=== Anakin ===
The shuttle's engines howled softly as Anakin brought his personal craft down toward one of Alderaan's many landing pads, the polished metal beneath it catching the sunlight and throwing it back in pale gold reflections. His hands were steady on the controls, but there was a tightness in his chest that hadn't loosened since he'd left Coruscant.
Qui-Gon Jinn was already waiting at the edge of the pad. He stepped forward instinctively, arms opening as if to pull him into an embrace, relief plain on his face.
Anakin stopped short and bowed instead.
"I'm… glad to see you alive, Master," he said evenly.
Qui-Gon's arms lowered slowly, confusion flickering across his features before being smoothed away. "Anakin," he said gently, studying him now with sharper attention. His gaze lingered on the black glove encasing Anakin's left hand, then traced the pale burns that scarred the left side of his face. "You were injured."
"The explosion," Anakin replied. "At the Senate."
Qui-Gon's brow furrowed. "The Force was turbulent. We felt something… terrible had happened." He shook his head faintly. "We were fortunate to escape the Temple when we did. Once things settle, I'm sure we'll be able to return. The Order will rebuild."
Anakin said nothing. He turned and began walking instead, forcing Qui-Gon to fall into step beside him. They moved along a gently curving path that hugged the edge of a rise, the city's elegant architecture giving way to open air and distant greenery. For a long stretch, only the sound of their footsteps and the distant hum of Alderaan's traffic filled the silence.
When they reached the edge of the ledge, the Jedi encampment came into view below them. A cluster of pale pavilions had been erected on a wide green, Alderaanian banners fluttering softly beside temporary landing beacons. Jedi moved between the structures, knights, masters, younglings, some speaking in hushed tones, others sitting in quiet stillness, wrapped in blankets or meditation.
They descended together, and the moment Anakin stepped into the encampment proper, Obi-Wan looked up. His face lit with relief as he hurried forward. "Anakin," he said, stopping just short, eyes scanning him much as Qui-Gon had. "Thank the Force."
Others followed, Plo Koon inclining his head, a few masters offering murmured greetings. Anakin acknowledged them, but his attention kept drifting, cataloguing faces, counting who was present… and who was not.
"I want you to explain it again," Anakin said abruptly, his voice cutting through the low murmur. "How you escaped."
Obi-Wan blinked. Qui-Gon turned toward him. "Anakin, I've already told you—"
"I know," Anakin said, meeting his gaze at last. "I just want to hear it again. Every detail."
Qui-Gon hesitated, studying him. "Why does that matter so much to you?"
Anakin's jaw tightened. "Because I walked through the ruins of the Temple," he said quietly. "I saw what was left behind. And I want to understand how the Imperium knew the exact moment to send a ship to extract you."
A subtle shift went through the gathered Jedi. Qui-Gon's eyes narrowed slightly, not in anger, but in concern. "They didn't extract us. They offered transport. We had seconds to decide."
"And you trusted them," Anakin said.
Qui-Gon frowned. "It was an offered solution for survival. There were younglings, Anakin."
Anakin exhaled slowly, then nodded once. "I understand that," he said. "But you have to see how it looks." He paused, then spoke the words that had been burning in his chest since Palpatine had planted them there. "I'm concerned that some of you may be considering… aligning with the Imperium."
For a moment, the encampment felt utterly still.
"That's preposterous," Qui-Gon said immediately, a sharp edge entering his voice. "We are Jedi."
Anakin's eyes hardened. "Is it?" he asked quietly.
Qui-Gon stared at him. "Anakin—"
"You left Coruscant with an Imperium agent," Anakin pressed. "Dooku sent the ship. The Temple was annihilated, and the only Jedi who survived were the ones who fled with Imperium help." His gaze swept the camp again. "That's not a coincidence."
Obi-Wan took a step forward. "Anakin, you're not thinking clearly—"
Anakin turned away from them, his attention caught by something scorched into the stone near the edge of the encampment. Blackened marks scored the ground, patterns unmistakable to anyone trained in the Force. He walked toward them slowly, crouching slightly to examine the damage.
"These are lightsaber burns," he said.
