Author's note: this chapter has been edited to erase grammar and spelling mistakes

Hello, and thank you so much, everyone who left a review!

I do have plans for Obi-Wan making appearances in the coming chapters, I did not forget about him. He's very hard to write thou, I'm worried about getting it wrong, so give me some time

And yes, there will be confrontations between Kenshin and a certain former Jedi..after all, there is some major potential for friction between them

~ 15 ~

Shards of darkness

- You must not fear the dark. It's what you choose to do that defines you -

His prayers to the Force were heard.

The sound of wings flapping came nearer, and surprisingly softly for their size, they touched down close to the two Jedi. Anakin used his cable launcher serving as a rope to secure his unconscious Master on the back of the larger animal, who endured the procedure good-naturedly.

The dense fog slowly lifted, and something in Kenshin's mind stirred. He wondered how, even though he was dead, he could still feel pain, thirst, and hunger. Shouldn't becoming one with the Force relieve the spirit of such physical predicaments? Why did his head feel like an entire herd of banthas was stampeding through it? He forced his eyes open and made out a familiar face, although the picture was blurry, and he couldn't quite recognize who it was.

Sleep was such a wonderful thing. When asleep, the world was peaceful and quiet. Why couldn't he just fall back asleep and stay that way until the end of time? Instead, wavering images and memories came back in incoherent, fragmented sequences. His mind pieced them together, and at last, the scene violently hit him with shocking clarity. The explosion—they had sprung a trap. Anakin! What happened to Anakin?

Abruptly, he sat up, feeling a sharp pain shoot through his abdomen and back. His vision cleared, and he heard himself cry out in pain, emitting a stream of expletives that would have made a Hutt proud and he realized: He was not dead.

He was in Aiko's house, and she was looking at him with a concerned expression.

"Finally. We thought you would sleep forever. Don't move. Don't speak. You need rest!" she commanded.

"Anakin...?"

"Glad to see you awake, Master!" Anakin stepped into his field of vision, a relieved smile on his lips.

"You, glad to see me? It must be you who's hurt, not me," Kenshin said scoffingly.

Anakin gave him a brief account of how he had managed to get him out of the jungle and back to the village, where they had called on everyone with any healing skills. Kenshin had been in rough shape. Without timely medical attention, he would have died.

But Anakin had done it! He had grown beyond his fears and overcome his aversion to animals. With the help of the Force, he had managed to summon the two arashi they had ridden into the depths of the jungle, and gotten the winged lizards to bring the two Jedi back to civilization. The ride had been cold and long. To keep Kenshin warm enough to survive, Anakin had wrapped him in every garment they had, with little regard for his own comfort. In the end, they made it. Despite all the damage he had taken, the healers and shamans called by Hiro and Aiko were able to save his Master. Anakin was relieved, hopeful, and a little proud of himself. He had done something right for once. Maybe he wasn't such a hopeless case after all.

Upon their return to Coruscant, instead of consulting the temple healers to remedy his still battered condition, Kenshin went straight to the archives and accessed a hidden vault Anakin hadn't even known existed. This was where their findings would be secured for now, until the Jedi Master could come up with a plan to find the two missing fragments of the Force medallion. The teenager, curious as always, inquired about the unidentified planet from Quinlan's psychometric analysis, but Kenshin was—once more—cagey about his thoughts. Maybe he really was as clueless as he claimed, or he was simply exhausted. Despite his injuries, he hadn't taken much time to rest and still moved with difficulty. Anakin was astonished to see him on his feet again, only days after he had nearly been blown to pieces in the depths of the Nantaon jungle.

When Kenshin had already left the archives, Anakin remained to do some research on his own. It took a lot for Anakin to willingly set foot in a library, but the subject of Force-sensitive artifacts intrigued him enough to stay. Jocasta Nu spotted him and approached with a small box.

"Hello, young Skywalker! I wondered if maybe you could do me a service. This is something I meant to give to your Master—I've kept it all these years, eventually forgetting about it. He's never been much at the temple since he was promoted to Jedi Knight. These days I've been cleaning out old storage compartments, and it fell into my hands. Please do me the favor and give it to him. My old legs are not quite up to chasing after him through the entire temple, so if you could be so kind?"

