"I will not teach you. Our teachings are nothing without power. If you will not use the dark side, you will learn nothing! You will be nothing - nothing but a traitor to our Order. You already are - you have betrayed your master, and refused your name!"
"I will be something," said Anakin, with a proud lift of his head. "I will be something, within the Jedi Order. I will be a Scholar - like Lord Plagueis before you. Palpatine - if you could be safely released, you would be! No one wants to do this to you. But look at what you've done! And I haven't refused my name. I will use it - to bring honor to the Sith!"
"The Jedi who says he does not hate me denies the knowledge of his own darkness," snarled the Sith. "And a scholar, young one...is not honorable, and a traitor is less than nothing."
"Master. I can bring you your Sith books, your holocrons, if you want me to. You must want them. You're allowed to have them here. If you want them, just tell me where they are."
"You are not to be trusted with them."
And Palpatine turned his back on him.
"Not far wrong, is Master Windu, although sarcastic, he may be," said Master Yoda. "Like an illness, this is. Encourage him to fight it, you must. Promised, the dark side did, that powerful Palpatine would become. Instead, necessary it was, to deprive him of power completely. Promise, it does, that free from fear, can one be. But afraid, has the master been, all of his existence. Promise eternal life, the dark side did. Now, die Palpatine will, directly because of its use. See this, he must. Then, emboldened to fight, he may be."
Anakin nodded. "I'll try, master."
Palpatine attempted to escape from the Jedi Temple, once. The deaths of two ysalamiri set off a Force-sensitive alarm, and five Jedi masters managed to coerce an older, weakened master Sith back into the Pavilion without alerting the press.
A year passed. A year and a half. Anakin visited Palpatine several times a week, when he was home. He brought Palpatine books, favorite foods from the worlds he visited, souvenirs from his travels. Anakin knew the old man spent his days communing with the dark side of the Force, knew he longed more than anything to be able to use it to heal himself. Always the yellow eyes seemed to look past him, flitting impatiently about the walls and windows. In his heart, Palpatine still lived out there. And in his heart, he still planned someday to be back out there.
At last, Anakin returned to the Temple after a two-month posting on Cato Nemoidia. He gave his report to the Council, feeling an odd tension in the room. At the end of the meeting, as the other masters filed out, Obi-Wan stopped him.
"Obi-Wan, what's going on? It's like no one wants to look me in the eye today. Have I done something wrong?"
"No, Anakin, no. But...your friend Palpatine. I'm afraid all has not been well with him, since you've been away."
Anakin entered the plush, lavendar sitting room in the Pavilion, glazed with midmorning sun through the large picture window Palpatine favored, to find a hulking black piece of machinery hovering over the floor. He blinked, the sun in his eyes, and then he recognized what it was: a repulsorchair. It turned slowly to reveal Palpatine within it.
The once elegant, graceful former politician seemed to have shrunk into himself since Anakin had last seen him. He wore his Sith robes defiantly all the time now, but suddenly they looked miles too big for him. His face had gone gray, and even his skin seemed too big for him. His hands shook. He had changed so that he scarcely even looked like Palpatine.
"Sir...are you all right?"
"Do I look all right?" Palpatine rasped. But there was a softness in the Force, a sort of openness Anakin had not felt around him in a long time.
That night, struggling out of the repulsorchair and leaning heavily on a walking stick, Palpatine began again to tell him old stories and legends of the Sith.
Was it only two years ago that Chancellor Palpatine had paced confidently as he recited these stories, since two captivating blue eyes had sparkled over a glass of wine at the excitement of the tales? Anakin realized sadly that now even the beautiful voice was gone. And he understood, on his way home that night, why the Sith had changed his mind.
For fifteen years now, a piece of his heart had been Palpatine's. What would it be like, Anakin thought, if he wasn't with me any more? And he knew that whatever Palpatine had done, whatever terrible fury he had rained on this galaxy like a firestorm, whatever he had done even to Anakin himself, he would miss him always.
