So, as you probably guessed (or maybe remembered from the hints dropped in Fifth Wife and Fulcrum Part Two), there is an unplanned pregnancy in this story. This chapter could trigger you for your own experiences or your beliefs. I am not making a moral or political statement here. I am trying to be true to Cresta's character. Each of my Sith ladies faces this issue along the way. The lonely rape victim Rey makes her choice before Fulcrum begins, Shan the good Jedi who is not enthused about motherhood makes her choice in Fifth Wife, and now Cresta will make hers.

Sheev Palpatine is an emotional Sith and so he is used to channeling the rush of intense feelings, especially pain. But still, the aftermath of waking to Cresta's rejection overwhelms him.

Why did she do this to him?

How could she do this to him?

He has no explanation whatsoever. For he had not seen this coming.

For months now she has seduced his soul and finally last night she seduced his body. And then left him bereft and alone with her unsatisfactory explanation written in a scrawl of lipstick. It is a bitter betrayal worthy of a Sith, and Sheev feels a trusting fool for having been her victim. He, of all people, should have known better.

So he trashes the hotel room with his saber and explodes the mirror bearing her goodbye with the Force. Then Sheev sits amid the broken glass and the mess. And he cries. For more than anything, he feels loss. Yes, there is anger and confusion and a pressing need for answers, but mostly there is soul crushing sadness for all that he had hoped his Cresta might be for him.

He deserves an explanation. So he sends her an angry message, but she ignores it. She doesn't answer her com either. And when Sheev stops by her apartment that afternoon before he departs Coruscant, it is empty and all traces of Cresta are gone. He doesn't have time to drop by the Ballet or the club. And Sheev knows she's not there. She clearly doesn't want to be found.

And, truthfully, that's a bit of a relief. Sheev isn't sure what he would say to Cresta if he found her. And he worries that in his current state he just might kill her. So he takes a lesson from his Muun Master and decides to compartmentalize. He will deal with Cresta in due time. But for now, he will focus on the task at hand.

There is an election to win and these are the final three weeks of his campaign. His handlers have booked him solid day and night until the ballots are cast. And dutifully, he goes through the motions, shaking hands, making speeches, slapping backs, kissing babies and smiling. Endlessly smiling as the genial good-natured public figure he pretends to be. But inside Sheev is seething and hurt and there is no outlet to vent his rage.

He wins the election handily and his Master is well pleased. Darth Plagueis is even moved to compliment him. And from across Naboo, Sheev receives endless congratulations on his victory. Winning the election should feel like a personal and professional triumph. But privately Sheev feels only loss. Young fool that he is, only now at the end does he understand that he had wanted Cresta as much, maybe more, than the Senate seat. There was always going to be another election. But there will never be another Cresta.

Where did he go wrong? He asks himself this again and again as the days bleed on into weeks. Yes, he hadn't had the time to give Cresta enough attention, but he thought she had understood. It was only going to be until after the election. Then, things would be different. But she hadn't waited for him. She had cheated on him. Just like that dead guy had once cheated on her.

Sheev feels like a lovesick fool for naively having believed he had found a diamond in the rough. For stupidly having fallen for the faithless stripper bitch. It was wishful thinking to believe that she could one day truly understand and love the Sith that he is. Had Cresta been secretly laughing at him as he proposed marriage and professed love? Those are two things this Sith had never expected to do, but he did them for her. He had even been ready to slash her hand in the moonlight and marry her forever in the Force. That's how ridiculously, imprudently in love he had been.

Now that the election is over and he is back in Coruscant, Sheev contemplates confronting her for an explanation. Storming into a dance rehearsal or barging into the club for an ugly public scene. But Sheev can't take any more of her rejection. Because then he might snap and lose control and use the Force and reveal himself to others. And then there would be Hell to pay with his Master.

So Sheev stays away.

