Disclaimer: If I owned Star Wars, I wouldn't be working a job I don't like just to try to pay for college.
Author's Note:
Kyer: Good point. I actually thought of spit but, well, I had a hard time picturing Obi-Wan actually doing that. I'm sure he'd say something about it being uncivilized.
ObiBettina7: I'm glad I was able to clear up a few of your questions.
Thanks to everyone else who reviewed!
Feedback: Inspires me to get off my butt and go edit the next chapter in a timely fashion.
Anakin watches his wife. She's just come back from helping Obi-Wan, and she's changed into her nightgown, which affords him with a welcome opportunity to admire the way the fabric falls across her skin, lightly clinging to her body, accentuating all the right curves. Once, she would have moved to show that off-to show it off for him. She's not doing that now, but he's still appreciative of the enticing sight of her body covered with nothing but smooth material that shimmers like sunlight on the lakes of Naboo.
Unfortunately, he knows that the only thing he'll get to do tonight is watch. She's heavily pregnant, and while he knows that's only an excuse she's using to keep him from touching, he humors her. The baby's health is important—he agrees with that—and he'd be lying if he didn't admit that some part of him is afraid that, should he touch her, he'll hurt the baby.
The baby.
According to every medical report, the baby is perfectly healthy. Padme hadn't wanted to know anything more than that and Anakin has continued to honor that request. Everything will be a surprise.
Maybe that surprise will be just what they need.
They need something, he thinks as he scrubs his hand over his face in frustration. Something to bring them together again—anything that will smooth over the cracks in their relationship that have been present since Mustafar. Ever since that day, she won't kiss or touch him, and as much as it irks him, he's been sleeping in the guest bedroom.
He should make an effort to be more understanding. She's going through a lot, and the medical droids had told him she was showing signs of depression. It understandable for her to be acting like this, even if it isn't pleasant; the droids had told him as much when he'd taken her for a check-up after they'd returned to Coruscant.
Anakin sighs heavily as he watches from behind a glass wall as the medical droid examines Padme. They're back home on Coruscant now, where she can get proper care, but she still seems so weak, and the droid is taking what feels like forever to complete it's examination. It makes him nervous—what if something's wrong? What if-Force forbid-what if those dreams he saw still come to pass.
No.
Furiously, he pushes the thoughts out of his mind. He's changed things. After all, Yoda did say that the future was always in motion-it can be altered. That was one thing the old troll was right about, Anakin is sure. He has changed the future. He's only feeling this way now because the droid is taking so long. That's it. That's all he'll allow it to be.
Finally, after Anakin finds himself teetering on the brink of barging in and demanding answers, the medical droid finishes and makes its way out of Padme's room. "Well?" he demands, not in the mood for any circuitous talk.
"Physically, she's completely healthy," the droid explains, so emotionless, as always. It's such a parody of humanity. "Any medical problems that she is experiencing are completely caused by her mental state."
"Her mental state?"
"She is showing signs of depression."
Anakin just barely restrains the desire to crush the droid. More bad news. It's always bad news, and he's had that so much lately-too much to really tolerate it well anymore. "You will make sure that she's all right."
The droid inclines its head slightly in what could be construed as a nod. "Yes, Sir."
Its assurance is hardly enough, but Anakin is well-aware that there's nothing more he can do. For the time being, it apparently will have to suffice. "She is not to leave this room, do you understand?" The droid answers in the affirmative again, and Anakin adds, "If she needs anything, contact me. If she asks to speak to me at any time, you are to allow her to."
He doesn't wait for an answer. Instead, he turns on his heal and marches out of the medical bay, out of the entire building, and out from under the influence of the problems that are contained within its walls. For the time being, at least, he won't have to think about the possibility of Padme's death-for now, he has something else to concentrate on.
