mercurial, over?" Dooku said into the dashboard of his personal yacht as he approached the origin of a distress signal he sincerely hoped wasn't what he was looking for. Unfortunately, it was the right class of ship, matching one he'd been tracking for almost a month now.
A couple of days before he'd left, Sidious had received a vision about a future war coming and then something about Sifo-Dyas. After that, he'd assigned Dooku to track the Jedi Master down.
With liberal use of the Force and his own ability to research and track, Dooku had found his old friend's trail on the outer rim (which was strange enough in and of itself, Sifo rarely left the Jedi Temple these days). He'd been on route to the next destination he'd tracked the Jedi Master to, when he'd picked up a distress signal, which led him here.
No response came from the craft, barely larger than a shuttle, drifting and obviously dead in space. That did nothing to calm his worries.
Taking a deep breath, he glanced at the nearby gas giant that had caught the little ship in its orbit. Or the ship had been left there. He couldn't be sure without doing some serious equations that would honestly waste his time more than anything else. Then he looked back at the ship. It looked like he would have to board and see if Sifo had ditched his tail yet again (which was, in all honesty, the best-case scenario as he couldn't sense any life-forms aboard the ship).
He set the calculations into the nav-computer and then let it do the rest, allowing the machines to perfectly align hatches while he went into the back and prepared for whatever he could. He made sure he had a first aid kit and lightsaber while leaving his robe behind. On his way back to the cockpit to check on the ship's progress, he spotted a little, brown, draw-string sack sitting on one of the shelves. For several seconds he contemplated it before reaching up, reverently taking it and putting it in the pocket of a pouch on his belt. Then he continued walking back to the front. Just as he stepped back in the cockpit, a slight jarring let him know that the ships had coupled. He quickly updated his personal log as he scanned the ship inside for anything amiss (for about the fifth time).
It looked like the life support systems were long-dead, but there was air aboard. He decided to take a collapsible re-breather helmet just in case, and slipped some warm gloves on. The temperature inside would be rather cold, but at least temporarily survivable according to the data he'd received. He was sorry to leave his robe behind, but in case he needed to fight a droid or something, he wanted to make sure he could move.
In all honesty, he just felt uneasy about the whole thing and his instincts had saved his life many-a-time before this. He wasn't about to start ignoring them now.
Carefully, he walked to the hatch and opened it. A wash of icy, stale air hit him, and his hand hovered above his lightsaber as he searched with his senses for something – anything – in the cold darkness on the other side.
Nothing. No lights, no noise. Only a tiny, square meter or so of space with two doors, one leading to the engine, the other to the cockpit. So this hadn't even been the size of a shuttle. There must have been some major modifications done to it judging from the size of the ship he'd seen from the outside.
What made his blood run cold, though, were the blaster marks he could see with the light from his own ship shining into the space beyond. They littered the walls, but more importantly the locks to the doors. The slab that was supposed to be keeping the engine away from the rest of the ship had been forced open and now sat half closed, the space behind it a silent, gaping maw of blackness. The door to the cockpit was nearly as black with blaster marks and... yes, lightsaber holes littering it here and there.
So this wasn't a rendezvous point where he'd jumped ship. Dooku's stomach lurched.
Slowly, the former Jedi approached the door, part of him knowing what he would find behind it, the other part of him berating himself for his lack of dignity. He mostly didn't care. No one was here to see him now and this was Sifo-Dyas... his best ally among the Jedi. His friend, even.
Dooku didn't have many people he'd call 'friend'.
Stop acting like a newly minted knight, he told himself firmly. Then he swallowed and used the Force to shove the door open. It took significant effort, but he managed.
The sight on the other side of the doors shattered any hope he'd had.
There, sprawled in the pilot's chair, was his old friend. His chest was riddled with blaster holes and his eyes stared blankly at the ceiling. Frostbite had crept up his fingers and the nose, leaving his skin looking splotchy and too-pale.
Dooku stared at him for several seconds as his hand continued to tighten around his lightsaber and his breath, fogging before him, came out in shorter, quicker gasps.
He'd known what he would likely find. He'd known... but he'd hoped...
The idea of never meeting with his friend again, of the life that had been robbed of the Jedi Master in something so senseless as a pirate raid... or a deal gone wrong, seeing as the planet being a meeting point of some sort was still the most plausible scenario he could come up with.
Dooku was no stranger to death. That didn't make it any easier when things like this happened. And he hated it. He despised seeing friend after friend, comrade after comrade, innocent after innocent mercilessly slaughtered for no kriffing reason.