"Of course, Madame Nu."

Anakin bowed politely and took the box. Curious, he hurried to his own room first and opened the lid. Inside were a lightsaber hilt and a pendant on a string of bantha leather. The pendant depicted the head of a Yashkaru, the strange, mysterious creatures of Kenshin's homeworld, beautifully crafted out of a silvery metal Anakin didn't recognize. He picked up the lightsaber—a silvery hilt, delicately reflecting the light from the ceiling. It was ornamented with a few wooden rings, beautiful yet functional and simple, much like all of Kenshin's belongings. Anakin assumed the weapon had once belonged to his Master. He ignited it, and a blade of a beautiful green-gold color emerged. The color was an exquisite shade, perfectly balanced between gold and pastel green. Though any lightsaber was a lethal weapon, this blade spoke of protection, peace, and serenity. Very unlike the deep purple one Kenshin wielded now, which evoked strength, violence, and mortal danger—the weapon of a warrior, not a peacekeeper. If that had been Kenshin's previous saber, why had he given it up, and how had it ended up in that box? Figuring this mystery wouldn't unravel itself, he shut it off and made his way to Kenshin's quarters.

"Master, Madame Nu handed me this to give to you." he explained while handing his Master the box. Of course, he didn't tell him that he had opened and examined the contents. Kenshin opened the lid and immediately dropped it like a blistering hot brick. He began to tremble, his eyes widened with shock, and suddenly he had trouble staying upright, supporting himself against the wall. Then he doubled over as if in great anguish.

A sharp, searing pain flashed through him the moment he saw what the box contained. His vision instantly faded into white, blinded by a cold gleaming light, and the world around him seemed to crumble. His breath became labored as if he had fought a vicious battle, and he struggled to get air. It felt as if something was clasping around his neck. He had not seen the weapon or the pendant in over ten years, but he immediately recognized both. In an instant, it all came rushing back. The ineffable grief, the all-consuming sense of guilt, the suffering, the silent screams of a thirteen-year-old boy that tore apart not ears but his own soul. Screams and tears that had never found solace. He didn't feel the gentle squeeze of Anakin's hand on his shoulder, nor did he hear Anakin's worried voice.

The light buzz of a green-gold lightsaber hummed in his ears, clashing against a crimson blade. Desperate outcries, wailing of beings who had just lost loved ones, detonations of explosive charges, blaster fire. Then, against the faint noise of Coruscant's night traffic in the distance, the steady hum of the pastel green-gold blade in the dark, ignited with the terrible intention to end it once and for all.

Anakin ran. He had to get help! The temple healers would not be of much help in this case, so he raced to find the one person who would know what to do. He hoped dearly that Quinlan was still at the temple and not yet gone again, off to his occupation of scouring the underworld and ridding it of criminal filth. Thank the Force he found the Kiffar in his personal living quarters.

Quinlan didn't lose any time. He wrapped his friend in a blanket and held him in a tight embrace for a long time, but Kenshin didn't stop shaking.

"Master Vos, what is going on? I don't understand!" Anakin exclaimed.

"He's having a flashback," Quinlan explained curtly.

"What caused it?"

"He's lived through something terrible as a kid, and seeing this…" Quinlan gestured to the lightsaber hilt and pendant, "...it must have thrown his mind right back into that moment. You did the right thing calling me! Force, this is serious! I never thought I'd see him like this."

"But... it's just a lightsaber and a pretty necklace."

"This is the lightsaber he wielded as a Padawan. The necklace belonged to his Master—he had gifted it to her when he was but a little boy," Quinlan explained. He remembered Kenshin telling him how, as an eight-year-old youngling, he had spent weeks collecting semi-precious stones in the mountains to trade them for the little pendant to give to his Master as a sign of gratitude and appreciation.

"Why does he react to it like that? What happened back then?"

"I'm afraid I cannot tell you, Anakin. I really am sorry, but I don't think I should talk about it. He wouldn't forgive me—I might lose the best friend I have."

