The Jedi, along with Commander Fox, emerged from the Council Chamber in disarray, whispering to each other in a subdued manner. They had all been shaken by the latest information brought to their attention, which effectively redefined everyone's perspective on the current situation. The golden light of the morning did not soften their worried faces. Too few of them had had the chance to rest since last night.

Mace could feel the exhaustion in his bones as well. He was still in the prime of life, for a member of his kind, but the use of the Force and good physical health could not keep the consequences of sleep deprivation at bay indefinitely. He would probably need a few hours of sleep before the special session of the Senate that was to be held in the early afternoon.

Before he could make his way toward his personal quarters, Fox cleared his throat to get his attention.

"Master Windu, do you have a minute to spare? I could really use your insight on a matter that concerns me," Fox asked, looking disquieted behind his stoic facade.

"I'm listening, Commander Fox."

"I don't know if this has anything to do with our current investigation, but my intuition tells me it's probably related. One of my units, which was deployed in pursuit of the fugitive, has returned in a state that is, to say the least,... worrying."

"Worrying? What do you mean? Are they injured? Do you need the expertise of a Jedi Healer?" Mace suspected that Fox was asking for help because he had exhausted all of his options. The Commander seemed like a man with a protective streak, and one who expressed much of his loyalty in the care he gave his men.

"I think we could use some expert advice. My CMO hasn't picked up any visible wounds, and he finds himself at a loss as to what to do next. The soldiers are strangely listless, as if their personalities have been turned off. They are not comatose, they look quite alert and they carry out the instructions they are given perfectly. However, they don't show any initiative and no longer contribute to conversations," he paused, before resuming after a deep breath. "They have less personality than a droid."

Ah, now we're actually touching on something profoundly important, Mace thought inwardly. Since the Clones had been deployed from who knows where, Mace had often wondered what it would be like to be part of a family with hundreds of millions of copies of the same individual. In running his own armed division, Mace had quickly realized that each of the Clones was in fact as different in their individuality as any other person brought into the world by more conventional means, aside from their equal temperament and ability to withstand pressure.

The Jedi could easily sense their individuality, for each one sang a different melody in the Force that was easy to differentiate. This was not the case for the Force-null, however, who could only perceive the same face and armor. Clones were not considered individuals in their own right, with the same prerogatives and liberties as any other sentient being in the galaxy.

Their status remained something indefinable, purposely kept in limbo by war and necessity. The Republic allowed the use of an armed force that was composed of nothing less than slaves. Mace often wondered about the ideals and values that the war was forcing into disrepair and corruption, and he wondered if not only the Republic, but the Jedi Order as well, could survive this galactic conflict.

What were they fighting for, if the values they claimed to uphold were being trampled by the path they had decided to follow because it was convenient?

And boy, these questions were taking a rather dramatic shade in the light of what they knew today about the High Chancellor.

Mace laid a hand that he hoped was reassuring on the Commander's arm. "I'm sending a request to Master Che right now to request a specialist to help you. What you describe is indeed very concerning, and if the fugitive has indeed caused this problem, it is possible that a Force technic had been used. We will do everything we can to ensure your brothers are returned to their normal state. In the meantime, we need to schedule a meeting after the Senate session to continue the investigation. Please, go and have a rest, you have earned it."

Fox nodded, saluted, and took his leave. Mace sensed that it had been difficult to bring to his attention a fact that touched so closely on an issue as fundamental as their identity and individuality as clones. Mace took out his comm and composed Master Che ident', while strolling tiredly towards his quarters. He hoped his Padawan would not pester him to do something with him and would let him rest as well. He sorely needed to close his eyes for a time.

]o[

Obi-Wan, for the fourth time in the space of a few hours, returned home, but this time in a much better condition. He had succeeded in uprooting the curse, even though the backlash had reinforced his horrible headache. He was however on the verge of Force exhaustion, and he was badly in need of rest and meditation. The physical pain had been made much less severe by Bant's intervention, and he tested his shoulder with a careful move to disrobe. Obi-Wan had great confidence in Bant's abilities, and he knew that she would keep to herself the fact that he had come to her in these somewhat strange circumstances. They had, after all, kept very few friends in common to keep informed about Obi-Wan's actions.

The sad reality was that he had indeed made the choice to forsake friendship and deep relationships in this life. Losing once everything he had considered important was one time too many. He would ensure that everyone stayed safe from him and his plotting. Bant was one of the few exceptions that wouldn't accept being rid of him, and she had stayed loyal despite Obi-Wan's attempts to discourage her pursuit.

Bant had cultivated and maintained many relationships, for she was a loyal and faithful person, and her position and centrality within the Temple allowed her to see her friends relatively often when they were not deployed on missions.

