Madness -- for the archives
(SW:Phantom Menace; spoilers and AU for movies and novels)(Obi-Wan/Maul, implied Xanatos/Qui-Gon)(R) Maul survives and forms an unholy alliance. Jedi and Sith share an apprentice. War envelops the Republic and the Empire. And Maul wants Obi-Wan. Badly.
By the age of ten, Anakin had seen more of the seamier side of life and lived through more hardship than most Jedi ever knew. By the age of twenty one, he’d lived over half his life at the Temple, and was fully cognizant of the difference between an observer and a participant. He’d worked harder than anyone his age, to justify Qui-Gon Jinn’s faith in him, Obi-Wan Kenobi’s friendship with him, and to fulfill his own potential.
It galled him that, after a decade under the Council’s closest scrutiny, they still didn’t trust him.
They didn’t realize he could feel it. He’d felt their fear and distrust when he first went before them, but was still a child, for all his years as a slave surviving at others’ whims. His own need to prove himself had convinced him they would come around. They would see how much he wanted to become a Jedi, and they would believe Master Qui-Gon, and it would all work out.
Well, Obi-Wan had come around. Pretty quickly, too. And Obi-Wan had always been honest with him. From the outset, he’d told Anakin it wasn’t himself Obi-Wan feared, but his strength in the Force. As time went on and they became friends, that fear had waned until Anakin felt nothing but affection, encouragement, and occasionally friendly frustration from Obi-Wan. It was a good match to the fatherly love and trust he got from Qui-Gon.
The Council still feared him. They’d just never had the courage to admit it. Instead they shoved their fear and their distrust onto Anakin, expecting failure, being suspicious of success, and always, always watching him.
Yoda was the only one who came close to trusting him, and it wasn’t because of Anakin. It was because he loved Qui-Gon and hoped, for Qui-Gon’s sake, that Anakin wouldn’t fall. But still, in the shadows underlying his gaze every time he looked at Anakin, Anakin could see the expectation of failure in Yoda’s eyes.
None of the others had even a hope that he would become a decent Jedi. Or any kind of Jedi at all. Windu was the worst, but they all had it; that scared feeling that Anakin was Sith-incarnate and it was only a matter of time before he showed his true colors.
As the years went by, and he saw less of Obi-Wan, and saw the toll Qui-Gon’s constant battle with the rest of the Council over Anakin took on his health, it twisted the knife in Anakin’s soul. How dare they? How dare they take the two best examples of Jedi there were, and destroy them?
How dare they run Obi-Wan from mission to mission, with barely a pause to patch him together when yet another hostile group hurt him, while other Jedi barely left the Temple, never putting their lives on the line yet being held up as examples to Anakin? And how dare they take Master Qui-Gon and batter at his defenses, constantly, until he was almost too tired to fight any more?
Everything Anakin saw of the two men he admired made him long to be a Jedi. Everything he saw of the rest of the Jedi leadership made him want to throw it all over and become a pod-racer back on Tattooine.
It wasn’t surprising that he didn’t recognize seduction when it found him, just as he never recognized his own seething anger as the main cause of the Council’s lingering distrust. As far as Anakin was concerned, the Council had damned him as a child before they ever gave him the chance, and they would never accept him, no matter how well he did in his training.
The first time he met Xanatos was at a Galactic Senate function, trailing in Qui-Gon’s wake as his master represented the Jedi in his own inimitable way. It was the first Council duty Qui-Gon had undertaken, and much as Anakin knew he was bored out of his skull, Qui-Gon executed it with the perfect calm and dignity of the consummate Jedi Master.
Until Xanatos walked up and said, “Hello, Qui-Gon,” in a low voice that sounded like an invitation to sin.
Qui-Gon froze for a bare instant before he turned to face his failed Padawan. Anakin was astonished to see that Qui-Gon’s hand shook, almost imperceptibly, as he placed his glass on the table before folding his arms and hiding his hands in his sleeves.
Anakin missed the first part of the conversation, in blank shock from the most blatant signs he’d ever seen that Qui-Gon was discomfited. When he brought his attention around, he was surprised to see Xanatos toss him a smile before bowing slightly to Qui-Gon and moving away to speak with someone else. Anakin watched Qui-Gon watching Xanatos until the Senator was out of earshot. Then he leaned close to his master.
“Are you all right?” he asked very quietly.
Qui-Gon shot him a glare that softened immediately into a half-smile. “Yes,” he answered just as quietly. “I thought I was prepared…” His voice trailed off, and he looked back after Xanatos.
After years of reading Qui-Gon’s expressions, and even more importantly, reading his emotions in the Force, guarded as they were, Anakin was not surprised to see the lingering pain in Qui-Gon as he watched Xanatos work the room.
What he hadn’t expected was the muted, but still very deep, love.