Sereine saw him the next morning at Padmé's offices and hurried over. "You're back! Tell me...have you been to see him yet? How is he?"
"Sereine..." said Anakin. "He's dying."
Thus began a long discussion between them, Sith Master and Jedi Knight. Anakin offered affection but not escape, condolences but not collusion. Palpatine shared secrets sparingly and never without baiting...tempting. He bridled at any show of esteem besides the required kneel and bow. One night he became sick; Anakin rushed to hold a trash can for him. When he touched him, the Sith lord's leathery skin burned with fever, but Palpatine jerked his head away from Anakin's hand even as he was violently ill.
Later Anakin stood by his bed and placed a cold cloth on his perspiring forehead. The old man gritted his teeth.
"Master," said Anakin, "can't you see that I care about you?"
The Sith turned his face to the wall.
Two more years passed. Padmé, big with her third child, prepared to leave the Chancellor's office for a long sabbatical on Naboo. Sereine, Finis, and Organa prepared for the big push to the Central Podium. The twins played at lightsabers and Luke begged to become a Jedi like his father.
And Anakin prepared to lose Palpatine.
He came into Bail's office late one night. Sereine labored over a speech on a datapad. Now almost completely gray, she looked up at him.
"Anakin. What's on your mind?"
He led her to Bail's empty conference room and sat down, folding his hands on the table. "I think Palpatine's accepted that he's dying." He sighed. "He's finally told me where the books and holocrons are."
"At least he'll get to have them in his possession again before he dies. He'll like that." Sereine stared moodily into the darkness. "I wish...I guess I know now, that it was unrealistic of us to think that we could ever bring him out of this. It's security for him. And it's pride. If he ever turned, he couldn't live with himself."
"If he doesn't turn, he can't live at all," said Anakin.
Sereine sighed and spread her hands flat on the table, staring down at them. Finally she looked up.
"Anakin...take me to see him."
"My, my," creaked Palpatine's ancient voice. "I have waited a long time for this...my dear friend. Missed me, have you?"
"You know I have," said Sereine. "Palpatine...there hasn't been a day in the last twenty-four years that I haven't thought about you."
"Indeed," the Sith lord scoffed. "How you must desire me, now that I am completely powerless. Now that I look the way I do." He stretched a bony hand toward her. "Come, Sereiné...surely we can enjoy privacy here in my lovely tomb."
"Master," said Anakin.
"Palpatine, please," said Sereine. "Stop this. You're killing yourself!" She reached forward, stooping to take his hand.
"Am I?" the old man scoffed, pulling his hand away. "At least I may have the satisfaction of taking you with me!"
A tongue of blue plasma arced across the room, carrying Sereine with it. She hit the opposite wall with a scream and slid down it with a crash.
Anakin sprang forward, blue lightsaber glowing between them. "Stop! If you touch her again, I'll - "
Two blinking gold eyes glowed back at him. "Yes...yes, my apprentice. Strike me down. Give in to your anger!" Two gnarled hands poised to strike again.
Anakin backed across the room to where Sereine had fallen. He squatted and carefully pulled her across his knees. They faced each other, master and apprentice.
After a moment Anakin switched his lightsaber off. Two gold eyes followed him as he carried the older woman out of the room.
Master Yoda consulted with them at Sereine's bedside in the Temple hospital.
"Foolish, this was. Understand, I do, your desperation...but foolish. Now, injured you are, and gained, nothing is."
Sereine gripped the bed railing. "Is there no more we can do?"
"Know the answer to this question, both of you do. Already tried you, that which you could."
"But, Master Yoda," goaded Anakin, "there has to be something else! This can't be the end!"
"The ending it is. No more can I tell you. Tried everything on his behalf, you have. Remarkable things have the four of you accomplished. To your credit it has been, but no more can you do."
Sereine brushed tears from her face, and reached through the bed railing for the little Jedi master's hand. "Thank you, master...for everything you've done. Thank you for trying to help him. I only wish...oh, how I wish it could be different."
Anakin stood there with his head down. The three of them shared a wistful silence.