Murder the Dawn: Chapter Thirty Nine: Discovery and Revisions
In which the newly minted Darth Acheron goes to Mustafar to deal with the Separatists, and Anakin's day continues to get worse.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Author's Notes: This was actually a semi-difficult chapter to write. Hope you like. :) Also, anyone else think that the new LJ format looks a bit weird? Mostly the cut and everything. *Probably nitpicking*
Mustafar was a vision of hell.
Below, almost everything was pure metal and lava. Even now, Acheron could not help but wonder why the Separatists would choose to go to such a place. Desperation, he supposed.
Next to him, R2-D2 whirred and beeped. Acheron gave him a sympathetic smile. "I know, Artoo," he said, "But the Chancellor's orders were clear."
A faintly judgmental-sounding toodle.
"You'll need to stay behind this time, Artoo," Acheron said, softly. "I need to do this alone."
A plaintive beep.
"I know. But someone has to guard the ship."
It was almost funny how he had gone from seeing Artoo as just a droid to one of his dearest friends and companions. But even now, as they landed, as he cautioned Artoo to stay behind and watch the ship, Acheron could not help but feel a pang of regret that he couldn't bring Artoo along this time. But that was the way it had to be, he supposed. For duty's sake.
He only prayed the Force would now forgive him for what he was about to do.
***
It was arriving back on Coruscant, long after they managed to get past the remaining clone troopers (even now, Anakin hated it. Hated having to fight them - some would call it silly, but in a way, these troopers had become almost like his brothers during the war. Cutting them down felt almost like cutting out a part of himself), that he saw her. Even now, seeing Padme again, weary and almost haggard-looking and sad, he was overcome with relief and anger at the same time. In the end, he could only settle for a weak, almost exhausted, “Where were you today?”
“I’m sorry,” she said, so softly - almost just as inaudibly.
“Every moment we’ve fought this war you’ve been there,” Anakin said, fury beginning to rise in spite of himself, “Where were you today?” He knew it was unfair to blame Padme, and yet at the same time, even seeing the carnage, even seeing the Jedi Temple in flames, he felt almost sick.
“I was late,” Padme said, sadly. “I already sensed that they were going to attack the Temple. I tried to stop it, but...it was too late.”
Even now, Anakin walked towards her, placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I guess it’s just...” He took a deep breath. “It’s a bit too much to take in.”
“I know.” Even now, the way Padme spoke, it was almost as if she had known the sight too well. No doubt when Sidious had collected her at Naboo. Or on other missions.
Even now, turning towards Master Yoda, Anakin said, “We’re going to need to change the recall beacon. I...” He sighed. “I just hope I can still do it.”
It was entering the Temple that they saw movement. Anakin ignited his lightsaber, half-expecting it to be another clone, only to sigh in relief and deactivate it as soon as he saw Satine and Bail Organa. “Are the two of you all right?”
“We are alive, at least,” Satine said wryly, if almost...sadly. “Palpatine has declared himself Emperor. Now...now I doubt events could possibly get any worse.”
If long ago one had told Anakin that Palpatine, one of his dearest friends, would actually become Emperor and declare the first Galactic Empire, Anakin wouldn’t have believed it. If anything, Palpatine was (had been, really) a good man. A brilliant man, really, eager to preserve democracy and help the Republic. But this...
Anakin swallowed quickly, past the sudden lump in his throat. “We should get to work on changing the recall beacon,” he said, “I don’t think we have much time.”
Even now, seeing the interior of the Jedi Temple was enough to make Anakin almost want to vomit. To see the dead bodies of the Jedi spread out in such a manner, even the younglings -- why the younglings? Why did they have to kill the younglings as well? -- was enough to make him feel sick. Only Satine’s reassuring hand on his shoulder was enough to keep him from actually throwing up.