It helps that he is incredibly busy kicking off his Senate career. Sheev's days are a long blur of faces and meetings followed by appearances at lobbyist receptions. From the early morning breakfast meetings until he collapses exhausted into bed in his new Upper Level apartment, Sheev ruthlessly focuses on his work. Pushing aside memories of the redhead who had kissed him like she meant it and made love to him like there was no tomorrow. And, well, as it turns out, there had been no tomorrow for them.

Sheev soon discovers that being a young, single junior Senator makes him a very eligible bachelor. Women routinely throw themselves at him now. And really, where's the fun in that? He's a Sith, so he's all about plotting the chase. He wants to be the aggressor, not the other way around.

These girls are other Senators' daughters, legislative staffers and lobbyists. They are camera ready at all times with manicured fingers and coordinated outfits they never seem to wear twice. Not like Cresta who he had only seen in a black thong, sweaty black leotards and that same black dress over and over again. Each of these girls speaks articulately in careful sound bites on any topic, from pod racing to the persistent poverty of the Outer Rim. They are the true believers of galactic politics, capable of quoting him chapter and verse of the party platform. But it's a lot of boring dogma. His Cresta, like Sheev himself at heart, doesn't have any strong political leanings. She's more pragmatic than anything. And he's in it purely for the game of power.

Maybe he should be fucking a different one of these generic girls every night to help him forget Cresta. But he doesn't. These girls are so contrived and predictable that they bore him. There is nothing sexy about all their calculated, focus group approved wholesomeness. He's a secret Sith Senator, so his entire life is calculated. He doesn't want more of it. He wants an escape from it.

None of these girls would slide up next to him in a booth in Coruscant's best restaurant and give him a handjob under the tablecloth. And none of these girls would share a joint of spice with him outside the Jedi Temple late at night and talk about nothing. These women can't give him a private lap dance and they don't say fuck every other sentence. He doubts that any of them have ever ventured outside their insular Upper Level life. It's not that there is anything wrong with these women. It's just that they aren't Cresta. His refreshingly candid, completely unself-consciously real, Cresta.

But a few nights a week he squires these girls around town to events. They are appropriate arm candy for the evening and nothing more. And his Master watching from afar no doubt approves. Sheev doesn't even bother to try to bed them. One gorgeous blonde is offended that he ignores her most of the night. She has the gall to ask him if he's gay-not that anything is wrong with that-she adds in an automatic reflexive political correctness. Sheev shouts with laughter at this ridiculousness. I'm just not that into you, he tells the blonde with a tight smile. Plus, you're a little fat. It's the ultimate insult to this class of woman, and Sheev thoroughly enjoys saying it.

Two months later, Sheev Palpatine of Naboo stands with the rest of the new class of freshman Senators at the inaugural convocation for the new Senate term. He can't help thinking that he wishes Cresta were here to see this. These are the first steps. Everyone starts somewhere, and Sheev Palpatine's rise to power starts today. But it starts alone. His Master is here, of course, but it's not the same.

So standing afterwards shaking hands and watching the other Senators take pictures with their proud families, Sheev decides that he will kill her. Since he can't seem to get over Cresta, he will handle this like he handled his father and the rest of his family. He will kill her and be done with it, leaving behind all the hurt of her rejection so he can move forward. Whatever lingering pain her death causes him will only fuel his Darkness. He's a Sith, so whatever doesn't kill him, makes him stronger.

But first, he has to find her. Cresta is officially and mysteriously "on leave" from the Ballet, whatever that means. She hasn't been seen dancing at her usual club lately either. So where the fuck is she? Hiding from him still.

Sheev starts haunting the upscale strip clubs in the glossy Uscru District afterhours, but she's nowhere to be found. So he ventures down to the gritty Lower Level Underworld. But still no success. Maybe her new guy is supporting her now and Cresta doesn't need to club dance anymore? Perhaps she has she gone back to her forgettable Mid Rim homeworld? Or maybe she went to Alderaan to take those principal dancer roles she always talked about? He's a Senator now and he doesn't have the time to chase her off Coruscant. So Sheev gives up for now.

