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Thank you, monkeywrench, for wishing me well! I'm doing a PhD, which is a rewarding path and an incredible learning experience, but also a life-consuming affair. Spare time barely exists, hence the long intervals between updates, but this story is very dear to me, so I promise will not abandon it! Do you have a link to the 'Way of the Shadow' fanfiction? I couldn't find it. If it's in French it's fine, I'm half French myself and understand the language well enough

~ 27 ~

Puppetry

- Between a shepherd nurturing his beloved lamb, and a string-puller grooming his puppet,

the line might be one of deception -

He barely noticed the thumping of boots approaching. There was only the void, canceling out everything—the voices of his men, the cold of the now-pouring rain hammering down with a vengeance. He only stared at the face of the one he had believed to be his brother, his friend. His consciousness drowned in a silent cry of his soul, his vision blurred by tears and rain.

The eerie violet glow of Kenshin's eyes was the only fixed point piercing through his haze, shining with the same unspeakable pain Anakin felt, yet paired with an unrelenting resolve. Defiance. He had seen Dooku's eyes, those menacing yellow and red orbs, corrupted by the dark side, a submission to its greed. This was different. These weren't the eyes of someone subdued by a greater power. Kenshin wasn't corrupted by the dark side's hunger for power. Kenshin had become the darkness.

Masters Fisto and Windu had appeared not long after him, taking over and taking the Ghost into custody. He didn't remember any of it.

Even hours later, he didn't recall how he had gotten back from that rooftop to his quarters in the temple. It was as if the moment he ripped off the Ghost's mask and recognized Kenshin's face behind it had snuffed out his consciousness, only to return now that the shock began to wear off. Coming back to his senses, he first contacted Padmé. She reassured him she was safe and unharmed, although her voice sounded sad and strained, as if something was going on that she wouldn't—or couldn't—tell him.

He ruminated over all those losses he had endured, like a broken holo-recording replaying over and over in a never-ending loop. First, his mother. Then, his Padawan, Ahsoka, who had been ripped away from him, pushed away thanks to the Council's betrayal and erroneous ways. He had mourned Kenshin twice—once when he had been gravely injured on the brink of death, a second time when the only Jedi he'd have called a brother had turned his back on the Order. And now, his mentor and paternal figure, Palpatine, had nearly been killed.

It was unspeakable. Unthinkable. Betrayal of the worst kind. Why, Kenshin! What have you done? The very man he had thought was his closest friend had betrayed him. He had betrayed everything they had lived, fought, and stood for! He betrayed me! What had his former friend and mentor become?

The man I knew would never have committed the atrocities you've soiled your hands with.

There was no way to find calm, and he spent the night staring holes into the ceiling. The morning hadn't even dawned when he made his way to the detention unit where Kenshin was being held, in the Republic military prison.

Anakin's boots echoed through the cold, sterile corridors, the sound harsh against the oppressive silence. The facility was a monolith of durasteel and shadows, designed to contain the most dangerous beings in the galaxy. Yet as he walked, Anakin's thoughts were far from the present, swirling instead around the memories of the man he was about to confront.

Kenshin… The name reverberated in his mind, stirring a storm of emotions that he could barely contain. Anger, confusion, betrayal. Above all, betrayal. Kenshin had been more than a mentor, more than a friend. He had been like a brother, the one person who had understood Anakin in ways no one else did. Where the Jedi Council had been rigid and aloof, Kenshin had been warm, accepting. He had seen the greatness in Anakin, had nurtured it, even when others looked at him with suspicion.

That same man—his brother—had betrayed him. Betrayed the Republic. Betrayed everything they had once fought for together. It was unthinkable. It was unforgivable.

Anakin's hands clenched into fists as he approached the entrance to the detention cell where Kenshin was being held. The painful irony of the place wasn't lost on him – it was the same prison, even the same cell tract, where Ahsoka had once been held.

The clones stationed at the door snapped to attention, blocking his path.

"Sir, you are not authorized to—"

"Get out of my way," Anakin growled, his voice low and dangerous. The Force rippled around him, a dark, simmering energy that made the air heavy. The clone guards hesitated, their hands twitching toward their weapons.

"Sir, we have orders—"

"My orders override them," Anakin snapped, his anger flaring. "Move, or I'll make you move."

The clones exchanged a glance, then stepped aside, fear evident in their rigid postures. Anakin barely registered them as he stormed past, his thoughts consumed by what awaited him on the other side of that door. He keyed the control panel, and the door slid open with a hiss.

The sight that greeted him stopped him in his tracks.

First, he was blinded by the bright light. The cell was illuminated to the maximum. He realized it was a torture technique to make it harder for prisoners to sleep.

A pointless measure in this case. In the far corner of the cell, a rugged cloak lay on the floor, the shape of which hinted at a human curled up in a ball. He stepped closer and lifted the rag – it was stiff with blood and filth! Pity, sadness, and rage all at once washed over him. By the Force, he thought as his eyes stook in the pitiful sight.

Kenshin's figure was reduced to a broken, bloodied mess. His combat suit was tattered, torn from the brutal beating he had clearly endured. Bruises marred his face, and dried blood crusted around a deep wound on his forehead. A fresh red gash ran down Kenshin's neck, oozing blood. His breathing was shallow, laboured, each breath a struggle that echoed in the silence of the room.

Anakin's heart lurched. This… this wasn't supposed to happen. He had wanted answers, not this. Not this. He had expected to confront Kenshin, to demand an explanation, to force the truth from him if necessary. But this…

"Kenshin…" Anakin whispered, his voice barely audible. He knelt beside his former master, reaching out to gently turn his head, searching for any sign of consciousness. Kenshin's eyes were closed, his face contorted in pain even in unconsciousness. Anakin could feel the raw wounds, both physical and emotional, that lingered in the Force around him.

Anger surged within Anakin, hot and blinding. But this time, it was not directed at Kenshin. It was directed at the ones who had done this. The ones who had turned his brother into this broken shell.

What have they done to you?

"They had no right," Anakin muttered, his hands shaking as he touched the remains of Kenshin's armor, now charred and dented from blaster bolts and stun weapons. "They had no right to do this to you…"

The pile of misery at his feet had little in common with the imposing warrior his Master had been. Nor with the frightening horror figure and powerful enemy of the Republic that the Ghost had represented. He deserves this, and more, Anakin thought bitterly. Then tears welled in his eyes again. This man had been his friend, brother, and mentor. The only Jedi to ever believe in him.