"Of course, I understand." Of course, Anakin didn't understand anything, only that Kenshin seemed to keep a terrible secret, and he, Anakin, was not to be trusted with it.

The Padawan recalled what he had seen through the Force in his Master's mind the night before entering the ancient temple on Nanta. This tremendous pain. Why did Kenshin refuse to talk about it? Why did he not open up? He only wanted to help!

Ultimately, Quinlan used a sleep suggestion to stop his friend's seizure. After a good night's sleep and a few days of rest, Kenshin seemed restored, back to normal. Although 'normal' was a far-fetched term for the Nantoan Jedi.

"How are we going to find the other fragments of the artifact?" Anakin asked again. He had accompanied his Master into the vault, where they were once more examining the piece of the ancient artifact they had found.

"Don't know," Kenshin replied absently. He seemed spaced out, showing no interest in the conversation.

"You don't know or you don't wanna tell me?" Anakin asked sulkily.

"I said I don't know," his Master snapped, throwing an angry glare in Anakin's direction. Disgruntled, Anakin stared back. On Nanta, he had felt they had finally forged a true bond. Maybe they would become Master and apprentice after all, supporting each other and growing together, possibly even becoming friends. But since that strange incident with the damned box, Kenshin had been more taciturn, grim, and morose than ever. He spent a suspicious amount of time in the archives, hardly spoke to anyone, and seemed constantly absent, even during their training sessions.

Anakin had begun to work harder. He never wanted to feel weak again; he never wanted to feel the fear he had felt when the dark side, his dark side, had tried to secure its hold over him. He never wanted to feel so powerless again. His mother had begun to appear in his dreams, and every time he saw her, it was sheer terror. One day, soon, he would go free her! He had to get his promotion to knighthood as quickly as possible. He would free his mom and all the other slaves on Tatooine. And then the galaxy. He had to become a powerful Jedi knight, and it had to happen soon. The urge grew stronger by the day, making him restless, impulsive, and more brash than ever. Even Kyle, his best friend, grew alienated by Anakin's behavior. This wasn't lost on Anakin, and he wanted to explain, but the little he understood about his feelings was not something he could talk about. Attachments were forbidden, and nobody in the Jedi temple would understand, not even his Master. Least of all his Master, given the walls Kenshin was building around himself. The frequent nightmares messed with his sleep.

It didn't escape Kenshin's notice either that something troubled Anakin.

"Something's wrong. What is it?" Kenshin asked as a way of greeting when Anakin showed up to one of their morning training sessions. The Padawan didn't understand how a person could be so socially awkward and distant and at the same time so awfully perceptive. His Master's dark brown eyes scrutinized him.

"Nothing!"

"You don't look alright!"

"Says the guy who looks like the textbook definition of a kriffin' mess himself!"

They stared at each other, both knowing the other wasn't buying it.

"Teach me Vaapad, Master!" Anakin demanded.

This was not exactly the response Kenshin thought he would get. He raised an eyebrow. "Where is that coming from? I will, when you're ready."

"When I'm ready? I am ready! Don't you see how hard I'm working? What else do you want me to do? I have surpassed everyone my age, why can't you see it?" And indeed he had. His newfound vigor and efforts had brought notable results in both his combat skills and mastery of Force abilities. He even forced himself to meditate every day.

"It's not talent, or power that you lack. It's control. Self-acceptance. You have no idea what Vaapad really entails."

"Yeah, and how am I supposed to know when nobody teaches me! Windu taught you when you were, how old, 13? 14?"

