"Why do I feel you're going to be the death of me?"

"Don't say that, Master. You're the closest thing I have to a father."

Hadn't Anakin once called him that, long ago in the Underworld of Coruscant? Hadn't he used that exact word, 'father', to describe the man who had raised him from a fearful slave boy into a powerful Jedi? And hadn't Obi-Wan, a barely noticeable moment of weakness, let the title linger in the air without rebuke or a lecture on attachments? He had, he now remembered. He had seen Anakin's automatic habit of latching onto people; and Obi-Wan had, for the first time of many to follow, allowed himself as well to accept the fact that Anakin was more than just an apprentice, more than just his partner. 'Father and son', as Anakin had put it, had been the closest metaphor so far to describe the infamous team Kenobi and Skywalker.

And even now, while Obi-Wan felt there was still something missing from that description, it indeed seemed quite accurate. Because the sudden pain that stabbed his inner gut and mind, the horrific agony that screamed at him through the Force… this could only be triggered by some familial betrayal. When Dooku had left the Order and joined the Sith, it hadn't been this personal. This deep. And when Qui-Gon had died, he had grieved; but also took slight comfort in the fact that his beloved mentor had died honorably, nobly, right into oneness with the Force.

Anakin wasn't dead… but he wasn't alive either, at least, not as Obi-Wan partner, best friend, other half. Not as Anakin Skywalker. Because only the light side of the Force could bring life, give life, create life; and Anakin wasn't with that side anymore. The darkness, the Sith parasite Ventress had spoken of, was surrounding the young man, penetrating his Force-signature. Transforming what had once been Anakin's beacon of light into a deadly, heated, destructive inferno.

Master and apprentice stared at each other for several minutes, before the latter spoke quietly, "I thought you were dead."

Obi-Wan found that speaking was rather difficult to achieve when there was a lump as large as Naboo in his throat. While he managed to swallow thickly and blink away the haze in his mind, all he could manage was a confused, "Anakin?" in reply before lapsing back into a suffocating silence.

Anakin's eyes suddenly dimmed as all the raging emotions were suddenly swept off his face. Obi-Wan was now facing a stone, hollow ghost of his old friend. But it was better than the fire he'd seen earlier. "You shouldn't be here," the younger man whispered. "I was going to fix everything, and now it's all complicated."

It was the emptiness in that voice, usually so full of mischief and energy, that finally spurred Obi-Wan on to take a cautious step forward, trying to appear as calm as possible. Trying to ignore the fact that his partner was leading an entire battalion of treacherous clones into the Jedi Temple. "I seem to have developed a habit of coming back from the dead," he said, forcing a light tone, hoping it would cut through the darkness all around. "Honestly, Anakin, I'm gone for a few hours, and I return to find Coruscant in an uproar. What have you done this time?" Stay calm, stay collected, stay sharp. Get information first, piece together all the clues of the puzzle, before tackling the gundark in the room. "I'm afraid I'm rather in the dark here, Padawan." No pun intended.

Anakin didn't return Obi-Wan's feigned smile. He remained eerily monotone as he answered, "I'm fixing everything, Master. Making everything okay again." A pause. "I thought you were dead," he repeated.

Well, Anakin, it's nice to know that as soon as my heart stops you go off and create complete chaos. And possibly join the Sith side, so… He knew he was rambling, stalling, and he refocused his attention. "What is it exactly that you're fixing, Anakin? What are you doing?"

One of the clones, a commander that Obi-Wan did not recognize, stepped closer to the dark Jedi. "Lord Vader, should we execute 66 on the Jedi?"

Lord Vader. Obi-Wan felt snakes squirming in his gut as Anakin so easily responded to the strange, chilling title. "No, commander, that will not be necessary." Anakin's now dull-blue eyes fell onto him again. "This Jedi is not a threat."

What are you saying? That the other Jedi are a threat? "Anakin, what…?"

At that moment, a blur of movement caught everyone's attention. A short, lean figure – a Jedi youngling no older than thirteen – dashed out from behind a stone pillar and sprinted towards several parked speeders nearby. Obi-Wan watched, confused, as the child nearly made it to his destination; his concentration was diverted when he spotted five clones raising their blasters, taking aim at the child.

No. He lunged forward. "NO!"

The guns roared, and the Jedi youngling fell to the ground, five holes maiming the small body.

Anakin watched the scene emotionlessly; at least, appearing so. "See?" he whispered, voice flat and dejected. Defeated. "I'm fixing everything."

xXx TWENTY MINUTES EARLIER xXx

"Looks like fun, doesn't it?"

"You're not being very helpful at the moment, Ventress."

