COMMENT AND VOTE PLS U HUBRISTIC CONSUMERS!!

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

     IN HIS TYPICAL BOSSY FASHION, ANAKIN INSISTED THAT ARTIE SLEEP THE MOMENT THEY SET FOOT BACK ON THE SHIP.

     "It's probably going to take a few hours to fix, anyway," he reasoned, flatly ignoring her flummoxed stare.

     "Then you should let me help you," she argued, squaring her shoulders stubbornly.

     "If this is going to turn into a battle of wills," Obi-Wan cut in, "we'll be stuck here for the next year. Artie, you need to rest. You have no idea what you've just been through."

     It was true. Artie had little recollection of what she'd said or done in the last hour, but between Anakin constantly examining her eyes and Obi-Wan casting her cautious, sidelong glances, she could guess it hadn't been pretty.

     "Did I hurt anyone? Did I hurt either of you?"

     Obi-Wan shook his head firmly. "No."

     Anakin lifted a shoulder. "You did bodyslam me to the ground."

     "Oh. Sorry. . . ." Artie winced. She could tell he wasn't upset, he was trying for lightheartedness, but it didn't feel right. She was too distraught to laugh. "You know, I think you're right . . . I'm gonna go lie down."

     She turned her back on them and trudged defeatedly into the shuttle. The main hatch was opened and gutted to make way for the repairs, so she darted around the debris and shut herself up in the cockpit. Artie collapsed into the copilot's chair and stretched out her legs on the mainframe — it was lightless and still as a corpse. Despite herself, she snorted. Good luck, Ani.

      She had no plans to actually sleep, but her body got the best of her head and Artie slipped into a restless slumber filled with fleeting, nightmarish images. They were only flashes, but Artie saw awful scenes of dead children, murdered, massacred by the look of it; she saw the surface of a red planet stewing with magma as if she was a bird soaring over it — there may have been shouts, two figures darting in and out of her peripheral, but the scene changed too swiftly for her to be sure. It faded, the boiling lava and black landscape of the red planet disappearing and giving way to cold darkness. The shadow lifted and a white tomb carved from marble filled Artie's vision, beautiful likenesses of flora and fauna etched into the pearly sides. Flowers and various gifts were scattered across it, littered the ground in the surrounding yards. Whomever had died must have been greatly admired by many. The scene tilted, forcing her to look down at her own hands; she clutched a bouquet of purple flowers in her white fingers. She had known this person. She felt grief that she had no reason to feel, and yet . . .

Artie jolted awake. Anakin was knelt beside her.

"Kriff, Ani!" Artie hissed, jumping so abruptly she banged her knee against the control panel.

"Sorry, I'm sorry!" Anakin raised his hands to steady her, face half-apologetic and half-tilted in a smile. "I needed to talk to you."

"I was resting like you said to," she groused. She kneaded her palm into the side of her knee, trying to massage away the pain.

Anakin was quiet for a moment. He took her fingers in his and studied them. "I have to go out again."

At this, Artie straightened. Alarm and trepidation pounded through her immediately. "Why? You promised you wouldn't leave. You said —"

"It's the Son," Anakin insisted. "He's . . . he has to be contained here, and I think I was brought here to help the Father do that."

     "You said you wouldn't leave again."

     "I know." Anakin looked at her helplessly. "But I was thinking more, and —"

     "So your word means nothing?" Artie got to her feet. "You swore you'd stay with me while we were here. Everything awful has happened because we got separated. You say there's a problem? Let us help you solve it."

     Anakin's brow flattened. "There's much you don't know."

     Artie threw her hands up. "Then tell me!"

     "It's not that simple."

     "Yes it is." Artie sank back into the copilot's chair and pinned him beneath her stare. "I'm not Ahsoka, Ani. I'm not a child or someone you need to protect. I'm not going to be okay with everything you do just because it's you doing it. I'm a grown woman — I'm going to marry you, for kriff's sake. If you can't even be honest with me now, then . . ."

She trailed off. Anakin was still, very quiet for several moments, before taking her hands again and closing them in his own and bringing her knuckles to his lips. "I do need to protect you," he said softly. "I didn't tell you this before, but . . . the Son . . . he killed you, Artemis. You were dead. I saw you." His voice broke and he looked away from her, scowl deepening but mouth twisting like he was combating tears. "I lost you. It was Daughter's sacrifice that brought you back — I've never felt so helpless. The last thing I want to do is leave you here, but I can't go on knowing the thing that . . . that took you is alive, undefeated, and a threat to the rest of the galaxy."

