FicWad

Author's Reminder: Lengthy pieces in italics still denote memories being shared between Obi-Wan and Anakin. Some memories will, necessarily, be a bit repetitive, so bear with me, okay?







There is a cool wetness sliding down against his skin where Anakin has turned his face in against him, burrowing down into the crook of Obi-Wan's neck. In an effort to get even closer to him, Anakin has turned inwards towards Obi-Wan and shifted further around until their chests are flush together and he's had to wrap his longer legs up around Obi-Wan. Now with arms and legs alike they embrace one another, Obi-Wan simply refusing to imagine what others might think or say, if it were possible for anyone to see them in such a position - and the darkened transparisteel windows and doors leading out onto the terrace guarantee that no one will be able to look in and see them - instead concentrating on holding onto Anakin as tightly as he can without causing pain. Anakin is so upset that he is shivering in Obi-Wan's embrace, silent tears leaking from behind his tightly shut eyes. Yet, Obi-Wan can feel the slow but steady progress Anakin is making as he presses resolutely against the barriers that Sidious has placed around his mind, his efforts fueled by a rising need to understand what really happened on Grievous' ship and a firm determination to prove worthy of the true magnitude of trust and faith that Obi-Wan feels for him, as demonstrated in his memories. Obi-Wan's loving regard shames Anakin deeply, even as it warms him through to the very core of his being, and he wants so incredibly badly to prove himself good enough to truly deserve that care, that easy acceptance and instinctive protectiveness, that Anakin feels wracked with pain, an agony that is far more immediate and real to him than the vague discomfort from the lingering sense of confusion and nauseating indefiniteness hovering like a miasmic cloud around much of his memory of the time on General Grievous' ship, especially during the period of time that Obi-Wan was unconscious.

Understanding that the more time he allows Anakin now, to work through things on his own, the easier things will go for them when Anakin has to accept the truth about Palpatine, Obi-Wan merely waits patiently, supporting Anakin's efforts with his endless outpouring of wordless loving reassurance and unwavering acceptance. Anakin's thoughts flicker briefly back to the Chancellor's curiously self-absorbed and coldly uncaring manner after Anakin had spoken to the HoloNet crews, at the Rotunda, focusing on the troublesome matter of Palpatine's outright contempt for the Order responsible - through Obi-Wan and Anakin - for the preservation of his life and the return of his freedom. From there, they circle to Palpatine's strange unwillingness to even contemplate a possible end to the war, now that the demise of the Separatist alliance is so obviously imminent, given the demise of their leader, Count Dooku. Grievous and other of the Separatist leaders are still at large, yes, but everyone knows that Dooku was the glue that held all of the various Separatist factions together, and, as Master Windu pointed out soon after their safe if bumpy landing, their alliance will not long survive Dooku's loss.

When Anakin considers the situation logically, divorced from the filter of Palpatine's bombastic rhetoric, he knows that it would actually make more sense to pursue an immediate diplomatic resolution to the war, one that will arrange for the immediate cessation of hostilities and require the surrender of General Grievous to Republic forces so that he can be publicly tried for his war crimes, rather than seizing upon Grievous' current freedom as an excuse to keep on fighting. Already this war has claimed far too many innocent lives. Why this insistence on continuing to sacrifice more of them when there exists a real chance that they might not need to give even so much as one more life to end this bloody conflict? What could Palpatine possibly hope to gain by this? Even if the few remaining Separatist leaders are too ineffectual or too frightened of Grievous to turn him over to the Republic, the loss to him of resources in droids and ships that would result if the Separatists were to surrender to the Republic would reduce his threat to a much more manageable level. He and Obi-Wan would be able to easily hunt the cyborg monstrosity down and even, if necessary, to destroy him, if that happened, and so the negotiation of a lasting peace would not be affected by Grievous at all.

Sith hells, he and Obi-Wan alone would be enough to accomplish both things, to hunt down and deal with Grievous and to persuade the Separatists to ultimately surrender. Anakin could take out Grievous while Obi-Wan neutralizes the threat of any possible remaining MagnaGuards, and then Anakin could loom in the background, scowling threateningly to remind the remaining Separatists of the sure annihilation that awaits them if they continue to challenge the Republic, while Obi-Wan lays out the terms of peace and arranges for a diplomatic solution that will end the war. They almost had Grievous on the ship - and would have had him for sure if the coward had not chosen to flee where they could not follow, not with the safety of the Chancellor still their top priority - and they have successfully negotiated many far more politically uncertain situations than the increasingly precarious position in which the remaining Separatists must even now be finding themselves, with their leader gone.

For someone who claims to believe so strongly in Anakin's abilities, Palpatine appears to be entirely blind to the possibility that the Jedi Order would easily be able to send Anakin and Obi-Wan out both to hunt down and deal with Grievous and to hammer out a diplomatic solution to the war and the problem of the remaining Separatist leaders, quite likely before the month is up, if only given half a chance. For a man who so publicly decries the loss of life associated with this terrible war, Palpatine is being curiously callous about continuing to waste that entirely too precious resource, even if the majority would most likely end up being paid in the blood of clone troopers. In truth, Anakin can conceive of no reason that might logically account for Palpatine's unbending certainty that the war will not end with Dooku's demise. In fact, the only two possible motivations that Anakin can think of to account for Palpatine's unreasonable outlook on this matter are both eminently illogical. One - personal revenge against Grievous for the ordeal of Palpatine's kidnaping - is so petty and vindictive that Anakin finds it incredibly hard to swallow, especially given how eerily calm Palpatine was during much of the time they were together on the ship, particularly while his rescue was still very much up in the air, given Dooku's presence and the manacles holding him prisoner in that chair, leaving him unable to do little more than watch and speak. The other - some unknown political gain - suddenly seems so possible, given Palpatine's selfishness and manipulative politicking in the Rotunda, that Anakin at first draws away from it as swiftly as if he has been burned.

