Author's Note: Forgive me for taking so long. I really had to wrestle with this one. To the extent that I've read parts of it over and over and over so many times that I'm probably not picking up on minor mistakes anymore in those parts, so especially forgive me if there are more of those than usual.


The atmosphere in the council chamber had rarely felt so oppressive. That was really saying something, given that Obi-Wan had been there following the death of his master and the revelation that the Sith still existed. And during many discussions of battles, sieges, and the deaths of his fellow Jedi during the war, and after Ahsoka had been expelled from the Order and essentially handed a death sentence by the Council. But those, he supposed, had not been direct and very public attacks on the integrity of the Order or its High Council.

Not like what Anakin had just done.

"Well, that was a disaster," summarized Shaak Ti. It was a surprise to hear her speak first, as she so rarely spoke during Council meetings. It soon became clear why she had chosen this moment to make her voice heard, when she turned to look at Mace and asked, "Was it your idea to give information to Senator Mothma?"

Mace frowned, whether in response to the accusing tone of her voice or the situation in general or just because he was most comfortable when frowning, Obi-Wan didn't care to venture a guess.

"Yes," he acknowledged through gritted teeth, a hint of warning in his voice. "I thought that hearing Skywalker has fallen to the dark side might sway enough of the senators to block his confirmation. The chancellor might not have been willing to appoint him against a public vote of the senate, even if he has that power."

Ti's disdain was evident on her face even through the holoprojector. "It seems you underestimated Skywalker's ability to remain levelheaded and form a response."

"I can see now that—"

"That what?" interrupted Kit Fisto, another member who rarely spoke in meetings unless he had something important to say. "That now Skywalker has broadcast to the entire galaxy that we took a nine-year-old boy away from a loving mother and told him that he must forget about her, made his life miserable growing up, and then accused him of falling to the dark side when he acted heroically—and very publicly, I might add—to save the life of a beautiful young princess? The same Skywalker, mind you, who is the most beloved and well-known Jedi in the galaxy, and not by a small margin."

None of what the Nautolan said was untrue, but Obi-Wan had never thought about it such stark terms before.

Maybe living it, moment-by-moment, had put a dull edge on his perception of the events?

After that, Obi-Wan's mind was far away from the meeting. Instead, his thoughts were with Anakin and their past together and all the ways he had failed his Padawan. He had thought Anakin agreed with him, all those years ago, that he belonged in the Order. Obi-Wan had thought at the time that the best thing for Anakin was to convince him to complete his training; he still thought that, despite everything. All that raw power—all that raw emotion—left untrained would have put not only Anakin himself in danger but also everyone around him. He would never have been able to live a normal life, even if the Jedi had never found him. His powers would have manifested in more dangerous ways than the precognition and preternatural reflexes that allowed him to pod race, eventually. Likely when he hit puberty, if not before.

And cutting himself off from the Force was not a tenable option for Anakin. Despite his connection to the Force being overwhelming and sometimes terrifying for him, especially as a young trainee, it had been a disaster the one time he had tried to cut himself off from it. He had confided to Obi-Wan that he had felt temporary relief from the high expectations and the feelings of disappointment and the underlying caution or outright distrust of the Jedi at the Temple, and from his own fear that he would fail, but that he had felt such intense loneliness that he couldn't even capture it with words. That loneliness and the resulting intense fear he felt had made Anakin conclude that being connected to the Force was his only real option. No matter how terrifying it was.

But maybe, in hindsight, Obi-Wan had accepted that explanation more for his own benefit than for Anakin's. Perhaps he should have been helping Anakin feel more comfortable lessening his connection to the Force slowly over time, rather than helping him to forge an even deeper connection and to exert more control over his powers.

It had become clear to Obi-Wan over the last few weeks that he had failed profoundly as Anakin's master. Not just recently, when he had damaged their relationship seemingly beyond repair, but rather down to the very foundations of Anakin's training. Obi-Wan had not been prepared to be anyone's master; he had been too young and inexperienced, and Qui-Gon's death had been too fresh. He definitely had not been prepared to take on a recently freed slave who missed his mother. A boy who had wanted Qui-Gon as his master and promptly lost him too, mere days after losing Shmi. Who could feel the rejection of the Council and took it like a barb to his heart. Who felt simultaneously the disappointment of his teachers and the jealousy of his peers. Who was humiliated by his lack of education compared to even the younglings at the Temple…

"Is it true, Obi-Wan?" the high, clear voice of Depa Billaba saying his name broke him out of his thoughts in time to hear her question. "Has Skywalker truly planned all this time to leave the Order?"

