Quick disclaimer; I own nothing. The characters, ships, and planets in this story all belong to Disney and Lucasfilm.

Author's note: I apologize for the lapse between updates. I thank anyone who continues to read my tale and hope all of you enjoy the next chapter. All reviews are appreciated.

Perseverance: A Mace Windu Adventure

Chapter Three: Regret

Obi-Wan Kenobi sat in the conference room of the Tantive IV with his head buried into his hands. Both were ridden with ash and dust, while also shaking ever so slightly. His tunic was shredded and wrinkled, marked with numerous slashes and dark smears. His boots had been semi-filled with volcanic rock from Mustafar, carving into his skin with every movement he made. The entire planet almost still seemed to be around him.

He could feel the heat radiating from the soles of his boots. He could smell the burning, smokey scent that had filled the air around him. He could see the bright flows of red-orange lava oozing in every direction.

He could hear the cries of agony surfacing from his former Padawan.

No, not his Padawan. His brother. His friend. His son.

He still couldn't comprehend the fact that just a few days ago, Anakin and he had spoken casually. A week ago, Anakin had saved his life.

But, a day ago, Anakin had attempted to kill him.

And he had, in turn, left him to die.

Enough.

He had already reflected on this subject extensively, and he could no longer bear it. He needed to move on from such loss, just as he had after Qui-Gon's death.

"Keep your concentration on the here and now, where it belongs."

It was what his Master had told him a countless number of times, and they were the very words he was attempting to apply to his thoughts now.

But it was hard.

How could he stop thinking about the boy he practically raised, the teenager he constantly instructed, and the man he had battled side-by-side with throughout the entire course of the war?

The man he had loved and trusted. Whom had been in his sight at nearly all times. They had laughed together more times than he could count. They had been in more hopeless situations than he could comprehend.

Now, he was just gone.

And everything that is gone is useless to mope over.

For his whole life, he had been trained to let go of everything he feared to lose. To abstain from creating attachments that may hinder his thoughts and actions.

He had almost managed to apply this lesson to all aspects of his life, but with Anakin, he had failed to do so.

Anakin had been his only true attachment.

And he was punished substantially as a result.

If he had just been a little less lenient, or been a better example, or treated him with more warmth at first…

Maybe, then, he wouldn't have gone over to the Dark Side.

The here and the now.

Qui Gon's words rattled through his mind.

He sighed and cleared himself of any somber thoughts, raising his head to glimpse his surroundings.

The entire room was radiating white. Merely staring at the gleaming walls strained his tired eyes. Black control dials with multi-colored buttons and switches were loosely scattered about. The table before him was occupied by several empty chairs; only one of which was inhabited by another.

Yoda sat to his right, on the opposite end of the table. He latched onto his gimer stick in a cross-legged position, his eyes closed while in a tranquil sequence of meditation.

Obi-Wan reached out to feel the infinite light emitting from the Jedi Master.

It was comforting. Soothing. It was partly what was keeping him sane in a time like this.

After experiencing so much darkness, destruction, and betrayal, feeling something so good and so alleviating was inexplicably delightful.

In a time where the light in the galaxy was covered by the ensnaring curtain of the dark side, confirming its continual existence was relieving.

No, it was necessary.

Because Obi-Wan needed it to persist. He needed it to guide him and to keep him away from the darkness.

The light was his life, it was what fueled his existence. It was what directed every one of his actions and what rooted all of his motives.

Without it, he would be nothing.

No, he wouldn't become like Anakin, he wouldn't fall to the dark side.

Instead, he would be a shallow man. A shell of his former self.

Nothing.

An irritated grunt from Yoda interrupted his reflective thoughts.

"Shielding yourself well, you are not, Master Kenobi."

What?

Obi-Wan hadn't even realized that he'd lowered nearly all of his shields. He was so lost in thought that he hadn't even been paying attention to something as customary as maintaining them.

The tiny grandmaster opened his eyes, "Distracting, they are."

Obi-Wan sighed and inclined his head in apology. "I'm sorry, Master."