“How could they?” And even now, even though his words sounded so utterly hollow in the Temple, they were the only words he could truly say in the end. How could they? How could they do this? How --
Master Yoda said nothing. If anything, he seemed quiet -- too quiet. Even now, that scared Anakin -- to see the wise, powerful Master Yoda unable to truly say anything, not even a pithy word of advice
which he normally would have had some degree of issue with. now at the very least, he would have welcomed it.
was enough to break his heart.
Yoda knelt by one of the younglings’ bodies, a boy with reddish-gold hair, and closed his eyes. Even now, doing the same to a similar youngling, a young girl with dark brown hair, as well as Knight Serra Keto
All his friends and comrades, gone --
it was then that Anakin noticed. Some of the wounds on the bodies -- the wound on Serra Keto’s body, in particular, was too clean to be a blaster bolt. Could it be --
“No.” Even now, Anakin didn’t want to believe it. “No...it can’t be. One of our own would never -- ’’
“What do you mean, Anakin?” Padme sounded concerned now. “What’s wrong?”
“It looks like a lightsaber did this. But you -- you were off Coruscant at the time, right?”
“Yes.”
“Which means one of our own -- but who could have -- who would have -- ’’ Even now, Anakin felt nauseous, so nauseous, that he almost couldn’t think straight.
Creases seemed to appear on Yoda’s brow. “Know already you do.”
“No, I don’t!” But even now, something deep in Anakin said that Yoda was right. You already know. You just don’t want to admit it.
And how could he? Obi-Wan was a good man, a wonderful man, an honorable man -- he would never betray the Republic, or the Jedi Order. He couldn’t possibly --
“We should reset the recall beacon first,” Anakin said, “But after that...I want some answers, Master Yoda.”
“Answers would only bring you pain.”
“Then it is pain that I have earned. Please, Master Yoda.”
For a moment, he could have sworn that something along the lines of tears pricked Master Yoda’s eyes -- those inscrutable, unreadable eyes. “Very well. But reset the recall beacon we must -- by doing so, more lives we could save.”
“I know.”
The Clone Wars had already hammered this into him all too well. If anything, there were too many unpleasant memories involving it he would prefer to stamp out.
And yet...
It took simple mechanical skills, along with the work of the Force, to change the recall beacon settings, from COME HOME to RUN AND HIDE. Even now, Anakin could not help but somewhat sigh with relief. He may have been unable to save Serra and Aayla
and Ahsoka -- please, Ahsoka, be all right -- he had already lost her once at Mortis. he couldn’t afford to lose her again.
but at the very least, he could save more lives that way.
Even now, as he moved to check out the recordings, Padme placed a hand on his arm. “Anakin, you don’t need to go through with this if you don’t want to.”
“I know,” Anakin said, softly, “But I need to know who’s behind this. At the very least, we can get some answers.”
Padme merely nodded -- if anything, she seemed close to tears. If it had been Ahsoka or even Satine, he would have found some way to console them.
Perhaps with Padme, it wasn’t too late to start.
Even now, he could feel Padme’s surprise even as he drew her into a quick, reassuring hug; for a moment he was tempted to pull away, but she smiled instead.
“It’s all right,” she said, “I just...I haven’t really been hugged much. I...thank you.”
Anakin drew away from her, wondering, almost, what Sidious must have put her through. Perhaps he was better off not knowing that way.
Taking a deep breath, he activated the holorecordings. Even now, he could see a dark figure striding through the Temple almost like a ghost at a banquet, or a spirit of death, the wrath of the Sith itself, with clone troopers behind him. He could see the Jedi, saw Cin Drallig, the Temple lightsaber instructor
Obi-Wan’s lightsaber instructor
draw his lightsaber. “Younglings, quick! You need to leave!”
“We’re not leaving you, Master.” A younger girl, probably around eight or so, with short jet-black hair.
Anakin could see the look of sheer amazement on Padme’s face -- the amazement even as the younglings took up arms to help defend the Temple. And the subsequent look of shock as they were cut down, so ruthlessly, by the clone troopers’ blaster bolts, by the cloaked figure’s lightsaber.
Even now, Anakin wanted to turn off the recordings, wanted to stop it, but he couldn’t. Not now. He had to know who was doing this.