But politics is a dirty business and the media is even worse. Sheev's midnight adventures have been noticed. He has been photographed in the clubs and the pictures are leaked to the tabloids. 'Young Senator in Sex Scandal' the headlines scream. "Naboo Senator Caught at the Strip Club' is the holonet clickbait de jour. He's not doing anything incriminating or illegal in the pictures, he contends to his irate Master. He's just sitting there. But that's enough to write a sensational story for the newsfeeds. And it's enough to embarrass him before his constituents, anger his supporters, and frustrate the disapproving Muun enough for him to bust out the blue lightning.

You need a higher class of woman, his fastidious Master tells him bluntly as he stands over Sheev's smoking, Force-fried body. Stop acting like a frat boy and act like a Senator. The public expects better of you and so do I. You risk your future and you risk our plans when you are caught in a place like that. Go find another respectable girl like the ballerina who dumped you. Someone who will be a credit to you and who will enhance your public profile. Someone presentable and well spoken. Someone who might be wife material one day.

"I'm never getting married," the still defiant Sheev scowls at the very thought.

"Of course you will," the Muun waves away this assertion. "When the time comes, I will choose you an excellent First Lady."


When someone important leaves your life, suddenly there is time on your hands. The stolen hours Cresta and Sheev had spent together are suddenly free. The datapad messages she compulsively checked no longer come. The random quick calls just to say hello have stopped. And there is no one to check in with or be accountable to anymore. No upcoming visit to look forward to.

There is just a void where once there had been them.

It is both a relief and a disappointment that Sheev accepts it without argument. He doesn't blowup her datapad and her com with demands for an explanation. He never shows up angry at her work. He is just . . . silent.

They simply end.

This breakup is worse than Simon's death. Because that had been abruptly final. She had to accept that Simon was dead and to move on. There were no 'what if' possibilities to imagine. No fantasies of chance meetings and tearful reconciliations. Her Sheev is alive and she knows where to find him and how to reach him. For she still obsessively follows his whereabouts on the Naboo political newsfeeds and his campaign press releases.

She dare not contact him. But still, the temptation remains.

So heartbroken, angry and guilty Cresta cries herself to sleep night after night. Things can't get any worse, she thinks. But yes, they can. Because two weeks later Cresta discovers that she is pregnant. And that is the worst possible news.

You can't dance in the corps de ballet when you're pregnant. Your body is not up to the rigors of elite dance when you are vomiting twice a day, swollen with hormones that separate your bones, and your center of balance keeps shifting with your increasing waistline. And there is no way to hide even a little baby bump on the lithe, compact frame of a ballerina.

You can't dance in the strip clubs when you're visibly pregnant either. For there's nothing sexy about a pregnant belly to a man who isn't the father. At least at the Ballet, Cresta wears a black leotard. At the club, she dons a black thong. It's even less forgiving.

Suddenly, her future is very daunting. Cresta is back living in a rented room on the Lower Levels now. She uses the credit card from the Muun as her security deposit and what little money she had saved up this summer is going fast. Without Sheev's help, Cresta had struggled to make it on her own on Coruscant. And that had been with dancing at the Ballet and in the clubs. There's no way she can make it on her own with a kid. It's an ugly truth, but she has to face it.

If she keeps this baby, then every dream Cresta has ever had will be gone. She'll have to leave Coruscant. Wherever she lands, she's going to become her mother all over again. Just another struggling single mom who works too hard and still can't get ahead. And then one day despite all her efforts, maybe this baby will grow up to be like her brother in jail. His life wasted and her sacrifices rendered meaningless. It's a depressing thought.

Fuck this, Cresta thinks. I have worked too hard to watch everything slip away. I can't do this alone. I shouldn't have to do this alone.

But this is by far the biggest decision of her life. And she can't decide what to do. She wonders whether Sheev would have been happy about the baby. Because somehow that seems to matter a great deal for this decision. It's his baby too, after all. She knows that Sheev would have married her, like he said. Especially if he knew she were pregnant. What would life have been like married to a Senator? Cresta will never know.