He then frowned. He didn't like his reasoning for his recent error. It went against the very foundation of Jedi principles. He wasn't supposed to somber over the past or allow his emotions to cloud his focus. He was supposed to be a Jedi Master; an assigned leader and role model who had advanced past such trivial violations. Hadn't he just told himself this only a few minutes earlier? "I've been focusing too much on everything that's occurred."

Yoda released a gradual sigh, a momentary wave of grief spreading over his wrinkled features. "Unfortunate, these events are. But, move past them, we must. Other matters to attend to, we have."

Obi-Wan supplied a quick nod and shifted his gaze away.

Yes, they certainly did.

What would they do with the babies? How would they hide from the Empire? What was their next course of action?

There were so many things to plan and perform.

And he had no idea how to go about any of them.

"Arriving to Master Windu soon, we should be."

Ah, yes.

Obi-Wan couldn't hold back the slight grin forming to the suggestion.

It was perhaps the only positive news they had heard since arriving on Coruscant.

Mace Windu, whom they had thought to have been dead, had miraculously survived the events of late.

After Palpatine was said to have survived, they had assumed he had perished during his confrontation with the Sith Lord.

The official reports of Windu's failure to assassinate the Chancellor had only continually supported this theory.

But, when they had received a message pleading for assistance, they had recognized his voice. And when they had later heard him speak his name, they had been astonished.

How could he have failed to destroy Sidious and survived at the same time?

Sure, Yoda had just done so. However, he also wasn't confirmed by galactic news to have been killed while confronting the Emperor.

The Emperor.

Obi-Wan couldn't help but wince whenever he heard the new title.

It was just so wrong.

So out of place.

The Sith couldn't rule the Galaxy. They didn't deserve to.

How had they let this happen?

How had they not seen that the very man ruling their government was the same man they had been so desperately pursuing?

On Geonosis, Dooku had attempted to warn him. He had presented the "hypothetical" scenario in which the Republic was under the control of the Dark Lord of the Sith.

But he hadn't listened.

And neither had the Council when he had informed them of what he had been told.

Because they had been too arrogant. Too sure of their "secure" position. Surely, if it had been true, then they would have sensed it.

Just as they had hypothesized when the Sith were rumored to have returned. When he and Qui-Gon had assured them that the creature they had encountered on Naboo was a Sith.

Both times, they had been wrong.

Maybe, just maybe, if they had listened to Dooku, Anakin would never have fallen.

Maybe.

If they had immediately investigated Dooku's claims and discovered the Chancellor's intentions sooner, then he wouldn't have had enough time to manipulate the perplexed Jedi.

But, they hadn't. And thus, they had faced the consequences.

Now, only a small handful of Jedi possessed the opportunity to correct that mistake.

"Sirs, we have just arrived to Master Windu's coordinates."

Captain Antilles, head of Organa's security team, had just entered the conference room with a quick pace and anxious expression.

Both he and Yoda sprang up into alert positions upon hearing the news.

"On board, immediately bring him."

They both departed from their seats and trailed after Antilles, whom had motioned for them to follow.

Obi-Wan added another command, "And prepare a medical pod for instant use, he may be in critical condition."

Antilles nodded, continuing to plod down the hallway with the two Jedi, "We already have, sir. He will be treated upon entry."

Obi-Wan almost smiled to that. Unlike the Clones, Organa's security team could think on their own in the heat of a situation. Even without orders, they could enact common-sense procedures.

The Clones, however loyal, were not always efficient in sudden spurts of action.

However, they were in the hands of the Empire now.

"Excellent, see to it that he's treated well."

Antilles supplied another nod, "Yes, sir."

Obi-Wan's gaze shifted to Yoda, who, despite his age, was keeping up with them rather well.

The Force really could create miracles.

After a few twists and turns through the labyrinth of the vessel, they finally arrived to the room Windu was only just entering.

Except, he wasn't alone.

Two men accompanied him on each side, lifting him by the shoulders and carrying him into the room towards the medical pod in the center of it.

Force, he couldn't even walk.