All eyes had turned on him, and Obi-Wan felt like he was a Padawan again being called to account for some transgression or other. He closed his eyes briefly to center himself and then determinedly looked around the room, meeting each master's eyes in turn as he spoke.

"It is true that he told me he wanted to leave when he was eleven, but he chose to stay. It is true that he was miserable here as a Padawan and struggled, on a daily basis, to cope, but I had thought much of that was alleviated by being away from the Temple—he was always able to feel whenever we were disappointed in him or wary of him, you know. And it is true that he has always expressed many disagreements with the Jedi Code and with the decisions of the High Council, mine included."

"As if it is place to disagree with the Council!" harrumphed Ki-Adi-Mundi.

Judging by the nods of agreement and mumblings going around the chamber, it appeared that many of the Council members agreed with him, even to the exclusion of everything else Obi-Wan had told them and Anakin's own explanation to the senate. Only a few peoples' pinched, uncomfortable expressions indicated that they, like Obi-Wan, were not particularly happy with the idea that the Council were autocrats who ruled over the Order with iron fists and could never be questioned.

Not that Obi-Wan could really blame people for reacting poorly to Anakin's criticisms of the Council. Had he not been frustrated by Anakin for the same thing? Had he not been angry at him before? It was only now, in hindsight, that it all seemed silly.

He sighed and reflexively reached up to smooth his beard, which soothed him as he told them, "It is also true that his trust and respect for the Council has been broken, perhaps irreparably, by certain recent events, specifically our deception during the Hardeen incident and Padawan Tano's expulsion from the Order and near execution."

It was clear by the various sour, defensive, and shame-filled looks on his fellow council members' faces that Ahsoka was still a sore spot for many of them as well. Obi-Wan didn't consider for even a moment that any of his fellow Council members were the least bit sorry for the Hardeen affair.

Grandmaster Yoda, who had said remarkably little since Obi-Wan and Mace had returned from Arkanis the prior day, tapped his gimmer stick against the floor.

"Peace in the Temple, Skywalker could not find," he said mournfully. "Help him, I thought the mission to Arkanis would."

Mace scoffed. "He probably thinks it has helped him, if his goal was to find an excuse to leave the Jedi Order."

Obi-Wan shook his head in denial.

"No, if he were looking for an excuse to leave, he would have gone with Ashoka." He sighed again and looked down at his hands, feeling the weight of everything he had realized pressing down on him. "Despite everything I said, I cannot say that I knew or even suspected that Anakin has been harboring plans to leave the Order. My attachment to him blinded me to the truth, I think. I did not want him to leave, so I did not see that he still wanted to go."

"It is not your fault, Obi-Wan," Plo Koon tried to reassure him, but Obi-Wan knew it was a half-truth.

It was certainly his fault. Even if it was not entirely his fault.

All of the righteous anger and justified disappointment he had harbored against Anakin since their last meeting had melted away by now, and Obi-Wan was left only with anger and disappointment in himself.

"Why are we sitting around discussing the past? It doesn't matter why or how we got here!" exclaimed Ki-Adi-Mundi. He brought his fist down on the arm of his chair, a rare display of emotion. "What matters is that the senate just placed a dangerous dark sider in charge of a legion of the Grand Army of the Republic. We should be discussing what we are going to do about Skywalker."

"Do about him?" Plo Koon repeated incredulously. "What are you suggesting? That we kill him?"

"If we must." The Cerean shrugged and raised his bushy eyebrows as if daring anyone to argue with that pronouncement.

"Where do you suppose we carry out this assassination?" asked Depa Billaba, taking Mundi up on that challenge. "On his star destroyer, surrounded by his legion of loyal elite clone troopers? With the crown princess of the Regency Worlds watching from a few feet away… if he lets her get even that far away from him?"

"We should take him into custody," suggested Saesee Tiin, although he did not sound enthusiastic about the idea.

Obi-Wan was surprised he had spoken at all, given that he offered his opinions so rarely that, for years now, certain other masters had been questioning whether he even deserved his seat on the High Council.