Conflicting emotions raged within Anakin, a tempest he could not control. How am I supposed to feel? Anger, pity, sorrow—they all swirled together, leaving him disoriented and lost. Why was he always feeling so much, and why was it always tearing him apart? Why were his head and his heart always on the verge of exploding? Why did his best friend betray the Republic, and him!

Why, Kenshin. Why!

The former Jedi Master was not in a state to answer any questions. He had been not only tortured but possibly drugged, too. Anakin lit a lamp into one eye; the pupil was widened. His body was entirely limp, and his pulse, as Anakin checked it, was shallow, barely palpable.

"Trooper! Why was this prisoner tortured without my knowledge or authorization?"

"The orders came from higher up, Sir," the clone answered.

"Where higher up?"

"I'm not authorized to disclose…"

"Do you know who I am?" he menacingly growled.

"Yes, Sir! You are Jedi General Anakin Skywalker, Sir!"

"And how much higher up do you think it goes?"

"These commands came from the Supreme Chancellor's office, Sir."

Palpatine? Palpatine had gone ahead behind his back and ordered this terrible treatment?

Anakin's mind raced. Doubt gnawed at his thoughts. Palpatine had always trusted him, had always confided in him. Why had the Chancellor felt compelled to deal with this himself? Why had he, Anakin, not been trusted to handle it? Was there something more at play here, something Palpatine was hiding from him? This was difficult to reconcile with the man he had respected for so long. Anakin couldn't bear it any longer. He needed answers. He needed control.

Something in him snapped. The clone clasped at his neck, his windpipe shut closed, his body levitating in the air, his feet dangling.

"You will follow my orders!" Anakin growled. "This prisoner is to be sent to the Jedi temple retention unit IMMEDIATELY! Am I understood!"

"Yes, Sir! I understand, Sir!" the clone coughed.

"I am hereby informing you that any failure to execute my orders to the letter will have…" he released his Force choke and dropped the clone "…consequences!" His sword hand hovered threateningly over his lightsaber as he spoke the words.

He oversaw the transfer personally. At the temple, he arranged for an entire squad of temple guards and a squadron of Clone troopers from the 501st, his own unit, to reinforce the security around the highest-security detention cell the temple had.

As they moved Kenshin, Anakin felt the knot of conflicting emotions in his stomach tighten once again. The healers arrived. He could see the fear in their eyes as they realized who their patient was. Yet, they did their work diligently and efficiently. Anakin stood guard, watching every move they made, ensuring his former friend received the care he needed.

It was already late at night when Anakin sought out Padmé. He needed to understand, needed some clarity amidst the chaos. They met in her apartment, a quiet, private place where they could speak freely.

His wife was one of the most cunning diplomats he had ever met; even Obi-Wan's skill with words appeared pale compared to hers. Surely, she would know what to do. In a heavy torrent of words, he recounted everything.

"Oh, Padmé," Anakin sighed, his shoulders slumping, "I don't know what to do!"

"Anakin," Padmé began, her voice trembling slightly, "there's something you need to know."

"What is it?" he asked, his tone vibrating with worry.

"Kenshin...he protected me," she said softly.

Anakin's eyes widened in surprise. "Protected you? How? And why? And why didn't you call me?"

"Before he attempted to assassinate Palpatine, he made sure I was kept away from that very Senate session. He didn't want me to be harmed. The night before the session, he appeared in my apartment, and I was kept hostage here, and all communications had been jammed. He said something about allies who helped him handle all of my staff and then shield and surveil the place. The security footage was deleted, and any further recording stopped. I don't know how he did that, Anakin. And I can't be sure why. I believe he still cares; despite everything he's done. But it's more than that. We need to think about who is really on the right side in this war. Is it possible…" she chose her words carefully, her tone becoming hesitant, "…that Kenshin saw something we didn't?"

"What are you saying?" Anakin straightened his back and looked at her, confusion etched across his features.

"I'm saying that we need to question everything," Padmé replied. "This war, the decisions being made by the Council, by Palpatine…I feel there is a bigger picture, one we don't see because it was purposely obscured."

"What do you mean?" he asked. He had a feeling, a sense of doom, about what she was getting at, but this was Padmé! She was his wife, his love; shouldn't she be on his side? His mind was now again a storm of conflicting emotions.

Padmé reached out, taking his hand in hers. How much could she tell Anakin, and keep secret what they had discussed in a very small, very confidential setting with a select group of senators from the Delegation of 2000? "I've been having doubts about the Chancellor. His actions don't seem to align with someone fighting for peace. It feels like he's trying to amass more power, to control everything—the Senate, the Jedi, the entire Republic."

Anakin stared at her in utter disbelief. "You think Palpatine is trying to destroy democracy?"

Padmé's expression was firm. "He's been granted more and more emergency powers, and he's not showing any signs of relinquishing them. The longer this war continues, the more control he amasses. What if this is all part of a devious plan?"

Anakin's eyes narrowed, his heart pounding. "Palpatine? No! How can you even think that? He's always been a friend, a mentor. He's always looked out for me—for all of us."

Padmé sighed, frustration seeping into her voice. "And what if that's exactly what he wants you to believe? To win your loyalty, to use you for his own ends? We can't be naive, Anakin. We have to question everything, even those we trust the most."

Anakin's temper flared. "Palpatine is not some scheming villain! He's trying to bring peace and order to the galaxy. Why can't you see that? And why can't you see that distributing power over a greater organ only leads to meaningless babble, never resulting in a swift solution? We need to end this war soon!"

Padmé's eyes blazed with determination. "And why can't you see the danger in giving one man so much power? We have to be vigilant, Anakin. Democracy is at stake!"

Anakin shook his head, his tone rising. "You're letting your fear cloud your judgment, Padmé. Palpatine is our only hope of ending this war."

Padmé's voice was calm but resolute. "Fear or not, we need to be cautious. We need to gather information, not blindly follow. We need to find out the truth, no matter how painful it might be."

Anakin glared at her, his mind in turmoil. "And what if the truth is that you're wrong? That Palpatine is exactly what this galaxy needs?"