Anakin has always been at his best when he has a set mission to accomplish. He'd much rather be out in the field, facing down an enemy than sitting at home, analyzing his own thoughts. Before the war it hadn't been so bad, but ever since the conflict started, one of the things he's begun to realize that he fear most is being alone with his own thoughts. Truthfully, it's why he hates meditation so much. He doesn't always like the things that are in his own head. A set goal makes that go away, and for just a little while, he can focus his efforts outward. He has that now. He won't forget that.
He needs to head back to the apartments and make sure everything is ready.
Things will be perfect when she comes home.
Anakin had done his best to make things comfortable for her arrival, but when she'd walked through the doors, she'd regarded the apartment with something resembling distaste. It was clear she didn't want to be there. She still doesn't want to be there.
"Is Obi-Wan all right?" he asks from the doorway of the room that is supposed to be their bedroom.
Padme pivots around to face him, her nightdress fluttering around her legs. She hadn't known he was there, obviously, and he's more than a little annoyed at how she appears to wish he weren't.
"He's healing. It's his mind I worry about."
"How so?"
"You didn't notice how for a few moments he seemed to be completely distracted downstairs tonight?" Throwing him a furtive glance, she runs a brush through her hair and regards him coolly. He doesn't appreciate her condescending manner, and he considers saying something, but thinks better of it. Anger is acceptable-it gives him strength-but it will hardly get him what he wants in this situation.
"Yes, I did."
"And it didn't worry you?"
"It did worry me, but he said he was fine."
"He would say that."
If she would just stop acting like this, things would be so much easier. He's not some disgusting life-form that she found on the bottom of her shoe-he's her husband. "You think you know what's wrong?"
For the first time since he's entered the room, she gives him her full attention without lacing it with irritation. The circumstances aren't ideal-he'd far prefer she give him attention in matters far more... physical, but at this point, he'll take what he can get. "I saw it happen with many of the people who were harmed in the Trade Federation's invasion of Naboo. Essentially, he's reliving in his mind his most traumatic moments."
That's... more than a little chilling. Anakin knows Obi-Wan, knows some of the things he's seen-it's not as though Obi-Wan's mind lacks a selection of painful memories from which to choose. Of course, he can fairly easily guess exactly what he settled on tonight.
"He thought he was back on Mustafar," he guesses.
She merely nods.
That's... not quite what Anakin expected, nor is it what he'd particularly like to deal with. If he had his choice, he'd rather just forget all about Mustafar. Obi-Wan is here now, Anakin doesn't want to hurt him, and he'd prefer not to remember that he ever did.
"He's never done that before. Are you sure you're not mistaken?"
Clearly, that is the wrong thing to say. She obviously finds the comment irritating: the corners of her eyes tighten, and her lips purse as she fixes him with a half-concealed glare. "He was able to release his emotions into the Force before, Anakin. Trained Force-sensitive beings typically don't suffer from this."
"I had nightmares."
"You had premonitions. This is entirely different. This isn't something that's going to happen-it's something that already has happened. It's all in his mind, because he can't find a way to release it."
He doesn't have to ask her what she wants him to do-he knows already. "He would be far too dangerous if he could still access the Force."
"So you'd prefer to let him suffer instead?"
Her voice grates on him. She was never this patronizing before, and the fact that she is now-it irritates him, stirring up something dark and angry inside of him that just keeps increasing with every icy word that comes out of her mouth. "I'd prefer that he isn't given the opportunity to do something that would make me have to hurt him again."
"Is it always about you, Anakin?"
Why is she being like this? Pushing him, just trying to make him angry. By the Force, he's doing his best, but his control is cracking, almost to the point where it shatters. She can't talk to him like that, like he's an incompetent, selfish child who doesn't care about his former master. He does care-he does! "Be quiet!" he snaps, his voice halfway to a shout. Then, quieter, "Just-just stop."
She doesn't. If anything, the vitality in her expression increases, intensifying to a point that he hasn't seen since Mustafar. For the first time since everything changed, she looks truly alive again. "You've stopped thinking of anyone but yourself. Everyone who has ever loved you, you've betrayed—"
"STOP!"