Mace let out a frustrated growl and leaned forward in his seat. "Skywalker won't allow himself to be taken into custody. He made that clear when he left the Order rather than return to Coruscant with Obi-Wan and me. If we start any confrontation with him, then we will have to be prepared to kill him, even if we don't set out with that intention."

"Maybe if you hadn't let him keep his lightsaber…" Mundi muttered angrily, just loud enough for everyone in the chamber to hear.

Obi-Wan snorted, the first peep he had been able to make since Mundi had first made his horrible suggestion. When everyone turned to look at him, he had to swallow twice to get the lump in his throat to subside enough that he could speak. Even then, his voice came out strangled and hoarse with the emotions he was trying to suppress, namely horror and terror.

"We didn't let Anakin do anything," he managed to croak out. "As Mace can tell you, he could have crushed us both with the Force if he had wanted to, and I don't mean a bit of Force choking like on that holovid you're all so afraid of. I've never felt its like before, although I have witnessed it before. On Mortis."

Most of the time, Obi-Wan was almost certain that Mortis had been a vision and not reality, that Anakin had not truly subdued the Son and Daughter at the same time. Feeling Anakin's power on Arkanis had made him start questioning that conclusion. The other members of the High Council had similarly dismissed Obi-Wan's, Anakin's, and Ahsoka's reports as a shared vision, except for Master Yoda, who currently looked so despondent that Obi-Wan was half tempted to call a healer.

For his part, Obi-Wan had been willing to be convinced that Mortis was a dream because the prospect of those events really happening had been too horrifying to contemplate. On the other hand, the Council had insisted it must be a vision and had refused to consider the alternative, because if it were true, then Anakin really was the Chosen One.

And he did not behave in the way they thought their precious Chosen One should, so obviously Anakin could not be the Chosen One.

The prospect that he was and that they had failed so spectacularly in handling him that he had fallen to the dark side was truly nightmarish. The knowledge that he had left the Order and they had no control over him or his power anymore was a terrifying prospect.

Mace let out a resigned grunt that perfectly conveyed his disgust and did very little to hide his fear. "It's true," he declared, clearly reluctantly. "Whatever got under Skywalker's skin on Arkanis, it seems to have fully opened his connection to the Force."

"I believe that would be the impossible Force shield he maintained," Obi-Wan pointed out wryly, talking over the frightened and disgruntled voices of the rest of the Council. "Anakin normally keeps the Force on a tight leash, but he would have had to open himself up almost completely, if not actually completely, to manage that."

"A tight leash?" echoed Stass Allie, the current youngest member of the Council besides Obi-Wan himself. "Skywalker?"

"Of course. I know he makes everything look flashy and uses the Force for things most of us wouldn't, but it's all relative, Master Allie."

"Relative?" she repeated what he had said again.

"Yes," Obi-Wan confirmed carefully, well aware of everyone listening to their exchange. "Whenever Anakin learns some new Force ability, the concern isn't typically whether he can do it bur whether he can develop the, uh… the sense memory, as it were, to do it safely. I believe that's why he enjoys lightsaber training so much: because he doesn't have to hold back. Although anyone who has ever dueled him in earnest can attest that they wish he would hold back the power he puts behind his blows."

At the crowd of disbelieving and horrified looks around him, Obi-Wan found himself almost laughing hysterically. Anakin leaving the Jedi Order may have been the most heinous failure of Obi-Wan's life, but at least it afforded him the opportunity to be more open about such things. It was no longer his responsibility to make sure Anakin's head didn't swell to roughly the size of a red giant, and he no longer needed to protect the other man from the Jedi Council.

"Plus," Obi-Wan added helpfully, tone far too chipper for the occasion, "on the topic of light sabers, I found out later that he had at least two other sabers in his possession. He gave them back to his apprentice, of course, but who's to say he doesn't have another, or at least another kyber crystal, squirreled away? Anakin has always hoarded bits and bobs like… well, like a former slave. And he could build a saber using a few scraps of junk while blindfolded with both hands bound."

It had not occurred to Obi-Wan until that very second the connection between Anakin's childhood and his obsession with keeping material objects, no matter how worthless or random Obi-Wan thought they were. He had always been so annoyed by Anakin's insistence on turning his quarters (which used to be their quarters) into a junkyard. He couldn't count the number of times he had chastised his Padawan after he had stepped on something Anakin had carelessly left on the floor, or after sitting on a stray scrap of metal left in the couch cushions.

He was ashamed. His heart ached inside his chest like it might give out at any moment.