This gave Obi-Wan the opportunity to hear from the people who had been precious to him, during the occasional meal that Bant forced upon him, which he did not have the heart to refuse. He liked to listen to her talk about her old friends and how they were doing in the galaxy.

She wasn't his sole source of intel, however. He had his own network of informants, which he had assigned to his Persons of Interest list, and which kept him up to date on everyone's doings. His network extended far and wide, from the Core to the Outer Rim, and allowed him to keep a coherent overview of the events that were shaping the galaxy, while advancing its own pawns on the dejarikboard.

He had, since his transmigration, initiated subtle changes in the trajectory of people he considered important. In his first life, he didn't have all of the precise elements that shaped Darth Sidious' rise to power, but he knew most of the major players and their destinies with the benefit of a century of hindsight. All he had to do was fill in the blanks with logic and a powerful, responsive intelligence network.

Obi-Wan's strength lay in subtlety, in defending and redirecting, in carefully measuring the influence on the fulcrum, on the linchpin of any construct, whether it be a long-term plan or a Force technique. Old Ben had learned, thanks to his long life, to think and see the world and the universe as a balance built on myriad balances. Sometimes, just the smallest touch of encouragement could tip the scales and cause a phenomenal chain reaction. One didn't need great power to have great influence.

One just had to know where to exert control.

And Obi-Wan had access to valuable knowledge about the future and the notable influencers of the next few decades. The first significant action had been to convince the Archeologist Overseer of the ExplorCorp ship where he was trained to go to Tatooine. With a few oriented nudges, they had found Anakin and taken him with them, while taking care to free Shmi and offering her a better situation. The second significant change had occurred when he had managed to infiltrate Kamino and subtly tamper with the entire control-chip of the clone army.

His trail of thoughts reminded him he had to take action sooner rather than later about the clones he had taken control of last night. He had no doubt, despite his orders, that their behavior would be a red flag to those who knew them well. Obi-Wan had learned from his close study of the control chip mechanism that overly elaborate commands could not be effectively implanted unless they were programmed into the chip.

The only command Obi-Wan had managed to embed in an invisible subroutine was overdrive, a command that forced the clones to obey his every command in his presence, but deprived them of autonomous response and complex behavior if he wasn't there to direct them.

Sidious had a list of seemingly simplistic orders programmed into his mind, but one that ensured that the clones would be able to plan and take a long view of their execution. Thus, Order 66 allowed the Clones to establish complex strategies to trap and eliminate almost the entire Jedi Order.

So he had to find them and get them back to their normal behavior. Obi-Wan would probably have to use some subtle mental maneuvering to rearrange their memories, and perhaps implant a suggestion or two in the people who had been with them since last night.

Bant had done his best to heal his physical wounds, and he had managed to limit the damage caused by the Sith curse, but he would not be able to sleep for the time being. There was also the matter of the Soul-Kyber, which concerned him deeply, but which he didn't really have time to address at the moment.

The cracks in the Soul-Kyber were causing a strange hissing sound in Obi-Wan's mindscape, almost imperceptible but nonetheless present, like an annoying tinnitus. It was a rather distracting sensation, but one that would not prevent him from carrying out the actions he needed to take to cover his tracks.

He still had some work to do before he could take a few hours to deal with it for good. Obi-Wan was not keen to waste more time, but perhaps he had just a few minutes for a shower and to restore himself with the help of a cup of tea or two.

When he stepped out of the 'fresher, he felt marginally better and vaguely human again. He put on a thick outfit, because the lack of sleep and his general weakening put him on the verge of hypothermia, and he badly needed to conserve the little energy he had managed to regain. Finally, he prepared a huge pot of tea.

Throughout his long decades of life, wherever he was, the taste for this drink had never left him. The motions composing the ritual kept him rooted in reality, and in very down-to-earth sensations.

He poured the hot –but not boiling– water over the whole tea leaves, one of the rare true luxuries he treated himself. He inhaled the fine mist which rose in slow wisps. The drink smelled of hummus and roasted cereal, the vegetal notes reflecting life and its distant connection to the Living Force. He settled down on his meditation mat, cross-legged, and turned on the screen reflecting the landscape of Coruscant, beyond the multiple walls of the Temple. He allowed himself to be bathed in the rays of the day, which unfortunately lacked their natural heat. The sun was already high in the sky, and partly obscured with the perpetual smog bathing Coruscant and looking like the planet was nestled amidst a spectacular nebulae.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, his hand cupping his small bowl to absorb the heat of the beverage. He turned his attention inward and brushed against the damaged parts of his mindscape.

The fight against Sidious had pushed him to his limits. Admittedly, this was not how he had imagined executing the man. He had devised a long and complex plan to lure him away from the Senate, even to trace him to Naboo, but the opportunity had never been the right one and had not presented itself to him as he would have liked.