There was no mercy. Young and old Jedi alike, cut down by blasterfire or the blue blade of a lightsaber. And then, finally...
The cloaked figure stood there, solitary, almost sad -- almost ancient and alone. He turned to the clone troopers. “Go,” he said, in an all too familiar Coruscanti accent, “I need to check in with Lord Sidious. I’ll be back shortly.”
No. He couldn’t possibly --
But even now, as the figure removed his hood and knelt before the hologram of Lord Sidious, Anakin’s fears were confirmed.
It was Obi-Wan.
His master, a paragon for good, perhaps the bravest, kindest man that Anakin had ever known, had fallen to the Dark Side. He had betrayed the Republic and everything it had stood for. He had allied himself with the Sith.
No, Force, please, no -- make it stop --
“The traitors have been destroyed, Lord Sidious,” Obi-Wan said, and even now, Anakin could have sworn that his voice was trembling. As if he was on the verge of tears. “Peace has been restored to the Republic.”
“Good, good.” Even now, that voice sounded too familiar -- Palpatine’s voice. Palpatine was a Sith Lord now -- how could Anakin have missed it? How could they have missed it?
I shouldn’t have gone away. I should have stayed. At the very least...Sidious could have taken me in Obi-Wan’s stead. He doubted it would have been any better, he knew, but even so, at the very least, it could have stopped this.
“Now, Lord Acheron,” Sidious said, and even now, Anakin’s heart skipped a beat -- Acheron? So Obi-Wan was a Sith Lord now -- he didn’t know why this surprised him. “Go to Mustafar, and wipe out Viceroy Nute Gunray and the Trade Federation. Only then will our Empire have peace.”
Empire? No. No. But even those words confirmed to Anakin what somehow, he should have already known. The Republic had fallen. The world as he had known it had ended.
“I will,” Obi-Wan said, calmly, almost as humbly as he would have said such a thing back when they were still in the Jedi Order -- when he and Obi-Wan were on the same side. “My Master.”
“Good. Good.”
The hologram of Chancellor -- Emperor -- Palpatine, now Darth Sidious, winked out of existence. Obi-Wan stood, seemingly very old now, very tired, very -- bizarrely enough -- kind and sad, so at odds with what he had just done
betrayed the Republic, betrayed us all
and finally, Anakin brought himself to switch off the holorecording. He had seen everything he needed to see.
He was tired, so damnably tired -- he felt like he had swum the stormy seas of Kamino itself. At the very least, he almost wished that the clones had shot him, that they had ended his life on Utupau then and there; not that that would have changed anything, but even so --
They stood, for such a long while, looking at the now-ended transmission, before Anakin could finally gather the words necessary to speak. He never thought it would come to this. Obi-Wan, the perfect Jedi Knight, Obi-Wan, the consummate Jedi survivor, Obi-Wan, the perfect Jedi, Obi-Wan -
Even now, it was too much for him to take in. He could feel Padmè’s hand gently squeeze his shoulder, and Satine, dear Satine, seeming to try her damndest to not lose her composure...
“How could he?”
And even now, he realized how weak the words actually were, considering everything else. Nothing would be able to sum up the situation. Nothing ever would.
Nothing ever will.
Yoda, however, seemed as if he could have been carved from stone. “Warned, you were.”
“I know, Master Yoda. But...”
“Go on, Knight Skywalker.”
Even now, though, finding the right words was difficult. He didn’t know whom to condemn - the Order for being such fools, himself for not spotting the warning signs
but how could he have even known, after all? Obi-Wan was far too good at disguising his emotions. A benefit - or a curse, depending on your point of view - of being in the Order for far too long - you lose yourself.
or…
Maybe there was no one to condemn. And yet, somehow...
“I should have just let him kill me.”
“What?” Satine’s voice cut through the silence - her usual composure was gone, replaced by sheer shock that Anakin would even suggest such a thing.