Not only could he not walk, but he was also missing a hand and scarred considerably on his face. His tunic was ripped apart and his eyes were squeezed tight in a fit of anguish.

Oh, Force.

What had happened to this man?

Obi-Wan was used to seeing him grim and fatigued throughout the course of the war, as most Jedi had been, but he had never seen the man in a condition like this.

He was injured, and badly.

"Mace, what happened? Are you okay?"

The Korun turned to Obi-Wan gradually and squinted his eyes, almost as if he could barely even see him. It seemed that he was about to pass out.

It had taken them far too long to rescue him.

"I believe, Master Kenobi, that now is not the time for questions."

Obi-Wan steadily approached the wounded Jedi as he was transferred onto the medical pod.

"Yes, I can see that. It seems that your medical needs outweigh our need for answers."

A dose of his sarcastic humor couldn't hurt in a time like this. He had often found that his humor could serve as an effective, momentary medicine for pain.

Windu only nodded as his vision seemed to fade. He wasn't one to laugh.

"Discuss everything, we will soon. For now, recover Master Windu must."

Obi-Wan turned to Yoda, who had halted his approach at the edge of the room. The concern implanted onto his expression was evident, as Obi-Wan was sure it similarly was for his, but a spark of contentedness was also present. Although he was worried about Mace's injuries, he had also found solitude in the fact that he would indeed survive.

Their rescue had been successful, but far too delayed.

Even if Mace was in worse of a condition than he had been when he first contacted them, he would still emerge alive and, to a degree, well.

His hand may be lost and his face may be scarred, but both were obstacles that he could easily overcome.

He was perhaps the most powerful Jedi in the Order, and it would take much more than that to restrain him.

And as Obi-Wan watched the medical pod be rushed away, a surge of hope flowed through him.

The three of them could certainly think of something to improve their sunken status.

And they would. Obi-Wan was sure of it.

A week had already transpired since Windu had been rescued.

In that time, he had undergone the necessary procedures to heal his wounds. Throughout his recovery period, he could have, of course, discussed the dire topics at hand with his fellow Jedi Masters. However, he had felt that time to meditate off of everything he had encountered was needed before engaging in any meaningful discussion.

He could assess all that he experienced, uncover new truths, and form solutions to some of the problems they currently faced.

Yoda and Obi-Wan had agreed, deciding that meditating themselves could also prove to be beneficial.

So far, he had spent very little time with the two. Their interactions would occur once they were all prepared to reveal their accounts from the past week and a half.

And now, as Windu was being escorted down the shining hallways of the Tantive IV, that wait was finally over.

He wasn't quite able to walk yet, given the severity of damage within his legs. Instead, he was forced to hover over the surface of the vessel in a power chair.

And he absolutely hated it.

Everything about it was revolting. He wasn't nearly old enough to need one of them yet, and it only highlighted his crippling injuries. Something he was minorly embarrassed by.

In good time, he would be able to walk again. Eventually, he would muster the ability to run and execute combative missions just as effectively as he had once been able to.

For now, however, he was stuck sitting in a chair and allowing it to do all of the work.

It was truly agonizing. Even more so than when he had faced the very pain of the injuries themselves.

They had merely paled in comparison.

He could handle physical pain. Naturally, as a Jedi, he had been exposed to it his entire life. Embarrassment, however, was an entirely new frontier.

The chair wasn't even necessarily the most humiliating aspect of his current appearance. The glimmering mechanical hand he now sported was perhaps even more distressing.

Not only did he sense that he had lost a perceptible portion of his connection to the Force, but he had also lost the very hand that had gripped the helm of his lightsaber throughout his time with the Order.

He would now be forced to adapt to combat without it.

He could potentially never be the same.

His chair was only temporary, but his mechanical hand would last forever.

He could, of course, eventually overcome its setbacks, but it would certainly require time to do so.

Time he may not have in his current condition.

The scars searing across his face, conversely, weren't nearly as severe as anticipated.

They were a welcome feature, a display of war-time experience that wouldn't hinder his abilities in any fashion.