Anakin has never been as distrustful of politicians as Obi-Wan has been, but then again Anakin has also never had any love for bureaucrats or for the actual, often all too ugly process of politicking. Logically, he has always known that Palpatine began he career as a bureaucrat in the Naboo government and worked his way up the political food chain into the larger arena of the Republic Senate until, given the combination of the breaking crisis on Naboo and the charges of corruption brought up against then Supreme Chancellor Valorum, Palpatine had been catapulted into the position of authority that he has remained within ever since, due to one crisis or another. Well, actually one rather . . . conveniently timed crisis after another, if the truth be told . . .

Oh, Sith hells . . .

If Palpatine doesn't truly believe in him, in Anakin's ability to help end this war . . . if he has been willfully manipulating not only Anakin but also larger events that have so constantly constrained the Jedi's ability to act as they could, as they have needed to, throughout the course of this war . . . if he has been and is knowingly taking advantage of political crises to manipulate others, especially on the Senate but within the Order as well, to seize more power for himself and to hold on to it, and damn the possible costs and consequences for others . . . Oh, Force help him, has Anakin ever truly known Palpatine at all? Anakin has always trusted Palpatine, a man whose relationship with Anakin has always had a distinctly paternal, if somewhat doting, feel, one that has never been present in Anakin's relationship with Obi-Wan. Since that first return to the Temple on Coruscant as Padawan and Master and the first of their many long, open, private talks, he and Obi-Wan have simply been far too much like equals - despite Anakin's youth and greater power in the Force and Obi-Wan's far greater control in all aspects of their life together, as Jedi - for Obi-Wan to have ever assumed the same kind of position of authority that Palpatine had so easily taken and then held over Anakin's existence. Although Palpatine never pretended to be anything other than a powerful man, he has also never attempted to lord that power over Anakin, as the Council Masters have so often seemed to do. Until quite recently, Palpatine has always been an unfailing source of kindness, understanding, and wisdom thoroughly rooted in the real world, and so Anakin has simply and gratefully accepted Palpatine's presence in his life and allowed him that position of authority without ever really stopping to think about it or to wonder what Palpatine's motivations might be in pursuing such a relationship with him.

Anakin has always wistfully hoped for a father to come into his life, a craving that had only increased after Qui-Gon Jinn had so boldly - and all too briefly - stridden into Watto's junk shop and Anakin's life. Upon his return to Coruscant, after the events on Naboo, Palpatine had offered him just such a bond, and Anakin had accepted it gladly, unthinkingly, allowing himself to grow so close to the man that he had felt he could tell Palpatine just about anything and had honestly come to believe he would gladly do everything within his power to protect Palpatine, even if that might require the sacrifice of his own life, if only it would mean that this great and benevolent man would continue to be safe. Anakin has been so busy blindly trusting Palpatine because of the man's kindness to him and his unflagging attention and interest in his life that not only has he never truly noticed the dubious circumstances surrounding both Palpatine's ascent to power and his far overlong continuance within that position, he has also never even considered the ulterior motives that a politician of Palpatine's caliber would certainly need to strike up a relationship with someone like Anakin, a former slave who has never been much more than an only precariously accepted member of the Jedi Order, one whose current fame would never have come about at all without the outbreak of the war. Now that he is taking the time to actually think about it all, the picture that Anakin is getting of Palpatine is not at all as venerable or altruistic or even kind as Anakin has always assumed the man to be. In fact, it is distressfully dark and insidiously manipulative.

Anakin is almost hyperventilating from the shock and pain of his thoughts, so eminently logical that he cannot dismiss them. Quite suddenly, the many times that Palpatine has tried to insist that there is no time left to waste on Obi-Wan, no time to worry about him, to save him, that Anakin is selfishly squandering a strength that is urgently needed elsewhere in tending to or worrying about Obi-Wan, that Anakin must instead sacrifice his mentor and former Master and beloved friend for the greater good of the Galactic Republic or for Palpatine himself - and with Palpatine always equating his own safety and his own continual rule with the continued integrity of the Republic, the difference between these two things has always been all but nonexistent, from Palpatine's point of view - all come flooding back into the forefront of Anakin's mind, especially those few fleetingly brief and now enormously suspiciously timed instances of panic from Palpatine aboard the /Invisible Hand/, when Obi-Wan had been unconscious and not only his safety but the very continuance of his life had lain completely in Anakin's hands. These memories, these terrible remembrances that burn Anakin like fire, that eat away at him like the steady corrosive etching of an acid upon his heart, are soon joined by a steady flood of other instances, many of them so seemingly insignificant at the time, when Palpatine had offered up some slight variance on the true accounting of some set of events or some actual fact of reality, bending the truth with his powerfully persuasive rhetoric and his oh-so-friendly, oh-so-comforting show of warm sympathy in such a manner that he might gradually begin to turn Anakin, by almost unnoticeably slight increments, away from not only the beliefs of the Jedi Order but also against Obi-Wan himself.

Anakin feels as if he is drowning in an unending torrent of filth, a steady stream of poison that he has himself, in his vanity, in his selfishness, in his impatience and eager quest for more - for more love, more acceptance, a more powerful means by which to make others love and accept him (/him and Obi-Wan,/ his traitorous mind whispers) if they will, like almost all the other members of the Jedi Order and especially the other eleven Masters upon the High Council, foolishly, stubbornly, persist in not doing so willingly - encouraged, in spite of the fact that he knows better than to want such things, that he is - with Obi-Wan at his side - better than this, above the need of such things. The surge of self-loathing that he feels is so great that it, in combination with the sudden nauseating realization of Palpatine's dark nature, makes Anakin want to be sick. He moans against Obi-Wan's neck, feeling almost violently ill, a flood of tears streaming from behind his tightly shut eyes, his entire body wracked with shudders, and his hold upon Obi-Wan tightens to the point where the man knows that he will surely have bruises later, not only in the shape of Anakin's arms across his back and from where his hands are digging into Obi-Wan's sides but also along his hips, where Anakin's long legs are wrapped up around him with such desperate tightness.