"He has reinstated Ahsoka as his apprentice?" asked Plo Koon.

"Unsurprising, this is," Master Yoda voiced what most of them were probably thinking. "A deep attachment to his Padawan, Skywalker has."

"So we have two new enemies to contend with," concluded Mundi. "I cannot imagine that Skywalker won't train Tano in the dark side. We can't kill him. Mace and Obi-Wan say that we can't detain him." He paused there, for a moment, as he and everyone in the room fully let that sink in. "What can we do?"

"Meet with him," said Master Billaba. "Reason with him."

Obi-Wan didn't know whether he wanted to laugh or cry at that suggestion. It was a mission doomed to failure, if by reason with him the Council meant convince Anakin to give up his newfound freedom and submit himself to their judgment again.

Later—hours later—when the Council finally adjourned for the evening, Obi-Wan made his way to the Jedis' private hangar without bothering to change clothes or swing by the cafeteria for something to eat.

He did make a brief stop in Anakin's old quarters, which fortunately had not been cleaned out yet. He wondered if anyone had thought to ask whether he wanted anything of Anakin's, but then again, why would they? Nobody would expect him to want a piece of memorabilia of his failed Padawan. They certainly wouldn't encourage him if they knew he did.

No one stopped him or even questioned him as he prepared a speeder and commed for the hangar door to be opened. Of course, they wouldn't question him; he was a master, a member of the High Council, and a well-respected man in his own right. But he still felt like he ought to be answering to someone. Perhaps it was because his own master had died so suddenly, before they had been able to really discuss whether Obi-Wan was ready to be knighted, and before they could perform the ceremonies that formally marked a Padawan's ascension from trainee to knight.

To say that he had not been prepared to be Anakin's master was more than just an understatement.

Now, all there was left for him to do was try to repair their relationship. If nothing else good came from Anakin defecting from the Order, maybe they could at least become friends as adults on equal footing. And maybe, if Anakin was able to trust that Obi-Wan really did only want the best for him, then he would be open to hearing Obi-Wan's advice if he ever needed it.

His erstwhile friend was nowhere in sight as Obi-Wan made his way across the landing pad and through the transparisteel door hidden almost seamlessly in a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows. Obi-Wan met Captain Typho's eyes across the room and offered the guard captain a nod of acknowledgement just before he disappeared into a doorway next to the kitchen. Padmé was staring up at him from her place curled into one corner of the sofa, her hair slicked back into a simple braid that made her frown look even more severe than it actually was.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, though it was rather more a demand and rather less a question.

"I'm sorry for dropping in without calling," Obi-Wan offered by way of apology as he reached out to examine the rest of the apartment through the Force. "I came to talk to Anakin."

She looked startled for several seconds, then a fragile, grief-ridden expression passed across her delicate features. It was gone almost as soon as it had appeared, replaced by a stern mask and narrowed eyes that Obi-Wan thought served more to hold her tears at bay than to display any real ire.

"Anakin isn't here," she informed him coldly, nearly in monotone. Obi-Wan had already confirmed that through the Force. "He isn't coming back, so you can go."

Obi-Wan felt his stomach swoop unpleasantly, not only because he desperately needed to talk to the other man before the other members of the Council descended on him in the morning, but also because Anakin's apparent disagreement with Padmé did not bode well.

"I don't understand," he bit out breathlessly.

"What's not to understand?" she all but hissed back. "Anakin. Isn't. Here."

Obi-Wan gaped at her, opening and closing his mouth in an utterly stupid manner as he tried to put his racing thoughts into words.

"I know that I never acknowledged I suspected anything," he began softly, choosing his words carefully, "and, to be quite honest with you, I did not realize the extent of your relationship until you informed me that Anakin was the father of your child… but, Padmé, if I was blind it was only because I wanted to be. I needed to be blind, because if I had known then I would have been obligated to inform the Council. I thought, now that Anakin is free from the Order, that I would find him here."

For a while, Obi-Wan thought that the senator would not reply. She had broken their stare in the middle of his little speech and looked down at her hands folded across her lap instead, as if she couldn't stand to look at him. Eventually, though, she raised her head, and he saw that her stoic mask had fallen apart to reveal the frustration and sadness and anger he could feel through the Force.

"He was here last night. He left this morning, after he told me it's over."

"Anakin ended things?" Obi-Wan blurted, unable to even try to maintain his normal equilibrium.