She spends another few weeks fantasizing about how maybe Sheev will show up and demand an explanation. And then Cresta will tell him everything and he will understand and forgive. Then he will reassure her that he's a Senator now and he can fix problems like this. That her brother will be safe and they will get married and raise the baby as a family. Everything will be okay. It's a fairytale, Cresta knows, but she irrationally clings to it all the same. Until it's her ninth week and she can no longer button her pants. That's when Cresta searches the holonet for the address to the Lower Level clinic she's heard about from the other club dancers.

Because fuck this, she thinks. I'm not going to do this alone. I'm not going to do this at all.

The morning she makes the clinic appointment is the same morning Cresta sits in the public gallery for the opening of the new Senate term. She watches the swearing-in of the new Senators. It's a stupid thing, but she does it anyway. Part of her feels like she has to at least give Sheev some sort of chance to see her before she goes through with it. Because it's his child too.

But it's not much of a chance because Cresta can barely see Sheev from the nosebleed level seat she's in. For certain, he won't be able to see her. But his image is projected for all to see on the large jumbotron screen. Her Sheev is not much to look at. He's not particularly handsome and he is slight with thinning red hair. But there's an intensity about him that is so compelling and magnetic. And she loves his impish rebellious streak. Today, viewed through the eyes of love as he speaks the words the little green Jedi Master feeds to him, Sheev Palpatine looks like the most dashing man in the galaxy to Cresta.

I, Sheev Palpatine of Naboo, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the Galactic Republic against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion, and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of Senator of the Galactic Republic.

His spoken oath of office is over in a few seconds. Then the presiding Jedi Master bows to Sheev and wishes him 'May the Force be with you.' Sheev acknowledges the bow with his own and the camera catches his satisfied smile.

It makes Cresta happy to see Sheev achieve his dream, but it makes her feel more alone than ever. She doesn't bother to sit through the rest of the speeches. Cresta has seen what she came to see. So she grabs her bag and wraps her boxy jacket tightly around her as she heads out.

She is waiting for the elevator with a crowd of other people when it opens to reveal the scary Muun who had threatened her in her dressing room. The one who had backed Sheev's campaign. She'd know that long, grey face anywhere. Their eyes lock and the look he gives Cresta is terrifying. In the moment, his eyes look strangely yellow, like an animal and not a person. Cresta blinks and then takes off for the stairs at a run, not daring to look back.

Over the next few days, Cresta borrows ten credits from every girl she knows, at the Ballet and at the club. She tells everyone that she's behind on her rent. The lie falls easier from her lips the more she says it. She scrapes together just enough.

She presents herself at the clinic at the appointed time. It's a nondescript place and thankfully there are no protesters standing outside. Just a lone woman who eyes Cresta thoughtfully. She must be a security guard.

This is the right thing to do, Cresta encourages herself out loud before she enters. Sometimes there are no good choices, but you still have to choose. The security guard woman overhears her and Cresta flushes. With embarrassment and, yes, with shame.

Fuck! She hates that she is in this position.

Cresta has spent all morning mustering her courage so it is bitterly frustrating to learn that she cannot have the procedure today. By law, Coruscant requires a three day waiting period, a sympathetic nurse tells her. And since you're still early on, we can't bend the rules. Cresta nods her understanding, but still she starts to cry. She's disappointed and relieved and frustrated all at once. Plus, she's pregnant, so she's hormonal too. Three more days, the motherly nurse tries to console her. Just three more days and then it will be over until we see you again next time.

Cresta is wiping away tears as she exits the building. The security guard woman is still there and this time she approaches.

"Hey, are you okay?"

No. "Yeah."

"You don't have to do this, you know. There are other options."

Cresta shakes her head. "I don't have a choice." And then she repeats her mantra. "This is the right thing to do."

"Your baby is strong with the Force," the woman says quietly.

"Don't call it a baby." Please don't call it a baby. Call it a fetus and call this a medical procedure and let me lie to myself, Cresta thinks. And don't shame me. Please don't shame me.

