Anakin stumbled out of the Coruscant Opera House and into his speeder. If his fatigue levels were to be converted to the equivalent blood alcohol percentage, he would not have been allowed to drive, but no-one on Coruscant gave a kriff as to whether a Jedi was fresh or fatigued, so he was not obstructed as he started the engine and pulled out into the skylanes. Coruscant's traffic was utter bantha poodoo as always, but he did not witness, participate in, or cause any accidents, and the few near misses he saw did not involve him in any way, so he considered that a win.
He'd have to comm Padmé and ask if she was doing all right. She might have dumped him, but he had moved on, so that meant he was allowed to comm, right? Palpatine had been pretty concerned.
He should also at some point tell Palpatine that they weren't together. He realized he'd missed an opportunity when Palpatine had been all "You can save your wife!" but in his defense, it had been months since he last slept properly. Though it would be quite embarrassing to tell Palpatine that he and Padmé broke up last year, so he should try to do that before the break-up anniversary. Which was coming up in a few months. He should probably hurry up.
Though deep inside, Anakin could also admit that the reason he hadn't shared his new relationship status with Palpatine, friends though they might be, was because he panicked when authority figures – like, say, the Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic – disapproved of something he did or said. And for reasons unclear to Anakin, Palpatine didn't like Mace Windu.
The street opened up into the plaza dominated by the Jedi Temple. Anakin brought his speeder in and ran up the stairs.
The Temple was bathed in the golden light of dusk, painting everything soft and wondrous. On another day, Anakin might stop to drink in the sight and perhaps meditate a bit; today, Mace had promised him dinner and they would finally get to sleep in the same bed after nightmare-ridden months apart.
Mace had programmed his doorpad to let Anakin in – and that still made his heart skip a beat – though Anakin knocked out of politeness before letting himself in. The smell of roast swamproot hit his nose.
"Smells delightful," he said.
"Hello, Anakin," Mace said. "Excellent timing; dinner is just about ready."
Anakin waited until he'd levitated the hot container out of the oven and onto the table before stepping in to claim his welcome home kiss. His spirit immediately relaxed, like water being let out of a Force hold and into the shape of its container. "Have I told you yet how much I love you?"
"It's been at least several hours." Mace smiled and pressed a quick kiss to Anakin's lips. "But let's eat before the food gets cold."
When he had food placed in front of him, Anakin discovered he'd been mind-dumbingly hungry. He horked down the roast swamproot and laver pilaf with a liberal amount of jerra chutney. Cyslin Myr had taught her padawan everything about cooking – though as a Mirialan, she had been a herbivore, so Mace could make the most delicious of meals, provided no animal products were involved.
After that, of course, Anakin spent a quarter hour in a food coma while Mace washed the dishes. He thought he might've fallen asleep for a moment, but then the familiar dread crept up on him and he jerked awake before the Force could bombard him with more images of Mace dying.
"Are you all right?" Mace asked after placing the final dish on the drying rack.
"It's still the same nightmare," Anakin said. He sat on the couch and cradled his head in his hands. "Every time I close my eyes, it's there."
Mace sat down next to him and put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "Has it changed?"
Anakin shook his head. "No. Still the same."
Still the same nightmare, Mace Windu screaming as Sith lightning hit him and falling to his doom more than half dead. Under Mace's guidance, Anakin had tried to probe the vision for any clues, and had come to the conclusion that it happened on Coruscant, perhaps in the Chancellor's office or near it, and Mace was missing his sword hand. The vision, however, was extremely hostile to any attempts at interpretation, and whenever Mace himself tried to reach into Anakin's mind to take a peek, it was as if the Force shoved him away with prejudice.
"I'll be careful," Mace promised again. He'd also agreed to take backup when feasible.
Anakin sighed and stretched out. "I know."
Mace put an arm around him and tugged him in. Anakin went with no resistance, bonelessly slumping against him with all the limber bonelessness of a twenty-two-year-old who did his stretches.
"How was the opera?" Mace asked. "I know you didn't care for the one Drant Argus bubble opera we caught on the holonet, but apparently they were doing one of the classics today."
"I came halfway through and the Chancellor wanted to speak to me. I guess it looked pretty?" Anakin shrugged. "I think he was worried about Senator Amidala. I should probably give her a call at some point."
Mace began stroking Anakin's hair, which made Anakin lose what little structural integrity he still had left and melt against Mace's side. Had humans been capable of purring like Togruta were, Anakin would've been going at it like a well-tuned swoop engine.
"Oh, and the Chancellor told me some Sith legend thing," Anakin added. "The Tragedy of Darth Plagueis the Wise? Apparently he could manipulate midichlorians to create life but got killed by his apprentice. I wasn't really paying attention."
Mace's hand stilled. "Darth Plagueis? I don't believe I've heard that." He pulled his datapad to him with the Force. Anakin let himself be rearranged and didn't look too closely as Mace typed in the various passwords that got him into the Masters access in the Archives and then the tightly guarded section that dealt with the Sith. He didn't even pretend he wasn't looking when it came to searching the records, though.
Plagueis turned up no results in any reasonable spelling. The files on Sith experiments didn't mention midichlorians, and the file on midichlorians didn't contain anything beyond some notes on some esoteric Sith theory about how midichlorians should be worshipped as gods.