Qui-Gon followed, realization dawning. "Cin Drallig," he said quietly.
Anakin straightened. "What happened?"
Qui-Gon hesitated, then answered honestly. "He arrived here… angry, grieving. He lost control. Fell to the dark side. He attacked us."
"And you killed him," Anakin said.
"We defended ourselves," Qui-Gon replied, a note of pain slipping into his voice. "I didn't want it to end that way."
Anakin looked at him, eyes unreadable. "Cin Drallig attacked you," he repeated slowly. "And so you killed him."
"Yes," Qui-Gon said. "Anakin, where is this coming from?"
Anakin turned away again, hands clenching at his sides. Images flickered through his mind, Palpatine's calm voice, the ruined Temple, the bodies, the unanswered questions. "I just… need to be sure," he said at last. "Everything feels wrong."
Qui-Gon stepped closer. "You've been through a great trauma," he said gently. "Physically and emotionally. You're injured, exhausted—"
"I'm fine," Anakin cut in, too quickly. He took a breath and forced his voice to steady. "I just need a moment. Alone."
Qui-Gon studied him for a long second, clearly unconvinced, but he nodded. "Very well," he said softly. "We're here when you're ready."
Just as Anakin turned away from the encampment, intent on putting distance between himself and the survivors, a new presence pressed down on him through the Force. The sound followed a heartbeat later, a deep, resonant thrum that rolled across the landing fields and set tents fluttering as heads turned in unison. He paused despite himself and glanced back as a second ship descended from the clouds, its silhouette stark and unfamiliar, far more angular and imposing than the vessels the surviving Jedi had arrived in. It did not drift or hesitate as it came down, but committed fully, engines flaring as it settled onto one of the landing pads.
Qui-Gon stopped mid-step, confusion flickering across his features as he turned toward the ship, his hand tightening slightly at his side before he started forward to see who had come. Anakin watched from a short distance away as the ramp lowered with a hiss, revealing darkness within, and then a tall, cloaked figure emerged, silver hair catching the light as Count Dooku stepped into view.
He was accompanied by towering Astartes in heavy armor and Mandalorian guards in battle-worn plates, but they remained near the ship, spreading out just enough to establish a perimeter while Dooku alone advanced to meet Qui-Gon. The sight sent a murmur through the encampment, tension rippling outward as more Jedi gathered, drawn by instinct and unease.
Qui-Gon stopped a few paces from Dooku and inclined his head in a small bow. "Master," he said quietly, the word carrying a weight of old loyalty and unspoken questions. Hondo arrived moments later, curiosity written plainly on his face, and Dooku turned just long enough to acknowledge him. "You did well," Dooku said, his tone measured, almost approving, before his attention returned fully to Qui-Gon. For a moment, Qui-Gon looked as though he did not know how to respond, his hands lifting slightly before falling again, and Dooku spread his arms, palms open, as if searching for the right words.
"What happened at the Temple was a tragedy," Dooku said at last, his voice calm but carrying easily across the landing pad. "I will not pretend otherwise. Lives were lost, and history will remember it as a dark day." He paused, eyes never leaving Qui-Gon's. "But it needed to be done." Qui-Gon's brow furrowed, pain and disbelief crossing his face, and Dooku inclined his head fractionally. "For that pain, I am sorry. Truly. Yet you must understand, the Jedi were hiding Vulkan from the Imperium. They treat him not as a man, but as a god. You hid him away, and that deception could not be allowed to stand, and so… the Temple fell."
"Why?" Qui-Gon asked, his voice tight but controlled. "Why not negotiate? Why not speak to us, come to us openly, instead of sending soldiers to butcher the Order?" Dooku's expression did not change as he answered. "Because negotiation was never an option," he said simply. "That is not how the Imperium does things."
He turned then, addressing the growing circle of Masters and Knights who had gathered close enough to hear every word. "Know this," Dooku said, his voice firm. "The Imperium is prepared to offer mercy. It was only the Council who hid Vulkan, only they who defied us, and they are now dead." A murmur of shock and disbelief rippled through the survivors, some stepping back as if struck. "You are not them," Dooku continued. "And so you will be given a choice. A single chance to join the Imperium under the guidance of the Grand Regent Nira… and myself." He let that sink in before adding, "Those Masters who have joined us in the past have found a freedom the old Order denied them. They have grown stronger, wiser, unshackled by dogma, and they have seen improvement beyond what the Council ever allowed."