"Your daughter is strong with the Force," the woman repeats. "I can help you."

"D-d-daughter?" Cresta stammers. She didn't need to know that.

"I can help you."

"You can't help me," Cresta wipes away more tears. You can't help me. And you don't know a thing about me, she thinks. Where I'm from, who I am and why I'm here. Stop judging me.

"What's your name?"

Cresta doesn't answer. She just looks away. She doesn't have to explain herself to this woman, but she does anyway. And again, it comes out as a pep talk to convince herself. "Look, I'm in a bad situation. So I'm ending it and moving on."

The security guard woman moves closer. "I'm a Jedi. I can help you."

Cresta is dubious. "Yeah, then where's your lightsaber?" The woman pulls out her sword that Cresta had mistaken for a blaster strapped to her side. Well, whatever. "I thought the Jedi were peacekeeping heroes. I didn't know they stood guard outside abortion clinics."

"I'm not a guard. I'm a volunteer," the woman says in her quiet way. "And I am a hero. Because if you let me, I will help you and I will save your daughter."

And that is how a week later, Cresta finds herself living in a small group home for unwed expectant mothers. The Jedi will feed her, house her and provide her medical care for the duration of her pregnancy. In exchange, Cresta will agree to give them her child at birth.

It's a compromise and, like most compromises, it's dissatisfying. And it takes some time for Cresta to get comfortable with it. But the Jedi are long used to this situation, and they know just how to work her over. They even have a name for it: discernment.

You want what's best for your daughter, right? They tell Cresta that as a Jedi her daughter will receive an education. She will be respected and admired. She will never want for anything and she will have a job for life within the Jedi Order. Because cradle to grave, the Jedi take care of their own. Your daughter will never struggle the way you have struggled, they assure Cresta. She will have a better life than you.

They tell Cresta that her daughter will receive special training to control her gift of the Force. Children with the Force can become a danger to themselves and to others. They can be very challenging to teach and to discipline. No daycare will take a kid like this, you know. Truly, this is for the best because you don't look like you can afford a private nanny.

Best of all, your daughter will be forever grateful in the long run. Cresta hears multiple testimonials from pleasant, happy Jedi children about how the best thing their parents ever did was give them to the Jedi. Even though I can't remember them and I don't know their names, I love my parents, they tell her. Because they loved me enough to give me up. Their sacrifice has allowed me to live a selfless life of community service and devotion to the Force. Who could ask for anything more?

What if my daughter doesn't like it, Cresta wants to know. What if she doesn't want to be a nun? Can she leave? No one leaves the Jedi Order, they assure her. Why would they want to? It's a happy, fulfilling life. And Cresta believes this because every Jedi she meets at the group home seems so nice and so happy. By the time her due date approaches, Cresta is starting to wish that she too had the Force and could live happily ever after in the ancient cult.

Finally, Cresta gives birth to a squalling red haired baby girl, and the nurse droids whisk her away before Cresta can hold her. This is how it's done, they assure her. It's for the best. This makes it easier to put the experience behind you. And that's what Cresta has wanted all along. A way to give her child life that allows Cresta to reclaim her own.

Then a kindly looking old woman with a lightsaber bouncing on her hip sits with Cresta as they complete the paperwork. These confidential records will be sealed, the Jedi woman promises her. Jedi only learn of their parentage if they leave the Order. But the child's father is an important man, Cresta tells her. I do not want this information to be used to embarrass him. Never fear, she is told. No one ever looks at these records.

And that turns out to be the truth.

Legal custody of Sheeva Cole, daughter of Cresta Cole, a dancer resident of Coruscant, and Sheev Palpatine, a Senator resident of Naboo, is transferred irrevocably to the Jedi Order. A few days later, a numb Cresta leaves the group home with a pamplet about the Force and a credit card with some cash. 'May the Force be with you,' the Jedi bless her before she departs. Cresta nods. It's time for life to go on.