(A/N: If im being honest, im not sure how i feel about this chapter... please tell me what you think after reading it!)
=== Anakin ===
The space between them stretched, taut and fragile, as the minutes passed in uneasy silence. Dust continued to curl up from the ruined Senate spires to their side, and the distant thrum of repulsors and emergency craft filled the air like the low growl of a wounded beast. Anakin stood apart from Palpatine now, his thoughts churning, the words about Plagueis echoing again and again in his mind, refusing to settle. Ten minutes was all it took for suspicion to harden into certainty, for scattered fragments to align into something sharp and unmistakable.
Palpatine began to speak again, but Anakin cut him off.
The snap-hiss of an igniting lightsaber cut through the air, a blade of blue light flaring to life inches from Palpatine's chest. Anakin's stance was rigid, arm locked straight as he leveled the weapon at the man he had trusted for years. His face was pale, jaw clenched so tightly it ached, his eyes burning with a mix of fury and betrayal that threatened to spill over at any second.
"You're the Sith," Anakin said, his voice trembling not with fear, but with barely contained rage. "You're the one the Jedi have been hunting. Darth Sidious."
For the first time, Palpatine looked genuinely wounded, not angry, but hurt, as though a beloved grandson had accused him of something unthinkable. His shoulders sagged slightly, his hands lifting in a slow, placating gesture.
"Anakin," he said gently, almost sorrowfully. "If that is what you believe… then yes. I am Sidious. But I beg you, hear me out before you do something you cannot undo."
"I don't want to hear another word," Anakin snapped. "You're under arrest. I'm taking you to Coruscant's police authority right now."
Palpatine sighed, the sound weary rather than panicked. He did not move away from the blade. "And then what?" he asked calmly. "You bring me in, make your report, and within the hour I am released. I have broken no law, Anakin. None that still matters, at least." He tilted his head, studying the young Jedi with something like sadness. "And in the process, you destroy what trust remains between us."
Anakin's grip tightened on the hilt. "You manipulated the entire galaxy," he accused. "You orchestrated the war. The Republic, the Separatists, millions died because of you."
Palpatine's eyes hardened, just slightly, before softening again. He countered quietly, "I ended it. I destroyed the Separatists. I crushed their leadership. And look at the result." He gestured broadly to the smoking skyline. "Chaos. Destruction. Coruscant in ruins, not because of me, but because the Jedi abandoned it."
"That's a lie," Anakin said, though the certainty in his voice wavered.
"Is it?" Palpatine asked, his tone still calm, still reasonable. "When the Imperium struck, where were the Jedi? They fled. They left the heart of the Republic to burn. And who carried them away to safety?" He paused, letting the words sink in. "The Imperium itself."
Anakin's mind flashed to Qui-Gon's voice over the comm, to Alderaan, to Dooku's ship. His blade did not waver, but his breathing quickened.
"Yet, here I am. A Sith." Palpatine continued. "I stayed. I coordinated relief efforts. I held what little remained of the Republic together while the Jedi scattered. I am Sith, yes, but I have been loyal to the Republic in ways they never were."
"They were attacked," Anakin said. "Massacred."
"And yet," Palpatine replied gently, "they survived. Enough of them did. Enough to hide, to regroup. Ask yourself why the Imperium wanted them alive."
The question struck deeper than Anakin wanted to admit.
Palpatine took a careful step closer, ignoring the humming blade between them. "I am not your enemy," he said softly. "The Jedi are. They betrayed the Republic long before today. They betrayed you, by denying you the power to protect the ones you love."
Anakin's throat tightened. "Don't talk about her."
"But she is precisely why you must listen," Palpatine said, his voice lowering. "Padmé. And your children." He watched Anakin closely as that landed, saw the flicker of panic and protectiveness flash across his face. "If you strike me down now, the Republic collapses entirely. The Imperium will seize what remains, and there will be no one left to stop them. No Senate. No army. No stability."
"You're threatening me," Anakin said hoarsely.