Obi-Wan simply rocks him within the tight circle of his own arms, his own legs crossed loosely around Anakin, his upper thighs relaxed beneath the press of Anakin's legs, his left hand stroking soothingly through Anakin's hair while his right hand rubs in spiraling circles across the expanse of his back. Obi-Wan concentrates on feeling nothing but love, letting the light of his love for Anakin burn ever brighter, ever purer, within him, washing over Anakin and wrapping him securely within its warmth. Gradually, almost painfully slowly, the younger man's intense distress begins to subside to a more manageable level, tears trickling to a stop. Obi-Wan knows what is coming next and he hates the thought of it, simply hates it, knowing the pain that it will cause Anakin, and if there were any other possible choice he would seize upon it in an instant, just to spare Anakin some of that agony. Unfortunately, there no longer is any such other choice. The Force has been extremely clear about that, and Obi-Wan knows, even without the guiding vision of far-sight, that it will not change at this late point in time, however much he may long for it to. Between his knowledge of Palpatine's true nature, Anakin's dangerous recklessness, Padmé Skywalker's death, and what he has already led Anakin to understand about these things, Obi-Wan Kenobi has no other choice but to press on.

Shivering now himself, he once again continues the flow of memory into Anakin.

***

The Jedi Temple on Coruscant is the greatest nexus of Force energy in the Republic. Its overall ziggurat design focuses the Force the way a lightsaber's gemstones focuses its energy stream. With the tens of thousands of Jedi and Padawan learners (not to mention the hundreds of thousands of sensitive crèche younglings) who normally reside within its walls, every day contemplating peace, seeking knowledge, and meditating on justice and surrender to the will of the Force, the Temple is, despite the spreading taint of the Dark Side upon the Force, a fountain of the Light. In spite of the troublesomely disturbed state of relations among the High Council members, Obi-Wan is basking in that familiar filtered glow as he finally departs Master Yoda's quarters, contemplating a visit to one of the Temple gardens for an hour or two of relaxing mediation, certain that he has managed to avert a true disaster with the negotiation he has so recently worked out with Masters Yoda and Windu but also deeply worried by the words Master Yoda spoke to him after Master Windu had already departed from the room, words that indicate Yoda's willingness to use Anakin against Palpatine, if the High Council comes to believe it might be necessary to help them locate the mysterious Sith Lord, Darth Sidious.

Master Windu had already withdrawn from the room, citing a need to inform the other Jedi of their decision to make the location of Grievous the Order's top priority, updating those who were currently staffing both the Holomap Room within the Temple Spire and the operation center in the Council of Reconciliation that coordinates all Jedi operations off of Coruscant of this new development. It is the job of those two staffs to coordinate current efforts to pinpoint sources of trouble and disturbances within the Force all throughout the galaxy, so it had only made sense that Mace would be eager to inform them of their new target. Obi-Wan had been gathering up copies of the reports on the battle for Coruscant, for later perusal, when Master Yoda had declared, "A moment more of your time I require, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan had just stood up and turned around towards the door, but that thinly disguised order had caused him to turn back around and, determinedly ignoring the sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach, steel himself to calmness, politely inquiring, "Yes, Master Yoda?"

"When make your report before the Council, you and your former Padawan do, of your rescue of the Chancellor, prepared you should be for questions about your part in the landing of Invisible Hand. A highly visible feat of power, that was. Surprised, many are, by that visibility - and the level of power it betrays. More control, a finer touch with the Force, such a feat would have required than young Anakin exhibits. The work of your former Padawan alone, obviously it was not. Your Force signature, the ship bore. Seen by many, that landing was. Captured also by many devices. Recounted and replayed over the HoloNet, the landing and the rescue will be. Increase, the stories surrounding the team of Kenobi and Skywalker shall. Increase, also, the rumors of invincibility will. More fame your former Padawan does not need. Recklessness such attention encourages. Reckless enough he is already. Attempting to curb him, you should be, not aiding him in such blatant displays of the Force. Personal power and glory: a Jedi desires these things not. More careful in the future, you should be," Yoda had scolded, his slightly curled down ears and deep frown clearly revealing both his displeasure and disappointment.

The rebuke had stung, in spite of all his efforts at control. "I thank you for the warning, Master Yoda, but I'm afraid that we had little other choice if we wished to survive to fulfill the mandate of our mission. The ship had been badly damaged, enough so that it was deorbiting. And General Grievous had ejected all of the escape pods as he fled the ship. It was either hold enough of the ship together to survive a controlled crash landing, or suffer the consequences when the remains of the ship shattered and burned upon reentering the atmosphere. Anakin is a superb pilot: I'm sure that the majority opinion will simply attribute our survival to his superior piloting skills."

"Alternatives there always are, if only willing to look for them we remain," Yoda had simply insisted, emphatically rapping his gimer stick against the floor. "Pulled the Force from all of its natural channels, you two did. Blinded and deafened us all you did, if only temporarily. A long time recovering from the shock, the young ones will be. Unused to seeing so much Force power concentrated upon one task, they are. A miracle, the younglings and younger Padawans are already whispering. A beacon of hope in these Dark times, they name you and your former Padawan. Dangerous such attention and trust could become if rely too much upon this perceived ability of Kenobi and Skywalker to save the galaxy instead of their own power to fight for what is right they do. Strong enough to carry the weight of the galaxy upon your shoulders, you may be, but your former Padawan? Trust him entirely, do you, not to break under the weight of such responsibility? Unquestioning faith in his ability to do what is right, do you truly have?"

