The Thesme sector…
Padmé had risen earlier than was normal, awakened by the thunderstorm that swept in overnight. It had been too long since she'd heard a good loud thunderstorm, and so the early hours of the morning found her curled on the balcony over the hillside. The storm soothed her, and her peace was perfect until she caught, rising faintly from inside the house, a frightened young voice.
She stood quickly, wrapping her blanket carefully around her shoulders, and went inside. The lights were dimmed to the minimum, and the morning sun was hopelessly obscured by the raging clouds outside, so she could not see much—but the soft cries grew clearer. She found Luke huddled behind a sofa in one of the sitting rooms adjacent to the main hall, his eyes wide with distress and his hands clamped over his ears.
"Oh, Luke!" She darted forward lightly and rubbed her hands through his hair, not even stopping to think about being cautious and not taking things too quickly. "It's a thunderstorm, honey, that's all," she soothed.
Luke stared back at her—belatedly she realized he obviously had never heard of such a thing. There was another clap of thunder and he jumped, yelping. "It's loud," he whimpered. "It sounds like bombs."
Padmé ran her hands through his hair, eager to reassure, and smiled at him. "It's called thunder, sweetheart," she told him. "It's just noise, it can't hurt you."
Luke winced as a fresh crack of thunder resonated through the house, but he didn't whimper this time. "You sure?" he asked dubiously.
She nodded again. "What are you doing out here?" she asked him gently, easing her hands away from him before he could start objecting to her touch.
"I wanted breakfast," he muttered. "'Cept nobody was up and then I couldn't remember which way to get back to Ben. And then it started—thun-ding."
"Well, why don't you come out on the balcony with me and I can have a droid get you some breakfast?"
Luke hesitated, and she bit the inside of her lip hopefully. Her heart leapt when he finally nodded. She straightened up, offered him a cheerful hand, which he picked up shyly, and led him out to the balcony door. He hesitated when he heard the increased loudness of the thunderclaps, the pounding rain; so she went out first to prove that it was perfectly safe. She came around the corner, and drew in a deep breath of the rain-scented air. "Come on out, Luke, it's all right," she called behind her.
After another moment of hesitation, Luke emerged from the entrance and came around the corner into full view—and his blue eyes instantly got as wide as portholes. "Mommy, lookit that!" he breathed.
She turned to see what had so awed him, but it was only the usual view of the forest surrounding Silya's home. Pretty enough, yes, but hardly breathtaking even on the best day—and today was definitely not the best day, due to the thunderstorm…
"Lookit," Luke breathed out again, dashing past her to the balcony railing, suddenly heedless of the thunder. He grabbed the bars in his small hands and stood on tiptoe, transfixed. As she watched, he crouched down and carefully slipped an arm out into the rain, turning his cupped hand upward until he could carry a palm full of rainwater back to her—and suddenly she realized just what had amazed her son so. "Mommy, the water's just fallin' right out of the sky!" Luke proclaimed excitedly. "See?"
Her eyes shone gently as the magnitude of his experience became clear. "It's raining," she told him.
Luke repeated the word with the awe of one who had come face to face with a thing straight out of a fairy tale, staring intently at his handful of rainwater and stirring a finger around in it. Had Anakin felt the same way the first time he saw rain? "This is so weird," he murmured. "How can they just let the water go falling all over the place?"
"This planet has much more water," she explained. "The rain is what makes the trees grow outside."
Luke twisted back around to see the trees, which fascinated him only slightly less than the rain. "They don't have any vaporators?"
"They don't need them here," Padmé said. "They use pipes to bring water from the lakes and rivers."
"What're those?"
Luke's expression became hopelessly flabbergasted as Padmé tried to explain the concept of enormous quantities of water all sitting in one place. He kept shaking his head and objecting furiously, firing off flurries of questions and repeating previous ones, as though expecting more realistic answers the second time around. Had Padmé told him she owned a time travel device, the boy could not have been more incredulous.
The rain, combined with the verdant forest and his mother's wild tales of lakes, excited Luke terribly, so much so that he completely forgot to be nervous about the thunder. When the droid arrived with his breakfast, she was almost unable to get him to sit down and eat—but at last she hit upon the right tactic.