“On Geonosis. I should have just let Dooku kill me - or that space battle above Mandalore - at least I wouldn’t have been a burden to him then.” Even now, Obi-Wan’s words from the transmission echoed in his mind - soon I shall be strong enough - as well as Anakin’s own words to Qui-Gon before they left for Mandalore. I don’t want to be a problem…
And yet he was. He could still feel the occasional stabs of jealousy from Obi-Wan at times, and even now…
“Hardly your fault this was.” Yoda’s voice was hard, however, completely at odds with the seeming gentleness of his words. “Chose this, Master Kenobi did.”
“How can you say that about him? He…he looks to you as the father he never had - ’’
“True, this is,” Yoda said, his voice seeming to soften. And for a moment, Anakin could have sworn that he saw not the wise, inscrutable, borderline frightening (at least as a child, though he tried not to show it) Jedi Master that he was useful, but simply, almost, a tired, weary creature, ancient and kind, yet sad, worn down by the betrayals of both his beloved pupils. He seemed to be the least happy with Dooku’s death, if only because of what it represented. And even now, looking into Yoda’s eyes, Anakin knew what he had to do.
He was the Chosen One, after all. And if he could not take down Sidious, what kind of Jedi was he?
“Send me to kill Sidious,” he said. “I won’t fail you. I promise.”
Even now, he could still remember his words at Shmi’s gravesite - words that seemed to return if only to taunt him. I promise, I won’t fail again…what a bitter joke…
“Ready to face Lord Sidious, you are not - and never will be.”
“Send me to face him! I can’t - I won’t kill Obi-Wan.” There was too much history between them to simply throw away in one duel.
“I will go with you,” Satine said. “He is, after all…he is very important to me.”
And even now, Anakin could sense it - clear as day. Satine’s pregnancy - he had no doubt who was the father.
“I’m sorry, Satine,” he said, “I am so sorry.”
“There is no time for apologies,” Satine said. “I will go with you.” She paused. “But what of you, Master Yoda? What will become of you?”
“Go, I will, to face Lord Sidious.”
“But you’ll never survive! He managed to kill multiple Jedi on his own - what chance will you have?”
“True that is,” Yoda said, “But apart - a chance we may yet create.”
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Author's Notes: This was actually a semi-difficult chapter to write. Hope you like. :) Also, anyone else think that the new LJ format looks a bit weird? Mostly the cut and everything. *Probably nitpicking*
Mustafar was a vision of hell.
Below, almost everything was pure metal and lava. Even now, Acheron could not help but wonder why the Separatists would choose to go to such a place. Desperation, he supposed.
Next to him, R2-D2 whirred and beeped. Acheron gave him a sympathetic smile. "I know, Artoo," he said, "But the Chancellor's orders were clear."
A faintly judgmental-sounding toodle.
"You'll need to stay behind this time, Artoo," Acheron said, softly. "I need to do this alone."
A plaintive beep.
"I know. But someone has to guard the ship."
It was almost funny how he had gone from seeing Artoo as just a droid to one of his dearest friends and companions. But even now, as they landed, as he cautioned Artoo to stay behind and watch the ship, Acheron could not help but feel a pang of regret that he couldn't bring Artoo along this time. But that was the way it had to be, he supposed. For duty's sake.
He only prayed the Force would now forgive him for what he was about to do.
***
It was arriving back on Coruscant, long after they managed to get past the remaining clone troopers (even now, Anakin hated it. Hated having to fight them - some would call it silly, but in a way, these troopers had become almost like his brothers during the war. Cutting them down felt almost like cutting out a part of himself), that he saw her. Even now, seeing Padme again, weary and almost haggard-looking and sad, he was overcome with relief and anger at the same time. In the end, he could only settle for a weak, almost exhausted, “Where were you today?”
“I’m sorry,” she said, so softly - almost just as inaudibly.
“Every moment we’ve fought this war you’ve been there,” Anakin said, fury beginning to rise in spite of himself, “Where were you today?” He knew it was unfair to blame Padme, and yet at the same time, even seeing the carnage, even seeing the Jedi Temple in flames, he felt almost sick.