The chair and the hand, however, were a plague placed upon him.

Cease this line of thought.

He couldn't wait for a break from his inner thoughts, a time to escape his nagging devastations.

Finally, I've arrived.

He had reached his destination: the conference room. The sight of his two colleagues before him instantly freed him of his grievances.

Both Jedi Masters were peering at him in a neutral manner, prepared to commence business immediately. Yoda sat at the head of the table in his usual cross-legged position. Kenobi sat upright, but with somewhat of an exhausted slump evident in his posture. His hands were clamped together at the base of the table, as Yoda's were folded on top of his jarring, compact gimer stick.

It was all to be expected.

He knew both beings well enough to recognize all of their regular tendencies.

"Ready to share your tale, are you, Master Windu?"

He merely nodded in response, shifting to the edge of the table and motioning for his escorts to depart.

There was no real need for introductory statements.

Once only the three of them remained, Kenobi commenced the discussion, as was one of his frequent tendencies, "Well, I think we ought to start with you Mace. It seems that your confrontation was the very event that headed our situation."

Interesting.

He had expected them to wish to hear his testimony first, as he had hypothesized that they had already exchanged their own narratives with each other.

Yoda's immediate, quiet grunt of approval essentially confirmed his theory.

"Of course, Master Kenobi. I am more than happy to begin," he then cleared his throat in preparation for the long testimony he was about to administer, "as I'm sure you already know, masters Tinn, Kolar, Fisto, and I were on our way to address the Chancellor after," he paused, hesitant to even breathe the detested name. He just hated the way it rolled off his tongue, "...Skywalker had informed us of his affiliation with the Sith."

Both Masters nodded in understanding, but Windu had observed a slight altercation in Kenobi's expression when his former apprentice had been mentioned. For a brief moment, a flash of unheralded pain was ridden on the Master's face as his body allowed one involuntary tremble.

Force.

He hadn't even considered the torment his friend was undergoing. When he had lost Depa, he had faced more pain and trauma than he ever had throughout his span with the Order.

And they had been close. Very close. But they hadn't been nearly as close as Kenobi and Skywalker.

To imagine the length to which Kenobi was suffering, it was... unbearable.

What had become of Skywalker, anyway?

He was anxious to ask the two for an answer, but knew they would only seek the rest of his testimony first.

"At first, he greeted us as he normally would. His tone and demeanor were as joyous and cordial as ever, but I could still sense the darkness looming in the room," he felt himself begin to sneer to the memory. He couldn't help but do so. The memory was just too antagonizing, "that… stench, it was like nothing I'd ever sensed before. I had thought Dooku's aurora had been strong, but Palpatine," he paused again, his gaze transitioning into one of sightless contemplation, "made Dooku's seem like that of a youngling."

Yoda supplied a small nod, his eyes closing in bitter reflection. Another concurring grunt slipped from his lips.

Clearly, he had witnessed the same power.

Clearly, then, he had also confronted Palpatine in some capacity.

"He must have known that his aurora was showing, considering that he's hidden it from us for so long," Kenobi posited, interrupting the reflective moment, "why would he keep up his act as Chancellor, then, if he knew his darkness was revealed?"

Oh, Kenobi, always so focused on the task at hand.

He had always been keen to tackle unresolved issues, analyzing the evidence and formulating the questions that would lead to a definitive conclusion.

His observational prowess and skills of deduction were vital to many of the Council's most paramount decisions.

Not even a mere moment of reflection could escape his determination.

"I can't say that I'm sure. He may have only been attempting to catch us off-guard," Windu theorized, searching his memory for a more detailed response, "the contradiction was certainly somewhat of a distraction. It had very little of an impact, but I'm sure he aimed to use every advantage possible."

Both Masters nodded in agreement. Given that Palpatine had orchestrated the entire war from both sides of the conflict while simultaneously hiding his true identity as a Sith Lord, his schematic abilities were naturally unquestioned.

"The other masters, killed, were they?" Yoda queried, finally contributing to the conversation.