"Luke, after breakfast, I'll take you down through the garden and show you the lake," she promised.
"There isn't a lake," Luke retorted, with as much contempt as if she'd just declared that planets were actually flat—but hard as he tried he couldn't repress that undertone of deathly curiosity.
"Well, you'll have to eat your breakfast before you can find out," she retorted. Luke sat down instantly and devoured half a plate of nerf sausage. Padmé smiled smugly to herself as she chipped away at her own breakfast. Maybe she was starting to get the hang of this parenting business after all!
They were not alone much longer before Obi-Wan appeared on the balcony. "I see you're both—"
"Ben, Ben, lookit the rain!" Luke squealed, vaulting out of his chair and dragging Obi-Wan by the hand over to the balcony edge. The thunder had calmed into distant rumbles, but the rain was still coming down in sheets. Padmé watched from the table as Luke jabbered away excitedly, pointing raptly at what must be to him a miracle.
When Obi-Wan at last coaxed Luke back to the breakfast table, the Jedi Master was smiling, but she saw a bittersweet memory hiding in the man's eyes. There must have been such a moment long ago with Anakin. She wished she could have been there.
"Mommy said she's gonna take me to see a lake," Luke chattered on, oblivious to the undercurrents of sorrow. "Is there really a lake?"
"Well," Obi-Wan said jovially, "I wouldn't know. I suppose you'll have to wait and see."
…
Luke could hardly contain his excitement when breakfast was finally over and Padmé led the way to the garden door. She bundled him up in one of her waterproof coats, which was far too big for him, dragging along the ground comically and hanging over his hands. But Luke was much too enthusiastic to care about the fact that he could hardly see from underneath the hood. She buttoned up her own coat and grinned at him mischievously. "Are you ready?"
He nodded eagerly, pushing back the brim of the hood enough that she could glimpse his bright eyes in the second before it fell back.
"How about you, Obi-Wan?"
Obi-Wan gave a half-smile, and drew his brown cloak around him a little more securely. Luke had insisted that the Jedi Master not be left behind on this exhilarating venture. "After you, milady," he said mildly.
"Let's go, then," she announced. Luke bounced on his toes impatiently while the door opened and burst past her as soon as she was outside.
Seconds later, a chiming, beautiful sound came to her—possibly the most beautiful thing she had ever heard—a single, ever-so-slightly hesitant giggle.
He was laughing.
For the first time since she'd walked into that hut on Tatooine, Luke was laughing.
Ahead of her, he trampled flamboyantly through a puddle on the garden path, and turned around and jumped into it, and laughed again. Tears sprang to her eyes as she watched him play wildly in the rain.
"Look at him," she whispered fiercely.
Obi-Wan came up alongside her, with his familiar understated smile. "He's a lively one," the Jedi remarked, a bit wistfully.
"Like his father?"
He nodded. "Anakin loved the rain," he murmured.
She smiled through tears, tears that for once did not spring from sorrow. "He taught me to love it too," she murmured.
Obi-Wan drew his cloak tighter, and did not respond.
"Ben, Mommy, come on!" Luke squealed happily. His enormous grin was just barely visible beneath the huge floppy hood, and the ends of his coat-sleeves flapped merrily as he flailed his short arms in the air. "Come jump!"
With blithe abandon, Padmé skipped forward and leapt straight into the middle of the deepest puddle available.
…
Mother and son splashed through every puddle they could find the whole way down the path, while Obi-Wan followed along with typical Jedi solemnity. Padmé found herself laughing every bit as enthusiastically as little Luke. It had been so long since she could forget her sorrows, and even though Luke's had only lasted for some days it must have seemed a lifetime to him too—the rain was a cleansing one for both of them.
At last they frolicked around the final bend in the path and emerged at the small lake. Luke froze, his mouth wide open; after an awestruck second he wriggled his hood off so he could see better. "No way," he breathed.
Padmé almost had to bite her tongue to resist chanting I told you so. She felt like she was a little girl again, playing with Sola at Varykino. "Isn't it pretty?" she said instead.