It was because of that love that, when Xanatos sent a message asking to speak with him several days later, Anakin met him at a small, discreet restaurant a short distance from the Temple. From the lack of expression on the maitre de’s face, and the private room he was led to, Anakin had a feeling the place was known for meetings that ‘didn’t happen.’ Xanatos’ first words to him confirmed the impression.
“Thank you for meeting with me, Jedi Skywalker,” he said smoothly, no indication of anything other than sincere appreciation and a hint of anticipation visible in either his manner or the Force around him.
Anakin took a seat and looked at his host. “As you requested, I’ve told no one of our meeting. But I must admit I’m curious. You know I will tell Master Qui-Gon that I’ve been here with you. Why do you risk it?”
Xanatos shrugged, spreading his hands in an elegant gesture of helplessness. “Because I have missed him, and he wouldn’t believe it.”
At Anakin’s narrow-eyed look, Xanatos continued, “I wasn’t meant to be a Jedi, and my failure as his Padawan showed that clearly. But I spent several years as Qui-Gon’s student, and my failure wasn’t his fault.”
“I thought you hated him,” Anakin said. “He thinks so, too.”
Xanatos sighed. “He’s a good man, for many years he was my best friend, and when I heard he’d been badly injured on a mission, it forced me to re-evaluate my anger at the situation. Qui-Gon fought hard for me, worked as hard as he could with me, and in the end, my path led elsewhere. But in my heart, beneath the pain of our parting, is the truth that Qui-Gon is important to me. The thought that I could have lost him without coming to peace with our parting was devastating.”
Looking deeply at him, Anakin could see he spoke the truth. A great many of his suspicions disappeared at that point. After all, Qui-Gon had done the same for him; had fought for him, had worked tirelessly to teach him, loved and supported him. No doubt he’d done the same for Xanatos, and no matter how badly the end of their relationship had been, if Xanatos was anything like Anakin, there would still be gratitude and affection left in his heart.
He was silent as the waitstaff brought their meal, feeling Xanatos’ eyes on him as they waited. Once they were alone, Anakin poked at the expensive steamed fish on his plate until it fell into little flaky pieces before he looked up to face Xanatos.
“I believe you,” he said firmly. “Why did you want to speak with me?”
Xanatos looked relieved. “Please tell me, how is he? I read all I could in the publicly available files, but that’s mainly propaganda put out by the Council, and between the two of us, I don’t trust them further than I could throw them. Well, except for Qui-Gon.”
Anakin could relate to that. He unconsciously nodded agreement.
“So tell me, is he well? Is he happy?”
They spent the next few hours discussing Qui-Gon Jinn, and bonding over the unique and wonderful man who’d been Master to them both. When Anakin left, he promised to meet Xanatos again, and the meetings became a regular appointment whenever Xanatos was on Coruscant.
For reasons he never fully clarified, even to himself, Anakin never told Qui-Gon. Perhaps because his master was already so careworn by the demands of the Council and Anakin didn’t want to add to his burden of worries; perhaps because it was such a relief to have someone to whom he could freely complain about the Council’s failings; perhaps because he was, at heart, exceptionally lonely with Obi-Wan away and Qui-Gon busy elsewhere.
He’d never made connections with the other padawans his age, preferring Qui-Gon’s company; never even saw Padme anymore, and when he did, it was almost always when she was working as Queen or Senator, stiff and formal and distant. Whatever the reason, or combination of reasons, might be, the next few years saw many clandestine meetings between the current Padawan and the failed Padawan.
He never noticed the darkness weaving so delicately through him until it was as much a part of him as his blue eyes. So well-crafted was his conversion, even the Council, on high alert for just such an occurrence, missed it completely.
So on the day, four years later, when he was Knighted, his first thoughts were for Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan; pride in his accomplishment and Qui-Gon’s vindication, and missing Obi-Wan who was, as always, out on a mission and couldn’t be there for his knighting.
His second thought was for Xanatos.
And when Obi-Wan was brought in, yet again, just long enough to be regenerated in the bacta tank before being thrown back out into the field, and when Qui-Gon lost one too many arguments with the Council so that Anakin lost his first prime solo mission simply, as he saw it, because the rest of the Council didn’t trust him, it was the work of an instant to agree to join Xanatos in… finding a better way.
It felt like a lifetime since he’d last been on Coruscant.
Since being knighted, Obi-Wan had spent nearly ten years on constant active duty without a break. He was worn to the nub, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it. There was a war on, and horrific as it was to contemplate, in his heart, Obi-Wan had the sinking suspicion the Republic, and specifically the Jedi, were losing.
The fact that he’d been granted the position of Master due to his accomplishments barely penetrated his fog of exhaustion. He didn’t even think to comm. Qui-Gon and Anakin with the news.