********** Jedi Temple, Coruscant, 9 years Earlier

A hyperstorm waiting to happen—that's what Mace thought the young teenager was. The black hair cut buzz-short, Padawan braid resting on his shoulder, the boy sat motionless beside the small, green Grandmaster. Windu observed as Yoda instructed young Kenshin in animal kinship. The old Master didn't have to teach him much; the Padawan controlled the swarm of colorful birds as effortlessly as his own body. At fourteen years old, the boy mastered feats in the Force that most grown and established Jedi knights wouldn't accomplish. Yet, something was off. Windu couldn't pinpoint what it was. There was darkness. A strange mix of elusiveness and stubborn rebelliousness. Kenshin hadn't spoken a word since arriving at the temple under Yoda's guidance. He understood and mostly followed commands but never spoke, not even when directly asked a question. All he gave was that intense, taunting glare. He had no friends among the other Padawans. A few, who hadn't immediately been deterred by his creepy demeanor, had tried to bond with him, but Kenshin pushed them away. He always kept to himself and had a way of making others feel what he wanted—or rather, didn't want—without speaking. The only people he tolerated in his proximity, besides Yoda, were Quinlan Vos, a notorious troublemaker in his own right, and an older Padawan named Makiri, the young man who had saved Kenshin from committing suicide. Mace shook his head in disapproval. The Council should never have allowed Master Fay to train the child on his homeworld, away from their surveillance. What Mace planned to do now—he wasn't sure if it would bring the salvation he hoped for or be the final straw to push the boy over the edge. Reluctantly, Yoda had agreed to Mace becoming involved in Kenshin's training. Even with all his wisdom, the wise Grandmaster couldn't reach the boy. Grief, pain, and fear filled his mind, and he wouldn't let go of those feelings. He still mourned his Master.

"Come," Mace said, taking the boy to the dojo. Swords and combat training seemed to be the only thing the boy truly enjoyed, and despite his young age, Kenshin's martial proficiency was already frightening. Maybe that was a means to reach through to the child. If words and meditation couldn't break his spoiled ways, maybe Vaapad could.

They would use live blades, not just harmless training sabers. Kenshin hadn't touched his own lightsaber, the weapon he had tried to kill himself with, since that day. As Windu presented the hilt to the boy, his demeanour instantly changed. Usually shielded to the point he resembled a void more than anything, Mace saw him suddenly radiate sharp, searing pain. Then, blazing fury.

"No," Kenshin said, glaring at Mace with utter defiance. It was the first time Mace heard the boy speak.

"So, what will you fight with, if not with your lightsaber? Spoiled little jungle rat!" Mace said, igniting his own blade. He would teach the kid what Jedi discipline meant. He would teach him his place. Yoda was far too gentle in his methods.

Kenshin's eyes appeared to glow from within. The attack came so quickly and with so much power, it caught Mace by surprise and knocked him off his feet. The tall Korun rubbed his head, feeling a sharp pang. The sensation had not originated from the well-dosed Force push that had swept him off balance. The boy had attempted a Force drain, a mind assault! There was no way a child this young could have learned Sith magic, which meant this was a power the boy possessed on his own. And he had not hesitated to use it!

Blasted little demon! He had courage, Mace had to give him that, and he was powerful for his age. But he was still only a Padawan, and Mace was a grown Jedi Master who now dismissed all the Jedi composure he had cultivated all his life. He would teach Kenshin his lesson, one way or another.

********** Jedi Temple, Coruscant, in the now

"My path was different. Vaapad channels the dark side within you – it is a way to channel and use anger. But you have a lust for power. That's something I never had. That lust for power is exactly why—until you learn to tame it—you'd fail horribly attempting Vaapad. You don't want to hear it, but you need to learn mastery of yourself."

"Ah, so you never fight with anger?"

"Oh, I do. The difference is: I am not consumed by it. I command it!"

"You're just holding me back, that's what you're doing!"

"No. You do that yourself. I'm not going to just say what you want to hear. I will tell you the truth. Learn to deal with it!" Kenshin said sternly. Anakin's arrogance could be so exasperating. Hadn't they gone through this exercise a hundred times? What did it take for the boy to understand that he wanted the exact opposite of holding him back? A sudden bout of nausea washed over him, and he struggled to keep his knees from buckling. He hadn't eaten in days, drawing on the Force to sustain himself. Every time he tried to eat, it made him feel sick and ready to vomit.

"I think you're jealous, Master!"

"Jealous of what, exactly? Of your blind arrogance? Certainly not."