Obi-Wan had been in the midst of laying one further step among many that composed his plan, when Sidious had suddenly attacked him without any warnings.

He still had difficulty integrating the new state of affairs, and needed to take the time to carefully and methodically consider his next steps. Events had forced him to reveal some of his cards, including his existence as a dangerous Force-user and an unknown quantity for the various protagonists. First, Obi-Wan needed to rebuild his mental defenses with care and caution.

He had developed techniques, over his decades of flying under the radar, that were geared towards stealth and deception. He was a master in the air of appearing who he wasn't, and his shields expressed multiple levels of obfuscation. No one so far had managed to pierce them, but he had managed to pass as unnoticed as possible. The peculiarity of Obi-Wan's mind made him particularly effective in the mental arts, especially in defense. He had always been adept at suggestions and mind manipulations, but his study of the Whills and Kyber had made him particularly adept at these uses. Obi-Wan also had to admit that the Sith arts helped, with their tendency to lean heavily on obfuscation and misdirecting.

Obi-Wan was able to project the illusion of mediocre shields, in front of a false psyche that served as a trap and a labyrinth for those who tried to probe his defenses. He was so used to holding them, that he was able to keep them intact even in situations where he happened to pass out.

He drank one last cup of tea, before straightening up to do some careful stretching, and settling back into a comfortable position. He was not keen to upset Bant's work, but it was important to gently mobilize traumatized tissue to promote healing.

His meditation took him a few more minutes, and allowed him to refocus on himself. He felt calmer, able to use the Force again, but maybe not in its most complex and fine aspects. A large part of his arsenal comprised tools he had developed over the year, and the majority of them required delicate control, all in finesse and not allowing the merest approximation.

The objective for the days to come was centered on mudding the water to keep up his mask as long as possible. The incognito side gave him a freedom of movement too precious to be discarded. He had his suspicion about what lay in the secured coffer, and, if his instincts were right, he would probably need to move without hindrance. He would also have to activate part of his network to prepare his evacuation plans if the need arose. The priority was therefore not to be limited in his freedom of movement and actions.

Obi-Wan sighed, and set aside his bowl on the low table while taking hold of his datapad. He took the time to access the communications reserved for the Judicial service, in particular those devoted to the investigation and in connection with the security service of the Senate. He accessed the Coruscant Guards' feed as well.

He had taken care to install a backdoor, a few months ago, in the space the Clones used to communicate between themselves. He knew their way of working so intimately that he had an unfair advantage against them, and this allowed him to regularly monitor the content of their exchanges.

This was how he found that his little stunt with the clones had not gone unnoticed. They were currently in the barracks infirmary, and presumably, their condition had led their brothers to ask all the difficult questions.

With careful motions, Obi-Wan got back on his feet. He put on a large, darker robe than his usual favored shade. After a few seconds of thinking, he equipped himself with his alternate comm and his second lightsaber. He wasn't sure he could use it should the need arise, but he wasn't comfortable with the idea of going out unarmed. He had left far too many clues already, but he would not prioritize secret over safety.

Obi-Wan slipped on a satchel with nondescript clothes and a mask. He didn't know how he would need to intervene, but maybe it would not be with his Jedi persona. He had to be prepared for any unforeseen event, because, knowing his current luck, things would not go as envisioned.

]o[

Anakin roamed the halls of the Temple in the direction of Obi-Wan's quarters, when he happened to run into the very man himself. Anakin thanked the Force for its help, which meant he didn't have to walk all the way to Obi-Wan's apartment.

Anakin had often been told he was Force-Blessed. His high level of midichlorians made him particularly sensitive to the constant whispers of the Force. Master Windu used to say it made him more inattentive than powerful, and Anakin, in his heart, felt his Master was quite right.

When his goals aligned with his motivation, Anakin embodied a fearsome individual whom nothing and no one could turn from his path. Unfortunately, Anakin could have difficulty being persistent and focused: he had too many side projects that constantly titillated his attention.

Especially when he had to meditate. He hated meditating.

In any case, he was rather pleased that the Force, or Fate, or whatever, had listened to his wish and put Obi-Wan in his path. They almost bumped into each other in a flourish of robes, when Anakin ended up stabilizing the older man.

"Ah, Obi-Wan! Just the person I wanted to see!" Anakin did a double-take. "You look like shit."

"Why, thank you, it's always a rare pleasure to exchange words with you, Anakin," Obi-Wan drawled, flashing a short and tired smile.

"Seriously, what happened to you? Are you sick?" Anakin took a step back. He didn't like being sick.

Obi-Wan shook his head and subsequently winced. "Just a headache. I'm a little sleep-deprived, nothing serious, don't worry."

"Okaaay." answered Anakin. "I know what will cheer you up, come on, I'll take you to Dex. My treat."