Before he even knows what he's doing, he uses the Force to grab all the contents on her bedside table and slams them into the opposite wall. Things scatter in every direction, strewing destruction across the floor. He likes that destruction and the satisfying feeling it gives him. It's so good to see things broken, like a tangible expression of how he feels. Letting everything out—it's satisfying.
Padme is silent, her eyes trained on the broken mess. Anakin can see fear flickering in her expression.
"Don't bring this up again, Padme," he whispers. "Not ever again."
And he just leaves. Just turns on his heal and leaves, because he can't handle more right now. She's wrong about him. She has to be.
He won't consider anything else.
Obi-Wan is drifting somewhere between sleeping and waking when he hears the door to his room slide open. Even in his sleep-hazed mind, he knows that shouldn't be happening.
The bed shifts beside him.
Failing to stifle a muffled groan, Obi-Wan rolls over and groggily reaches out to touch the body that has just settled beside him. It's not that he needs to—he instinctively knows who it is. Who else could it be? It's Anakin, always Anakin, who has probably had another nightmare, or who simply needs to talk. It doesn't matter—Obi-Wan isn't angry and, truth be told, he almost looks forward to the times that Anakin crawls into his bed. Sometimes, it's nice to know that Anakin still needs him.
A quick touch confirms that it is Anakin, and with that confirmation, Obi-Wan forces himself to leave sleep behind in order to deal with whatever has Anakin upset. Only, as he breaks through the sleep-fog that is swirling around his mind, he realizes that this isn't the Anakin he knows.
Anakin shouldn't be trying to crawl into his bed—not anymore.
Immediately, he shoots upward, startled beyond what he'd thought was possible anymore. "What are you doing, Anakin?" His voice is harsh and suspicious, he knows, but he can hardly find it in himself to care. Anakin can't possibly think that this is acceptable. Not anymore.
"If you had the opportunity to kill Sidious," Anakin murmurs softly from beside him, "would you?"
"Anakin, what are you doing here?"
Sighing a little, Anakin rolls over so that he's lying on his side, facing Obi-Wan, who is still stiffly seated among the covers. "It's what I always did when I was younger. You never seemed to mind then."
"You stopped doing this after you were knighted."
"Because I was given separate quarters. Of course, we were never home long enough for me to use them—and I always stayed with Padme, anyway—and since we shared quarters when on missions, I hardly needed to do it then."
"And what are you doing, exactly?"
Obi-Wan has never quite understood what his Padawan meant by these nighttime visits. He'd only ever known that they occurred when Anakin was in need of comfort—when he'd needed to physically be close to someone. There had never been anything remotely sexual about them, however, and so Obi-Wan hadn't felt the need to put a stop to them. He hadn't wanted to. There was something about Anakin lying close to him that made him feel right, like his life was worth something. It let him know that Anakin needed him, and even as he'd known he wasn't supposed to be quite so attached to another being as to require that confirmation, it still felt good.
"You never answered my question," Anakin replies, bluntly avoiding Obi-Wan's own inquiry. "Would you kill Sidious?"
Why he's even considering playing this game of Anakin's, Obi-Wan isn't sure, but there's something in him that feels the need to answer. "You know it would be my duty to do so."
"Not your duty," Anakin snarls, suddenly upset, and, really, that's such an alarmingly quick turn now. "You don't have to worry about duty anymore."
"Anakin, I am still a Jedi, no matter what."
"That's not true!" A deep breath, and then a calmer, "It's not. The Jedi are gone, Obi-Wan. Palpatine killed Yoda. He was the last one, wasn't he?"
It's not true. Anakin is lying. Bail's note told him otherwise. Unless Palpatine killed Yoda after that...
No.
Obi-Wan doesn't even want to consider the possibility. Right now, he won't believe it—not until he sees proof otherwise. Anakin probably doesn't even believe it himself. He's likely just fishing for information.
Anakin shifts a little closer to him. "Don't you understand, Obi-Wan? The Jedi might have started out with good intentions, but in the end, they strayed from their original path. They wanted power just as much as the Sith, even if they didn't know it."