"No," Palpatine replied. "I am telling you the truth from my perspective, because no one else will. Not the Jedi. Not your beloved Council who lay dead, who would rather see Padmé die than allow you the knowledge to prevent it."
The wind whipped around them, carrying ash and the distant cries of a wounded city. Anakin's arm trembled now, the weight of the moment pressing down on him until it felt hard to breathe. Every instinct screamed at him to strike, to end it here and now, but another voice, quieter and far more dangerous, whispered of Padmé screaming on cold metal, of children he had not yet held.
"If you kill me," Palpatine said softly, "you may save your conscience. But you will doom everything else. Including the people you love."
Palpatine finally took a step back, easing himself away from the humming blade. The blue light still bathed his face, carving deep shadows into the lines of his features, but there was no fear in his eyes, only a quiet, searching patience, the kind a man might use when giving someone space to breathe through an impossible choice. He raised his hands again, palms open, and let the silence stretch between them.
"Is this truly what you want, Anakin?" he asked at last, his voice low and steady, stripped of accusation or command. "To decide everything here, in the smoke and ruins?"
Anakin said nothing. The lightsaber remained ignited, but the fire behind his eyes had dulled, replaced by a storm of doubt and images he could not banish, Padmé screaming, Coruscant burning, the Temple halls slick with dried blood. Palpatine watched him closely, reading every flicker of hesitation, and then spoke again, softer still, as though confiding something precious.
"If you do not believe me," he said, "then do not take my word for it. Go to Alderaan. Speak to them yourself. Look into their eyes and ask them where their loyalties truly lie."
Anakin's brow furrowed despite himself.
"You know," Palpatine continued, "that the Grand Master's body was never found in the Temple. And yet Cin Drallig, loyal, steadfast Cin Drallig, remained behind. He did not flee. He did not accept rescue. He fought, and he most likely died in service to the Republic." His voice dipped, carrying a note of genuine gravity. "That is a fact, Anakin. One that deserves to be remembered."
Cin Drallig's stern face flashed in Anakin's mind, the image of a man who would never have bowed to the Imperium, never would have abandoned his post. If he was dead… then who, exactly… would lead the Jedi?
"And now," Palpatine went on gently, "those who remain are the ones who accepted Imperium aid. Those who boarded their ships. Those who were spirited away to safety while Coruscant burned." He paused, allowing the implication to take root. "Ask yourself why they were spared."
Anakin's grip loosened just a fraction. The blade dipped, barely perceptible, but Palpatine noticed.
"I am not asking you to trust me blindly," Palpatine said. "I am asking you to seek the truth for yourself. Go to Alderaan. Hear what they say. See what they have become without the Temple, without the Republic they claim to serve."
He took another step back now, increasing the distance between them, offering space rather than pressing advantage. "When you return," he added quietly, "I will be here. I am not running. I am not hiding. I will wait for your decision, whatever it may be."
The wind howled across the broken Senate platforms, tugging at robes and cloaks, carrying the scent of ash and scorched durasteel. Anakin stood frozen amid it all, torn between duty and doubt, loyalty and fear. Slowly, almost unconsciously, he deactivated his lightsaber. The blade vanished with a sharp hiss, leaving only the echo of its absence behind.
Palpatine inclined his head, not in victory, but in acknowledgment.
"Go," he said. "See the truth with your own eyes. Then decide who has truly betrayed the Republic."
=== Cin Drallig ===
Cin Drallig lay half-reclined on the medical slab, his teeth clenched so tightly his jaw ached. The Alderaanian medical droid worked in silence, servos whirring as it aligned the reinforced collar of the prosthetic with the ruined flesh of his shoulder. The stump of his right arm throbbed in time with his pulse.
Breathe, he told himself. Control. Discipline.
He stared at the far canvas wall of the tent, eyes unfocused, forcing his thoughts into neat lines the way he had taught generations of Jedi to do. Qui-Gon had done the right thing, he repeated internally. The younglings lived. Many knights lived. That mattered. That had to matter. Retreat was sometimes necessary. Even the Code allowed for—
The thought curdled before it could finish.