It was impossible. Obi-Wan would have expected Anakin to end the world before he ended his relationship with Padmé. And that was before he had fallen to the dark side.

Padmé let out a sound that he thought would have been a manic laugh, if it hadn't got caught in her throat and turned into a sob.

"I ended things first," she admitted so quietly that Obi-Wan found himself taking two steps closer to hear her more clearly. "When we were investigating the Intergalactic Banking Clan, Rush and I spent a lot of time together. He… he tried to force a kiss on me. It wasn't the first time he had shown interest, or even the first time he had gotten… handsy. But Anakin saw him that time, and they fought. Rush was such an idiot; he could have apologized and walked away, but instead he provoked Anakin, challenged him to fight without any Jedi tricks."

Obi-Wan winced. "I imagine that didn't go well."

Padmé released another half-laugh, half-sob. "No. Anakin beat him nearly to death. With his bare hands."

"Ah." Yes, he could well see how that had been the result. Anakin was not one to back down, especially not when he was angry, and he certainly didn't need any 'Jedi tricks' to beat the ever-living snot out of most people. "And you… broke up with him over this?"

"I told him I wanted a separation. I told him that I didn't know him anymore, that he scared me. I told him that our ma—" she cut herself off abruptly and looked up at Obi-Wan through wet eyelashes, a contemplative, guilty look on her face.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and re-centered himself for what had to be the hundredth time that day alone.

"Padmé, forgive me if I am overstepping, but at this point I think you ought to just tell me everything."


Cailee had never given much thought to Anakin as a general. She knew he was one, of course. But she'd obviously never had the opportunity to watch him with his men…. Or with any soldiers at all, for that matter, other than when he had been wailing on the palace guards with brutal efficiency. When she had considered what he would be like as a leader, she hadn't been able to imagine that the extreme intensity and broodiness he displayed most of the time would allow him to be very personable or approachable to the men under his command, even if he was an exemplary military strategist.

She couldn't have been more wrong. Anakin seemingly transformed into a different person as soon as he stepped off the yacht, the tension leaving his shoulders and a friendly grin spreading across his face.

The thousands of clone troopers arranged in rows in the hangar saluted him then stood at attention, including the small group of clones standing at the bottom of the ramp. Anakin grinned and slapped the nearest one on the shoulder in one of those rituals men seemed to follow all over the galaxy, not bothering to tell any of them that they could be at ease, as if they should just know they could around him.

"Rex!" he cried out in greeting. "Appo. Hawk. It's good to see you all again." He turned to another man, who was wearing a navy uniform rather than clone armor. "Admiral Yularen, good to see you too."

"You too, sir," replied Rex, his tone serious but his face relaxed. "We were starting to think we'd never see you back here."

"Yes, command has been tight-lipped about our new commanding officer or our next assignment, even though we're scheduled to leave port tomorrow," put in Yularen, a displeased frown creasing his well-worn features. "Suspiciously tight-lipped, I'd say. But the Jedi have been plenty vocal about you."

"So I've heard." Anakin pulled a face, but when Cailee took the last step off the gang plank he turned to look at her with a smile. "This is Princess Cailee. She'll be staying with us for a few weeks."

Cailee allowed Anakin's hand on the small of her back to propel her another half step forward. She offered the soldiers a smile, a small but genuine one and not the practiced one she used for politics and unpleasant social situations. These men were clearly important to Anakin, and besides that she'd also be spending the foreseeable future living on the same ship as them. She wanted to make a good impression.

"Welcome aboard, Your Highness," said the admiral.

He executed an entirely proper bow. The clones all followed his example, much more clumsily, their nearly identical voices chorusing their greetings.

Cailee felt the corners of her mouth turn up just that much more. "Thank you. I'm excited to be here. It's quite the adventure for me, you know."

"So you're staying then, sir?" the clone who was clearly in charge directed at Anakin.

"Seems that way, Rex," replied the former Jedi. "And I did promise you an explanation."

One of the other two clones (Cailee didn't know if it was Appo or Hawk.) motioned forward another trooper who was holding a small microphone in his hand.

"We've got one of the overhead security cams pointed at you, sir," this new man informed Anakin as he extended his hand towards him. "We'll put you up on the holoprojector so that all the men can see and hear."

Anakin grimaced but did not object as he took the microphone. Cailee moved to stand next to the navy admiral, guessing that was as safe a place as any if she didn't want her face broadcast across the hangar.