Windu couldn't help but shift his gaze to the floor as he warily nodded. Three of the Order's most prestigious Masters had been slaughtered under his command. Having to admit such a detail to the Grandmaster of that Order was remorseful, "Yes, I'm afraid so. Palpatine attacked first, and before I had the chance to counter, masters Kolar and Tinn were struck down," he paused, hesitant to report the rest. He could see the expressions of both Jedi deteriorating, "Master Fisto was killed shortly after."

Yoda followed suit, exhaling a soft sigh as his gaze lowered. He had instructed nearly every member of the Order in some capacity, and he had lost nearly all of them in the past week. The confirmation of the deaths of three more only contributed to his suffering.

Obi-Wan was similarly disheartened, and even one of his extraordinary focus was unable to respond to such a revelation.

Windu felt the obligation to progress the conversation and lift the somber mood.

"He was the fastest and most powerful combatant I've ever faced. At first, I was admittedly outmatched. But once I slipped into Vaapad, I was able to gain the upper hand."

Both Masters' demeanors suddenly formed into one of eager anticipation.

Both were clearly wondering how Windu had survived, and they seemed to believe that they were finally about to receive their answer.

"Were you able to defeat him? If that's the case, how did he emerge alive, and how did both of you sustain your injuries?"

Windu remained silent for a moment, contemplating the best way to word his response. After seeing Obi-Wan's reaction to a mere mention of Skywalker, he didn't want to see what the Master would do if he were to describe the boy's disastrous betrayal.

"I apologize, Master Kenobi, but this may be difficult for you to hear."

Again, Kenobi's eyes sunk into a state of despair. He only managed a weak nod.

He evidently knew what Windu was about to describe.

"I assure you I can handle it, please continue."

Windu nodded in return, regretting that he would be the one to report the account of Skywalker's betrayal to his colleague, "I had disarmed Palpatine and was prepared to end the affair, but I felt a presence emerge into the room. Not just any presence, but the presence. Skywalker had disobeyed orders and arrived to the office," he paused abruptly, pondering the most effective manner in which to detail the rest of the interaction, "with my shatterpoint ability, I could sense his significance to the moment. Palpatine pleaded for his assistance, but I refuted all of his desperate ramble."

He hesitated, searching the room for any sign of a reaction. It didn't take long to unearth a look of dreadful anticipation engraved onto Kenobi's sunken face.

The implications of Skywalker's involvement were quickly sinking in.

He continued, "Without warning, Palpatine summoned a wave of force lightning as a last attempt at victory, but he failed. I deflected the bolts onto his face, which resulted in the deformed appearance I'm sure you've both observed."

Both Masters again nodded, another soft grunt resonating from Yoda.

"However, my victory was short-lived. Skywalker demanded that I apprehend Palpatine rather than terminate him, but I rejected the notion. I sensed his desperation, his despair and confusion, but I let it go," he sighed, desperately wishing he could go back and reenact the moment with his present knowledge, altering his foolish deeds, "my focus instead drifted back to Palpatine. As I prepared to deliver the final strike, I sensed a shift in Skywalker. Once again, I ignored all of the peculiar signs surrounding him and brought my blade down for the blow. But, before it could reach the Sith, the boy ignited his own and discarded of my hand."

He stopped, taking a moment to peer at his aesthetic hand, missing the feeling of its hot touch. Never again would he take his other for granted.

"W-what happened then? How did you survive?"

Winds shifted his gaze back to Kenobi. A hint of distant sadness was present on his expression, but he could feel the Master uncontrollably trembling in the force. A knowing glance at Yoda signaled his worry for their friend.

"Master Obi-Wan, a break, you should perhaps take."

Windu could feel Kenobi exerting his best effort to cease the trembling, and the Master hid his unseeable actions well. Windu could only encode a few light signals radiating from the Jedi.

"No, I'm sorry. I'm quite alright, just a little disturbed by the account."

Yoda accepted the response with a nod, so Windu did the same. Rarely would he challenge the wisdom of the long-served Master .