"How complete are the records?" Anakin asked.
"Everything relating to the Sith is legally property of the Jedi Order, and Jocasta digitises her documents with care." Mace tapped a finger against the datapad's edge. "And I do not recall any recent seizures of Sith artefacts or documents."
Anakin frowned. Where would the Chancellor have heard a Sith legend so obscure the Jedi Archives had never known it? "He has a lot of friends. Maybe one of them is kind of sketchy and tried to curry favor with some unreported Sith stuff?"
"Did he speak of a contact who might have acquired some contraband?"
"No," Anakin said as he went over the encounter again. It took on a much more ominous tone. It's not a story the Jedi would tell you.
-the Chancellor's office, Mace's hand still grasping his lightsaber as it was cut off and flew through the shattered window, an abrupt blast of lightning from just out of the vision's field of view that had Mace screaming as he fell and fell and fell-
"Anakin?"
Anakin gasped for breath. He was in Mace's apartment, in Mace's arms, Mace was safe and alive and not in immediate danger.
"Deep breaths," Mace said and led Anakin through a breathing exercise Anakin remembered from his very first days as a padawan.
"It's the Chancellor," Anakin said. "The Chancellor is the Sith Lord we've been looking for."
Mace cupped Anakin's cheek. "That ... is disturbing."
"He got elected due to the Naboo Crisis, which the Sith caused, but even with him as the Chancellor none of the charges against the Trade Federation stuck. And the Separatist Crisis started and bloomed into a war on his watch as well. Isn't the war the only reason he still in office? And Padmé was always concerned about the Republic's institutes eroding, and you and Obi-Wan are too, and Palpatine's getting all these executive powers." Anakin felt the words come out of his mouth so fast he stumbled over them. It was like the Force had given him a moment of perfect crystal clarity, and he needed to express it before the clouds hid the sunbeam once more. "And, uh, I forgot to tell him about us, or that Padmé dumped me, so he keeps talking about how concerned he is for her and actually he's always been telling me that I shouldn't put too much stock in the Jedi way of doing things and-"
"Breathe," Mace admonished. He stroked Anakin's cheek with his thumb.
Anakin shuddered and rested his face against Mace's palm. He let his eyes close, lashes fluttering against Mace's skin. "What are we going to do?"
"Remove him from office," Mace immediately replied. "He's a Sith and a war profiteer. I doubt he wishes to be Chancellor during an eternal war; he must have some plan now that Dooku's dead and the war seems to be winding to a close. – Was he not the one who told us where Grievous was?"
"I don't think it's a trap for Obi-Wan," Anakin said with Force-borne confidence.
"He's eliminating the Separatists." Mace brought his other hand to Anakin's face as well. "We have to go arrest him before he can enact his plan."
"We don't have any evidence," Anakin pointed out. "All you have is my suspicions."
"They're enough for me," Mace said in a tender tone.
Anakin took Mace's absolute trust like a punch in the gut. He gasped and shuddered, overwhelmed, and pushed forward until he was straddling Mace's lap, chest to chest, and mashed their lips together. He couldn't think of anything but a pressing need to merge, to become one.
Finally he leaned his forehead against Mace's and breathed. Mace's hands had fallen to his waist, thumbs working circles into Anakin's skin.
"If you arrest him without cause it'll be unlawful and he'll get away with improved publicity," Anakin said.
Mace was silent for a moment. "What do you propose, then? If we kill him we will become wanted criminals."
Wanted for treason, too. Anakin took a deep breath. "I think we should plot. I mean, I don't think he knows we know, so we have some time. Tea?"
Mace smiled. "You know where the nysillim is."
Anakin pressed a final kiss to Mace's lips and rose. He didn't see a way out beyond leaving everything behind, but maybe Mace would with some time to think.
And even if they didn't... Anakin could live with that. He'd want to leave some message for Obi-Wan, but they could pick up Ahsoka and go find Mom and help her in her endeavors in Hutt Space. But even without that, he'd happily leave everything and become an outlaw with Mace.
But all that was dependent on them surviving the encounter. He turned on the kettle and closed his eyes, bracing himself for the Force's onslaught of death.
It never came.
Anakin threw himself into all the dark corners of the Force where the vision had lurked, hounding his waking moments and tormenting him in his slumber. It wasn't in any of them. He plunged into the Force-
-and saw Mace, lightsaber out, demonstrating something for an Ahsoka a few years older than how Anakin had last seen her. They were in the hold of some spaceship. Anakin saw himself at the door, leaning on the doorjamb and smiling fondly.
"The vision's gone," Anakin said when he blinked open his eyes to the sight of Mace's kitchen.
"Perhaps realizing the Sith Master's identity was enough to change it away from inevitability."
Anakin felt Mace slide a hand onto his shoulder as he measured the nysillim. "I hope so." Countless nights' insomnia weighed on him and his ability to hope. Though actually... "At least I should get a good night's sleep."
Mace kissed his neck. "Good."
The kettle clicked and Anakin poured water into the pot. He spared a moment to be grateful about Mace being in his life as the nysillim turned the water red.
Tomorrow, they would have to face Palpatine. The risk would be great, but Anakin would follow Mace anywhere – including into exile or into death.