Startled, Obi-Wan had immediately defensively replied, "Of course I have absolute faith in Anakin's ability! Anakin is /the Chosen One, but more importantly he is not one to shun responsibility, Master Yoda, and he will always strive his utmost to fulfill the mandate of the Jedi Order. He is a firm believer in doing whatever is necessary in order to support causes that are just and right. It is this very tendency of his to stubbornly cling to whatever is the right thing to do or say or support, irregardless of what others may believe or expect, which has gotten him into so much trouble with the Council, in the past. Anakin is a good person with a very large heart, Master Yoda. You've chided him for this in the past, as a weakness. If the rest of the Council could only be troubled to understand that /it is his nature, we would waste far less time discussing impossible schemes, like this idea to set Anakin to spying on Palpatine."

"But why impossible do you declare such a plan? Trust you not your former Padawan's ability to watch over the Chancellor and report back? Faith have you not in his will to do what is right, when faced with such high stakes?" Yoda had only demanded, thrusting his gimer stick aggressively in Obi-Wan's direction and reminding him sharply of the reason why he had chosen a chair far enough away from the ancient Master to be out of the range of his reach.

Resisting the urge to place his hands on his hips - a combative stance, as he well knows, and one of his more troublesome bad habits (and one that can be directly attributed to he Qui-Gon Jinn), seeing as how it is not at all conducive to speaking with any of the various members of the High Council - Obi-Wan had once again forcefully reined himself in and patiently tried to explain, reiterating that, "Yes, of course I trust him, Master Yoda. Please, don't ever doubt my faith in Anakin. The Jedi Order can always trust Anakin to do what he thinks is right. But we can't/ trust him to do what he's told. He can't be made to simply /obey. Believe me: I've been trying to teach him for many years."

"But an unintentional opportunity, the Chancellor may have very well given us," Yoda had just as earnestly insisted, forcefully emphasizing his words with several strikes of his gimer stick against the floor. "A window he has opened into the operations of his office. Fools we would be, given the evidence of Sidious' influence over the Senate, perhaps even over that office, to close our eyes to this opportunity."

"Then we should use someone else's eyes," Obi-Wan had immediately snapped, his arms automatically crossing defensively across his chest so that his hands would not ball up into fists and plant themselves upon his hips. Then, sighing and briefly allowing his eyes to fall shut - a mistake, as he had only seen Anakin, once again, as he had been in the landing bay, after Tythe - he had quietly and calmly continued to try to explain. "Forgive me, Master Yoda, but the High Council just doesn't know him the way that I do. None of you do. Anakin is fiercely/ loyal, and there is not even so much as a gram of deception in him. You've all seen it: it's one of the arguments that several members of the High Council have used against elevating him to Master. Anakin lacks true Jedi reserve: that's what you've all said, at one time or another. And by that you all mean that he wears his emotions like a HoloNet banner. How could you even think of asking him to lie to a friend - to /spy upon him - when you know how completely against his nature it is to be deceitful?"

"If proven necessary, the reason why we would call upon you to ask him, this is. Agree fully with Master Windu regarding Palpatine's threat, I do not, but understand the need for better information regarding the Chancellor's intentions and decisions, I do. If Anakin - "

"You don't understand. You must not make him choose between me and Palpatine - "

"And why not? Fear you would lose such a contest, do you?"

"Master, respectfully, I am fully aware of the fact that the Order considers our relationship to be . . . closer than it should. You, however, have no idea how much Palpatine's friendship has meant to Anakin over the years," Obi-Wan had finally flatly declared. "You would be asking him to use that friendship as a weapon! To stab his friend in the back. Can't you understand what that would cost him, how much that would change him, damage/ him, even if Palpatine turned out to be entirely innocent? /Especially if he were innocent. Their relationship would never be the same - "

"The best argument in favor of such a plan, that is. A potent reason to pursue it, you offer. Clouded, the boy's future has always been. Dangerous. Much darkness surrounds him and only increases it does. Deeply disturbing, Master Windu's report of the ties between young Skywalker and the Supreme Chancellor is," Yoda had only gravely countered. "Worth the attempt, if only to distance young Skywalker from Palpatine's influence, such a mission would be. The only Jedi proven to have the capability to battle a Sith Lord alone, if necessary, he is, other than yourself. The one Jedi we can best hope would survive an encounter with Sidious, Anakin is. The Chosen One, he is: keep him in a position to fulfill his destiny, we must."

"Whether he is destined to destroy Sidious or not, Master, respectfully, Anakin Skywalker is not/ a possession of the High Council or the Jedi Order, and the Council and the Order would do well to remember that. Anakin Skywalker is a Jedi, a man with a fiercely loyal and loving heart who has sworn to uphold the Light, and it is precisely because of this that he would never be able to do this thing that you and Mace Windu have spoken of. In any case, the question as to whether or not it would be best that I ask him to do it, if it became necessary, is irrelevant," Obi-Wan had retorted, voice calm but implacable, in the end simply giving in and allowing his hands to rest aggressively on his hips. "You and Master Windu came to an understanding and made your decision. The word of the Council is final, Master. Master Windu shall continue to oversee the investigation into Sidious and his influence over the government, including the possibility that he may have hidden himself amongst Palpatine's advisors, while the Order devotes itself to the task of locating and neutralizing General Grievous. Master Windu has his task, here, and you are far too valuable to the Order to risk in battle, Master Yoda. Master Windu will doubtlessly need you here, to aid in his search: it is your sensitivity to the broader currents of the Force that is most likely to hasten the effort to uncover the Sith Lord's true identity. That leaves Anakin and I the obvious choice to go after Grievous, once he has been found. Anakin is the Chosen One and he is an extremely skilled and powerful Jedi. He has defeated Dooku, which proves him well matched for Grievous, even considering the General's penchant for using more than one lightsaber at a time. Anakin and I are a team, Master. We are well used to fighting as a unit. It would be foolish to separate us for such an important mission, and while the Jedi Order is many things, I do not believe that /foolish is among them. Now, if you'll excuse me, Master," Obi-Wan had continued, inclining his head respectfully but not actually allowing Yoda any time to protest, "it has been a long and tiring day, and there are many things that I wish to think on. I am, in the main, recovered from the injuries I took, but I must admit that I feel I am in need of meditation. If you wish to see me again before the Council calls for a full, formal report from us, I shall, of course, abide by your wishes, if I am able, Master Yoda."