So that's what this is? A grain of truth mixed in with a lie? Unfortunately, it's a lie that Obi-Wan is beginning to think that Anakin truly believes.
"So you admit that you want power?"
"I want the power to save Padme, yes. I had dreams about her, Master, dreams like I had about my mother—"
"I'm not your master anymore, Anakin. I haven't been in a long time."
Anakin stills next to him. "You never minded before. You knew I wasn't using it as a title of respect just because you were on the Council—you knew I was saying it because you were my master—"
Of course he knew. Back before the world became chaos, it had felt right to let Anakin keep calling him by that title. Now... now it still feels more right than he wants it to. He can hardly fathom how he became so weak. "Maybe I just don't want to remember that I failed you."
"Maybe the galaxy should be thanking you for failing to instill me with Jedi ideals."
"You know I don't believe that."
"You should."
He sounds so reasonable, like the Anakin that Obi-Wan knew. It hurts to hear the similarities. "If you weren't calling me 'master' because I'd been given the rank of master, why were you?" he asks tiredly, eager to steer them away from the subject of his failures. They're just-they're too many, and he's too tired to consider them at the moment.
"The same reason that a son doesn't call a father by his first name just because he moves out on his own."
"I'm not your father, Anakin. I may have trained you, but Jedi are forbidden to express the same feelings toward their padawans as fathers are towards their sons."
"No attachments, I know," Anakin mutters, his tone as acidic as Obi-Wan has ever heard it. "All those years, and all I ever wanted was for you to straight-out tell me that you cared."
"Maybe that's where I went wrong."
"By not loving me?" Anakin asks, his voice dripping with sarcastic disbelief, as if he can't quite believe that's what Obi-Wan could mean.
"No," he responds slowly, wanting to get his words just right, so that maybe Anakin can finally understand... "Because I let you realize that there was a possibility that I did."
Silence.
"Anakin, why are you really here tonight?"
Anakin still doesn't speak, instead seeming to prefer to languish in a silence that is as empty as the darkness of the room. Obi-Wan lays back against the pillows; a reply will come if he waits long enough. Anakin always answers—he always has to have the last word. He wants to be remembered, which is something Obi-Wan just chose never to think about, except for the times that it pushed its way to the forefront of his mind, to a place where he just couldn't ignore it anymore. Of course, he never should have indulged in the luxury of ignoring something like that—if he'd thought more about Anakin's short-comings earlier, this all might never have happened.
Sighing, he closes his eyes so tightly that it hurts. He doesn't want to think about any of this. Sometimes, he wishes that he just didn't have to think at all anymore. Everything is so much harder without the Force, and it certainly wasn't easy to begin with.
"I'm not sure," Anakin finally answers, just as Obi-Wan knew he eventually would.
"Search your feelings, then."
"You're not my master anymore," Anakin snarls, anger rising as quickly as his calm flees.
"Or perhaps I've just said something that you don't want to hear?" It's quite possible that the idea of looking inside of himself is frightening for Anakin. Obi-Wan... hadn't considered that. Is it possible that Anakin is as angry at himself as he is at anyone else? "Are you afraid of what you might find, Anakin?"
"I know what I'll find. I'm not weak like the Jedi."
"No, I suppose not. But if given a choice of the weakness of the Jedi or the kind of 'strength' you've found, I'd rather be weak."
"Sometimes, Obi-Wan, you need to have a little fire to get things accomplished."
"Truthfully, Anakin, I've always preferred ice. It's far more predictable. Fire consumes almost before a person has time to consider it. It's too uncontrollable—the slightest slip can end in destruction."
Anakin sighs heavily. "Of course you think that. You prefer to be calm and stoic, never showing emotion. You show nothing."
"And you show everything. You wear your emotions—you can't control them."
"Just stop, Obi-Wan," he snaps. "I've already done this tonight—"
"Ah, so that's the real reason for your presence. If this is how you treated Padme, I'm not surprised she found your presence uninviting."