“I was late,” Padme said, sadly. “I already sensed that they were going to attack the Temple. I tried to stop it, but...it was too late.”
Even now, Anakin walked towards her, placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I guess it’s just...” He took a deep breath. “It’s a bit too much to take in.”
“I know.” Even now, the way Padme spoke, it was almost as if she had known the sight too well. No doubt when Sidious had collected her at Naboo. Or on other missions.
Even now, turning towards Master Yoda, Anakin said, “We’re going to need to change the recall beacon. I...” He sighed. “I just hope I can still do it.”
It was entering the Temple that they saw movement. Anakin ignited his lightsaber, half-expecting it to be another clone, only to sigh in relief and deactivate it as soon as he saw Satine and Bail Organa. “Are the two of you all right?”
“We are alive, at least,” Satine said wryly, if almost...sadly. “Palpatine has declared himself Emperor. Now...now I doubt events could possibly get any worse.”
If long ago one had told Anakin that Palpatine, one of his dearest friends, would actually become Emperor and declare the first Galactic Empire, Anakin wouldn’t have believed it. If anything, Palpatine was (had been, really) a good man. A brilliant man, really, eager to preserve democracy and help the Republic. But this...
Anakin swallowed quickly, past the sudden lump in his throat. “We should get to work on changing the recall beacon,” he said, “I don’t think we have much time.”
Even now, seeing the interior of the Jedi Temple was enough to make Anakin almost want to vomit. To see the dead bodies of the Jedi spread out in such a manner, even the younglings -- why the younglings? Why did they have to kill the younglings as well? -- was enough to make him feel sick. Only Satine’s reassuring hand on his shoulder was enough to keep him from actually throwing up.
“How could they?” And even now, even though his words sounded so utterly hollow in the Temple, they were the only words he could truly say in the end. How could they? How could they do this? How --
Master Yoda said nothing. If anything, he seemed quiet -- too quiet. Even now, that scared Anakin -- to see the wise, powerful Master Yoda unable to truly say anything, not even a pithy word of advice
which he normally would have had some degree of issue with. now at the very least, he would have welcomed it.
was enough to break his heart.
Yoda knelt by one of the younglings’ bodies, a boy with reddish-gold hair, and closed his eyes. Even now, doing the same to a similar youngling, a young girl with dark brown hair, as well as Knight Serra Keto
All his friends and comrades, gone --
it was then that Anakin noticed. Some of the wounds on the bodies -- the wound on Serra Keto’s body, in particular, was too clean to be a blaster bolt. Could it be --
“No.” Even now, Anakin didn’t want to believe it. “No...it can’t be. One of our own would never -- ’’
“What do you mean, Anakin?” Padme sounded concerned now. “What’s wrong?”
“It looks like a lightsaber did this. But you -- you were off Coruscant at the time, right?”
“Yes.”
“Which means one of our own -- but who could have -- who would have -- ’’ Even now, Anakin felt nauseous, so nauseous, that he almost couldn’t think straight.
Creases seemed to appear on Yoda’s brow. “Know already you do.”
“No, I don’t!” But even now, something deep in Anakin said that Yoda was right. You already know. You just don’t want to admit it.
And how could he? Obi-Wan was a good man, a wonderful man, an honorable man -- he would never betray the Republic, or the Jedi Order. He couldn’t possibly --
“We should reset the recall beacon first,” Anakin said, “But after that...I want some answers, Master Yoda.”
“Answers would only bring you pain.”
“Then it is pain that I have earned. Please, Master Yoda.”
For a moment, he could have sworn that something along the lines of tears pricked Master Yoda’s eyes -- those inscrutable, unreadable eyes. “Very well. But reset the recall beacon we must -- by doing so, more lives we could save.”
“I know.”
The Clone Wars had already hammered this into him all too well. If anything, there were too many unpleasant memories involving it he would prefer to stamp out.
And yet...