Anakin touched a palm to her cheek and Artie blinked, so transfixed by the desperation in his lovely face that his words almost didn't register. She had died?

Anakin slid his fingers through her hair to rest on the nape of her neck. Artie wished she was used to him by now, but his touch still mellowed her, made her dizzy and nervous like she was eighteen again, not a general in a grand army. Anakin went on, "I know you aren't Ahsoka. I know how brave you are, Artie, and I know you don't need sheltering or protecting. But I think this . . . I think this planet has something to do with my destiny as . . . as the Chosen One." He winced; Artie knew he felt odd saying it out loud. "I feel very deeply that there's answers here for me. And I think seeking them out will be incredibly dangerous. That is not something I can knowingly put you through. I can protect you that much."

Artie gazed back at him. A million protests and objections brewed behind her lips, but she kept them down. She studied his features, so similar and yet so changed from the day they'd met. His hair had grown out, and Artie liked it so much it pained her. His eyes were still fierce and blue like disks of fire, but now a thin scar cut through the right one, slicing the brow-bone and his cheek below; it was a miracle his actual eye was untouched. Most of all, somewhere beneath the skin, Anakin had become much older. Artie could see it easily in the lines of his face, in the way his smile sometimes did not reach his eyes and how stern he could make his voice when addressing the 501st.

He was a man now, whether she knew what to do with that or not. Artie found herself suddenly inspired. She did not have to be all right with him leaving again, but she had no choice but to be an adult about it. If things went to hell again, and she expected them to, she would deal with them like the grown woman she so confidently claimed to be.

     So she met his stare. "I understand."

     Anakin looked relieved. "You do?"

     Artie nodded slowly. "I do. This is important to you, and even though I'm scared something might go wrong . . . I love you too much to keep you from it. If you need to do this, then do it. I have faith in you."

"Artie . . . I know I'm asking too much of you."

     "Yes," Artie agreed with a small laugh, "but this is what I get for getting involved with the Chosen One." She rolled her eyes teasingly. "Just promise me you'll be safe, sithhead. If I have to wait behind like an idiot and you end up dead, I don't want to have to tell your casket 'I-told-you-so'."

He grinned lopsidedly at her and climbed to his feet, halting halfway to stoop near her face. "I swear on my life I'll be safe," he whispered against her lips.

Artie's eyes fluttered. "Yeah, you better."

He kissed her and like so many of their kisses, it felt like a goodbye.

"If I'm not back in three hours, leave without me." Anakin was in the doorway, now, long gone from her.

Artie rested her chin on her fist. "That'll sure happen."

He looked like he wanted to be serious, and by all accounts his face was dark and certainly bothered, but he smiled down at Artie again. "I love you, Adhara."

Artie's cheeks pinked and she waved him off. "Yeah, I know you do, Skywalker."

He laughed softly and lingered a moment more. Then he disappeared, and Artie's spirit wilted and she was as glum as ever. Without Anakin there to distract her, she was forced to face what he had told her: She had died. For however many minutes, she had been dead.

     And that wasn't even the worst of it.

     Once she was sure Anakin had gone, Artie left the cockpit and darted through the main hatch. She found Obi-Wan outside, gazing out at the dark landscape stretched out before them and looking very troubled.

"Always on the move, isn't he?" Obi-Wan mumbled, sounding wistful and disheartened.

Artie stomped to the edge of the ship and sank to the floor, swinging her legs over the dying grass and struggling to find her next words. "He told me something disturbing," she said. "I want to ask you about it."

Obi-Wan turned around. "What did he say?"

"He said —" her voice caught. She though back to Anakin's tale, of how she'd been dead and lost. The notion was awful, but even worse was . . . "He said I'd died. After the Son used me. All I can remember is his touching my forehead and . . . and everything went dark. If I died, Obi-Wan . . ." Tears sprang into her eyes and her knees shook with dread. "There's nothing. It was like I stopped existing. It was so quiet and I — I felt alone. If that's all there is . . . it was so . . . so lonely. Empty."

She was fully crying now. Her whole frame trembled with sobs and on top of it all she was mercilessly embarrassed about crying in front of Obi-Wan. The Masters already detested her presence in the Order and she didn't like showing weakness to any of them, even her beloved friend.

     Obi-Wan came to stand before her. "Artemis . . . I wondered what happened to you as well. Yes, you did seem very dead . . ." he paused. "But I think Anakin's claim might be a bit speculative."