He would never admit how much Anakin's tiny flinch, which he feels against the bed, hurts him. Even now, he doesn't want to inflict pain on Anakin, and that is his weakness. It will always be his weakness. As a master, he cared too much for Anakin's feelings—he shouldn't have indulged his emotions. He knows this, but he still can't make himself stop caring, not even with the way things have become.
"Neither of you understand."
"Understand what? Anakin, I saw the bodies littered through the Temple. I saw a security hologram of you kneeling to Sidious. How can I possibly understand why you did that? Make me understand, Anakin, because I want to know how you could do that!"
"I didn't kill you."
"And that justifies killing everyone else?"
Though he can't see him through the nighttime darkness that curls around both of them, he hears Anakin's harsh exhale of air. The line he's walking is a fine one, and if he's able to make it out of this situation without some display of violence on Anakin's part, he'll be very surprised.
"I don't want to talk about this. I didn't come here to talk about this."
He resists the urge to run a hand through his hair in frustration. "Then by all means, Anakin, set the topic of conversation."
"Has Padme stopped loving me?"
It's such a strange response, and not at all what Obi-Wan was expecting. For so many years, Anakin closed this part of his life off from him. To hear it now—to have it laid before him in such a raw manner—causes something inside of him to ache. If Anakin had brought this to him earlier, perhaps things could have been different.
Perhaps not. He'll never know.
"I very much doubt that she's stopped loving the man you were."
"I'm the same man!"
If he could see Anakin's eyes, Obi-Wan is certain that they'd probably be tinged with red. "Both Padme and I loved the man you were, Anakin. By changing into this—into something neither of us recognizes—I fear you've already lost exactly what you were trying to gain."
Anakin shifts over onto his side. Obi-Wan can't see him, but he knows Anakin is looking in his direction. "What do you mean by that?"
"Why did you turn to the Dark Side?"
"I—I had dreams of Padme dying."
"So, you wanted to save your wife," he says, not really asking it as a question. Anakin doesn't give him an answer, but that's as good as a confirmation. "Anakin, by saving her in the way that you have, you've likely also lost her."
The blankets on the bed fly back, hitting Obi-Wan in the face as Anakin hastily sits up. "Don't say that!" His voice sounds strong, but years of dealing with an adolescent Anakin have taught Obi-Wan to know better—underneath that strength, the foundation is very, very brittle. It's only covers up hurt and fear.
"Anakin—"
"No, Master. Everything I've done, I've done for her. The day after we landed back on Coruscant—the day after she came home from the hospital, I knew I didn't have any other choice. I just—I felt something, something telling me she would have died if I hadn't made the choice I did."
"But are you sure of which choice changed her fate? Was embracing the darkness what saved her? Are you certain it wasn't something else?"
"Yes! I—that day—I just knew."
Yes, Obi-Wan remembers that day as well. It's just that he and Anakin likely don't remember it the same way.
Padme comes home from the medicenter the day after they land on Coruscant. She's still heavily pregnant, but beyond that, she seems to have suffered no physical repercussions from Anakin's fit of rage on Mustafar. She's very lucky.
Of course, in other ways, she's the unluckiest of them all.
"Are you hungry, Padme?" Anakin asks as he helps her over to the nearest couch. It's rather convenient that the first thing anyone encounters when they walk into the Senatorial Apartments is couches. "Do you want anything?"
It amazes Obi-Wan how, even when he's offering to help, his voice still possesses that cool undercurrent that has been present since he aligned himself with Palaptine. At times, he's sure that the warm, loving Anakin he knew has vanished. He'd be forced to believe that, except when he's least expecting it, there always seems to be some flash of the so overwhelmingly confident and yet endearingly insecure boy that Obi-Wan knew.
He has to wonder if he'll ever get that boy back.
"I'm fine, Anakin," Padme says tiredly. She's hardly even looking at him. In fact, the most she's really done since she was escorted into the room has been to give Obi-Wan a quick, sad glance as she passed by where he's sitting.