"Ani…" she sighed with pleading eyes, "I love you! Please, don't you forget that I love you, and I'm carrying our child…our children, who will love you, too! I want them to grow up in a galaxy that prospers in peace and in freedom, and this freedom can only grow through democracy!"

"But this Republic IS a democracy and wha…wait! What did you say? Children? More than one?"

"I might be carrying twins, Ani!" she exclaimed, her eyes glittering.

"Twins? How…how do you know?"

"They're kicking an awful lot for just one baby. My motherly intuition tells me there's not one, but two of them." She smiled timidly. She didn't dare reveal how she really found out.

"Oh Ani!" She leaned into him, yearning for his embrace and gave a sad sigh. "I'd much rather argue with you about baby names than …than this terrible war!"

"Padmé!" Anakin slung his arms around her. "Oh Padmé, I love you so much! I will never let any harm come to you or our babies!"

He looked her deep in the eyes.

"Have faith, Padmé! This war will soon be over, and everything will be okay. I promise you!"

"And I believe you! I trust you! All I'm asking, Ani, is that you trust your senses, too, and that you will be careful with the people you trust!"

Talk about broken trust, Anakin thought, with Kenshin having done what he had done, another cruel wave of sadness rolling over him.

The conversation with his wife—which had been more of an argument than a conversation, really—had done little to ease his sense of trouble and restlessness. He needed answers, not more doubts.

Impatiently, he awaited the healer's clearance to interrogate Kenshin, and the minute he received it, he marched to the Ghost's cell.

Kenshin sat on a primitive cot, back propped against the wall, legs folded beneath him. His ghostly eyes narrowed to slits as Anakin stepped into the cell. The unhealthy pallor of his still bruised face contrasted sharply with the venomous gaze that warily tracked Anakin's every move. What was going through his mind? It was unreadable. The intensity in his eyes, blazing with the power of a thousand suns, could have conveyed anything—from disdain to hatred, or simply scrutiny. Anakin could read nothing. Sense nothing. The unsettling, unnatural colouring in his eyes had remained unchanged. They were completely black, with irises glowing a disturbing shade of purple. Why was that? And why had his lightsaber blade manifested completely without color, rendered invisible?

„Why, Kenshin!"

Not a word from his prisoner, who distinctly looked away.

"I asked you a question! ANSWER ME!" he yelled.

He couldn't see nor sense the faintest reaction from Kenshin, not in his beaten, worn face, and not in the Force.

"What are you? What have you become?" he demanded, and again, his captive didn't bother to reply.

With fiery heat, inside Anakin's mind, everything exploded.

His hand shot out, and he clenched it into a tight fist. Instantly, Kenshin's throat constricted. He gasped, his hands flying to his neck, fingers clawing at an invisible grip. Anakin's face twisted in fury, his eyes blazing as he focused his rage into the Force choke. Kenshin's body lifted slowly off the cot, his feet scrabbling for purchase on the cold cell floor. Despite the pain and terror that must have been surging through him, Kenshin's eyes were locked on Anakin's, the purple irises glowing eerily, defying Anakin to the last.

"Tell me one reason not to kill you on the spot!" he snarled.

"Do it!" Came his raspy voice, choked and struggling.

Anakin dropped him, his expression distorted in disdain. "I would only be doing you a favour!"

His remaining composure shattered like glass. He balled his hand into a fist and swung, increasing the power of the blow with the Force. His punch connected with Kenshin's jaw and sent him crashing into the cell wall.

Kenshin hit the wall with a sickening thud, the impact reverberating through the cell. He slumped to the ground, struggling to mask the pain etched on his face. His body trembled from the shock, his breathing ragged and uneven. He coughed up blood. Anakin stood over him, chest heaving with exertion and unspent rage. But as he watched Kenshin's broken form, a flood of conflicting emotions surged through him. The fury that had blinded him moments ago began to wane, replaced by a pang of guilt and sorrow.

What have I done?

Anakin kneeled, carefully gliding his arms around his shoulders and cautiously lifting him from the floor. Kenshin didn't resist – he didn't have the strength to, and Anakin could feel the tremors of pain coursing through him. As he held Kenshin, his anger dissipated completely, leaving behind only regret for the violence he had unleashed.

He gently lowered Kenshin back onto the cot, his anger now replaced by a deep sense of regret and confusion. He took a step back, his eyes searching Kenshin's face for any sign of understanding.

"Kenshin," Anakin began, his voice barely above a whisper, and tears rolling from his eyes, "I'm…I'm sorry." his voice broke, and he asked "Why? You owe me an answer. You must tell me why! Why did you betray me?"

Kenshin coughed, wincing in pain, but his eyes never left Anakin's. "Betrayed you?" he rasped. "You think this is about you?"

"You've attacked the person who's been there for me ever since I arrived on Coruscant, so yes! This is very much about me, you betrayed me! You were my brother, Kenshin! My friend! You've embraced the dark side! You've betrayed the Jedi way!"

"The Jedi way…." Kenshin shook his head slowly, a bitter smile twisting his lips. "The Jedi way...," he coughed again "did not guide us well, did it. You're so blind, Anakin. So consumed by your loyalty that you can't see the truth."

Anakin took a step closer, his frustration bubbling up again. "What truth, Kenshin? All I see is a friend who has turned into a traitor."

"Are you so sure you're on the right side in this war? What are you fighting for? For what you believe is right? Or for what they've told you is right, using you, manipulating you to do their dirty work? Are you so sure of what is right and true? Do you truly know who the victim is, and who the villain in this conflict?"

Anakin was irked. "I can be sure that you're a filthy traitor. A cold-blooded killer. A murderer! You've betrayed your friends. You've betrayed the Republic and the Jedi Order."

"Do you see the whole truth? Or are you only seeing what others show you, so they can use you? You should look closer!" Kenshin's eyes flared with a fierce light. "Palpatine is not what he seems. He's manipulating you, all of us, for his own gain. Every move he makes, every decision, is about consolidating his power. Open your eyes, Anakin!"

"You're wrong! Embracing the dark side has clouded your judgment!"

"I embraced the dark to defend the light from it! My allegiance is to the Force and the freedom of the people of this galaxy, not to the tyrant the Supreme Chancellor has become. There is no right side in this war. We've all been fooled! You just can't see it! They praise you as a hero of the Republic and a victor. But you're just another victim, another pawn in Palpatine's game. A slave to someone else's will. A tool to someone else's intentions."

