Chapter 10

A/N: Thank you so, so much for the reviews, love, encouragement, and feedback! As always, I appreciate it!

In the days since the Chandrilan mine had been turned over to the Jedi, Mon threw herself back into her work. There were a few comlink messages here and there from Krennic—silly questions, she noticed, like How are you and How has your morning been so far. The questions were small talk, which she hated, but she knew what was meant, which was why she didn't respond.

It was five days since the night of the Environmental Fund dinner when a package arrived. Gema came into her office, her arms straining at the size of the box.

"Ma'am," she said, "this has arrived for you."

Her assistant set the box down on Mon's desk.

"Thank you, Gema," she said as she studied the thing, "you may go."

Mon gazed at the large bow and saw a small note wedged inside of it. She plucked it from its spot and read:

To replace the one I ruined. See you at the Ball.

Mon very carefully set the note on the desktop and took a moment to gaze at the package once more before opening it. She very deliberately removed the lid and pushed aside the wrapping to reveal a blush colored gown. Mon pulled it from the box and held it out before her. The skirt was sheathed in a long, thin fringe. The bodice was made of translucent shraa silk cut into the shape of flowers—flowers, Mon recognized, that only grew on Chandrila. Another broad row of thin fringe flowed from the shoulders.

He had inexplicably good taste.

She gingerly placed it back into the box and sat down. There was so much work to do that day—she was so far behind—but she just stared at the dress. She already knew that she would wear it that evening, even though her conscience told her not to. She marveled at his power to coerce her into doing reckless things—however maddening it was, at least it took her mind off of her work for once.

There was a knock at the door. Gema poked her head in and reminded Mon of the Loyalist Committee meeting.

"Yes," Mon ran her hand over her face and crossed to the couch, "show everyone in."

The committee processed in solemnly.

"We have much to discuss," Bail pointed out. "Shall we begin?"

The group took their seats and heaved a collective deep breath.

"We have a responsibility," Padme said, "to bring our concerns to the Chancellor. He's pushed his powers too far."

"I agree," Mon nodded, stealing a side-long glance in Jar Jar Binks' direction, "but he has been elusive; I haven't seen him in weeks."

"I know someone who is close to him," Padme said, "perhaps I can arrange something."

"Good," Bail nodded, "our constituents are too restless. If our planets fall to the Separatist cause, we will lose all control."

"And we must be prepared for anything," Mon pointed out, "We must have contingencies put into place."

"What do you mean?" Senator Papanoida asked, "Contingencies for what?"

The other senators also looked alarmed.

"With whatever the Chancellor's response will be." Mon concluded, "Times are uncertain. We cannot trust anyone."

"I think we should open this up to the Jedi," Padme said.

"No." Mon said immediately.

"Why not?"

"Because we don't know the Jedi's position on this," she said, "it's better to keep it a political issue and not bring them into it."

Padme seemed less than satisfied with the explanation and shot a look at Mon.

"We must keep this between us—and only us," Mon continued, "It's too unstable to expand yet."

"Senator!" Breemu exclaimed, "You sound as if the galaxy were to implode tomorrow!"

"If the Republic's Constitution is dismantled further," Bail said, "The galaxy as we know it will be destroyed. Senator Mothma is right."

After the meeting drew to a close, Padme lingered.

"You look pale," Mon said tenderly.

"I—" she started but stopped herself.

"What?"

Padme stared off, avoiding Mon's gaze.

"I'm just tired," she said as she rose slowly from the couch. Mon watched her head for the door but then trailed after her. She grabbed her hand.

"Please, Padme," she whispered, "What is it?"

Padme turned to Mon with sudden tears in her eyes. She shook her head and her mouth contorted as it fought against a sob.

"I'm so afraid, Mon," she whispered through trembling lips.

Before Mon could respond, Padme slipped away and left her alone. Mon stood there for several moments, frozen in shock by the scene she'd just witnessed. Padme was always so even, so calm; she embodied grace and poise. To see her stricken with such fear unsettled Mon to no end.

Things had begun to fall apart.

The sudden rapping on the door made her heart leap uncomfortably into her throat. Gema's head appeared.

"You have a lunch meeting in fifteen minutes, Senator."

"Yes, thank you, Gema."

"And Commander Krennic is here."

Mon collapsed onto the couch and put her head to her knees for a moment before recovering.

"Send him in." She smoothed her robes.

Krennic came in and stood stiffly by the door, his gloved hands clasped in front of him.

"Good morning, Commander," Mon leaned against the couch's armrest.

"Good morning, Senator." He responded haltingly as he immediately regretted coming in person—but the comlink messages weren't being returned.

"How are you feeling?" Mon asked.