Finishing his report on his latest mission, for once not requiring the use of bacta tanks or a prolonged visit with the healers, Obi-Wan forced himself to walk and not drag his feet on his way to his quarters. He was so tired he literally couldn’t see straight.
Which might explain why he walked into Anakin and nearly knocked him over.
“Obi-Wan!” Anakin exclaimed happily, wrapping his hands around Obi-Wan’s forearms to keep him from falling on his face. “I didn’t know you were back!”
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan returned the affectionate greeting, trying to ignore the slur in his words. Even his tongue was tired. “When was the last time we were both home at the same time? A couple years ago? And when did you get so tall?”
Anakin laughed, then sobered when he saw just how tired Obi-Wan was. “This is insane,” he said abruptly. “You’re so exhausted you can barely stand up. When was the last time you had any rest?”
Obi-Wan seriously thought about it, but couldn’t come up with an answer. His brain was also numb with fatigue. “Too long,” he finally said.
“That’s it,” Anakin told him, hauling him firmly down the hall toward very familiar quarters. “You’re going to sleep, then I’m going to feed you, and you’re going to spend the night with me and Master Qui-Gon. No more reports, no more mission prep, no more sparring, just you, and a bed, and as much sleep as you can handle.”
“Not sure you want me dead on your hands for the next ten-day,” Obi-Wan mumbled.
It was the last thing he said before he fell, face-down, across Anakin’s bed, never feeling Anakin pull off his boots or rearrange him on the blankets or sit, quietly staring down at him, for a very long time.
The next afternoon he finally surfaced, feeling better than he had in a very long time. With his new-found energy, he wandered down to the salle. Anakin was already there, going through one of the most advanced solitary katas, and Obi-Wan grinned at him. Anakin moved like he was born with a lightsaber in his hands.
When he came to a rest, Obi-Wan asked, “Want to try that with a partner?”
The next hour was one of the most enjoyable he’d spent in longer than he could remember. Anakin used a fascinating mixture of fighting styles, Qui-Gon’s imprint over them, working well with his height and expanded reach, but with an acrobatic element that was unique to Anakin. Obi-Wan was pushed to keep up with him, and thoroughly reveled in the stretch. When they finally came to a halt, Obi-Wan won the match, but it was a hard-fought win.
Anakin grinned up at him from his place sprawled on the mat. “Are you hungry?” he panted.
“Very,” Obi-Wan answered, somewhat surprised. It had been awhile since he’d worked up an appetite having fun rather than fighting or negotiating or running for his life. He’d forgotten how much he missed it.
Anakin slung an arm over his shoulder and steered him back to Qui-Gon’s quarters. “On to lunch then. I won’t subject you to the commissary. I’ll cook.”
“Want a hand with that?”
He did, and they had a good time reconnecting over chopping greens and sautéing yoppa root. By the time Qui-Gon escaped the Council and joined them, the table was set and the food was ready to go.
“Obi-Wan!” Qui-Gon greeted him with a hug and looked quietly happy to see him.
Obi-Wan was distressed by how his master had aged in the time he’d been gone; stress sat heavily on his shoulders, carved into the lines at the corners of his eyes and the streaks of white in his hair. But he still held himself straight, still moved gracefully, still exuded dignity. Anakin glanced over at him and Obi-Wan read the same concerns in the younger man’s eyes. Unfortunately there wasn’t a blessed thing either one could do to help, so Obi-Wan did what he could do.
He distracted. By telling stories and encouraging Qui-Gon to vent some of his frustration and urging Anakin on to tell his own tall tales. At one point in the conversation Obi-Wan delicately brought the conversation around to Xanatos.
“Perhaps it is my own judgment clouded by experience,” Qui-Gon said, frowning, “but I feel like he’s up to something.”
“Anything you can pin down?” Obi-Wan asked. He glanced over at Anakin, but Anakin was too busy eating to speak. Obi-Wan grinned briefly, then looked back at Qui-Gon. Growing boys. ‘Though if Anakin grew much more he’d be even taller than Qui-Gon.
“Nothing I can put my finger on,” Qui-Gon said slowly, pushing his food around on his plate. Obi-Wan couldn’t tell by his expression if he was relieved or worried by the fact that Xanatos was so carefully covering his tracks.
Not wanting to worry Qui-Gon further, Obi-Wan changed the subject to his bout with Anakin that afternoon, and they left the prickly topic of Xanatos and his possible new perfidy for another day.
It was late by the time they retired, but Obi-Wan could see a definite relaxation in Qui-Gon’s face and in Anakin’s shoulders. It was enough.
It had to be.
Before dawn, the signal on his comm. unit sounded. Another mission; another leave cut short. At least he’d had the day with his friends. He would take what he could get.
Anakin met him at the door as he headed out.
“Already?” he asked, disappointed.