"Alright, boys, I know you've all been wondering what's going on," began Anakin. His posture was straight and his shoulders square. He would have projected an image of absolute strength and perhaps a bit of menace if he hadn't used his free hand to nervously push his hair out of his face. "It's true that I left the Jedi Order."

A discontented rumble traveled through the crowd. From somewhere in the first few rows, someone shouted, "They're saying they kicked you out!" That produced an even louder reaction from the other clones. Commander Rex turned to face his men with a scowl, clearly displeased with their inability to maintain order. Before he could say or do anything to bring them back in line, Anakin raised his hand, palm outwards, to indicate they should stop. They did almost immediately, with only a few lingering whispers.

"They sent Generals Kenobi and Windu to bring me back to Coruscant to face the Council. I left the Order rather than go with them," he acknowledged, tone flat and face straight. He cut his eyes in Cailee's direction, and she caught his gaze with an encouraging smile. She wondered whether he would go into the details of his mission on Arkanis and her presence on the ship, but he did not, to her relief. Instead, he said, "Earlier today, the senate confirmed my appointment as a general in the Army of the Republic. Supreme Chancellor Palpatine has removed this ship and the 501st from the Order's chain of command and assigned them directly to me for a new special operations command."

There were a few beats of silence. Cailee could feel the admiral shifting next to her, and from where she was standing, she could see the clone commanders who had greeted Anakin at the bottom of the gangplank look at each other in surprise. Then, suddenly, it seemed as if every person in the hangar was whispering to each other all at once.

Anakin allowed it for twenty or thirty seconds, then he raised his arm again to quieten them.

"If anyone would rather be transferred to another legion under one of the Jedi, don't hesitate to let one of the commanders know. I'll do my best to make sure it happens. Dismissed."

Thousands of clones erupted into chatter at once, even as many of them moved to go back to whatever they had been doing before being called to gather for the general's speech. such as it was. The noise in the hangar was nearly deafening, and the mass movement of so many people at once made Cailee doubly uncomfortable. It was irrational, she knew; nobody was going to hurt her here. But she had thought the same thing in her own home and look where that had gotten her.

She carefully made her way through the soldiers who had approached to talk to one of the clone commanders or to Anakin, picking her way through them until she reached Anakin's side. He was facing away from her, talking to Rex and a small group of other clones, but when she drew near he shifted and made room for her next to him, without even looking, as if he had sensed her approach. Cailee supposed he actually had, that he was keeping tabs on her with whatever Force senses he had.

"I'd prefer not to bring this up to the chancellor unless we can't handle it ourselves," he was telling his men.

"With respect, sir, you may not have a choice. I don't get the impression the other Jedi are all that willing to help you."

Anakin sighed, sounding incredibly put upon. "I know. I'll reach out and see how they respond, but if they can't be reasoned with then I'll have to ask Palpatine. It'd be better to wait until tomorrow to try."

Commander Rex eyed Cailee critically before he spoke, obviously choosing his words carefully due to her presence, as if he were unsure what she was permitted to hear.

"Understood, sir. Whatever happens, we will need to make sure the men have time to get everything in order before we ship out. It will take at least half a day to get everything organized, if it all goes smoothly, and we're currently scheduled to leave tomorrow…."

"Noted, Rex," Anakin confirmed brusquely, although it was obvious to Cailee that it wasn't the man he was annoyed by but whatever situation they were discussing. He turned to look at her then, the lines across his forehead smoothing as their eyes met. He never broke their gaze, but he asked the men surrounding them, "Anything else I urgently need to know?"

"No, sir," replied a chorus of almost-identical voices.

Leaving the hangar did not offer any relief from the sheer number of people milling about in close quarters. Cailee figured she would just have to get used to it, if she was going to live on a ship with some thousands of soldiers on it. Nor was the rest of the ship any more appealing to look at than the hangar had been; it was all the same cold, gray transparisteel everywhere the eye could see. As they approached the officer and guest living quarters, soldiers became thinner on the ground, but there wasn't a single thing visually to distinguish this area of the ship from any other. Cailee was certain she was going to get hopelessly lost.

The only flash of color in the entire ship seemed to be the gold protocol droid waiting for Anakin in his quarters.

