Chapter Thirty-Five: Good Cop, Bad Cop

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Anakin

Anakin had had to resist the urge to draw Ahsoka into his arms and hug her when she and Lux had returned from their little excursion with the girl he had thought was Annina Janren in tow, cuffed and wearing the crest of the fearsome Kayzani clan with an equally fearsome expression to match.

He had resisted, of course, because he and Ahsoka kept what few displays of affection they were allowed as Jedi teacher and Padawan very private. But he had made his relief that she and the Senator were all right known to her in a slight mingling of their auras and in the looks they exchanged.

The four of them had spoken little on the way down to the basement of Varykino for the inevitable interrogation, even once Padme, Rex and a small escort of clones had joined them. But Anakin hadn't missed the glances of a different sort passing between Ahsoka and the young Senator for Onderon, the slight shifts of body language as they walked side by side.

He was going to have to ask her about that later, and probably give her a stern talking to, if he was reading all this right. But now, as they arrived in a small cellar, he knew there were far more important things to think about.

As Ahsoka brushed past him to the table the clones had dragged into place, Anakin caught a murmur none but a Force user could have heard: "I call bad cop."

Anakin bit back a laugh and inclined his head fractionally to show he had understood, and acquiesce to her statement.

It took but a moment for them to slip into their old rhythm, with the possible exception of having chosen to conduct this interrogation in the opposite roles from what they usually did. In keeping with the task, Anakin maintained a neutral but gentle expression, while Ahsoka mustered the angriest one she was capable of.

"Name, organization of affiliation, and rank within said organization," Ahsoka growled, setting a holo-recorder down on the table before them and turning it on.

Annina – or whoever else she was – rolled her eyes irately, but spoke with a grin. "Kayzani Myarra of the Kayzani clan, assassin-designate of Squadron 13."

Anakin took a slight tilt of Ahsoka's head as his cue to jump in, and said, "You've been apprehended as a member of a Separatist conspiracy, and charged with attempted capture of a Senator. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Myarra barked out a laugh. "I have no allegiance to either side in this war; I only care about the money. I was hoping Dooku would think I was Force-sensitive enough to train me, perhaps to be an assassin like Ventress once was. Once on the inside, I could steal Separatist secrets and sell them to his enemies."

Ahsoka scoffed. "Dooku wouldn't be that stupid."

"He was stupid enough to trust me, at least in the short term."

"Because he saw in you the potential to become a useful pawn in his game – and you did," Anakin said, with levelness to his voice that surprised even him for the gravity of the situation. In this time of crisis, a Force sensitive person not affiliated to the Jedi Order, even a less than well-attuned one, could be very dangerous.

He was glad they'd caught this one before she could make any more trouble.

Myarra shrugged. "Wouldn't be the first time – it's just business, really. Fact of the matter is, I honestly couldn't care less if he lives or dies. Now that you have me, I see no reason to keep anything I know about him from you."

Ahsoka leaned in closer, her blue eyes flashing. "Then start talking."

Myarra leaned back in her seat as though to counter her, her body language casual but bearing a flicker of unease Anakin couldn't quite trace to a source. "I was meant to take down Senator Amidala at first," she said, and with a surge of rising anger Anakin wondered if he shouldn't have called dibs on being bad cop. "But then somebody took a shot at Senator Bonteri on Coruscant, and the plan changed. Word reached our friend the Count that he was alive and well, and I became a seducer rather than a sweet young girl seeking guidance in the political sphere."

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