A/N: I concocted this drabble for the Star Wars Fictober Challenge, which I very haphazardly decided to start today. The prompt for Day 7: Absent. Review if you wanna.

Even the Stars

"You look...absent."

Padmé's soft voice jerked Obi-Wan away from his thoughts and he turned to her with an apologetic smile. "It seems to be the theme of the day, I'm afraid."

She pursed her lips knowingly. "Anakin?"

"Looking for Ahsoka."

"And you?"

Obi-Wan frowned deeply, and then he sighed. "Looking for Anakin."

The fact that Padmé's apartment was the first place he thought to look for Anakin was very telling, but they were both too heartsick and deflated to be coy about it. It was what it was.

Padmé moved forward on the balcony and folded her arms tightly around herself as she looked into the distance toward the Jedi Temple. "I can't say I hope he finds her," she murmured.

"Nor I." A pause. "I'll never forget the look on her face when she was arrested." His voice was heavy and distant, like he was seeing a preview of his future nightmares. "Or his."

It was nighttime on Coruscant and the shadows cast by the city-planet's million lights made Padmé look tired and older than she was. "I can't imagine how difficult it was for you," she said, swaying on her feet. She hesitated before she moved closer and laid a hand on Obi-Wan's arm. He turned and looked at her, eyes unspeakably sad.

"I'm afraid that what the Council decided...I'm afraid that the damage will be irreparable, Padmé. To both of them."

She shivered even though the night was warm. "I don't believe that."

"I believe it enough for the both of us," he answered grimly.

"Then let's pray that you're wrong."

He met her gaze, and for one tiny instant, he smiled. "Yes, let's."

They didn't need to talk about how terrible everything was, or how they both felt their deepest convictions shaken by Ahsoka's expulsion from the Order. They didn't need to acknowledge the slow-burning anger in Anakin's eyes. They didn't need to voice the thought that maybe, maybe everything would never be alright.

They couldn't.

So they stood together on Padmé's balcony and eventually they talked about the weather, the war, the taste of the caf on Alderaan versus Naboo. They forced a conversation that was painfully...normal. All the while wishing, believing, praying, hoping against all hope that Anakin and Ahsoka would come swaggering in, on the run, but exhilarated by the thrill of the chase, ready to concoct a plan to exonerate Ahsoka and catch the real bomber.

That didn't happen, of course.

Obi-Wan left at nearly midnight, long after words were spent. Padmé was completely alone, which she was used to, but it felt different somehow. There was nothing she could do for Anakin or Ahsoka except hold her breath and wait for a message. But none came and the silence was deafening.

She slept fitfully and awoke in the chilly hour before dawn, giving up on rest. She checked her com as soon as her eyes were open. Still no word from Anakin, which meant there was no sign of Ahsoka. Padmé walked out onto her balcony in nothing but her nightgown and bare feet and tilted her face upward.

Then she started to cry; even the stars were absent tonight.