"Well." Krennic's voice was quiet.

"I'm sorry I haven't responded to your messages," she said after a moment, "I've been very busy."

"Er, yes," Krennic made a vague gesture back toward the hall, "meetings all day then?"

She nodded.

"Nothing treasonous, I hope?" The corner of his lip lifted slightly.

"No."

"I see you received my gift." He indicated the box on the desk.

"Yes, thank you, you didn't have to do that."

"I did." He advanced toward her.

She got up from the couch and put her hand out to stop him. Krennic ignored her and grasped her hand. He took her into his arms and placed a firm kiss on her mouth. Mon moved to pull away, but as the kiss deepened, she relented. She found herself sliding her hands up his shoulders and clasping them to the back of his neck. He pressed his body against her and she immediately felt his urgency.

"I have ten minutes before I have to get to a meeting—"

"You're so diligent, Senator," he said between kisses, "Always mindful of taxpayer funds."

"I have to finish reading these declarations," she persisted.

"That's what aides are for," Krennic didn't let up, "makes them feel useful."

"And what of your work—?"

"Ahead of schedule," he lied, "You should try it sometime."

Krennic probed his tongue further into her mouth and she involuntarily but contentedly hummed in response. His lips made a trail across her jaw and then down her neck where they stayed in the hollow of her collarbone. She tilted her head back; the stress from the day seemed to be melting from her mind and her body relaxed. She didn't hear the small knock at the door.

"Senator you must—SORRY! I'm so—sorry—" Gema threw her holotablet against her face to hide her dropped jaw.

Mon and Orson flew away from each other with such a speed, it was as if they were poorly positioned magnets.

The aide scurried out the door, but as she did, she called, "Your lunch meeting!"

Krennic had offered to pick her up and escort her to the Ball, but Mon assured him that she did have to work late and that she would meet him there.

The Ball was held annually at the Grand Rotunda in Coruscant's Central District. The large space had a sweeping staircase at its south end, and a wall of windows at its north end. There was an octet of musicians by the stairs playing beautiful music which provided a peculiar foil for the lines of soldiers around the perimeter of the room. On clear nights, like that particular night, the windows were the perfect view of the Coruscanti night sky.

Krennic arrived at the Ball a little earlier than he would have liked, but it was only to ensure that he could see her come in. He found glancing at the entrance every few minutes allowed him a certain sense of control. His preparations paid off; Mon appeared at the top of the grand staircase about a half an hour after he had arrived.

As she descended, Mon found him in the crowd and gave him a smile. She glided over to him and Krennic felt victorious; she'd worn the gown he'd given her. The long fringe undulated against her hips as she moved. Instead of her usual low, wide bun at the base of her neck, her red hair cascaded in waves at her shoulders.

His slipped his hand around her waist in greeting and laid his lips against her ear.

"You look gorgeous." He whispered.

Mon pulled back and blushed with a smile. "You cut a fine figure yourself."

Throughout the entire night, they remained inseparable. After dinner had been served, Mon whispered in his ear, her gentle breath sending a shiver through him.

"Care to dance?" She asked.

Krennic dabbed a napkin at his mouth as a certain amount of exhilaration coursed through his veins. He took her hand and led her to the dance floor where countless other couples were already swirling around the room.

They joined in and, as they danced, Mon could not hide her surprise.

"I must say, Commander," she smiled, "you are a fabulous dancer."

"Don't look so shocked, Senator."

"I had hours of boring dance lessons growing up," Mon said, "This was drilled into me at an early age, being the governor's daughter."

"I figured early on," he explained, turning her out and then back in again, "that knowing how to dance would be extremely beneficial to my career. I'm sure your father thought the same, being a politician."

"My mother was the governor."

Krennic inclined his head, "of course."

They continued to dance for the rest of the evening. As always, the question of going home hung in the air between Orson and Mon at the end of the event. They decided to go back to his apartment.

"Your view is spectacular," she said as she gazed out his near-panoramic window, "It's beautiful…"

He came up behind her and whispered: "Indeed."

Mon laughed and turned back to him as she slipped her arm around his neck. Krennic cradled her face in his hand and brought his lips to hers. She pressed herself against him, which gave him a direct signal and so, without their lips separating, he began to move her toward his bedroom in a movement not unlike a dance. Mon pulled away suddenly when they were just at the corner of the bed.

"What—?" Judging from her rosy cheeks and the timbre of her voice, things had been going well for him.

She reached into her pocket—he didn't even know the gown had pockets—and pulled out a small old comlink. She turned away and sat at the edge of the bed. He watched her as she checked the message. Her eyes widened.

"What is it?" He asked, the mood and his hopes being dashed.