     Artie didn't know if she should be relieved or anxious all over again. "So . . . you think I was alive? I felt alive, but I didn't have any control. I couldn't move or even . . . think, really. It was just infinite stillness."

     Obi-Wan didn't answer her immediately. He watched the ground, smiled softly, folded his hands behind his back. When he spoke, his voice was gentle. "Do you believe in souls, Artemis?"

     She frowned. What a peculiar question. "Uh . . . I do. I do. Why?"

     "I think your soul — your life-force, that is. The part of you that's connected to the Force, your spirit and character and everything separate from your physical body . . . I think it was leaving your body, but it didn't quite get there." Obi-Wan sat down next to Artie. "I believe fate kept you in limbo. Your destiny is likely still approaching. Daughter's life-force ensured you could come back."

     The weight of his words hung heavy in the air. Artie wasn't sure what to say. So she hadn't been dead? Life after death wasn't eternal shadow? She smeared tears away from her eyes and took in an uneasy breath, something like relief flickering in her chest. "So I wasn't . . . I hadn't . . . gone?"

     "I don't believe so," Obi-Wan answered calmly.

     Artie smiled, then frowned. An awful thought struck her. "Why did Ani say I did? He told me he wanted to get . . . revenge, I guess, on the thing that killed me. If I didn't die, why would he lie to me?"

     So you'd let him leave again, a voice whispered in Artie's head. The idea stung and she balked at it, feeling so manipulated and enraged she could hardly see straight.

     Obi-Wan's voice settled her. "I don't think he lied. I saw his face, Artemis, when the Father told us there was no hope in saving you. I do believe he thought you were gone, for however short a time that might have been."

     Artie wondered if she correctly detected the implications in Obi-Wan's tone. She hoped not, but she was so exhausted and anxious the Order finding out about her and Anakin seemed like the very least of her problems, so she did not waste time on it.

     "It was cold," she said quietly. "Wherever I was."

     "But you're back here," Obi-Wan said firmly.

      Artie laughed dryly. "I don't know if that's much better. Is the ship even fixed?"

     "Anakin managed to get it working while you were asleep."

     "Oh." Artie snorted. "Just to spite me, huh?"

     Obi-Wan's eyes crinkled. "Probably."

They were quiet for a few minutes. Artie thought distantly of Coruscant and Padmé and Rex and Ahsoka, all their friends left behind. She wondered if they worried, if they were searching, and what would happen if they stopped. If she, Anakin, and Obi-Wan never found their way back, how long did they have until they became memories to all who knew them?

     She never got to ask Obi-Wan his opinion on that matter. Something appeared in her peripheral and they both looked up sharply.

     The Father stood tall and pale before him, eyes glowing green and hands folded rigidly behind his back. "I said you should leave this place."

     Artie and Obi-Wan shared a wary look. She truly felt like crying again. Obi-Wan jumped to his feet and took a slow step forward.

      "The ship needed repairs," he said coolly.

      The Father regarded them with something like pity, though it could have been smugness. For the sake of her irritation, Artie chose to believe it was the latter.

      She stood huffily and narrowed her eyes at the towering old man. "Why have you come back?"

      A cold flash of triumph crossed the Father's wrinkled gray face. "There has been a shift in fate."

     Obi-Wan's expression twisted from suspicious to aghast. "Where's Anakin?"

Artie's fingers and toes suddenly felt ravaged by needles, and dread snaked up her spine to settle heavy on her shoulders. She wanted to match Obi-Wan's demand, but her mouth remained stiff as if paralyzed.

The Father may have smiled. "He came to me for guidance, but at the crossroad, only he can choose. The Force will be his guide."

At his words, Artie's anger grew fierce enough that she found her voice. "What did you do?" she whispered.

"I have done nothing," the Father said edgily. "I am merely letting the will of the Force take place."

"Where is he?"

The Father considered them with something like disdain, as if he couldn't figure why they still had not cracked his master plan yet. "Your friend has gone to the Well of the Darkside."

He turned his white-less eyes on the horizon. Artie, in a frigid daze like she'd been dropped in a var of ice water, followed his gaze to a glowing black spire several miles ahead of them. Like a beacon it cast an eerie green light across the landscape, and the mere sight of it was enough to strike flaying terror in Artie's heart. Her knees knocked together her arms erupted in chills.

But she resolved to retrieve Anakin from that maw of blackness even if it killed her.

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