He took a deep breath, but it only seemed to fuel the rage that boiled beneath his skin. And for the first time, he seriously considered joining Sidious. So what if it would destroy him? As long as he could stop things like this from happening. As long as he could make the universe a better place – even if it took bloodshed to get there, because how was that different from where the galaxy was now? They needed a better government, something that would crack down on atrocities like this. Make people so afraid of doing things like this that—
A warmth at his side pulled him out of his progressively spiraling thoughts and he looked down to his side where he'd put...
Eyes widening a little, he lifted the pocket flap, took out the brown pouch and opened the draw string, tipping the contents of the bag onto his hand. A small, smooth but otherwise unremarkable stone fell into his palm. It was a brown-red color, opaque, with small cracks of lighter browns running through it.
Qui-gon had given it to him as a thank you gift when he'd been knighted. Most padawans sought out great presents to give to their masters in thanks upon knighthood – a tradition that had fallen out of practice lately, from what he could tell – and yet, all Qui-gon had given him was this river stone.
And wasn't that so like him? Something anyone else would find useless or pointless, unremarkable and common, Qui-gon found joy in, and had assumed that that joy would transfer over.
In all honesty, Dooku had been beyond disappointed at the gift initially. Alright, for years after Qui-gon had been knighted. And then he'd forgotten he had the blasted thing until he'd cleared out his quarters at the Jedi Temple. Of course, very few things had actually been his to keep. Jedi didn't keep things. This had been one of the few things that had come with him, and he only really appreciated it now, after Qui-gon had died.
Because it was from Qui-gon, and it was Dooku's.
And apparently it was Force-sensitive... or something like that.
In all honesty, Dooku had brought the stone with him specifically as a reminder. Deep-cover agents, which he'd been trained to be, tended to immerse themselves so much in their role, that they needed a physical reminder of who they were, their goals and their reasons.
Truthfully, he hadn't been sure that Qui-gon's rock would work, especially against the dark side, but he'd had little else.
He hadn't expected it to somehow reach out to him through the living Force. Just as Qui-gon himself would have had he been there to see that sad display. He'd been within a hair's breath of falling... and how terrifying was that? Even with everything he now knew, he had gone past a point of caring...
Already Dooku could feel his anger receding and helped it along by releasing it to the Force. It left behind only sadness and loss; a longing for both his friend and his former padawan and their presences in his life. He reveled in the heartbreak, allowing himself to really feel it for a minute before he took a deep breath and released it to the Force as well.
He would never be truly rid of this sorrow, he knew. As much as he could release, it would always come back to him because the holes they left in his life could never close. He could only work around their absences... and the fact that he hadn't wanted to outlive either of them.
Dooku was an old man. Old and tired and sick of people leaving his life.
Funny, he'd always thought he'd been good at avoiding attachments. Did it take losing those closest to him – at least one of whom he'd tried to push away for years – to realize that attachments weren't avoidable? Not to humans at least. Maybe other species could do it, but not him, and not any human he knew of.
He stood there for several minutes, cradling the now cool stone to his chest as he continued to breathe out his sorrow and anger until he felt more level-headed again.
Then he reached out his hand and used the Force to lift his friend's body up before backtracking into his ship. He still had to check the computers for more information, trace Syfo's path back to where he'd been initially and/or figure out where he'd been headed.
Once he had his friend laid out, he clipped his lightsaber to his belt, knelt and closed the eyes. The skin was stiff and cold, but not too cold to resist too much. Then he took off his cloak, laying it carefully over the pale face of his friend.
After a couple more seconds, he slowly rose and looked at the river stone he still held in his hand.
"Qui-gon," he whispered to the stone, "thank you."
Then he put it back in the pouch and then the pocket on his belt. Even if his apprentice was one with the Force now, he had still given Dooku this.
And the former Jedi had begun to truly realize how precious of a gift it was.
xXx
AN: I kind of see Qui-Gon as being this strange, oblivious type of guy who goes around giving stones to people because he things they look pretty. You know, I almost see him as a high-functioning autistic... kind of like me. Without the toxicity, of course... (for me)... I hope. *ahem* I mean, it just makes so much sense. His fixations, his difficulty in understanding what is important to others, his difficulty getting over problems, his bluntness and complete lack of tact when it comes to those he's closest to... Yet something else that was never really addressed by the Jedi. *shrug*
In any case, thanks again to Khalthar and Carradee for beta reading this and being there to bounce ideas. You guys are amazing!