Luke nodded mutely.
…
Silya spent a sleepless night, and at first light she had locked herself in her office, but though she waged war for hours she could not focus on her work anymore than she had been able to sleep. Her mind refused to be distracted from its fixation on the lovely face of Padmé Amidala—a face Silya could gladly drive a fist into right about now.
Fortunately for Padmé, though Silya might have resigned her post six years ago, she was still too much the Senator to go around hitting people who made her upset.
Was Padmé her dearest friend? The answer was still yes, but after all of this Silya could hardly help wondering just how much she really knew about Padmé Amidala. Her young friend had, she reflected bitterly, come a long way from the Apprentice Legislature, a long way indeed. Once upon a happier time, Silya would never have thought of Padmé and deception in the same breath, but those times were gone. Possibly forever, after this latest revelation. What other momentous secrets was her friend concealing?
Her stylus smacked furiously against the far wall of her office, but not hard enough.
Padmé's newfound vices didn't stop at deception either. No, now she was even going so far as to abandon her work with the resistance!
A small, rational voice somewhere in her mind tried to remind her that Padmé had not said that—only that she would no longer be leading—but the rest of her was too angry for objectivity. She surged out of the office chair and paced helplessly across the carpet. Her anger and sense of betrayal might have cooled more quickly had there been anything she could do about the situation.
But there wasn't. That was another thing she had thought she'd known about Padmé—her friend was reasonable, a being of powerful intellect, not ruled by anything so primitive and temperamental as emotions. But Padmé had succumbed to the tyranny of the maternal instinct; Silya could see it in her eyes. It was all the more powerful for the years of separation; there would be no dissuading her now.
Silya sat heavily back down in her chair and massaged her temples. Her flash of temper had dissolved into dull frustration, incomprehension. If she only knew the full story, all this might make sense.
Maybe…maybe all this was just Padmé's reaction to being suddenly reunited with her son? Silya straightened, feeling a flash of hope. Of course—of course. In a short time, all this understandable euphoria would surely wear off, and Padmé would come fully to her senses, resume involvement with the resistance leadership, where she was so desperately needed.
Yes…yes. Silya blew out a breath through still-gritted teeth. It grated against every nerve, but she would let Padmé go for now. She had nothing against little Luke, but after all he was just one person, and Padmé was needed by many. In a few months at the most, her younger friend would surely see reason. Silya would bide her time until then.
…
Thankfully the rainstorm stopped a short while before Padmé planned to leave Thesme; otherwise it would probably have taken all three adults to drag Luke inside the yacht. They had waited until mid-afternoon to board; the ship had needed to be restocked and refueled, and at Padmé's request Silya had sent her Twi'lek servant Gailo into the nearest town to track down a few new outfits for Luke, who was still wearing the same battered white clothes from Tatooine.
The results of the shopping trip were not exactly haute couture. Padmé frowned when she unsealed the package, and Silya raised an eyebrow when Luke emerged in his not-exactly-new garb. It was a plain jumpsuit, dusty blue in color, frayed at the edges and a little too big for him; it was hardly what Padmé had once dreamed of dressing her baby in, all those years ago.
But then, nothing about her life was the way she'd dreamed it was going to be.
She forced herself to be optimistic. As far as Luke was concerned, it was great; he wore an enthusiastic grin and was busy jumping and rolling around in it, getting used to the feel. It was presentable, and it would probably be a match for Luke's energy. And it did bring out the vibrant color of his eyes nicely.
All the same, she promised herself that once this meeting with Bail was over and they'd found someplace to settle down, she would take Luke on a shopping trip and build him a proper wardrobe.
"That should do nicely for now," Obi-Wan commented, coming up alongside her with the last packing case they had to load on the ship. "Non-descript."
Padmé nodded. Now that she thought about it, Luke was definitely not going to attract unwanted attention wearing such a typical jumpsuit.
