Anakin slipped noiselessly into the bedchamber of San Hill whilst the Sullustan city slumbered. He watched the chest of the Banking Clan representative steadily rise and fall whilst he resided in a deep sleep, blissfully oblivious to the dark cloud that suddenly overcast his future. The vanity of Hill was evident in the luxury of his abode, a room filled with the finest drapery and furniture, the large four poster bed in which he slept being the very centre of this opulence.

Anakin snuffed at this, shaking his head pitifully at the inert character. As a Jedi, he’d been raised without finery or comfort. As a slave before that, he’d had even less of such things. The rich and vain almost disgusted him.

He took a hold of his lightsabre once again and paced closer to the unsuspecting aristocrat. As he reached the bedside, he crawled onto it, until he stood pinned over San Hill on all fours. With the utmost care and precision, he angled his lightsabre down over Hill’s heart, then, lowering his head by San’s ear, he whispered, “Wakey, wakey.”

Hill groaned, his eyes flickering open, filled with a confused daze. When his sight finally focused on Anakin and he looked into the dark, turbulent depths of the young Padawan’s eyes, then saw the gaping mouth of the sabre hilt ready to unleash itself into his chest, he gave a terrified whoop and began to desperately wriggle away; Anakin, however, was faster still, and he clamped Hill down by the throat with his metallic limb, tightening his grip until no sound could escape the scrawny Separatist’s maw; “Go on, “ he then hissed, glaring so hard at San that the banker feared the boy’s gaze may burn a hole through him, ”I dare you to make another noise.”

Hill felt the boy prod him in the ribcage with the waiting lightsabre again, and he swallowed slowly, opting to keep quiet. Recognising this submission in Hill, Anakin slowly released his throat and watched the banker try to collect himself, completely at his mercy. Sweat gathered on his high forehead, and he trembled all over; “What do you want?” he finally managed to stutter, turning his sunken gaze onto Skywalker, “Just, please, don’t kill me, Master Jedi! Please! I beg you!”

Anakin smirked proudly as he heard himself addressed as ‘Master Jedi’, though had to simultaneously try not to burst into a fit of laughter as San clasped his hands together and prayed to him frantically. “Are you in charge here?” he finally uttered, his tone completely at ease.

San nodded rapidly, “Yes, sir, yes!”

“So where is Count Dooku?”

“The Count…?”

“Your true leader? Or have you forgotten him already? It seems that you feel as though you’ve already replaced him, treating yourself with such revolting luxury as all this…” Anakin gestured about himself, his lip upturned in true disgust.

“No, I could never replace him – would never!” Hill gibbered in terror, sweat pouring down his already pale and damp visage, “I wouldn’t – this is just the hospitality of the Sullustans, I assure you!”

Ani rolled his eyes and hauled San up by the collar of his nightshirt, “Your master, where is he?” he repeated, teeth clenched, “I don’t care about the rest!”

“He’s not here!” San replied, putting his hands infront of his eyes, as though it would somehow protect him.

“I can see that, you fool!” Anakin bellowed, tearing San’s hands away from his face, “Where is he now?!” He shook the already shaken banker violently, reducing Hill to a wailing, quivering mess.

“Naboo! He was going to Naboo!” San cried, giving in, clutching his head in his hands.

Ani loosened his hold on San slightly, “With Padmé Amidala?” he continued.

“Yes, yes, yes!” San nodded as he sunk onto the mattress, terrified of the vicious Jedi, “Please, just don’t hurt me! Please!” He broke down into a fit of tears and Anakin quickly dropped him with aversion, wanting rid of him as though he were some highly infectious creature.

“You’re not worth my time,” he seethed, “You’re not worth anyone’s time.”

Hill raised his eyes a little as Anakin began to sidle away, feeling an ounce of relief begin to trickle within him. Suddenly, however, Anakin halted, looking into space, “But, perhaps I should take mercy on other people,” he murmured.

San frowned, confused.

Anakin turned back to him, “Perhaps I should make sure that you don’t waste anyone else’s time.”

Hill didn’t even have time to squeal before Anakin’s green blade tore through his abdomen, and he lay still forever, killed in the centre of his own extravagance.

“Naboo,” Anakin murmured to himself as he crawled back along the shaft that had brought him into the banker’s chamber, “I have you now, ‘my friend’.”

*****************************************************************************

Obi-Wan’s eyes tore open and he shot up in bed, “Anakin!!” he cried.

He ran his hand over his face – it was covered in sweat, and he could feel his heart racing and pounding in his chest. He swallowed, his senses heightened, his mind alert. Something was wrong.

He looked around his chamber, a faint draft blowing over him from the huge ventilation shaft in the ceiling; he couldn’t wait to leave this planet. He felt rather claustrophobic, stuck under the surface. He wanted to feel proper, fresh air on his face again – and even Coruscant would do for that. As long as he could see a sky.

He swung his legs over the bedside and shook his hair out, moving it away from his eyes; he felt uneasy, he felt anxious, he felt…

“Anakin…”

*****************************************************************************

It all felt so wrong, so warped, as though reality was having a laugh. Padmé watched the glorious green and blue orb of home fill the viewscreen of the shuttle, looming ahead in all its grace and glory. But she came here, not as a friend or national, but as something of an enemy, as a coercer, as one trying to get it to join the rebel side of the war before the Republican tug-of-war team woke up and came back into the fray.

She sighed, rubbing her temples – she wasn’t appreciating this irony: the planet she had once defended as a steadfast Republican she now came back to as one of the very secessionists she once refused to ever join, having handed it over to the Separatists without their knowledge or permission.

“Are you certain that you’re not unwell?”

She tried not to roll her eyes as she turned to Dooku, “Will you back off?” she snapped.

“Certainly, madam,” he returned, himself trying not to grin, “I apologise for being too forward.”

She turned away from him again and he returned his gaze to Naboo as he piloted the craft.

“You are an aloof young lady, aren’t you?” he said.

“No one can help how they were moulded.”

“It’d do you no harm to –“

“ ‘Open up’ – yes, I’ve been told a million times! Back off!!”

“I say, we are in foul humour…”

“Are you thick-skinned or just thick?” she rejoined, spinning an angry glare onto him, “I mean, wouldn’t you be in a ’foul humour’ if you’d betrayed your home planet, especially when they’d trusted you so much?”

“I know it hurts,” he said quietly, calmly turning away from her, “But we all have to make decisions during our lives that hurt, we all have to suffer hardships, and we all have to then get over it. Just let the fact that you know you’ve made the right decision reassure you.”

She shook her head, “But what I’m doing isn’t right. And you know it.”

“Do I?”

“Yes.”

He shrugged lightly, “If you say so, madam.”

Padmé and Serenn were alone on this venture, but Gunray was but a few parsecs away, his Federation fleet hovering near the planet Umgul. He would be at Dooku’s heel the moment he was called. Naboo was in a lose-lose situation, and there was nothing they could do about it; they would join the Separatists or suffer.

*****************************************************************************

“Murder!! MURDER!!”

Kenobi rose his head, mouth gaping, and rushed across his chamber, hammering the button by the door, desperately bidding it to open. Surely enough, it did, and he leapt out into the hallway, just in time to see the back of a short Sullustan rushing frenziedly down the corridor; “Murder! Murder!” it continued to cry, arms flailing, “The Jedi have murdered!”

Obi swallowed his heart, “No, Anakin,” he involuntarily found himself muttering, “No… no…”