Obi-Wan had bowed slightly then, respectfully, and glided on out the door before Yoda could recover enough from his surprise to frame a protest. However, he is entirely too aware of the fact that just because he had managed to leave before the little Master could come up with an appropriate response, that doesn't mean Yoda will have given up the argument. On the contrary, he's every bit convinced that the next time he meets Yoda alone, the ancient Master will have come up with many, many, many more points to broach in regards to this plan to use Anakin against Palpatine. And that certainly is reinforced by an all too familiar uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, one that has warned him countless times before of imminent danger.

All in all, its enough to make Obi-Wan's head ache, and to make him all too thankful of the free time he has now, for meditation. He has a sneaking suspicion that he will soon need all of the serenity he can muster . . .

However, he has barely made it half a dozen steps in the direction of the gardens when a trembling young Padawan - a human or humanoid girl whose face he cannot quite match up with a name, though he recognizes her enough to be sure that he probably ought to know what her name is - approaches and intersects his path, her eyes full of awe but her stance firmly resolute as she blocks his way.

"I beg your pardon, Padawan, but is there something - ?"

"General - Master Kenobi?" the girl asks hesitantly.

"Yes?" he agrees patiently, resignedly abandoning his intention to meditate.

"General, sir, there's a Senator who has been waiting for you to return to the Temple."

"There is? Why, whatever for?" Obi-Wan blinks mildly, somewhat confused. He can tell, from the way that the Padawan is holding herself and the way that she is looking at him - expectantly but with a hint of confused disapproval - that this waiting Senator is a woman, whatever or whoever else she might also be. Resisting the urge to frown, Obi-Wan patiently inquires, "Did the Senator say who she is?"

"I'm sorry, Master, sir, but she wouldn't say. She just asked for you when she came in and she's refused to leave. Said she would wait in one of the Courts of Dispute until you came back. She looked pretty . . . rattled and worn out. She has to have been caught up in the attack somehow. But she's insisted that she wasn't physically hurt, even if she acted like she was still a little bit in shock. She won't go see a Healer. And she's refused to speak to anyone else but you. She won't give anyone her name, but she keeps insisting that she has a message meant only for Jedi Master General Obi-Wan Kenobi. She was refusing food and drink until I finally promised her I would go and find you as soon as I could after you'd gotten back to tell you she's here. I thought it would be best to promise, since she's already so frail, even for a human. I would have come earlier, Master, but I was still in class."

"If the woman refuses to give her name, then how do you know she is a Senator?" Obi-Wan obligingly asks the expectantly waiting Padawan.

"When she came to the Temple, the first thing she said was 'I am a Republic Senator and I must see General Kenobi. I have a message that is meant only for the ears of Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. Please, take me to this man.'" The Padawan recites the words as though she has heard them repeated several times.

"Ah. Well, then. Thank you for your concern, Padawan. If you will lead on?"

As Obi-Wan quietly follows the smiling young Padawan - whose name he still doesn't know, since he cannot quite recall it on his own and it seems rude to ask when he is so sure that he ought to be able to remember it - through the familiar mazelike corridors of the Temple, one thought largely dominates his mind: What in the name of the Force is Senator Amidala doing here, waiting to speak to me? However, as the young female Padawan learner leads him to a door that opens onto one of the more privately placed Courts of Decision and, smiling and bowing, leaves him in the hallway, Obi-Wan swiftly becomes aware of a few far more puzzling items. In the first place, it is not Senator Amidala who is waiting for him on the other side of the doorway. Obi-Wan is quite familiar with the presence of the Naboo Senator - he has been able to recognize her within the Force since the days when she was still splitting her time between her true identity as Amidala, Queen of the Naboo, and her disguise as just another one of the Queen's handmaidens, Padmé Naberrie - and the sole essence within that room, all but vibrating with suffering, is nothing like the familiar Force-signature of Amidala. Which brings him to his second observation. Whoever is waiting within this particular Court of Decision may not be emitting signs of actual pain from physical trauma, but she's nevertheless quite obviously badly hurt. The grief and mental anguish throbbing almost continuously behind this door are the aftereffects of recent emotional loss, of psychosomatic injuries so great that Obi-Wan winces, his head aching, and he wishes (not for the first time) that he were more deft with the healing touch. Which is when it occurs to Obi-Wan, belatedly, that if it's not Senator Amidala, it is entirely possible that this is someone who knows her, since she's asked so specifically for him. Which is when it occurs to Obi-Wan that Anakin, as he was searching for a certain face among the crowd come to greet the returning Chancellor, did not seem to find whom he was looking for. And if Anakin could not see her, if she did not go to greet him, and if it is not her, waiting here in the Temple, for him, but instead quite likely someone she knows . . . Padmé often worked closely with two other Senators, Bail Organa of Alderaan and Mon Mothma of Chandrila, and Mothma's a female human . . . Could it possibly be that - ?

Oh, no.

Oh, Force, please, no.