Obi-Wan sighed. "I have other things to do, Anakin."

"You do? Where are you going?"

"I'm going downtown, I have something to do for the Council."

"Ah, is this about that thing with the Chancellor? Are you part of the team investigating it?"

"I don't know what I'm allowed to tell you, Anakin. Did your Master talk to you about what happened?"

"Nothing specific, but I know it's something big. Mace has barely been home all night, and he's spending his time between the Council and the Senate. Anyway, it's pretty bad to end up murdered like that. I thought the Chancellor was a nice guy. I think he liked me."

"Yes, well. I knew about it. I think you'll find out soon enough what it was really like about him."

"Come on, come with me, I think you need to put some meat on your bones, you look scary pale, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan sighed. Anakin knew that Obi-Wan knew him well, and that Anakin could be rather obsessive when he had an idea in his head. He wouldn't give up until Obi-Wan gave in.

The archivist seemed to come to the same conclusion, and didn't seem to have the energy to put up the necessary fight to placate Anakin, and finally nodded his assent. Anakin put his arm around the shorter man's shoulders with a winning smile.

"Come on, we'll have a great time together, I promise it will not take you too much time."

"If you say so, Anakin, if you say so."

]o[

Vader had sent him a message directly to his comm. Nearly forty years had passed since the establishment of the Empire, since the eradication of the Jedi Order. Other tragic events had occurred since then, but this event had affected his life so dramatically that it was the date that Old Ben framed all his memories with.

He had little doubt that this was also the case for Vader.

Vader reached for him, while Old Ben had managed to erase his presence, and make everyone think he was dead. Obviously, he had not been as successful as he had thought.

Vader had sent him a message, saying he would like to meet him for a chat, and had signed Anakin.

Of course, Old Ben had thought it was a trap, but he found it strange that Vader had waited four decades to use such a simplistic strategy. Anakin had always been almost painfully straightforward and honest. Anakin was not a deceitful man. Vader, on the other hand, because of the corruption generated by the Dark Side, had not hesitated to be devious, but his approach almost always favored directness and plain strategies. He was sufficiently, scaringly powerful for that.

Still, he was asking for a meeting, and he had phrased his message as if it were the wish of a dying man. He had simply given him a date and a place, and did not expect an answer. It was Ben's choice whether he would come.

So Old Ben decided to grant his wish.

Vader had chosen Tatooine, perhaps because it was the place where they had first met, or perhaps because it was a way for Vader to acknowledge his origins. His origins as a man, not as a spawn of the Dark Side and Emperor's rabid dog.

Old Ben had stood in ambush for two whole days, deeply immersed in the Force, watching for any sign that this was a trap. Vader had remained there, kneeling in the shadow of an ochre stone promontory, contemplating the great sandy expanse that had seen him born and raised. He had not eaten or drunk, sustained by his lifesuit which was also his prison and his curse.

Old Ben, under all his hate, pitied this less-than-a-man who had once been the center of his universe.

He could have attacked him, and finally rid the galaxy of this curse.

But in the lines Vader's shoulders, even though they were probably made entirely of metal and plastoid, Old Ben read defeat and resignation.

At the end of the second day, as Tatooine's third sun finally reached the horizon to let the cool night air bless these dry lands, Old Ben knelt beside his old enemy.

He chose to say nothing, and to let Vader say what he had to say. For a few minutes, the silence was filled only with Vader's breathing, along with the nightly complaints of the desert dwellers and the thermal wind that would sweep across the dunes throughout the night, giving them a completely different configuration in the morning.

"If I hadn't turned to the Dark Side, do you think Padmé would have died? My child would have lived?

So plainly said. And yet, what had been a mere fear in Anakin's mind, twisted by Sidious's nefarious influence, had become the linchpin that turned the galaxy into darkness.

"All I can say to you is that Padme chose to chase you instead of staying safe. She couldn't comprehend what I had reported to her about your actions." Old Ben paused. "I still regret revealing the truth to her. I should have lied. We should have stayed away from you. Instead, we both chose to come for you."

Vader did not answer. His labored breathing filled the silence.

"I think we loved you too much to give you up, Anakin."

Vader remained motionless. He was curiously absent in the Force, once so full of bubbling energy, like a deep, generous spring.

"The life-support of my suit stopped functioning earlier today. I made the necessary arrangements. I think I'm going to die in the night. Will you stay with me, Obi-Wan?"

Old Ben, when he had been Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, had never really been able to resist a request from his Padawan. While trying to stay aloof and detached, and be the best example of emotional control to help his Padawan deal with his own affective struggles, Obi-Wan had always felt his own emotions profoundly.

Old Ben had not cried in a long time. That night, he wept like a child, when the last ember that tethered him to his old life died in his arms.