It took simple mechanical skills, along with the work of the Force, to change the recall beacon settings, from COME HOME to RUN AND HIDE. Even now, Anakin could not help but somewhat sigh with relief. He may have been unable to save Serra and Aayla
and Ahsoka -- please, Ahsoka, be all right -- he had already lost her once at Mortis. he couldn’t afford to lose her again.
but at the very least, he could save more lives that way.
Even now, as he moved to check out the recordings, Padme placed a hand on his arm. “Anakin, you don’t need to go through with this if you don’t want to.”
“I know,” Anakin said, softly, “But I need to know who’s behind this. At the very least, we can get some answers.”
Padme merely nodded -- if anything, she seemed close to tears. If it had been Ahsoka or even Satine, he would have found some way to console them.
Perhaps with Padme, it wasn’t too late to start.
Even now, he could feel Padme’s surprise even as he drew her into a quick, reassuring hug; for a moment he was tempted to pull away, but she smiled instead.
“It’s all right,” she said, “I just...I haven’t really been hugged much. I...thank you.”
Anakin drew away from her, wondering, almost, what Sidious must have put her through. Perhaps he was better off not knowing that way.
Taking a deep breath, he activated the holorecordings. Even now, he could see a dark figure striding through the Temple almost like a ghost at a banquet, or a spirit of death, the wrath of the Sith itself, with clone troopers behind him. He could see the Jedi, saw Cin Drallig, the Temple lightsaber instructor
Obi-Wan’s lightsaber instructor
draw his lightsaber. “Younglings, quick! You need to leave!”
“We’re not leaving you, Master.” A younger girl, probably around eight or so, with short jet-black hair.
Anakin could see the look of sheer amazement on Padme’s face -- the amazement even as the younglings took up arms to help defend the Temple. And the subsequent look of shock as they were cut down, so ruthlessly, by the clone troopers’ blaster bolts, by the cloaked figure’s lightsaber.
Even now, Anakin wanted to turn off the recordings, wanted to stop it, but he couldn’t. Not now. He had to know who was doing this.
There was no mercy. Young and old Jedi alike, cut down by blasterfire or the blue blade of a lightsaber. And then, finally...
The cloaked figure stood there, solitary, almost sad -- almost ancient and alone. He turned to the clone troopers. “Go,” he said, in an all too familiar Coruscanti accent, “I need to check in with Lord Sidious. I’ll be back shortly.”
No. He couldn’t possibly --
But even now, as the figure removed his hood and knelt before the hologram of Lord Sidious, Anakin’s fears were confirmed.
It was Obi-Wan.
His master, a paragon for good, perhaps the bravest, kindest man that Anakin had ever known, had fallen to the Dark Side. He had betrayed the Republic and everything it had stood for. He had allied himself with the Sith.
No, Force, please, no -- make it stop --
“The traitors have been destroyed, Lord Sidious,” Obi-Wan said, and even now, Anakin could have sworn that his voice was trembling. As if he was on the verge of tears. “Peace has been restored to the Republic.”
“Good, good.” Even now, that voice sounded too familiar -- Palpatine’s voice. Palpatine was a Sith Lord now -- how could Anakin have missed it? How could they have missed it?
I shouldn’t have gone away. I should have stayed. At the very least...Sidious could have taken me in Obi-Wan’s stead. He doubted it would have been any better, he knew, but even so, at the very least, it could have stopped this.
“Now, Lord Acheron,” Sidious said, and even now, Anakin’s heart skipped a beat -- Acheron? So Obi-Wan was a Sith Lord now -- he didn’t know why this surprised him. “Go to Mustafar, and wipe out Viceroy Nute Gunray and the Trade Federation. Only then will our Empire have peace.”
Empire? No. No. But even those words confirmed to Anakin what somehow, he should have already known. The Republic had fallen. The world as he had known it had ended.
“I will,” Obi-Wan said, calmly, almost as humbly as he would have said such a thing back when they were still in the Jedi Order -- when he and Obi-Wan were on the same side. “My Master.”
“Good. Good.”