Images intruded unbidden: the Temple buckling inward, Astartes silhouettes framed by fire, the deafening roar of gunships tearing open sacred halls. Masters falling. Knights screaming. Cin Drallig standing his ground while others fled. While he stayed.
A whisper brushed the edges of his mind, so soft it barely felt like sound at all.
'They left you.'
His brow furrowed. He pushed the thought away, reaching for calm, but the whisper lingered, coiling around his anger, feeding it.
They chose themselves over the Order. Over you.
The droid's voice broke through his spiraling thoughts. "Attachment complete. Neural integration at eighty-seven percent. You may experience discomfort."
Discomfort. Cin almost laughed. As the machine activated the arm, sensation flooded in. It felt cold and alien where flesh should have been, followed by a strange, hollow responsiveness as the fingers flexed at his unspoken command. He raised the arm slowly, watching the metal hand curl into a fist.
The whisper grew clearer now, more confident.
'You stood and fought. You bled. You lost everything. And where were they?'
His breathing quickened despite himself. He remembered Qui-Gon's calm voice, telling him to rest. Go lie down. As though the Temple were not still burning. As though the Order had not been shattered in a single night.
"They should have come back," Cin muttered aloud, his voice raw.
The droid turned slightly. "Master Drallig, elevated stress detected. I recommend—"
"Silence," Cin snapped.
The word carried more than sound. The Force surged, dark and violent, ripping free from his control. The droid had no time to react before its chassis imploded inward with a shriek of tearing metal, crushed into a compact, sparking ruin that clattered to the floor.
Cin froze, chest heaving, staring at the wreckage. For a heartbeat, horror flickered across his face.
'What have I done?'
Then the whisper answered, no longer subtle, no longer hiding.
'You've finally stopped lying to yourself.'
Heat flooded his veins, not pain now, but clarity, terrible, intoxicating clarity. The anger that had been simmering since Coruscant snapped into focus, sharpening his thoughts, giving shape to his grief. He rose from the slab in one smooth motion, the new arm responding effortlessly, power humming through it like a living thing.
"They betrayed us," he said quietly, tasting the words. "They betrayed the Order."
Outside the tent, Alderaan's sky was impossibly blue, the contrast almost obscene. Cin stepped into the courtyard, boots crunching softly on pale stone. Everywhere he looked there was suffering, younglings huddled together under borrowed cloaks, eyes red and hollow; wounded Jedi lying on stretchers; knights staring into nothing, their faith cracked and bleeding.
His sorrow twisted, sharpened, and turned outward.
The Imperium did this, he thought. And they let it happen.
Then he saw them.
Qui-Gon Jinn stood beneath one of the Alderaanian pavilions, speaking quietly with Obi-Wan, Quinlan Vos, and Plo Koon. They looked tired… but they were alive.
Something inside Cin finally broke.
His steps carried him forward, each one heavier than the last, the Force around him tightening like a drawn blade. Obi-Wan sensed it first, turning sharply… but too late.
With a violent tug, Cin ripped Obi-Wan's lightsaber from his belt. The weapon flew into his waiting hand, its weight settling perfectly into his grip. He ignited it in the same motion, the blue blade snapping to life with a hiss that silenced the pavilion.
"Cin—!" Qui-Gon began.
Cin didn't hesitate. He brought the blade down in a killing arc, rage lending his strike terrifying speed. Qui-Gon barely managed to ignite his own saber in time, blue meeting green in a shower of sparks as the impact jarred both men to the bone.
The pavilion erupted into chaos. Jedi scrambled back, younglings screamed, and several masters drew their weapons on instinct, disbelief etched across their faces.
"Have you lost your mind?" Obi-Wan shouted, stepping forward.
Cin snarled, eyes blazing. "You did," he spat, "the moment you ran!"
He drove Qui-Gon back a step, saber locked against saber, their faces inches apart. "You abandoned the Temple. You abandoned the Council. You abandoned us!"