"Oh, Master Ani, you're back! There is so much we have to talk about! But first I must apologize for how far behind I have fallen. You see, I appear to have been locked out of your account and communications, and without access I have not been able to—"

"Threepio!" interrupted Anakin, raising his voice to be heard but, as far as Cailee could tell, not at all in anger. "Threepio, it's fine. Everything happened so fast, I didn't even think to tell you. I left the Jedi Order. That's why all my access codes were blocked."

The droid went perfectly still and silent, as if it needed time to process what it had heard. Then, without any apparent warning, it burst out, "Left the Jedi Order! Have you come to retrieve me? Where will we go? What will we do? What will you do? Oh, Master Ani, what will become of us?"

Anakin had a smile playing at the corners of his mouth when he reassured the droid, "I've got a commission in the Grand Army of the Republic now. Nothing much will change, except who I take orders from."

"Nothing will change?!" exclaimed Threepio incredulously, his voice reaching an impressive pitch that made Cailee wince. "That changes everything! All my plans were made with the Jedi command structure and protocols in mind. I will have to start over! I will have to rework everything from the ground up!"

Anakin finally let his laughter escape. It was joyful and bright, and something in Cailee relaxed to hear it. He had been terribly solemn the last few days.

"Threepio, I did command this legion for nearly three years without your help," he reminded the droid. "Things won't fall apart in the time it takes you to… do whatever it is you do. In the meantime, shouldn't you be making sure the princess gets settled in?"

Cailee abruptly found herself the center of attention, looking between Anakin's dancing blue eyes and boyish grin and the yellow lenses set into the droid's expressionless faceplate.

"Your Royal Highness!" cried the droid as it executed a clumsy bow so low that Cailee half expected it was going to tip forward and land on its forehead on the floor. If she had thought it sounded distraught before, that was nothing to how it sounded now. "Oh, please forgive the lack of hospitality, Your Highness! If I had known you were coming, I would have had your rooms prepared."

Before Cailee could respond, Anakin said, "It's fine, Threepio. Why don't you go prepare her room now? Her luggage is on the yacht in the main hangar. You can put any of it that doesn't fit in her room in here."

If anyone had asked her, Cailee would have told them that it wasn't exactly fine. All she wanted to do was get out of her gown (and the shoes), let her hair down to hopefully relieve her headache, take a shower, and go to bed early. But nobody had asked her, so she kept her thoughts to herself. She didn't want to seem like a diva right from the start.

It took forever for the droid to finish gesticulating at her and apologizing for the oversight, but he did eventually make his way out of the room. There was only an uncomfortable-looking bed and an even more uncomfortable-looking chair in Anakin's quarters. Cailee took the bed, not bothering to ask permission first, and tried to awkwardly cross her ankles underneath her skirt. Not that anything about this was proper, so she wasn't sure why she bothered.

"The droid is… something else," she ventured into the silence between them.

"Hmm?" Anakin hummed, before looking up from his datapad and processing what she had said. "Oh, yeah. That's my fault. I was only eight or nine when I built him."

Cailee wanted to be surprised, but she didn't have it in her anymore to be caught off guard by anything Anakin claimed he had ever done. If he fought in a battle and blew up a command ship at age nine, then why wouldn't he have built his own droid at that age? Obviously. She should have known.

"The Jedi let you keep him?" she asked rather than reacting.

"Nah," he denied carelessly. "I left him with my mother—I had built him for her anyway. She died just at the start of the Clone Wars and I took him back, but I gave him to Padmé. She had more use for a protocol droid than I did. I just took him back in the, uh… the divorce, I guess. That's why he's so on edge: He's trying to find his footing in a new job."

Cailee was suddenly very interested, not in the history of Threepio but in the reference to Anakin's marriage to Senator Amidala.

"Have you gotten a divorce?"

That finally got Anakin's attention. He paused in whatever he was typing to look up at her, a startled expression on his face. She would have giggled at his wide eyes and raised eyebrows, if he hadn't looked so lost.

"Er—no," he managed to say. "Honestly, I don't even know if we're legally married."

Cailee's own eyebrows raised incredulously.

"How can you not know whether you're legally married?" she wanted to know, and she didn't think she succeeded in hiding exactly how much she was judging him.

Anakin shrugged helplessly. "It was a secret ceremony. Neither of us was supposed to be married, not to anyone, much less to each other. The only people there were the officiant, Artoo, and Threepio."