"You expect us to believe that?" Qui-Gon demanded, stepping forward again, anger finally bleeding into his tone. "That we would join the very people who slaughtered our Order and turned the Temple into ruins?" Dooku met his gaze without flinching. "We killed those who fought us," he replied evenly. "And the Council members who orchestrated the deception. No more."
Qui-Gon turned sharply to Plo Koon, searching his face. "Did you know?" he asked. Plo Koon shook his head slowly. "No," he said, his voice low. "I knew of the planned attacks on the Temple and the Senate, nothing beyond that." The admission only deepened the unease in the air. Qui-Gon faced Dooku once more, his jaw set. "And the Senate?" he asked. "The bomb. Was it truly necessary to destroy it?"
Dooku's answer came without hesitation. "We planted no bomb," he said. "Our objective was the Chancellor's office alone." Silence followed, as Anakin stood at the edge of the gathering, every word etching itself into his mind. He could no longer listen, and walked away.
He walked back toward his ship alone, the noise of the encampment fading behind him until only the soft whisper of Alderaan's wind remained. Each step felt heavier than the last, as though the Force were pressing in from all sides, tightening around his chest. He reached his ship and stopped, one hand braced against the hull, head bowed. For a long moment he simply stood there, breathing slowly, trying, and failing, to still the storm inside him. Then, with a sharp exhale, he reached into his cloak and pulled out a small communicator.
The hologram flickered to life almost instantly. Chancellor Palpatine's image resolved in soft blue light, his expression shifting the moment he saw Anakin's face. "My boy," Palpatine said gently, concern threading through his voice, "you look troubled. Are you alright?" Anakin did not answer right away. His jaw tightened, his gaze drifting somewhere past the hologram, back to the landing pad, to Dooku's words, to the stunned faces of the Jedi Masters. "You were right," he said finally, his voice low and strained. "The Imperium has offered the Jedi a place within it. They're trying to bring them over."
Palpatine's eyes widened, the shock on his face seeming genuine, and he leaned forward slightly. "That is… grave news indeed," he said slowly. "If the Jedi were to ally themselves with the Imperium, the balance of power would shift catastrophically. Tell me, Anakin… what do you believe should be done?" Anakin's fingers curled around the communicator, knuckles whitening. "I don't know," he admitted. "But I do know this, the Jedi cannot be allowed to join the Imperium. If they do, the Republic won't survive. They have to be stopped."
A long silence followed, heavy and deliberate. When Palpatine spoke again, his tone had changed, growing quieter, more intimate. "There is only one way to ensure that," he said. "If you truly wish your children to be free… if you wish the Republic to endure, then the Imperium cannot gain the Jedi as an asset."
Anakin said nothing, his silence stretching as the words sank deep, lodging themselves in places he had tried so hard to keep untouched. Palpatine continued, his voice calm, almost sorrowful. "I know this is not an easy choice. But we are already standing on the brink of destruction. Think of Padmé, Anakin. Think of the future you want for her… for your children. Hard choices must be made when everything we love is at stake."
The hologram shifted slightly as Palpatine straightened. "I will send a regiment of clones," he said. "And a few… others, to assist you in what must be done. You will not be alone." His gaze softened, and he gave a small, knowing nod. "For the greater good, the Jedi must be destroyed. I know you will make the right decision."
The transmission cut off, the hologram collapsing into nothing, leaving Anakin alone once more. He stared at the dark glass of his ship, his reflection faintly visible on its surface, scarred, exhausted, and utterly changed. The Force surged around him, no longer a gentle current but a roaring inferno, and as he lifted his head, something within him finally gave way. His breath came slow and steady, unnaturally calm, and when his eyes opened fully, the blue was gone, replaced by a molten, burning yellow that reflected the fire now consuming his soul.
===
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