"Yes, well, the rest of my memory is clouded. I only remember being tormented by another wave of force lightning and falling out the office window. The next thing I knew, I was laying in an alley on the streets of Coruscant."

"I see," replied Kenobi, rubbing his chin in deep thought. Both Masters eyed the floor in response to Windu's anecdote, pondering the implications it pertained to their present condition.

That only left Windu to sulk in guilt.

If I had succeeded, there would be no need to be sitting here, mulling over the results of my failures. We could be conversing in the Jedi Temple, filled with the warm signatures of Jedi that still persist, celebrating in the defeat of our most detested enemy.

But he hadn't succeeded, and everything he had lived for was now in ruins.

The blood of over 10,000 lives are on my hands, with many more to come. What have I done?

He had once similarly regretted his actions, or lack thereof, on Geonosis.

His lightsaber could have been at Dooku's throat, poised to deliver the blow that would end the conflict between the Republic and the Separatists that hadn't even truly yet begun.

Instead, he had extended his blade to the shaven chin of Jango Fett, a bounty hunter who would've had no discernible impact on the war had he survived the battle.

He could have saved countless lives. He could have prevented the torrent of horror that had surged through the galaxy. All of this could have been achieved through more sensible blade placement and the mere flick of his hand.

But he hadn't chosen correctly. Instead, he had spared the nefarious man and sentenced the Galaxy to years of insufferable torment.

But this.

This almost made his failure on Geonosis seem entirely insignificant.

On Geonosis, he had subjected the Galaxy to the afflictions of war and conflict.

But in the Chancellor's office, he had subjected it to infinite levels of oppression and tyranny.

Now, because of his second great failure, the Sith would rule the Galaxy with an iron fist unlike any before it.

And once again, he could have prevented it all with the mere flick of his hand. Palpatine had been at the tip of his lightsaber, gasping for mercy.

What have I done? What have I allowed to happen?

He began to stutter an apology, "I-I'm sorry. I've failed both of you, I-"

"No," Kenobi briskly interrupted Windu's apology, his expression less riddled with despair but still sunken, "we all failed each other. We should have foreseen all of this. We should have acted on our suspicions of Palpatine's malevolence earlier. We should have seen the dire conflict within Anakin and helped him. For Force sakes, I was his Master, I should have recognized it immediately."

"Right, Master Obi-Wan is. Foreseen all of this, we should have. Blind we were to all of the deception around us."

Windu knew they were right, but his moment had been more pivotal than any they had been involved in. For a time, he alone had held the power to extinguish their destined adversary. He alone had faltered in attempting to do so.

If only I had succeeded.

If only we had won.

If only-

"Mace, are you okay?"

Kenobi was now leaning over the white table, a hand of his comfortably placed on Windu's shoulder.

He had been drifting away in somber thought.

"Oh, yes, I'm fine. I just, well, I just-"

"It's okay," Kenobi reassuringly voiced, "we understand. We've all been glooming over the recent events. None of us is entirely in our standard mental condition. I'm sure you've sensed it."

Yoda grunted his acknowledgment.

"Yes, struggled with our losses, we all have. But, overcome them, we will. Focus on that of our future, we must."

Windu nodded, rubbing his forehead with the warmth of his remaining hand.

"You're right. I apologize for my disturbance."

And he was right to. How could he have let himself drift so far into a net of emotion? He should be beyond such an error by now.

Kenobi smiled, "No apology needed. I've had the same problem as of late."

Enough of this.

Windu straightened his posture, again adapting his expression of grim neutrality. It was time to get back to business.

"Thank you, Master Kenobi. I'm sure we will all move past our grieving stages soon. In the meantime, I suggest we continue with both of your accounts before we discuss our next steps of action."

He no longer wished for the course of their discussion to revolve around his sentiments. The state of the Galaxy was much more important than any personal demon he was currently dealing with.

Yoda grunted his concurrence, "Right, Master Windu is. Share my account, I will next."

Windu was sure that both Master's narratives would be just as stimulating as his own.

But certainly not any more promising.