A tool. A pawn. A slave

SLAVE!

A volcano erupted inside the tall man that was Anakin. "How DARE YOU!" he growled.

"You know the answer, Anakin. Look closer! You gave them this power over you, and it's yours to take back. Question someone's agenda before you do their bidding! Did I betray you? Did I? Did I ever lie to you? I kept secrets. I never revealed that I was the Ghost. Just like you never disclosed that you are the father to the unborn life Padmé is carrying. Don't you come at me for keeping secrets!"

"How did you find out?" His face went pale. He recoiled, the words hitting him like a physical blow. "How dare you speak her name?"

"My dear former Padawan – the Force tells you all kinds of things if you only care to listen. And may I remind you that I took measures to keep her safe! I ask you again, have I lied to you? A secret is not the same thing as a lie. What I did as the Ghost was criminal, but it wasn't wrong. Not any more wrong than the war crimes every single party in this conflict, including the Jedi, committed. Not any more wrong than the hypocrisy and complacency of the Jedi. Not any more wrong than Palpatine's corruption and scheming! I am telling you the same thing I told Padmé: Palpatine is under Sidious' influence, and if I can sense that she is carrying your offspring, so can others who wield the Force – so can Sidious! Your future family is in danger!"

His eyes widened, the color draining from his face as the implications of Kenshin's statement hit him with the force of a crashing starship. Padmé... the baby... The precious secret he had guarded so fiercely, the one that had driven him to the brink of despair and back, was no longer safe. The very idea that Sidious—whoever he was—might know about Padmé, might sense the unborn life she carried, struck Anakin like lightning.

He wanted to say, I hate you. And yet... he couldn't. He stared into the sickly eyes of his former mentor. There was no plea for mercy. There was a strong pull in the Force that spoke to him and said OPEN YOUR EYES TO THE TRUTH! A headache was brewing in his head, with so many things pulling at him from all different directions.

"You answer me." Kenshin continued. "Have I abandoned you? Yes. Have I ever lied to you? I have not and you know that, too." His voice grew weaker as he spoke. Anakin could sense Kenshin's energy dwindling.

"Whatever threat is looming on the horizon; it will not come to pass! I will see to that! I will not fail, I will not ever fail again!" he exclaimed, trying to put resolve in his voice, yet he couldn't conceal the doubt resonating with it.

"Anakin – you're blaming the Jedi for not believing in you, but have you actually, truly, ever believed in yourself? You've never failed, Anakin! You were always good enough!"

Anakin trembled. He felt tears welling in his eyes, threatening to breach the wall he had so carefully built. Too much. Too much. It was all too much. Kenshin would be sentenced to death and executed. The little boy from Tatooine cried. The Jedi General tried to think, He's a despicable filthy traitor. He deserves to die! The anger came back and filled him with warmth. All of him except for a small corner of his mind where a little seed of doubt, that had already found its place and began to spread roots, was watered once more.

"Are you having dreams again?" Kenshin asked." We know that your mother's death had been staged, and I am certain that Sidious has had his filthy hands in this. Why else have I sensed his presence in the Force when I tried to save your mother? Dooku was just a pawn after all, and a less important one than I thought! Have you never wondered where these dreams come from? It is the way of the Sith to darken your vision and cloud your judgment, and even implant those dreams to manipulate you, if you let it! Have you never thought that Palpatine, with Sidious' help, is using you, Anakin? He knows your strengths; your weaknesses better than you know them yourself. He's exploiting them."

Anakin's eyes blazed with anger, refusing to believe that the Chancellor would betray him. His face contorted with rage. "Palpatine would never betray me! He's done nothing but guide and support me! You on the other hand - the Republic Courts will find you guilty of high treason. You will stand trial, and I see little chance for you to be charged with anything else but a death sentence."

"See, you don't even need to get your own hands dirty." Kenshin had the nerve to mock him, still. "I am beaten. What difference does it make if they execute me or not. I tried, and I failed. Who would have thought that I trained you so well, that you'd be the one to take me down. Guess that means I've done at least one thing right. Either way, I'm done for. The job to stop Sidious is yours now." He paused and gave him a long, intense stare. Anakin began to feel uneasy.

"They call you the Chosen One…" Kenshin said, his eyes glowering. "But were any of your choices ever truly your own?"

The words echoed in Anakin's head, so loudly it hurt. It took him all he had to keep the supernova from erupting right where he stood. He balled his hands into fists and stormed out of the cell.

Anakin barely managed to bring some distance between the cell and himself, so Kenshin wouldn't hear it, before the dam broke and he screamed. An animalistic, loud roar burst out of him, there was nothing he could do to hold it in. What felt like aeons later, he looked up, breathing heavily, surrounded by a group of temple guards and worried clones, lightsaber pikes and blasters at the ready, having come to aid against the source of the outcry.

"General Skywalker. Are you alright?"

Kenshin slumped back against the cold durasteel wall, his body racked with pain, each breath a struggle against the fire that burned in his lungs. He closed his eyes, trying to center himself in the Force, but even that familiar solace felt distant now, muted by the overwhelming fatigue and the ache that coursed through his bruised and battered body.

Anakin… The name echoed in his thoughts, bringing with it a tide of regret and a glimmer of hope. Kenshin had seen the conflict in Anakin's eyes, felt the storm of emotions swirling within the young Jedi as he lashed out in anger and frustration. The turmoil, the pain, the weight of expectations, the scars of war, and the manipulations of those who sought to control him. It was tearing him apart. If only I could help you, Kenshin thought. If only you could see the truth.

He had trained Anakin, had seen the raw potential, the fierce loyalty, the passion that drove him. And he had also seen the darkness that threatened to consume him, a darkness that had only deepened over the years, and Anakin had never learned to accept this darkness. He was powerful, more powerful than any Jedi Kenshin had ever known, but he was also vulnerable, his mind and heart pulled in a thousand different directions by forces he could barely comprehend.

Palpatine…Sidious… The names brought a surge of anger, but also a deep sense of dread. The Sith Lord had wrapped his tendrils around the Chancellor, and Anakin, twisting the boy's loyalty into something darker, something dangerous. Kenshin had tried to warn him, tried to make him see the truth, but Anakin was still blind, still clinging to the lies that had been fed to him.