Anakin . . . Padawan-mine . . .

Obi-Wan is rooted to the spot, his right hand halting only half raised to the closed door, automatically stretching out within the Force, searching, casting himself out along the familiar old path of the training bond, desperately pouring himself into the attempt to reach, to find, to touch Anakin -

Indulgent patience occasionally interrupted by slight surges of irritated impatience. Lingering mix of shame-confusion-horror-fear-anger-hatred-pride-want overlaid and almost drowned out by increasingly swelling sense of serenity-understanding-love-acceptance-calm-love-admiration-happiness-/love/-laughter-joy!

After an indeterminable time of listening in, Obi-Wan snaps back to himself, gasping, reeling from the onslaught of Anakin's presence, Anakin's emotions, staggering once, bodily, from the shock of that ever-present growing sense of love. Anakin has always been . . . too much of a muchness. He has always felt too much, too deeply, for the quiet acceptance and serenity of a Jedi. Obi-Wan has never known what to do with all of him, with all of that churning mass of emotion, except to try to teach him how to release such things into the Force. He still doesn't know what to do with those emotions now, as he continues to stand outside the closed door. But he is, at least, reassured that Anakin is all right - or at least as all right as he normally ever gets, all things considered, though he should probably invite Anakin to meditate with him again soon, to help him find an outlet for all of that emotion.

Steeling himself for whatever might be coming, possessed of a rather bad feeling that it isn't going to be anything good, Obi-Wan squares his shoulders and sounds the door chime, once, before entering into the room and allowing the door to automatically fall shut behind him. He smells the aftermath of battle, of catastrophe - blood, burnt flesh, and singed cloth; overloaded circuits, overheated metal, and acrid, chemical fumes; dust, smoke, and sweat - immediately. The woman, the Senator, is collapsed (as though she has been dropped carelessly down into it from a height) upon a comfortable looking stuffed chair that is facing the door from a position not quite in the center of the room, her arms and legs drawn inwards as if in a futile attempt at self comfort or conservation of warmth. It's difficult to say, from the tattered and stained remains, but Obi-Wan imagines that the woman's clothing was, at some point, a simple, long-sleeved, ankle-length, full-skirted white gown, made of some fine shining material. There are a few patches of material left that still glimmer clean, with an almost opalescent purity, in the light. A far too large cape made out of some heavier dark material, blue-black and much less worse for wear than her dress, puddles off of one shoulder, dripping carelessly down towards the floor. Rather short reddish-auburn hair (darkened with soot, it almost seems closer to brownish-auburn), fair clear complexion (although now almost transparent, even waxy, with shock) with what appears to be a slender build of medium height . . . Obi-Wan cannot see her eyes where her gaze is cast unwaveringly down to the floor, but yes, it looks like Senator Mon Mothma herself, from what he remembers of that particular Senator . . . which, granted, isn't all that terribly much, seeing as how Obi-Wan generally tries to have as little to do with politicians as possible, except for a few, very rare individuals, as is the case with the entirely remarkable Bail Organa, a man Obi-Wan has known and trusted for years . . .

"Pardon me, Senator, but may I help you? I'm - "

"General Kenobi. Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi?" The voice is harsh, as though the woman's lungs were somehow still clogged with the smoke and dust and acrid reeking fumes of the battlefield. The women does not stir other than to speak, not even to raise her head up to look at him.

"Yes, Senator - ?" Obi-Wan waits quietly, patiently, hoping for a name that does not come, at least not yet. He concentrates on projecting a palpable aura of calm, one strong enough that it will hopefully help to ease some of the woman's pain, and his senses all flood with the familiar white glow of the Temple-focused and -filtered Force.

"I was entrusted with a message for you, and I swore that I would deliver it. General Kenobi, can you touch my mind, lift the memory of what happened, what was said, directly out of my memory?"

Obi-Wan simply stares, completely distracted from his attempts to exude enough serenity to reach her, to aid her in some way. He cannot help but be startled. "Senator, I trust that you will faithfully repeat whatever message has been left with you."

"Master Kenobi, I would feel better if you would simply read it in my mind."

Obi-Wan is so startled and confused that he hardly knows what to say. "Senator, forgive me, but you what you are asking of me," he pauses helplessly for a moment, searching for a less harsh way to explain before finally simply shaking his head, "is not something that I could ever, in good conscience, do. The Order does not encourage the use of mind-touch powers. There are too many misunderstandings about the Jedi as it is without encouraging more. Too many fear that such Force-abilities could be easily abused by those hungry for power. Jedi are allowed to use persuasion tricks in the line of duty, but we are not permitted to actively seek to enter into the minds, the memories, of other beings."

For the first time since he has entered the room, the figure truly moves, her head bowing momentarily, shoulders slumping. Her body continues to slide downwards and, after a startled moment, Obi-Wan takes one abortive step forward, thinking to catch her, but the woman isn't falling after all. She is allowing herself to slither down from the chair - which is, come to think of it, a wee bit higher than normal for a human frame - and into the floor. She stumbles a little as her feet find the floor, but then she is standing, her slim body ramrod straight in the ruined remains of what was once an expensive shimmersilk gown, the overlarge cape slithering entirely away from her body to gather in a pool of darkness at her feet. She simply looks straight at him for several long moments, then, her piercing blue eyes locked unblinkingly upon his face, as though she were trying to penetrate a mask in order to strip away the secrets of his soul. It would be discomforting, were he not so practiced at suppressing, at hiding, his emotions. He stands still, calmly keeping eye contact, allowing her to take as much time as she wants to look at him, to make up her mind as to what she will do, what she will say, next . . .

. . .