"Okay… This happened on Naboo?" began Cailee, her mind racing through the possible ramifications. At his nod, she mused aloud, "Well, we'll need to look into Naboo's marriage laws. At least in the Regency Worlds, you've got to have two witnesses other than the officiant, and droids wouldn't count. And the couple and their witnesses have to sign a register in front of the officiant, after the ceremony, and then the officiant files paperwork with the government to legally recognize the marriage. It might be different…" She trailed off at the look on his face, and only then thought to say, "I mean, that is, if you want a divorce."

He didn't say anything for so long that Cailee figured he was going to say that he didn't actually want one, even if his marriage was legal. However, when he finally seemed to shake out of it enough to speak, he surprised her.

"Padmé wants to try again after the war is over, when she thinks she can finally give up her career in the senate. She basically asked whether I can wait for that, and I told her I don't know. But I think I do know that I can't. It's just hard to admit that it's over. I've loved her for so long. I met her when I was nine, you know?"

"What is it with you and making life-long decisions when you were nine?"

"During the Invasion of Naboo," he clarified, as if he hadn't heard her, a wistful smile pulling at his lips. "When she escaped the initial invasion, she crash landed on Tatooine with Obi-Wan, who was still a Padawan then, and his Jedi Master. I helped them get the parts to fix their ship, and later I helped them take back Naboo. She helped me cope with leaving home—with leaving my mother—and with entering a new life that was completely foreign to me. Then I didn't see her again until I was your age."

Cailee shook her head and let herself fall gracelessly backwards across the bed, where she came to rest propped up half by his pillows and half by the cold durasteel wall. "Remind me," she told him, "to nag my grandmother until she bans the Jedi from taking any children from the Regency Worlds."

"Can she do that? The senate has given the Jedi Order pretty broad authority over Force-sensitive younglings."

Cailee's shrugged against the pillows. "The senate doesn't have much oversight over what we do in the Outer Rim, Anakin. And they don't really have a good way to enforce it even if we do choose not to follow some law or other. If they imposed tariffs or an embargo, we could simply block the major hyperspace lanes we control or close the officer academy. If they tried to bring some military action against us, that would prove the Separatists right."

"I can't really argue with that," he admitted, "not that I have any particular reason to try. I grew up on Tatooine, so I know what you mean about the senate not really existing out there."

Cailee shifted on the uncomfortable mattress until she had turned her body to face him where he was leaning back against the edge of his workbench. She was nervous to even bring up what she wanted to say, but she felt like she didn't have much choice, if she ever wanted Anakin to move on from Senator Amidala. And not necessarily to move on for her sake, because she did not truly think it would ever happen between them—Someone from Tatooine? A former Jedi from Tatooine? A divorced former Jedi from Tatooine who had married against the laws and tenets of his Order? A divorced former Jedi from Tatooine who had married Padmé Amidala against the laws and tenets of his Order and the social mores of her office?

No, her grandmother would never allow it.

Still, Cailee could admit that she cared deeply for the man. At least as deeply as someone could care about another person they'd known for only a few weeks. And who had been through what they had together. And she wanted him to be happy for his own sake, even if there was nothing in it for herself. So she felt like she had to go there.

"Can I offer you some advice, which you can take or leave as you please, after which I won't say anything else about Senator Amidala unless you ask what I think?"

"Of course," he allowed, far too freely in her opinion.

"Okay…" she began hesitantly, as if she hadn't thought ahead to what she would say if he actually agreed, even though she had.

Anakin pushed his hair out of his eyes and turned to face her fully, waiting. Cailee worried her lower lip between her teeth. Then she took a fortifying breath and met his eyes.

"Alright," she started again, "I think you need to ask yourself how much you love the real Padmé and how much you love the picture of her that you painted in your head when you were nine years old and before you met her again as an adult. Once you figure that out, you will be able to make a decision that you'll know you can live with."

Cailee watched him warily, slightly nervous about his reaction, but Anakin looked more gobsmacked than angry.


Author's Notes: Seriously what is up with the size of military units in Star Wars? Holy inconsistency, Batman. Like depending on what source we look at, the 501st is anywhere between 500 and 10,000 men. I have decided to handwave the problem of exactly how big it is away and just say "oh you know, like, a few thousand, I guess."

Also poor Obi-Wan. I know he hasn't come across in the most flattering light thus far in this story, but I promise I do like him. I don't place 100% of the blame on him for anything.