Obi-Wan called Luke, who followed him up the ramp with a wave good-bye at Silya. Padmé turned to her friend, who was standing at a distance from the ship with arms crossed and lips sculpted into a very considered smile. A stab of guilt made itself felt in her stomach despite her resolve. She wished there had been a way to avoid this, wished she could tell Silya everything. But she couldn't put her friend in such a dangerous position, not just to make herself feel better.
"I'm sorry, Silya," she said softly, reaching out to take her friend's hand.
Silya's measured smile faded once confronted with sincerity. Padmé didn't quite understand the bizarre mixture of emotions just visible in her friend's eyes. "He's a lovely child," she said neutrally. "I'm sure he won't give you much trouble."
Padmé glanced over her shoulder apprehensively, hearing Luke's faint chatter, and remembering all the horror stories Obi-Wan had told her of Anakin's young years. "I hope I'll make a good mother," she murmured.
Silya coughed. "Padmé, you've led entire nations. I think you can manage one boy."
Padmé just shook her head. "I'm about to find out."
There was a pause between them, during which the faint mirth faded away. Silya was the one to break it a s the ship's engines began to hum. "Go on and do what you think you need to," she said slowly, her eyes on the platform. "But don't forget about us."
Padmé swept her friend into an impulsive hug. "I won't," she whispered fiercely. Both women were wiping their eyes as they separated. "I'll visit," Padmé promised as she turned to the ship.
"Stay safe!"
…
As luck would have it, the café where Bail would be meeting Padmé this time was a reasonably pleasant place—not too upscale that it would seem odd for any decently dressed being to stop in, and not too common that it would seem out of order for a senator to pay it a visit. Their customary formula had yielded a welcome result this time around. They used the same pattern every time a meeting was necessary—go to the second most populous city on the planet, take a right onto the street in front of the main entrance to the city hall, take a right at the second intersection, and walk into the second café on the right side of that street. It was an easy way to avoid broadcasting their exact rendezvous destination on the Holonet, and thus far had served its purpose well.
Pretending to study Senate reports dutifully over a cup of local tea, Bail secretly wondered what could have prompted Padmé to request such a dangerous meeting. He dreaded what news she might bring from Tatooine—had something happened to Luke? He'd seen the boy only once, as a newborn infant, but distant though he was, he was his own daughter's twin brother, and Bail had always felt a vague, semi-parental kinship with young Luke Skywalker, an echo of his love for little Leia.
It was, understandably, rather difficult for him to speak with Padmé anymore. Her presence was an immediate reminder that Leia was not truly his daughter, as dearly as he loved her. And he knew it must be equally difficult for Padmé to be reminded of the children she could not raise herself.
The senator sighed a little, prodding his datapad with the stylus. Half of him wanted to praise the circumstances that had brought their precious Leia to Alderaan; the other half was constantly bitter towards a galaxy that prevented Padmé from being the wonderful mother she surely would have been. In the end, the plain truth was that all Bail Organa could do about it was be the best father and friend that he could. He leaned back and surveyed the vista of Obroa-Skai from his vantage perch atop the café's lofted balcony. He'd always liked Obroa-Skai. It brought memories of less troubled times, when he'd been a young man studying advanced political science. This café was nice, but he wished they could have met in the wonderfully antiquated library across the street—
"Senator?" He looked away from the view; the café hostess had come up to his solitary table. "Senator Organa, you said you were expecting an acquaintance to arrive?"
He sat up a little straighter, setting the stylus down. "Yes indeed. Has she arrived?"
"I believe so, although not alone."
Not alone? It must be a member of one of her resistance cells. "Please, escort her out here," he requested with a reassuring smile.
In a few moments, a petite brunette emerged through the archway, dark ringlets falling loose around her face above plain trousers and a space jacket. She did a turn around and smiled brightly when she spotted him seated back in the corner shadow, well out of the sight of those below in the streets.
Bail started to smile back. But then Padmé's gaze shifted down, looking back inside the archway, where her left arm was still hidden. She whispered something he couldn't hear and moved further out onto the balcony.
Clutching the other end of her left arm was a small, blonde, and very nervous boy.
No. It couldn't be. It mustn't be. She wouldn't have.