" . . . if anyone should ask why I came to the Temple to speak to you today, tell them . . . that there are those among the Senate who have feared, for quite some time, that the Supreme Chancellor is deliberately hindering the Jedi from ending this war, protracting a constant state of fear and confusion that allows him to undermine the authority of the Senate and divert more and more power into his own hands. Tell them that even as they were fleeing for their lives from the Senate, Bail and Padmé spoke to me, convincing me that Palpatine would profit from the attack on Coruscant while the Senate would be blamed for voting to escalate the sieges that have committed so many of the Republic's ships and troopers to the Outer Rim. Tell them how Palpatine will quietly continue to accrue more and more power, while the government is mired in accusations and counteraccusations of accountability, until the day comes when the Senate itself will be powerless, the government unable to legally move against him. Without realizing it, the Separatists have played right into Palpatine's hands, in launching the attack. They have given Palpatine exactly what he wants, what he needs: a reason to effectively disband the Senate and openly assume the role of dictator. You tell them, Master Jedi, that Palpatine has become an enemy of democracy, but that there are still those in the Senate who would preserve and restore the former glory of our badly abused Constitution, those who still hope to save the Republic, those who desperately hope that the far too few Jedi who continue to survive the horrors of this war - despite the fact that they have being virtually crippled by Palpatine's edicts - will stand with the Senate against Palpatine." By the time Mon Mothma finishes speaking, there is steel in her again - steel-straight spine, steely edged words, and eyes that have lost their soft aquamarine glow and hardened to an unforgiving steel-blue.

Obi-Wan stiffens at Mon Mothma's words as though she has slapped him. By training, he is a diplomat and a negotiator, and it is his habit to always seek for a middle path. But the sheer injustice of the veiled accusation in the Senator's words moves him in ways that Mace Windu's openly threatening intentions never could. His demeanor suddenly coldly precise and proper, Obi-Wan rises with graceful ease to his feet and then looks steadily down at the Senator, who is still on both knees in the floor. "I understand, Senator. But please understand me when I say that the Jedi are not blind to Palpatine's power-mongering ways. The Jedi Order is sworn to uphold justice, and so the Jedi cannot, in good conscience, act against the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic on no more than suspicions and accusations of wrongdoing. There are those within the Order who already search for the proof that is needed to expose Palpatine, but our efforts are hampered by the man's hold over the government. If the Senate would be willing to author a bill limiting Palpatine's power or a petition for a full-out investigation into the man's activities, then the Jedi Order would again possess the legal support of the government, and the Jedi would be able to do much more to end this war. You can tell these friends of yours within the Senate that the Council agrees that Palpatine is a danger and he must be stopped. The High Council is aware of the fact that Palpatine is about to introduce a new amendment to the Security Act, one that would place the Jedi High Council under the control of the Office of the Supreme Chancellor. Moreover, we understand that this amendment, if passed, could give Palpatine constitutional authority to disband the Order itself at some point in the future. If the Senate wishes to avoid signing its own death warrant, then its Senators must stop voting for amendments that will prolong this war. The Jedi could have ended this war quite quickly and neatly, had we been allowed to act unhampered by the constraints that the Senate and Palpatine have been placing upon the Order for the better part of the past two decades. The Trade Federation's attack on Naboo was a warning that few within the Senate seemed to understand. If the Senate does not wish to sit by and watch helplessly as the Galactic Republic is remade as a dictatorship, then they should not vote to pass this newest amendment. It is the priority of the Jedi Order to end this war and to destroy the evil of the Sith, and if Palpatine is not willing to allow the war to end, then legally there is little that can be done against him, unless enough are willing to accept the challenge of opposing him. Do you understand me?" Obi-Wan's voice is, of course, not precisely angry as he tells the Senator these things, but it is very hard, very cold, and quite obviously pitilessly determined. It is the voice of a man who has suffered many shocks and weathered them all. The voice of a man who will not back down.

In answer, Senator Mon Mothma gives him a smile as fiercely bright as a blade, and raises up a hand towards him, clearly inviting a final sign of agreement. "I understand completely, General Kenobi. I will get started on that immediately. That particular amendment will never be passed."

Obi-Wan nods and promptly hands her up, effortlessly lifting her smoothly up out of the floor. "If a delegation of the Senate would like to speak to the Jedi Council about their concerns, a meeting could easily be arranged. Coruscant will likely be chaotic for the next several days . . . do you know if Padmé's protocol droid, C-3PO, has survived the attack?"

The Senator nods. "The droid was with us. Jedi Masters Stass Allie and Shaak Ti got us out of the building and told us to take Master Allie's Flash skimmer while they took Master Ti's speeder to locate the Chancellor. He wasn't in the holding office and the Masters were afraid that he might not be following his evacuation protocol. Bail piloted . . . Threepio actually survived . . . in better shape than I did, although you'd never know it, from his endless wailing and complaining . . . I took him home on my way over and told him to power off. I'd promised Padmé I would deliver her message . . . and I didn't know what else to do with him in the meantime," she shrugs. "Why do you ask?"

"I ask," is Obi-Wan's patient response, " . . . because that protocol droid was painstakingly assembled one scavenged piece at a time by Anakin Skywalker while he was still a child on Tatooine. The boy built it for his mother, Shmi. After Shmi died, Anakin was given back the droid. I was told that the Senator and Anakin came to an understanding regarding the appropriateness of an astromech droid for a Jedi pilot and the usefulness of a protocol droid for a Republic Senator and traded units - C-3PO for R2-D2 . . . my point is that C-3PO is Anakin's creation . . . I would imagine that Threepio and Artoo share some sort of built in communication device and that Threepio doubtlessly knows several ways of inconspicuously getting in touch with Anakin whenever he is on Coruscant. I would also rather imagine that Threepio would be an inconspicious messenger among your colleagues in the Senate, despite his somewhat annoying tendency to natter. People tend to ignore or even belittle droids, nowadays. I very much doubt if anyone would give him a second glance. So if you wish to organize your colleagues . . . and if you wish to remain in contact with the Jedi Council while also avoiding Palpatine's notice, I imagine that it could all be easily accomplished with Threepio's help. Just tell him that Masters Obi-Wan and Anakin approve and wish him to obey your wishes in this matter, and that he should contact Artoo tomorrow evening if he hasn't heard word from Anakin by then."