"You're jealous of my power, and of my potential. I know I haven't understood all of its ways yet, but I will soon master the Force better than anyone else!"

"To unfold that potential to its fullest is my very objective as your teacher! But it remains your responsibility to learn. You think you know everything better, without ever questioning yourself—that's what's holding you back."

" 'Control yourself, Anakin.' That's all I ever hear. Nobody ever cares about me, or about how I feel!" Frustration and vexation rose within Anakin, his frustration taking the steering wheel once again.

"I care," Kenshin replied.

"No, you don't. You don't even know me. You were forced to be my Master. You're the most pathetic, terrible excuse for a teacher I've ever seen. You're a pain in a bantha's ass!"

The very second the words came out of his mouth, Anakin froze in shock. Both of his hands clasped over his mouth. How could he say such a thing? Fearfully, he looked at Kenshin and met his glance. The Master's expression was as unreadable as ever.

Anakin hadn't said anything new to Kenshin. He knew he was not exactly born to teach. But he tried, Force knew he tried his hardest to be a good mentor. Even convinced of his own ineptitude, he tried. His Padawan's words hit hard.

"I don't know you very well, that's correct. Becoming your Master wasn't my idea either, that's true. That I don't know how to teach—you never miss a chance to remind me," he said, bitterness and frustration in his voice. "All of that doesn't mean I don't care. What am I supposed to do? You've obviously decided to not even give me a chance!" He turned on his heels and walked out.

A sensation of guilt rolled through him. Anakin wanted to tell Kenshin that he was more than willing to 'give him a chance'... if only his Master would open up a little more, be a little less withdrawn, trust him a little more. But it was hard to say these words out loud, especially to such a stubborn, bantha-headed person as Kenshin was. It was probably best to give him some time to cool off and then go talk to him. There were a few things he'd reproach him with, but not that he wouldn't care. Actually, not even that he was a bad Master, to be honest. Anakin had just been so furious; everything was… so much, so overwhelming, he had lost it in the heat of the moment. When he decided to seek out Kenshin the next day, however, he realized he wouldn't get the chance to talk.

He was gone. Kenshin was just gone and hadn't even left a note. Anakin searched the entire Temple, only to find no trace of his Master and to discover that both the Kage, Kenshin's ship, and Roku, his astromech, had disappeared. No hints, no message, nothing. He asked Ranakos and Tesha, but they had no clue either. Eventually, he even considered asking Yoda for the whereabouts of his jerk of a Master but decided that dealing with the green gnome was too unpleasant. Anakin knew Yoda didn't like him.

A short while later, Quinlan Vos showed up, stating that Kenshin had asked him to take care of Anakin while he was gone. Vos was equally taken aback to hear that Kenshin hadn't given Anakin any notice.

Assuming his mentoring duties as best as he could, Quinlan made sure to keep Anakin busy with tasks, training, or taking him on short missions in the days that followed. The Kiffar was fun to be around but wouldn't say where Kenshin had gone or what he was up to. He claimed not to know, but Anakin had doubts he was being told the truth. He wasn't sure of anything much anymore.

Three weeks later, returning from one of his many not-quite-permitted night-time strolls to Coruscant's lower levels, he saw the Kage back in its assigned spot in the hangar. Heat was still wafting off the engines—it must have landed recently. Moments later, he stood in front of the door to his Master's quarters and knocked. Not receiving an answer, he decided to just walk in. Kenshin was sitting on his sleeping mat, trying to apply bacta to a wound on his shoulder. He quickly slipped on a tunic when the door opened, but Anakin had already seen his upper body was covered with cuts, bruises, and dried blood.

"I did not invite you in!" Kenshin said sternly.

"I was worried if you're alright," the Padawan replied.

"I'm fine!"

He clearly wasn't. To say he looked like death warmed over was putting it mildly. The usually handsome face was now an unhealthy, pale color, the cheeks sunken in, and he had dark smudges under bloodshot eyes. Kenshin looked haggard, as if he had neither eaten nor slept since the day he had disappeared. It was not a pretty sight.

"You look like dried bantha poodoo. What happened?"

"Why are you here?" Kenshin retorted.