"Oh, don't be a lemon, Obi-Wan. Weren't you always the one looking for the silver lining in situations like these?"

"Yes, well… all former situations didn't involve world war or mass genocide."

"Well, look on the bright side – you're on your way down into that chaotic mess to, theoretically, rescue your boy and save the day. So why not do so with a smile?"

Obi-Wan shot her an uncharacteristic little glare.

She responded with a sickly smile. "Don't be like that, dear. Simply trying to make conversation."

"I must say your timing leaves much to be desired," he replied dryly. "May we please focus?"

She grinned wider, but didn't say any more. Instead, they returned to silently crouching down on top of an evacuated office skyscraper, watching the multiple lasers ignite the surface below. The bright blue shots of the clones, men that had once been so loyal and that had made all of the Republic feel that much safer, now slaughtered civilians in the Coruscanti streets, gunning them down like the massacres from the Old Republic.

How? How, how, how, how, HOW? That was the only word truly registering in his mind. That, and the little whispers in the Force that screamed at him of danger, pain, and most importantly of all, Anakin. His Padawan's Force-signature hummed throughout the atmosphere, leaking through the Master's mental shields, sending chills up his spine.

He forced the feeling out of his head, focused on how Ventress was pulling two grapnel lines from her utility belt, handing one to him. "I'll swing down with you, help you attain a speeder, and then we part our ways."

Old nagging suspicion from the early months of the Clone War surfaced, and his frown deepened. "Might I ask where we're going?"

She gave a sagging, sweet grin. "You might not."

He sighed, and got a better grip on the grapnel blaster. "I probably don't even want to know."

"No. No, you probably don't."

xXx PRESENT xXx

The body of the youngling dropped to the asphalt with a wet slapping sound, a bloody thud. It seemed to happen in slow motion, but when the sound finally hit his ears, it echoed throughout his mind and resonated through the webbing of his nerves. The dark pool of blood that began leaking from underneath the body shimmered in the artificial white light from the Temple's outside spotlights. For the briefest of moments, Obi-Wan was twelve years back in time, trying to talk down an outraged Council while Anakin – sporting a magnificent black eye – stood nearby, expression of perfect contrition marring the abused face. The other boy from the fight still lay motionless on the floor, a Healer and the youngling's Master all hovering over the child's prone, unconscious form.

"I'm sorry, Master. I didn't mean to hurt him. It just… happened."

"I understand, Padawan, just as I understand that you do not fully understand your power with the Force. But the reason for your actions, your emotions… THAT is what we must discuss."

Oh, if only he could count all the times situations had just… happened… during Anakin's late childhood.

Anger. Confusion. Fear. The Force was afire, as was Obi-Wan's mind as he tore his gaze from the dead youngling to Anakin's pale, graying face. He opened his mouth, then closed it at a total loss for words, and then just let his jaw go slack.

Anakin met his gaze for only a moment before he dull blue orbs fell downward to stare at the concrete.

The clone commander from before shifted his gun, inconspicuously leveling it at Kenobi. "Lord Vader, the position has become insecure. Should we proceed?"

The words sent tension throughout his already wired muscles, and his sweaty palm subconsciously slid over the cold steel of his lightsaber.

Anakin's half-lidded eyes – they seemed glazed over and unfocused, as if under the influence of some Underworld narcotic – flickered over toward the commander. They danced over to Obi-Wan quickly, then back to the clones. He opened his mouth to reply, but Obi-Wan cut him off.

"Anakin… what are you doing?" It was all he could manage.

Anakin, however, did not seem to hear him. Instead, he just have this weak head nod, and suddenly all the clones were moving forward, one body, a wave of white armor and black blasters as they strode towards the doors of the Temple.

No. No, no, no, no, no, no… The sight sent terror streaming through his veins, and he rushed forward, blindly, not thinking of anything at that instant except that these men, these traitorous men, were moving in on the only place he had ever thought of as home. The only place left that was relatively safe in the war-torn galaxy. His lightsaber ignited in the palm of his hand, and he swung it high through the air in a vibrant blue arc as he lunged.

He wasn't expecting the counter-blow, so the impact sent him flying backwards – only Jedi influenced reflexes saved him from slamming his back against the ground. Channeling the Force, he landed unsteadily on his feet; looking up, his blood chilled and the air in his throat suddenly tasted stale and sour.

"I'm sorry, Master," Anakin said quietly, eyes flashing, undead. "But I can't let you stop them." The younger man's grip on his activated lightsaber tightened visibly. Obi-Wan cringed, whatever control he had had left crumbling.

"Why do I feel you're going to be the death of me?"

"Don't say that, Master. You're the closest thing I have to a father."

Anakin's blade was red.