What can I do? Kenshin thought, forcing himself to focus. He didn't ponder over what he could have done differently—clinging to the past wouldn't help him now; the past could never be changed. There must be a way. I must make Anakin understand…

Kenshin's eyes drifted to the cell door, considering, for a brief moment, the idea of escape. He had escaped from worse situations. But as the thought flickered in his mind, so too did the reality of his situation. Kenshin's body ached, his strength was gone, and the cell around him was impenetrable. The idea of forcing his way out, or even sneaking out and continuing his mission to stop Sidious, seemed more impossible with each passing moment. He was too weak, too broken.

No… Kenshin thought, despair creeping into his mind. I can't break out of here. I'm finished…

The pain was too much, the exhaustion too deep. His failure weighed on him, a heavy burden that pressed him down into the cot. He had tried to do what was right, tried to stop the war, to end the suffering, to protect those who couldn't protect themselves. But in the end, all he had achieved was his own downfall.

Anakin… The thought of his former Padawan brought a pang of sorrow to his heart. The younger man felt betrayed, and he would never forgive him. But still, there was hope. A faint, flickering hope that Anakin would see the truth, that he would realize the path he was on was leading him to the destruction of everything. Kenshin could only pray that the seeds of doubt he had sensed in Anakin's mind would take root, that the young Jedi would open his eyes before it was too late.

He knew he might never see that moment. He might never see Anakin again. The weight of that realization pressed down on him, and for the first time in a long while, Kenshin felt truly defeated.

I can't escape… I can't fight… he thought, the finality of it sinking in. Maybe… maybe Anakin will see the truth. Maybe he's the one who can finish what I started.

Kenshin's thoughts began to drift as exhaustion tugged at him, his body craving the respite of sleep. He could feel the Force, a faint, distant hum, surrounding him, whispering of futures yet unwritten, of possibilities hanging in the balance.

May the Force be with you, Anakin, he thought as darkness claimed him, pulling him into a fitful, uneasy rest. Find the truth before it's too late.

The whole world seemed to have conspired against him. At last, the location of Grieveous had been uncovered and they had sent Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan and his clone battalion. He, Anakin Skywalker, was to remain on Coruscant, as the Council claimed for further protection of the Chancellor.

Anakin stormed into the grand office, his emotions a swirling tempest barely kept in check. The usual serenity and opulence of the room did little to soothe his troubled mind. Palpatine, seated behind his massive desk, looked up with a calm, welcoming smile.

"Ah, Anakin. I've been expecting you. Please, sit."

The young Jedi refused, and instead stood like a solid pillar. "Chancellor, we need to talk. Now!"

Palpatine raised an eyebrow. This rather blunt demeanour was, in his presence, most unusual. After all, he was one of the few, if not the only authority Anakin truly respected.

"Of course," he said gently. "What troubles you, my young friend?"

Anakin's voice was tinged with frustration. " It's about the assassin. The Ghost. You ordered him to be tortured without even consulting me first, without giving me a chance to properly investigate. After everything I've done, after saving your life, you went behind my back!"

"Anakin, I understand your feelings. But you must realize, I did what was necessary for the safety of the Republic. This man is dangerous, and we needed information quickly."

"You could have talked to me! I captured him. I saved you. And yet, you didn't trust me enough to be involved in the decision and in interrogating him?"

Palpatine sighed. "Anakin, my trust in you is unwavering. You are the most capable Jedi I know. But there are matters that require immediate action, decisions that cannot be delayed by consultations."

"You're acting just like the Council, then? They accept me but don't make me a Master. They ask me to spy on you. Then, as I learned just an hour ago, they send Obi-Wan to apprehend Grievous alone, without me. They don't trust me either!"

Palpatine now stood and walked around the desk, surprise mingled with sad compassion on his face. "They did indeed not include you in the mission to capture Grieveous? Oh Anakin, it pains me to see they do not acknowledge your abilities! But this was just what we had anticipated. The Council has always been... shortsighted. They fail to see your true potential, Anakin. They fear your power and what you represent."

Anakin was pacing. "And you? Do you fear me too, Chancellor? Is that why you kept me out of the decision regarding the Ghost?"

Palpatine placed a reassuring hand on Anakin's shoulder. "Fear you? No, Anakin. I see your power as a beacon of hope. You have the ability to bring balance to the Force, to end this war. The Council, in their arrogance, refuses to see it. But I do."

"Then why do I feel so alone? So... betrayed?" his voice softened.

Gently, almost fatherly, Palpatine said: "Because you are caught between two worlds, Anakin. The Jedi, with their strict codes and rigid rules, and your strong, passionate heart". He leaned closer. "Remember, when you told me about your mother, and the Tuskens, and how you felt, about Count Dooku, who had been the one to orchestrate your mother being tortured and murdered?

And how did it feel, when it was the Ghost who assassinated Count Dooku, and took away your chance, your right to avenge your mother? And it must have been terrible to realize that the Ghost, this gruesome, cruel terrorist, had been no other than your former Master, Kenshin Kano, whom you so admired and trusted. I simply wanted to spare you having to deal with this criminal, this traitor to us all. I wanted to protect you, my son."

Anakin felt the words seep into his mind, each one laced with a subtle, almost comforting tone. Palpatine's voice was a balm to his frayed nerves, but something—something wasn't right. In his mind, a shrill, and loud alarm rang. The mention of his mother, of the Tuskens, sent a shiver down his spine. Palpatine spoke with such certainty, such familiarity with the details, yet Anakin knew… he knew that he had never told him everything.

He had confided in Palpatine about his mother's death, but he had not ever revealed, to no-one, that Kenshin suspected Shmi Skywalker's death to be a setup, a cruel plan by Count Dooku, and how Dooku was suspected to merely be the executing hand and Sidious the true mastermind.

How does he know about this scheme? Anakin's thoughts churned, a knot of confusion and unease forming in his chest. He had told Palpatine about the Tuskens, about how they had tortured and killed his mother. But the scheme? The orchestrated plan that Kenshin had uncovered? He had never breathed a word of that to anyone!

He glanced at Palpatine, who was watching him with an expression of deep concern, the kind of concern that a father might show to his son. The Chancellor's eyes were kind, understanding. They radiated the trust and warmth that Anakin had come to rely on during the darkest times of his life. Palpatine had always been there for him, always offering guidance and support when the Jedi seemed cold and distant. But now… now a seed of doubt had been planted. A tiny, insidious thought that whispered in the back of his mind. How did he know?