The hologram of Chancellor -- Emperor -- Palpatine, now Darth Sidious, winked out of existence. Obi-Wan stood, seemingly very old now, very tired, very -- bizarrely enough -- kind and sad, so at odds with what he had just done
betrayed the Republic, betrayed us all
and finally, Anakin brought himself to switch off the holorecording. He had seen everything he needed to see.
He was tired, so damnably tired -- he felt like he had swum the stormy seas of Kamino itself. At the very least, he almost wished that the clones had shot him, that they had ended his life on Utupau then and there; not that that would have changed anything, but even so --
They stood, for such a long while, looking at the now-ended transmission, before Anakin could finally gather the words necessary to speak. He never thought it would come to this. Obi-Wan, the perfect Jedi Knight, Obi-Wan, the consummate Jedi survivor, Obi-Wan, the perfect Jedi, Obi-Wan -
Even now, it was too much for him to take in. He could feel Padmè’s hand gently squeeze his shoulder, and Satine, dear Satine, seeming to try her damndest to not lose her composure...
“How could he?”
And even now, he realized how weak the words actually were, considering everything else. Nothing would be able to sum up the situation. Nothing ever would.
Nothing ever will.
Yoda, however, seemed as if he could have been carved from stone. “Warned, you were.”
“I know, Master Yoda. But...”
“Go on, Knight Skywalker.”
Even now, though, finding the right words was difficult. He didn’t know whom to condemn - the Order for being such fools, himself for not spotting the warning signs
but how could he have even known, after all? Obi-Wan was far too good at disguising his emotions. A benefit - or a curse, depending on your point of view - of being in the Order for far too long - you lose yourself.
or…
Maybe there was no one to condemn. And yet, somehow...
“I should have just let him kill me.”
“What?” Satine’s voice cut through the silence - her usual composure was gone, replaced by sheer shock that Anakin would even suggest such a thing.
“On Geonosis. I should have just let Dooku kill me - or that space battle above Mandalore - at least I wouldn’t have been a burden to him then.” Even now, Obi-Wan’s words from the transmission echoed in his mind - soon I shall be strong enough - as well as Anakin’s own words to Qui-Gon before they left for Mandalore. I don’t want to be a problem…
And yet he was. He could still feel the occasional stabs of jealousy from Obi-Wan at times, and even now…
“Hardly your fault this was.” Yoda’s voice was hard, however, completely at odds with the seeming gentleness of his words. “Chose this, Master Kenobi did.”
“How can you say that about him? He…he looks to you as the father he never had - ’’
“True, this is,” Yoda said, his voice seeming to soften. And for a moment, Anakin could have sworn that he saw not the wise, inscrutable, borderline frightening (at least as a child, though he tried not to show it) Jedi Master that he was useful, but simply, almost, a tired, weary creature, ancient and kind, yet sad, worn down by the betrayals of both his beloved pupils. He seemed to be the least happy with Dooku’s death, if only because of what it represented. And even now, looking into Yoda’s eyes, Anakin knew what he had to do.
He was the Chosen One, after all. And if he could not take down Sidious, what kind of Jedi was he?
“Send me to kill Sidious,” he said. “I won’t fail you. I promise.”
Even now, he could still remember his words at Shmi’s gravesite - words that seemed to return if only to taunt him. I promise, I won’t fail again…what a bitter joke…
“Ready to face Lord Sidious, you are not - and never will be.”
“Send me to face him! I can’t - I won’t kill Obi-Wan.” There was too much history between them to simply throw away in one duel.
“I will go with you,” Satine said. “He is, after all…he is very important to me.”
And even now, Anakin could sense it - clear as day. Satine’s pregnancy - he had no doubt who was the father.
“I’m sorry, Satine,” he said, “I am so sorry.”
“There is no time for apologies,” Satine said. “I will go with you.” She paused. “But what of you, Master Yoda? What will become of you?”
“Go, I will, to face Lord Sidious.”
“But you’ll never survive! He managed to kill multiple Jedi on his own - what chance will you have?”
“True that is,” Yoda said, “But apart - a chance we may yet create.”