“I’m afraid so,” Obi-Wan answered quietly. He inclined his head toward Qui-Gon’s bedroom. “Still asleep?”
“No,” came Qui-Gon’s answer through the door.
Obi-Wan shared a smile with Anakin then poked his head through the door. Qui-Gon sat up in bed, smiling at him through the dim light. “I see you have to go. So soon.”
“As the Council wills,” Obi-Wan quipped.
“Not this member,” Qui-Gon griped, then quickly shed his irritation with a shake of his head. “Be safe, Obi-Wan. May the Force be with you.”
“And with you, my Master,” Obi-Wan answered gently. Then he turned and left the room, giving Anakin a quick one-armed hug on the way out the door.
He didn’t see the affectionate blue eyes watching him as he left. Didn’t notice the ring of yellow fire that showed, for a heartbeat, deep in those eyes, as the affection tipped into lust.
Never knew he left a serpent in the heart of the Temple.
Xanatos had pushed for a grandiose gesture; the utter destruction of the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. When Maul pointed out this would mean Qui-Gon Jinn’s death, Xanatos was quick to rebut with a plan to abduct the Jedi Master and keep him from the mass murder of his brethren.
Maul had a better idea.
With their apprentice’s willing participation, Master Jinn was given one final outworld mission. The Hutts were causing problems out in the Rim, and the Council wouldn’t allow young Knight Skywalker to take on the mission as a solo operative, but they were willing to sent Master Jinn out to supervise his efforts.
It was a milk run, of a sort, since the Hutts wouldn’t directly challenge the Jedi in the open. Skywalker could use the opportunity to visit his mother, and Jinn would be out of the Council’s way while they dealt with the increasingly worrying ascent of Senator Xanatos to a position of power second only to the Chancellor in the Galactic Senate. The only reason they hadn’t acted before was to spare Jinn the pain of seeing his former apprentice targeted by the Order… and to spare themselves the argument with Master Jinn.
None of them, not even Yoda, felt the manipulation of the Force that ensured they would agree to the assignment of the mission.
Two nights into the journey, their apprentice and Xanatos’ pet Jedi master safe from harm, Lord Maul led the Separatist army of clones in a direct assault on the Coruscant Temple.
It wasn’t as risky a move as one might think. Over the course of the past few years the Sith had worked rapidly, fomenting unrest in the furthest reaches of the galaxy, forcing the Jedi to spread their most able fighters thinly on the front. Obi-Wan Kenobi, Maul’s own pet Jedi knight, was himself far from the epicenter of destruction, calming unrest to the best of his formidable ability on Thisspia, not realizing the crisis was manufactured specifically to get him out of the way.
The precipitating event, carefully coordinated with the Kaminoan traders and the clone commanders, was a special delivery to the Temple Council chamber as the Masters met to discuss the nearly overwhelming Separatist threat. Ki-Adi-Mundi accepted the packet of documents from the special courier, scanned them, and determined through the Force that they contained no threat.
It was his last mistake.
Rather than the intelligence reports they’d been expecting, the data sheets were coated with a micro-thin ultra-high explosive. Shaak Ti took the top sheet from the stack, and as she separated the filaments between the sheets caught fire, triggering an incredible release of energy.
A flash erupted.
No one heard Yoda’s agonized cry of “WAIT!”
Too late.
In an instant, the central column and core of the Coruscant Temple were completely destroyed. Light years away, in transit, Qui-Gon Jinn woke from a nap with a jolt of pain as his master and several hundred other Jedi abruptly became one with the Force. In the cabin next to his, Anakin Skywalker, known to his shadow masters as Darth Vader, smiled.
The clone army marched in.
The assault had begun.
The remaining Jedi were an exhilarating challenge, and one Maul relished. Xanatos led the flanking attack, in heavy disguise. The clones spread through the buildings like a plague, slaughtering Knight and Padawan and crècheling alike. Maul confined himself to strategy and those Masters still left alive.
It was over all too soon. Xanatos met him in the center of the Temple complex, clones falling into ranks behind the two commanders. Maul gave him an inquiring look. Xanatos nodded confirmation. Without a word, the Sith Lords turned and exited the Temple, leaving it awash with blood, no life left in the carnage.
The next morning, Senator Xanatos was one of several who rose in sympathy and solidarity with the scattered remains of the decimated Jedi order. While there were some Temples still active on various worlds throughout the Republic, they were in disarray given the sheer number of senior knights and masters killed in the attack, including nearly the entire Council. Given the lack of security and the impending threat of the Separatist movement, it was simplicity itself to convince the Galactic Senate to accept the help of the Outer Worlds Federation in securing the Rim worlds, leaving the Republican forces to protect the Inner Worlds.
All of which paved the way for the rise of the Empire in the Outer Rim and Separatist sectors. The Republic never saw it coming.