Anakin tried to push the thought away, tried to rationalize it. Maybe Kenshin had mentioned it during his interrogation? No, this was about as likely as that the planet of Hoth would unfreeze – as a secret agent, his former Master was specifically trained to withstand torture and the strength of his convictions went beyond anything, even friendship, as Anakin had bitterly learned. No, Kenshin would never have talked. Maybe the Chancellor had pieced it together from other sources. But which ones? The unease lingered, a persistent gnawing at the edges of his consciousness. Kenshin's voice was echoing in his mind. "Palpatine is not what he seems. He's manipulating you, all of us, for his own gain." Anakin had dismissed it then, dismissed it as the ramblings of a broken man who had fallen to the dark side. But now, Kenshin's words were becoming harder to ignore.

Anakin's gaze shifted back to Palpatine, who was still watching him with those kind, knowing eyes. There was no trace of malice there, no hint of deception.

How had the Chancellor learned? It would have been unwise to bluntly ask the question, and he decided to say nothing for the time being - but he had to find out where Palpatine had gotten that knowledge from. Carefully maintaining composure, he replied "I am grateful you have such good intentions, and that you always want the best for me, your excellency."

Palpatine laid his hand once more on his shoulder. "Good. I have always kept your best interests at heart. You must trust me. Remember, I am always here for you, Anakin. You are like a son to me."

Anakin nodded slowly, but the doubt remained, gnawing at him from the inside out. He wanted to trust Palpatine. He wanted to believe in the man who had been his mentor, his friend, his father figure. But now, with everything Kenshin had said, with everything that didn't add up, he wasn't sure he could. He bowed slightly to the Chancellor and left the grand office, his mind swirling once more with ever-conflicting emotions. The corridors of the Senate building were mostly deserted at this hour, and his footsteps resonated from the walls like a hammer as he made his way out. He mounted his speeder bike and sped through the cityscape of Coruscant, heading back to the Jedi Temple.

As he arrived, the imposing structure loomed against the night sky, its spires piercing the darkness. The familiarity of the Temple should have been comforting, but tonight it felt cold and unwelcoming. Anakin entered the quiet halls, his thoughts heavy.

He walked through the corridors, the faint hum of the Temple's energy systems the only sound accompanying him. He had never felt so isolated within these walls. The Council had accepted him into their ranks but denied him the rank of Master. It was a slight that stung deeply, a constant reminder that they did not fully trust him, did not recognize his abilities.

Then there was the matter with Grievous. Obi-Wan, his closest friend since Kenshin had abandoned him, had been sent alone to apprehend General Grievous, a mission Anakin felt he should be part of. He was the Chosen One, after all. His place was on the front lines, bringing an end to the war. But the Council, in their infinite wisdom, had decided otherwise. It felt like another betrayal.

He found himself in one of the meditation chambers, though he knew he wouldn't find peace here tonight. He sat down, trying to calm his mind, but the visions of Padmé dying in childbirth tormented him. He had seen them so vividly, so painfully real. He couldn't lose her, not after losing his mother. The fear gnawed at him, an ever-present shadow that he couldn't escape.

And Padmé... He had a feeling that his wife wasn't telling him everything. She had voiced her doubts about Palpatine, and they had argued fiercely. She questioned his intentions, his growing power. Anakin had defended the Chancellor vehemently, but now, doubt began to creep into his own mind. How had Palpatine known about the suspicions surrounding his mother's death, even though he had never shared that with anyone?

Why, oh why, did everyone have to keep secrets, why did everyone in his life either not trust him or seem to only use him?

Could it be true that Palpatine was more involved in these dark affairs than he let on? The thought was unsettling. Anakin had always seen him as a mentor, a father figure who understood him in ways the Jedi never did. But if Palpatine was hiding something, manipulating events behind the scenes, what did that mean for him? For the Republic? What if Padmé's doubtful thoughts had more substance to them than he dared to imagine? What if Kenshin, in the light of his terrible deeds, was right?

It wasn't lost on him that the kind of advice he was given by Palpatine, and by Kenshin, sounded awfully, unsettlingly similar. He began to wonder with which intentions this advice had been given.

How could Palpatine and Kenshin—two men on opposite sides of this conflict—be saying the same thing? How could their advice, their warnings, align so perfectly in a way that left him spinning?

They both see something I don't. But how can that be? Anakin's mind raced, searching for answers that eluded him. Kenshin had been a traitor, yes, but he had also been a friend, a mentor. And Palpatine… Palpatine had always been a steady presence in his life, guiding him, believing in him when no one else would.

Could Palpatine really be… manipulating me? The thought was almost too painful to entertain, but it wouldn't go away. It lingered, like a shadow at the corner of his vision, just out of reach but impossible to ignore. No, he told himself firmly. Palpatine would never betray me. He's done nothing but support me, believe in me. He's the only one who truly understands.

And yet… the nagging doubt persisted. How had Palpatine known? And why was his advice so eerily similar to Kenshin's? Was it coincidence? Or was there something more, something deeper that Anakin wasn't seeing?

The Council's lack of trust, the fear for Padmé's life, the doubts und unsettling thoughts which Padmé had voiced to him, and now this shadow of doubt about Palpatine — it was all too much. Anakin clenched his fists, trying to push the turmoil aside. He needed clarity, but all he found was more confusion.

He stood and looked out through the window, over the cityscape, the lights of Coruscant stretching out endlessly. He felt a deep sense of frustration and helplessness. The galaxy was at a tipping point, and so was he. The weight of his destiny pressed down on him, and he felt like he was being pulled in a thousand different directions. He felt like he was being caught and torn in a web of lines of deception. Caught in a game of elusory puppetry and he, the Chosen One, nothing more than a puppet who didn't even know who was pulling the strings.

Restlessly, he rose and left the meditation chamber. Everyone's expectations weighed heavily on him. He wasn't a Padawan anymore, someone who could hide among droids and starship parts in the hangar. Before he knew it, his legs had carried him to the detention level, to the temple's highest-security cell. Down here, at least, nobody would bother him. He passed the temple guards, opened the door, walked in, and sat down, wrapping his arms around his knees.