"Are you serious? You know damn well why I'm here. Not only have you barely talked to me and basically ignored me for weeks, but you also left me behind without even bothering to tell me you'd be gone! You've arranged for Quinlan to be my babysitter—great! I mean, he's cool and all, but it didn't occur to you to give me a heads-up, to tell me ANYTHING? What the kriffin' hells, Kenshin!"

Kenshin avoided his glance and finally murmured a tired, "I'm sorry."

"Sorry? That's all you have to say? You're a blasted idiot, Master! And why are you not in the healer's wing? You look like a krayt dragon has chewed on you!"

Kenshin looked at him with a deep sadness in his eyes.

"Can't... I can't have anyone ask questions. I've been to a place I cannot speak of. If the Council learns where I've been..."

"And I, of course, would be the last person in the galaxy you would tell or trust with that information," Anakin said bitterly.

"Dromund Kaas," Kenshin said quietly.

"What?"

"I've been to Dromund Kaas."

"Never heard of it. And why is that such a big deal, exactly?"

"I will explain…another time. Don't tell anyone, please!" Kenshin pleaded.

"Fine. Let me at least help you with those bacta patches," Anakin said, grabbing the medpack. Kenshin tensed and tried to protest when Anakin pulled off the torn, filthy tunic and began to tend to the numerous cuts, some of which had begun to fester. Anakin shuddered slightly; there were more cuts and wounds than intact skin. He carefully started to tend to them. Healing skills weren't the Padawan's strongest suit, but he knew how to apply bacta patches. Apart from the recent wounds, there was an awful lot of scars. Small, short cuts for the most part, some larger ones that seemed to stem from lightsaber wounds or blaster shots. One resembled a web, a network of thin, jagged lines of a dark color, covering a large area around Kenshin's left shoulder and back.

Soon, exhaustion got the better of Kenshin. He uttered a tired "thank you" and fell asleep while Anakin continued covering the wounds with more patches. Force knew what had happened, why Kenshin had not given notice of where he had gone and why, or why he didn't just go to the medbay. He was in a worrisome condition.

Eventually, Anakin finished nursing the other Jedi's injuries and left him to sleep. Later, he brought water and food, setting it down next to Kenshin's sleeping mat, and checked in on him every few hours. Every time, he was alarmed by how still his form was, and only when he came very close could he see that his Master was still breathing. Kenshin remained in that state for two days, not moving or touching the food and drink Anakin kept bringing. Worried, he finally alerted Quinlan, who explained Kenshin had set himself into a healing trance and might not wake from it for several days.

Three more days passed. Kenshin was still asleep, his body under the blanket motionless every time Anakin checked on him. He sat down next to the bed, wondering if he should get actual medical help, to hell with the Council or whatever trouble it would get them into.

"Master, how are you still sleeping? At this rate, Windu's gonna grow hair again and Yoda's gonna learn how to use proper grammar before you wake up." He continued to chatter away about his classes and training and whatever else came to his mind. "Please stop dying and wake up!" Anakin finished his monologue.

"How can one person talk so much? And why does this person have to be my Padawan?" His voice was coarse, but he answered. His eyes opened and groggily looked at Anakin, as if processing the image to identify who was sitting there. He moved with visible pain as he righted himself and propped his back against the wall, but at least his face had turned back to a more normal shade.

For a moment, Anakin forgot that he was angry with the other Jedi. Concern filled his mind.

Kenshin weakly accepted the cup of water but declined the food.

"You should eat, Master."

"Not hungry," he replied, zoning out, staring into the distance.

"When's the last time you ate something?"

No response.

Kenshin barely noticed Anakin's question. He summoned a rugged bag, sitting abandoned in a corner of his room, into his hand and pulled out a dusty object, presenting it to his Padawan who immediately understood what it was. It had one rounded edge and jagged ones. A second fragment! Troggered by the mere sight of the object, Kenshin fought to resist the waves of terror washing over him. He felt so sick he was ready to puke.