Anakin ignores her lack of enthusiasm. "It's not long now. A few more weeks, and then the baby will be here."
Quite honestly, Anakin's enthusiasm at the prospect of having a family is the only thing that keeps Obi-Wan clinging to the hope that there is still good inside of Anakin. If he was completely consumed by the dark side, he shouldn't care for anyone but himself, and even if his fixation on those he cares for is largely one of self-gratification, he does seem to make some small effort to see that they have the things that they want. It's always small—a favorite food, a holonet program-but it's present, and that gives Obi-Wan hope.
Grinning, Anakin reaches down and lays a hand on her stomach. Immediately, Padme flinches.
"The baby's kicking," Anakin announces.
Padme doesn't look at him. "It usually does when you're around."
An insult. Luckily, Anakin doesn't seem to catch it.
"So, do you still think it's going to be a boy?"
"I'm not sure, Anakin."
He catches her apathy this time, but for some reason he still forces a smile, as though he's determined to make this impossible situation work. This won't end well. Anakin has never liked it when things don't go the way he wants them to, and Obi-Wan is sure that no amount of trying is going to fix this situation to his liking.
"I still think it's going to be a girl. What should we name her?"
For the first time since she's come home, Obi-wan sees a spark of life in Padme's eyes. "I was thinking Leia, if it's a girl."
Anakin nods. "That's perfect. And if it's a boy?"
"Luke."
He nods again. "All right."
Luke.
The name chokes Obi-Wan as effectively as Anakin ever has. That one word alone gives him hope in a way that he was beginning to think dead-in a way that he so desperately still needs to believe in. Just as importantly, it's clearly the same for Padme. He was wrong about her—she hasn't given up yet, not like he'd thought.
Too late, Obi-Wan realizes that his surprise is tangible in the force. The knowledge isn't helpful; Anakin senses his emotion before he can do anything about it.
"Does that name mean something to you, Master?"
He does his best to look unaffected. "No."
"Then why the surprise?"
Obi-Wan swallows hard. "I—it was just the name of a man that Qui-Gon and I met on a mission." That won't be enough to make Anakin believe his lie. He'll only believe if it's more difficult—if it seems as though he's discovered something Obi-Wan would rather keep hidden. "The man—he had a vision that ended up coming true. He foretold that Qui-Gon was going to die."
A strange combination of pity and surprise intermingle on Anakin's face. Judging by that look, Obi-wan knows he's sold the lie. "Would you prefer we named the child something else?"
"No. It would undoubtedly be a good thing to make a bad series of events into something better."
Anakin nods and smiles. "All right. Luke it is then." Pausing, he stands up. "I'll get you something to eat, Padme. You're too far along not to be eating right."
It's a relief when Anakin finally leaves the room, and once he's gone, Obi-Wan immediately catches Padme's eye. She's looks tired and beaten down, but there's something there in her gaze-something he didn't catch before. She's worn out, yes, but not defeated. She's still got drive left—her choice of name proves that.
Very slowly, Obi-Wan gives her a small smile. She smiles back, letting a secret knowledge pass between them—a knowledge in which Anakin has no part. Just from the look in her eyes, Obi-Wan knows that's what she wants.
Quite obviously, she never intended for Anakin to know that Luke means "light".
Deciding to name the baby "Luke" had felt like a sign from the Force—a clear sign to indicate that the darkness won't save anyone. Whatever events changed Padme's fate, Obi-Wan is certain they didn't originate from the darkness. Perhaps mercy given or a life spared—he'll never know—but he's sure he knows what it's not.
"And if you're wrong, Anakin? If this was all a mistake?"
"It's not!"
"And if it is?"
The bed shifts as Anakin rolls over, sliding off it with a quickness that doesn't really surprise Obi-wan. His former padawan never did like to hear things that didn't suit his needs... and now he has the ability to walk away from any lecture Obi-Wan tries to give him.
Anakin leaves the room without another word.