Kenshin's figure was stretched out on the floor, covered by a blanket. He was sleeping peacefully, unaware that Anakin had entered the room. Anakin scrutinized the prisoner. The bruises had almost faded, and his breath was steady and smooth, not ragged and labored like it had been the last time. The healers had done amazing work, from what he could see.

He didn't know how long he sat there, staring at his former friend, until a lone tear dropped to the floor, splattering into tiny droplets as it hit the ground. What had driven him here, of all places? Despair, maybe. A longing for honesty. He wasn't sure anymore if Palpatine was truly honest with him. Seeking Yoda's counsel about his nightmares had proven utterly useless. When had the ancient Grandmaster ever cared about anything or anyone? Padmé didn't take his fears about her death seriously. Obi-Wan would only scold him and lecture him about proper Jedi integrity and detachment.

Nobody he could think of would understand any of the things troubling him, and if they did, they would criticize him for it—or he couldn't be sure if they would give him the truth instead of hiding their intentions. Was that why he had come here? Attempting to kill Palpatine was the most terrible form of treason, but he had to admit that Kenshin had indeed never lied to him. Eventually, he began to admit to himself that he was seeking comfort. Kenshin never had and never would judge him for how he felt. Kenshin would not judge him for his love, for his loyalty, for his attachments, nor for the intensity of his feelings. He observed the blanket rise and fall in a slow, steady rhythm.

"Hey!" he said at last. "Wake up!" No reaction.

"Kenshin!" he said again, now a little louder, and nudged the Force to pull away the blanket. That finally solicited the bundle to move. Eyes opened to slits and groggily fixed on him.

"I take it that it's finally time."

"What?"

"And you've come in person to see me off? How endearing!"

"What are you talking about?"

"My execution."

Anakin shook his head. "No, that's not it."

"Then why are you here? Don't you have better things to do than watch me sleep?"

Anakin huffed. "Apparently not." He went mute again and fixated on a point on the floor as if the marble bricks were the most interesting thing he'd ever seen. His eyes became wet with welling tears.

With a grunt, Kenshin righted himself into a sitting position and snatched back the blanket to wrap himself in it. It was very early in the morning, and while the healers had made sure the temperature was monitored and high enough to support his body's healing, it was a little too chilly for him to be comfortable.

The glance directed at Anakin became more intense. Anakin felt he was being scrutinized, and Kenshin was reading him like an open book.

"You do have nightmares again. I was right. They've plagued you for months. And that's not all. I sense fear, confusion, uncertainty, and frustration in you. Everyone wants to use you to further their ends. Now you came here. After all, a dead man has no agenda to use you as a pawn for. But, tell me—do you think talking to a dead man about the future will give you answers? Or is it that talking to a dead man won't hurt, since any secrets I might learn will die with me?"

Anakin's face tightened with frustration, his eyes narrowing as he spoke. "You're talking an awful lot about death. Your fate will be decided in the trial you're awaiting!"

Kenshin's voice was calm but laced with bitterness. "A trial with only one possible outcome is not a trial, it is a show. You were my best friend, Anakin. I abandoned you, and in that, I failed you. For this, I am deeply sorry. But I ask you, as a last act of grace, to honor our friendship and to grant me a warrior's death. I want to die by your blade. Here. Now."

Anakin's expression hardened; his jaw clenched. "You think I'm gonna make it that easy for you?"

Kenshin's eyes remained steady, his voice unwavering. "It's not about what I think. It's something I'm asking you for."

"Request denied!"

Kenshin sighed, his shoulders sagging. "Fine. Then leave."

Anakin didn't leave.

Instead, he took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "You were right. I hate it when you're right, I always hated it when you would read my thoughts. My nightmares are about Padmé. I see her dying in childbirth, over and over again. I went to Yoda for advice, but his words were useless. 'Train yourself to let go of everything you fear to lose,' he said. How can I let go of her? She's everything to me."

Kenshin watched him, his eyes softening with sympathy.

Anakin ranted on. "And then there's the story of Darth Plagueis the Wise. Palpatine told me about him. A Sith Lord who had the power to create life, to save people from dying. But he was betrayed by his apprentice. The power to save Padmé, to save those I love, exists. But I don't know if it's real, or if it's just a Sith legend."

"Create life? Save someone from dying?" Kenshin asked dubiously. "I have studied the ways of the Sith since I was 13 years old. I studied all of it, including the holocrons and artifacts the Council had branded illegal. There is no such ritual! There is a Force technique called essence transfer, where one transfers their own life energy into the body of another. It is of inherent difficulty, due to its unpredictable nature, and the consequences of failure are unspeakable. Few Sith Lords in history have ever truly mastered essence transfer, notably Darth Vitiate, millennia ago. Even if one were to succeed in the ritual for themselves, not one Sith could conduct the ritual to save someone else. And it would be ultimately cruel. You'd have to use yet someone else's body—or a clone. Also, the host body would face premature degeneration. The tragedy of Darth Plagueis the Wise, you say? It's not a tragedy—it's a lie!"

Anakin's brows furrowed in frustration. "A lie? And how do I know that you speak the truth?"

Kenshin let out a bitter laugh. "Why would I not speak the truth? Why have you come here to talk to me when you don't want to hear what I say? Why would I try to manipulate you? All I ever wanted as your teacher was for you to find trust in your own strength and your own judgment! There is nothing I want that you could give me, except my death, and that I asked for in honesty. The Council has use for your powers, so does the Chancellor—there you have their motives. But I? I am every bit the criminal, the demon, the fallen Jedi they say I am, but I have never lied to you."

The awareness that he was talking to the Ghost, the assassin who had attempted to kill the Chancellor, receded into the background. He was talking to an old friend who had indeed never lied to him. And a friend, an honest friend, was what he needed. Anakin's voice cracked as he continued. "What about the artifact we found on your homeworld, years ago? Didn't the legends say it could create life, too?"

Now, Kenshin's voice sounded tired, as tired as his eyes looked. "Legends aren't truth. The sources about what really happened are very scarce, we only have what is known is about its destructive nature. My own Master feared the artifact, and so did my ancestors, the people who created it, once they realized the true nature of their creation. They tried to destroy it, remember? When they realized they could not destroy it, they went to hide the individual parts in the farthest corners of the galaxy, so the artifact would never be mended together again. And it's a moot point. I never found the third part."