Mon Mothma's smile is genuinely happy this time, and she seizes his right hand eagerly, squeezing it to show her appreciation and then clinging to it in her excitement, failing to notice how discomforted Obi-Wan is by her touch. "Thank you, Master Obi-Wan! I will speak to Threepio when I get home and the two of us will get started immediately. It may take a few days to get everyone organized enough to agree on a time for a formal meeting with the Jedi Council, but I swear to you that the new amendment will not pass. You need not worry . . . I'll leave you now. I know Anakin will be here soon and you are anxious to speak to him. Good luck!" she says, patting his hand as she finally releases it.

Obi-Wan nods and smiles in return, though his stomach roils at the thought of speaking with Anakin. "Thank you, Senator. Please, be careful. If you even suspect that Palpatine or his advisors know of our resolve, please, tell me or another member of the Council immediately."

"I will. Master Jedi?"

"Yes?"

. . .

. . . Mon Mothma's face is once again bleak, though now she carries an air of resolve. "Thank you again, Master Kenobi. Good luck with Anakin."

"Senator." Obi-Wan bows again, more deeply this time, and when he straightens up Mon Mothma has gathered up that overlarge cloak (possibly Bail's? The color, size, and material of it are certainly right for an item of clothing that Bail Organa would wear) out of the floor and is already slipping out the door. Obi-Wan's stomach immediately leaps into the back of his throat.

Oh, Anakin! How will I ever be able to tell you about all of this?

***

Between Senator Mon Mothma speech on Palpatine as "an enemy of democracy," their discussion of the amendment that would place control over the Jedi High Council essentially directly into Palpatine's hands - referring back to his troubling discussion with Masters Yoda and Windu about whether or not Palpatine might intend to use this power to officially disband the Jedi Order - and the few references to Padmé Amidala that Obi-Wan does not bother to edit out of that particular memory sequence, Anakin is once again a shivering wreck. He has fully accepted the fact that Palpatine is a master manipulator and has been using him - though he is nowhere near forgiving himself for allowing it to have happened for so long without him ever even suspecting it - and in between that knowledge and their oblique references to Padmé, it gives him the impetus to recall, in a sudden burst of horrified clarity, everything that happened on the /Invisible Hand/, from the moment that Obi-Wan was knocked unconscious to the moment he piloted what remained of Grievous' ship into a controlled crash landing in Coruscant's industrial zone, including the events that led up to Dooku's demise and the dark and confusing conversations Palpatine initiated after Dooku had vanished out of his clothes and in the turbolift shaft while Obi-Wan was still unconscious and dangling over Anakin's back. In stunned disgust, Anakin falls almost completely away from the bond, uttering what Obi-Wan can only think of as a half-strangled scream of frustrated horror. In that moment, everything Anakin has ever thought about Palpatine abruptly crystalizes into the sudden, irrefutable knowledge of a new understanding, as a long chain of bloody events stretching back to the Trade Federation's attack on Naboo and Palpatine's rise to power abruptly make absolute and terrible sense.

"It's Palpatine/! It's /always been Palpatine/! /Force/, Obi-Wan, /Palpatine is the Sith Lord and he's been right under our noses this /entire time/!"

Anakin is surging to his feet then, his arms still bruisingly tight across Obi-Wan's back, dragging his former Master up with him, until the smaller, more compact Master has to go up on his toes to keep from being lifted entirely up out of contact with the floor. "Yes, Anakin, I know. Please, love, former Padawan-mine, hush, now, try to calm yourself. I know, I know," Obi-Wan whispers this repetitive litany over and over again, gripping his former Padawan's shaking form tightly enough that he cannot simply bolt like a startled bordok from the room, racing towards a confrontation with Palpatine that Obi-Wan cannot allow to happen until Anakin understands what the full tragedy of Palpatine's identity as Lord Sidious has brought about and has then calmed down enough to regain control over his emotions.

"But - but - how - ?!" Anakin is almost incoherent with pain and rage, that moment of clarity falling away in the rush of heat and noise from the blasting furnace within his heart and the cackling shrieks of that dead dragon in the head. He shakes his head, violently, as if trying to physically clear it of the shroud of smoke he feels is being wrapping around him, clouding his thoughts and his senses.

"I fear that there is more yet that I must tell you, Anakin," Obi-Wan quietly admits, sighing sorrowfully.

"More? More! How can possibly be anything more/, anything /worse than - than /this/?!"

Obi-Wan is ready for this and yet feels entirely unprepared. "Anakin, you must let go of me for a moment, please. There is something I have tucked into one of my inner pockets that I must show you," he says quietly, voice trembling only a little bit.

After a few long moments, Anakin reluctantly loosens his grip on Obi-Wan. Gradually, he eventually lowers his former Master down entirely upon his feet, and then unwillingly lets his arms fall free from around him. Quietly, reluctantly, Obi-Wan reaches within his robe, keeping the token brought to him by Mon Mothma hidden from view for as long as he possibly can.

"Please, hold out your hands," he finally requests, eyes falling shut in anguish.

Anakin's eyes are so wide and frightened that they appear to be all pupil, but he holds out his hands, trustingly, cupping them together between them. Eyes still determinedly closed, Obi-Wan reaches out and gently places the beatified braid that once signified Anakin's status as his Padawan learner within those trembling hands, and waits for the storm to break.

***