Qui-Gon strained against him, shock and sorrow warring in his expression. "Cin, listen to yourself. We saved—"
"You saved yourselves!" Cin roared, shoving him back with a surge of the Force. "While masters died screaming in the halls! While the Imperium butchered everything we stood for!"
Plo Koon raised a hand, his voice calm but urgent. "Cin, this is not the way! Stand down."
Cin turned on him, hatred burning hot and bright. "Do not preach to me about the way. I upheld it while you fled!"
He lifted Obi-Wan's saber, pointing it at the gathered Jedi, his voice ringing across the courtyard. "You betrayed the Order. And for that… you must die."
The Force churned around him, dark and volatile, as the Jedi masters slowly spread out, sabers igniting one by one.
He lunged without warning, a raw, howling scream tearing from his throat as he drove Obi-Wan's lightsaber forward in a brutal, overhand cut meant to split Qui-Gon in two. There was no finesse in it now, no measured elegance of a Jedi Battlemaster, only rage, betrayal, and the desperate need to make someone pay. The Force surged around him in wild, uneven waves, cracking stone beneath his boots as he committed everything to the strike.
Qui-Gon felt it coming an instant before it landed. He twisted sideways, robes snapping as the blade carved through empty air where his chest had been. Their sabers met with a violent screech as Qui-Gon caught the follow-through, turning his wrists and letting Cin's momentum betray him. The deflection sent Drallig stumbling past, his strike overextended, balance momentarily broken.
"Cin, stop!" Qui-Gon pleaded, even as he moved.
Drallig snarled and spun, fury lending him speed. The backswing came low and fast, the blue blade flashing like a viper's strike. Qui-Gon felt the heat an instant too late, pain exploded across his shoulder as the saber bit through fabric and flesh.
Obi-Wan shouted his name, starting forward, but Qui-Gon raised a hand without looking, forcing him back.
"I have him," Qui-Gon said through clenched teeth.
Cin pressed the advantage, raining down another savage blow, then another, each strike driven by years of discipline twisted into something cruel and relentless. Qui-Gon retreated under the assault, parrying, redirecting, feeling every vibration of impact echo up his arms. Cin's eyes were molten now, unfocused and feral, his breathing ragged.
"You left us!" Cin screamed, voice cracking. "You let them die!"
"We saved who we could!" Qui-Gon shot back, deflecting a strike inches from his face. "You know that!"
Cin answered only with another furious swing.
The opening came suddenly.
Cin overcommitted again, pouring too much Force into a downward strike meant to end it. Qui-Gon felt it, felt the imbalance, the desperation beneath the anger. He pivoted inside the arc of the blade, guiding it past him with a practiced twist of his wrists, and stepped forward.
The decision took less than a heartbeat.
"Forgive me," Qui-Gon whispered.
He drove his lightsaber forward.
The green blade pierced Cin Drallig's chest cleanly, just below the collarbone, emerging from his back in a hiss of vaporized air. The Force around Cin collapsed inward like a dying star. The sound of battle seemed to vanish all at once, replaced by a stunned, suffocating silence.
Cin froze.
For a moment, he simply stared down at the blade impaling him, his expression one of pure disbelief. The lightsaber slipped from his fingers, clattering harmlessly across the stone as his strength failed him. His knees buckled, and he would have fallen if Qui-Gon hadn't caught him.
Qui-Gon deactivated his saber and lowered Cin gently to the ground, cradling him.
"Why?" Qui-Gon asked softly, his voice breaking.
Cin's eyes fluttered, struggling to focus. For a fleeting instant, the rage seemed to drain from them, leaving only exhaustion… and pain. His mouth opened, as if he wanted to speak, to explain, to accuse, to confess… but no words came. Only a faint, shuddering breath escaped him.
His gaze lingered on Qui-Gon's face, searching, and for just a second there was something like regret there. Then the light faded as he went limp in Qui-Gon's arms.
===
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