He smiled mechanically as Padmé led the little boy over to his table and helped him pull out a chair. The child clambered up, his progress hampered a little by the large model ship he was toting along with him. She pushed the chair in, and only then did she settle herself in the one opposite Bail.
"It's wonderful to see you," Bail heard himself say in automatic response to her nod of greeting.
The blonde boy squirmed a little in his chair. "Mommy, is that your friend?" he asked.
Mommy. Dear Force. She had.
Bail couldn't help staring. So this was Luke Skywalker. Distantly he noted that the little boy didn't look even remotely similar to his twin sister—with that blonde hair, those keen blue eyes, he was undoubtedly going to take after his father.
What in blazes was the child doing here? He was supposed to be hidden safely away on Tatooine!
"Yes, this is Senator Organa," Padmé told him. The hostess arrived behind them and Padmé quickly ordered a drink for herself and a snack for Luke. They made small talk until Luke's order of gel-cubes arrived. Leia loved those things; Luke had never seen them before, but he was quickly enraptured after discovering that they doubled as moldable playing matter. In no time he was completely absorbed in crafting tiny models of ships and devouring them, freeing Bail to ask Padmé the thousand questions burning circles through his brain.
"Why is Luke here?" he asked tersely under his breath.
Padmé pursed her lips for a second. "My husband's relatives were killed," she answered at last.
Bail sucked in a breath, terrified that the Empire had somehow discovered them—but Padmé shook her head reassuringly. "It was a random raid," she said. "It does happen occasionally in that area."
"Padmé, it's still foolish to bring him here," Bail continued tightly.
"We're not alone," she responded calmly. "A friend of my husband came along."
So Master Kenobi was nearby as well. And this close to the Core?
"Don't worry," she continued in a lower voice, "this is as much as I'm going to risk. It's just this once."
"Padmé, given your, ah, volunteer involvements, I don't think it's wise to keep bringing him along," Bail shot back, still only just above a whisper. "You could get busy quickly."
They both glanced at Luke. He was now mashing two gel cubes together and sculpting a bigger and better masterpiece. Paying no attention to their tense conversation.
He looked back at Padmé, and did not like the somewhat guilty expression she was now wearing. "Well, I plan on taking a few years off," she said, glancing down at the table top.
Bail forced himself to remain calm. This conversation was becoming much too important to risk any miscommunication, which was liable to happen with all of this cautious, multi-layered language. They needed to go somewhere where they could speak openly without fear of being overheard.
"Well, I'm afraid I have a meeting at a university some blocks away, but perhaps you would care to join me for dinner later aboard my ship?" he suggested.
Padmé nodded. "That will work out fine. We have some shopping to do anyway." She let her eyes rest fondly on little Luke, and Bail watched as her hand inched slowly closer to the boy—but she gave an odd start, and pulled back. Her eyes flicked down, seemingly troubled. It was only for an instant, though; there was no trace of disconcertment when she looked back across at him a second later.
"Here's my comlink number," Padmé continued, pulling over a disposable napkin and scrabbling the number down with his pen. That was a trick they'd learned working with the resistance, one that would allay the suspicions of anybody who might be watching. After all, who would be stupid enough to use an unencrypted comlink number to communicate with a secret contact?
Certainly not two high-stakes politicians. Padmé already knew where and how to reach his ship; the number would never be used.
"Call me when your meeting is over and we'll come," she said brightly, handing the napkin to him. "I'd love to hear how your family is doing."
A familiar ache swelled faintly in his chest. It was the same pang that he felt every time he thought about Padmé and Leia together, but it was fiercer this time, for Padmé's eyes were again resting on Leia's brother, and he could see the pained wistfulness in them. It made him feel vaguely guilty, even though he knew that pain was entirely the fault of a different man. "And I as well," he murmured, with another disbelieving glance at Luke.
This time, Luke was staring back at him keenly. He felt convinced the boy had somehow divined his thoughts and conflicting emotions, and understood them better than he did. The sensation was a familiar one—Leia did it to him all the time.
"This evening, then," he announced, breaking his eyes away from Luke's and summoning the hostess with a gesture.