While Kenshin still spoke, Anakin's mind drifted far from the artifact now. His doubts lingered like a shadow that refused to lift, darkening every corner of his thoughts. How did Palpatine know about my mother? The question gnawed at him relentlessly, clawing at his sense of reality. Could Palpatine truly be hiding something? Something more sinister than Anakin dared to believe?

The uncertainty was a poison in his veins, spreading with each passing moment. Should I tell Kenshin? The thought gripped him, suffocating in its intensity. The urge to confide in his former Master, to spill out the tangled mess of doubts and fears that plagued him, was overwhelming. But to do so felt like stepping into an abyss, where there might be no return. If he spoke these doubts aloud, they would become real, undeniable.

He began to tremble. Could I trust Kenshin with something so delicate, so dangerous? The thought sent a shiver down his spine. Confiding in Kenshin felt perilous, like offering a fragile part of himself to be judged and possibly destroyed. But who else was there? The Council would only offer their rigid dogma, Yoda's wisdom too detached, Obi-Wan too righteous and busy hunting Grievous. And Padmé… she was already carrying so much, their child—children, he corrected himself, a faint, fleeting smile crossing his lips before fading back into the void of his doubts.

What if he's right? The thought was unthinkable, yet it whispered to him in the dark recesses of his mind. What if Palpatine really is manipulating me? If all of this—his mother's death, Padmé's fate, the very war that tore the galaxy apart—was part of some grander, darker scheme, then everything he had ever fought for, believed in, would be a lie.

"I didn't want this," Anakin began, his voice low, almost reluctant. "What was done to you, in the military prison, I didn't want this. The orders didn't come from me…they tortured you without my knowledge, without my approval, I…"

"Stop it!" Kenshin demanded, cutting him off. "I don't blame you."

"I'm telling the truth, I didn't give the order, nor did I know about it, and I'm sorry!" the younger man blurted out.

"And? What does it matter now? What am I supposed to do with that worthless excuse? What do you really want? Absolution? You won't find that here!"

Anakin braced himself, the shadows on his face deepening. His fists clenched at his sides, the tension in his body palpable. "It's Palpatine," he said finally, the words slipping out before he could stop them. "He... he knows things, Kenshin. Things he shouldn't know."

Kenshin's glance sharpened. "What kind of things?" he asked, his voice taking on a dark tone. "What did he say?"

Anakin's gaze faltered, guilt gnawing at him for even being here, for doubting his mentor. But the doubt was there, festering like a wound that refused to heal. "He knew about the scheme," Anakin admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "The one you told me about. About my mother, about how her death might have been orchestrated by Dooku, and Sidious… How could he know that unless you..."

Kenshin shook his head slowly, his eyes never leaving Anakin's. "I didn't tell them anything, Anakin," he said, his voice steady despite the pain it caused him to speak."Not about your mother, not about Padmé, not about anything. Whatever Palpatine knows, he didn't get it from me."

Anakin's relief was short-lived, immediately swallowed by the dark cloud of doubt that had been hovering over him for days. His voice lowered into a harsh whisper. "Then how does he know, Kenshin? How could he know things I never told him, things that only you and I have talked about?"

Kenshin's gaze hardened, and there was a cold, sharp edge to his voice when he spoke. "Because Palpatine is not what he seems," he said, his tone carried by conviction. "I told you before, Anakin—he's under the influence of Sidious. He's been pulling strings in this war, in the Republic, for longer than you and I have been alive. He has ways of finding out things we can't even imagine."

Anakin's anger flared. "You keep saying that!" he snapped, his voice trembling with a mix of rage and desperation. "But you're wrong! Palpatine would never betray me! He's always been there for me, always supported me. He can't be influenced by Sidious, it's not possible!"

Kenshin met Anakin's gaze with a calmness that only fueled Anakin's fury. "You're blind, Anakin," he said softly, but his words cut through the air like a knife. "You don't see how deeply he's influenced you, how he's twisted your loyalty to serve his own ends. He's been grooming you, Anakin—preparing you for something far darker than you can imagine."

Anakin recoiled as if struck, his heart pounding in his chest. "No," he growled, his voice thick with denial. "You're lying. Palpatine isn't like that. He's been a mentor, a father to me. He's the only one who understands what I'm going through."

Kenshin's eyes softened with a mix of pity and sorrow. "You've said that before. I understand, Anakin," he said quietly. "I know how much you trust him, how much you want to believe in him. Everyone else has failed you, me included. You cannot ever forgive me; I understand that too. But trust me when I say that he's not the man you think he is. He's dangerous, more dangerous than anyone in this war."

Anakin's hands trembled, his emotions churning inside him like a storm. He wanted to lash out, to shut Kenshin up, to silence the doubts that had been eating away at him. But somewhere deep inside, a part of him couldn't entirely dismiss Kenshin's words. A part of him continued to fear that Kenshin might be right.

"Stop it," Anakin whispered, his voice cracking under the weight of his turmoil. "Stop trying to turn me against him."

Kenshin didn't move, his gaze steady, unyielding. "I'm not trying to turn you against anyone, Anakin. I'm trying to open your eyes before it's too late. Why do you not dare questioning Palpatine?"

Thick tears rolled down Anakin's face.

"I need to protect Padmé! I cannot let her die! I need to gain the power to save her!" His frustration boiled over. "If the Council had made me a Master, I could access the restricted sections of the vaults and find out! The Chancellor advocated for me to get a seat on the Council, and a seat I did get, but instead of granting me the rank of Master, they denied it and even had the nerve to ask me to spy on the Chancellor, my mentor!"

"The Council's hypocrisy is such old news, are you really surprised they acted that way? I am not. As for the vaults - you want access to study the dark side artifacts? I'm very surprised you haven't seen to that long before—the solution is so simple, and you wouldn't even have to ask anyone!"

Anakin's eyes sparked with something between hope and desperate need. "Ah, is it? Why don't you enlighten me, my old Master!"

"Why did you not simply get my old transponder, and sneak in at a convenient moment?"

"What?"

Force be damned, he's right! Why haven't I thought of that before!

"I can't believe you haven't had this idea yourself. My astromech, Roku, has it. Get ahold of it, and then go find the holocron of Darth Andeddu. It's located in the last cabinet of the Bogan collection at the end of the aisle, right next to the compartment where I stored the two parts of the Nanta artifact."