"The Chancellor…"

His comlink buzzed then as well. Krennic took a look and read:

Alert! Supreme Chancellor Palpatine has been kidnapped by Separatist forces! We've dispatched two Jedi to bring him to safety. For security reasons, we are asking all senators and high-ranking government officials to shelter in place. Please keep the Chancellor in your thoughts as he goes through this horrific ordeal. We will update you when we have more news.

Mon threw herself back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. She put the back of her hand against her brow as she thought. Krennic lay next to her, his head propped by his arm. He watched her with a certain amount of disappointment that slowly morphed into concern.

The message Obi-Wan Kenobi had just sent her echoed through her mind. She wasn't even concerned with the fact that Krennic was now wondering why she'd gotten the mass message a few moments before he did. She thought of Padme and the tears that hadn't yet fallen from her eyes. Mon felt ill but looked at her old comlink again, turning a little so that Krennic couldn't see the last few words from Kenobi:

The kidnapping is a ruse. Palpatine is lying.

The creeping feeling of dread took hold of her and did not let go. She felt dizzy with this new knowledge and soon another realization hit her: perhaps the wars were a ruse as well. Mon continued to stare above her as she put the pieces together. The end result was terrifying.

"Are you all right?" Krennic asked her.

"No." She said, and realizing that she didn't fully trust him to tell him her thoughts, she repeated the word: "No."

"Well, you're here for the night…" He said, "We've the order to shelter in place…"

"Yes," she said, "I—"

Her pocket started to buzz. It was her own comlink. She pulled it out. Padme.

"Excuse me." She said and sat up, her back to him, "Hello?"

As Mon spoke, Krennic noticed the other comlink, an older one, still on the bed. Mon had turned away so he was free to study it. He supposed it wasn't unusual for a senator to have two devices and he imagined that several did. But to have one so obsolete struck him as odd.

She clicked the device off at the end of her call.

"All right," she said, "I hate to ask—do you have something I could sleep in?"

Sleep. She said sleep. His shoulders sagged a little. "Of course."

Krennic only had uniforms. He wore no other clothing; even when he was not working he thought everyone should know his purpose and rank. But he did have undershirts. He went to the wardrobe across from the bed and pulled one out.

"Here," he said.

"Thank you," she replied and waited a moment.

He took the cue and left the room. A few minutes later she called him back in, and there she was—wearing his undershirt in his bed. Maybe this night wasn't so bad after all. She was sending messages on her newer comlink and so he slipped into the bathroom and changed. He emerged again and slipped under the covers, next to her. She sighed, sent her last message to Bail, and laid the device on the nightstand.

Mon eased down onto the pillow as Krennic switched off the light. He slid down beside her and she lifted his arm so that she could rest against his chest. He clasped her close to him and could feel her sigh softly. In spite of many feelings she couldn't ignore, she felt safe with him, in his arms on that night and knew in that moment that he'd never hurt her, regardless of his many shortcomings. She reached up and placed a kiss on his lips before settling into his embrace and falling asleep.

Krennic usually would lie in bed each night, his mind racing through to-do lists as he waited for his body to give up and go to sleep. On this particular night, with Mon pressed against him—her hair splayed across his shoulder, her leg against his, her breath puffing evenly against his chest—he didn't remember trying to fall asleep. He didn't toss and turn and didn't awaken with a start thinking about elusive kyber crystals at three a.m. He slumbered the entire night and was only roused by the early morning sunlight the next day.

It hadn't been a dream; she was still there, right next to him, her head still on his chest. He felt her pulse as his fingers brushed her neck, which meant she was also definitely not a hallucination. He could tell by her breathing that she was still fast asleep. Krennic shifted his arm beneath her and found it to be completely numb. He tried extracting it, but his movement stirred her and she moved closer, making the rescue impossible. He decided it wasn't the worst thing to happen to his arm and gave up. His blood could circulate at another time. Resigned, he buried his nose into her hair.

When she shifted awake a few short minutes later, Krennic slammed his eyes closed. He felt Mon sit up and pause for a moment—was she studying him?—and then get out of bed. He allowed one eye open and watched as she dressed silently. She moved back toward the bed and he did his best impression of how he thought a sleeping person might look.

Mon sat down next to him gently as fear and uncertainty rattled her. She gazed at him silently as he slept.

It would be safe—it would be her secret, to keep close to her. Some pieces of information she didn't trust to tell him—but this? She knew it was illogical madness, but she had to do it. In these uncertain times, there was this one thing that she could be certain of.

She leaned down and her lips brushed his ear: "I love you."

However true the words were, she regretted saying them. Mon then rose and left the apartment. As the door slid closed behind her, Krennic's eyes burst open.