Back when they had first analyzed their findings from Vanquor and Quinlan had reported about a red, lightning-filled sky, Kenshin had immediately realized what planet it was, and the information they had gathered on Nanta only confirmed what he had suspected. The key bearer had been captured and brought to the Sith world of Dromund Kaas, where she was robbed of her charge but then freed herself and fled. His instincts had urged Kenshin to bring the peculiar triangular artifact with him, the one they had found on Vanquor, and it had indeed acted as a compass, leading him to the location where the part had been hidden. The ancient Sith world was a forbidden place for Jedi and no official records existed that would tell its location. Not that limitations of that sort had ever stopped him. His clues and, for the greater part, instincts led Kenshin to an abandoned Sith temple after two weeks of searching. It was deserted, but it seemed to have been a more frequented training facility in earlier times. The ancient site being

relinquised didn't mean it was empty and without threats. Sithspawn creatures, feeding off the malicious energies still present in this terrifying place, were the least of the dangers the Jedi faced.

Sith artifacts were often highly sought-after items by collectors, many of which had a somewhat nefarious taste, and the fact that trading with them was outlawed in the entire Republic, only increased their value and appeal. The average smuggler would avoid the remote, dangerous ancient Sith ruins, but other, more ruthless raiders smelled profit to be made from precious artifacts. The black markets paid vertiginous prices. A nefarious party of pillagers intended to go about their business the same time Kenshin tried to leave the site. Under normal cisrcumstances, they wouldn't have represented much of a threat to a fully trained Jedi Master, but Kenshin had reached the limits of his resources. He had already been drained of energy; sustaining oneself through the Force only went so far. Along with the number of opponents and the dark side energy of the place taking its toll on him, it took all he had to escape alive.

He barely made his way back to his ship, which had been hidden in a nearby crevice with stealth shields activated. Once on board, he gave Roku the order to pilot the ship back to the Temple. While on this abomination of a world, Kenshin had drawn on the Force to suppress the increasing aches he had suffered trying to protect Anakin from the trap on to that was the damage he had taken in the fight. He had functioned like a droid, driven by the urge and sole purpose to complete his mission. He had been in pain for weeks. He was grateful for it, in a distorted, vicious way. The physical pain distracted him from the unbearable, horrifying memories that kept flashing in his head since that damned box had been brought to him. Why had the Jedi kept his old lightsaber and Aerin Fay's necklace, and why had they emerged now? What was the Force trying to tell him? No matter what he tried to cleanse his spirit, it only became worse.

Nightmarish, painfully vivid images agonized him. They had begun haunting him the very moment he had opened that damn box and had grown more severe by the day. Even as the thrust of the engines carried his ship away from that terrible planet, they didn't leave him. They brought forth sensations feeling so real Kenshin sometimes thought he could touch what he saw. He had never had visions his entire life! The one torment the Force had spared him, until now. Contemplating the dangers he had faced on Drommund Kaas, he didn't dare to think what would have happened had he taken Anakin with him. Kenshin was well-versed in the rituals and ways of the Sith and their effects, more than a Jedi should be, and it allowed him to resist. Or so he had thought. He was beginning to realize that his shell had cracked.

He spent the dreadfully long journey through hyperspace back to Coruscant in a waking nightmare. Even if he had wanted to, he wouldn't have been able to explain all of this to Anakin. Were these just powerful nightmares or visions of future events to come to pass? Here he was, back in the safety of the Jedi temple, still unable to snap out of the hold this cruel, quaint illness had on him, mixing up everything into a blur so he couldn't tell the screams of his mind from the physical anguish. He couldn't tell what was hallucination and what was reality.

When Kenshin finally left his bed again, he still wouldn't eat and seemed constantly lost in a place no one could or would follow. Usually, Kenshin would demolish even more food than Anakin on a daily basis. Something was definitely wrong, the Padawan concluded. When spoken to, Kenshin flinched or didn't react at all. His formerly stocky, muscular frame began to look bony, and the haunted look in his eyes never left him. Anakin felt compelled to help; it hurt him to see his Master suffer, but Kenshin had built a shell around himself. He spent his days loosely following classes, sparring with the few friends he had, tinkering with droids, or nighttime excursions to Coruscant's underworld. With his Master turning into a kind of ghost, there was only Quinlan who had a not exactly attentive eye on him, and Anakin intended to make the most of it. It was still Quinlan he trained with, the Kiffar replacing Kenshin in his role as Master for the time being.

Kenshin was no stranger to physical pain, absolutely not. Nor was he a stranger to the dark tendrils of hurt clutching at his mind in a never-ending cruel embrace. Maybe this was the reason why the darkness in the Force had never been able to get a hold on him—because the darkness that he had lived and still lived was so much worse.

There would never be love and joy in his life again. The love and joy in his heart had died on Zeffo along with his Master.

"Death is a natural part of life. Rejoice for those who transform into the Force. Mourn them, do not. Miss them, do not," Yoda had said. "Since there is no emotion, there is peace," Yoda had said. A single tear rolled down his cheek as he stood in the same spot he had stood in ten years prior, when... Kenshin stopped and refused to follow this memory any further. With years of training, one could maybe grasp the meaning of Yoda's cryptic advice and possibly find solace in it. But he had been thirteen! He had been but a child, devastated by a horrible loss. Those words had been all that Yoda had offered in terms of help. Giving words like this to a young apprentice that had just lost his Master... that was not only absurd. That was cruel. In the nick of time, Kenshin had learned to navigate around the Jedi Code. But he would never respect it.

There was only this purpose, the duty to find and end the source of this suffering once and for all, to keep his soul alive. He wasn't allowed to give in; he wasn't allowed to let the Sith prevail. Revenge is not the Jedi way.

And indeed, revenge wasn't what was driving him. It was the urgent sense of threat, a knowledge that the Sith existed, harboring the cruel intent of drowning the galaxy in suffering, the same suffering he had to endure and that he didn't wish on anyone. All these years he had been fueled by that cruel, burning flame, pushing him to endure life under the tenets of the Jedi, to acquire the powers and skills he needed to pursue his quest, to fight and win a war. It was a gruesome source of energy that had turned a kind, thirteen-year-old child into a demonic, fearsome warrior. And now it was about to run out. It had been too much for too long. Loss seemed to be the only thing life held for him.

A few years after Master Fay's death, he had lost the love of his young life. She had been a Jedi Knight only two years his elder. He had held her as she died, and in that moment, he had sworn to himself to never love again. Then, he had led a rebellion to victory, winning the freedom of his planet—but at what cost? What was the price of war, of terrorism? Battles leave scars, some of which you can't see. Then Gentora and his best friend, who had already been dead when he had found him. And now there was Anakin. He had no concept of what had gone on in Yoda's mind to entrust him, him of all people, with a Padawan. All Kenshin saw, reflecting on everything he had done, was failure.

Kenshin felt so very cold, and it was not the temperature of the actually lush air that sent chills down his spine. His hand unconsciously wandered to his lightsaber, took it off his belt, and he stood there. A faint wind, that others might have called a gentle breeze, played with his cloak, his silhouette dark against the already dark sky of Coruscant's night.

"It wasn't a good idea back then, and it still isn't now."

The voice startled him. He, who was always on the alert without fail, had let his guard down and hadn't sensed the other Jedi approach. It was dark, but he could still see the yellow marking on the other man's face, surrounded by wild dreadlocks.

"No idea what you're talking about," Kenshin replied.

"You're not even fooling yourself, man. I'm your friend, and I'm not blind."

"You're my friend, that's true. How much longer until I'll have failed you, too? Makiri shouldn't have saved me back then."

"People do die! You cannot die with them, Kenshin! You're not honoring your Master or anyone else you lost by hating yourself. Whatever happened on Dromund Kaas and Nanta, you're ill, badly so, and not seeking help is the same as taking that lightsaber and striking yourself down with it. You're coming to the healer's ward with me, now!"

"Leave me the fuck alone, Quin."

Quin didn't like doing what he then did, but he knew it was pointless trying to talk sense into Kenshin. He silently apologized as he knocked his friend out and carefully carried him to the Temple's medbay.