Author's Note: Sorry it took me so long to update. Went home for the weekend and there wasn't any Internet access. Ah well. Plus I had trouble getting inspiration--but don't worry, it's back.

To Night of the Land: Glad you thought it was awesome.

To Anakin's Girl 4eva: Yeah, a word with Anakin might help the situation out a little--he's being a bit stubborn. You know Ani . . . .

To Quill of Molliemon: Yeah, Palpatine is . . . shudders. That's about the only way I can express it. You know a guy is bad when the actor who plays him thinks he's been "evil since birth." And yeah, Onasi isn't much compared to Palpatine. He isn't supposed to be, though he's supposed to be quite nasty in his own right.

To KTfanfic: I was surprised when the idea for Qui-Gon to the rescue came to me, but I went with it and now I really like it. Yeah, if I had my way Sidious would be cut off from the galaxy. But then we wouldn't have an ultimate bad guy, so oh well.

To Go For It: Don't worry about putting it in the right words--I love all reviews anyway! But thanks so much for reviewing me. I'm so happy that you feel that way about my story . . . I tell you truly, reviews like this are the reason I've been able to write this story so comparatively quickly.

To MissNaye: Did you like that? I thought it was a good touch, myself.

To SomeoneElsesDream: Thanks so much! "It is easy for me, having seen the movies, to picture exactly what you are writing."--One of the best compliments a fanfic writer can receive! I always try to see if I can hear the actors saying the lines I'm writing . . . .

To Eruvyweth: You can start your reviews with any word you like, you know. I'm . . . honored that you think my writing deserves that kind of praise. I'm proud of the later part of Chapter Nine, so I'm glad you enjoyed it as well. And I'm so glad you think so highly of my work--I can't express it.

To Julie Horwitz: The idea just sort of tumbled out of watching Rots for the first time (even though I started it before I actually saw the movie, I didn't get very far before I lost interest and seeing the movie revitalized it). I'm honored you've added me to your favorites and keep reading!

To Optimus Primal: Jedi Maximal: Long name. I'm glad you like my heavy detail about the darkness and so forth. It's a struggle, but I don't think turning back from the Dark Side would be that easy. It strikes me as kind of like a drug--the more you use it, the easier it becomes and the harder it becomes to turn away from it. I'm trying to express that level of difficulty in my story.

Princess-Aiel: Wow, thanks! The interaction between Obi-Wan and Anakin (and Padme) is what it's all about for me, as well. Especially Obi and Ani.

To Queengoddess: Yeah, take that, Sidious! The Sith Mastermind is an interesting character to write (and I think I actually got into writing him better this time than the first time I tried it), but I love to thwart him, too! About Anakin--I agree. There are parts of him that Sidious never touched, the parts that were stronger than he knew . . . . Yeah, Anakin and Obi-Wan being all sweet and brotherly is what it's all about (though there isn't much of that this time around--I'm as sad as you are).

To Hieiko: Intense? Cool! And you weren't the only one who was surprised (should I be admitting that?).

To Fragile Dreams: Well, I'm not going to complain about more reviews! And I can't even respond to your praise for my writing . . . I'm so happy you liked it! And I'm least certain about my ability to write suspense--so I'm thrilled you thought it was suspenseful (I don't think a writer ever knows if his or her writing is suspenseful, since the writer already knows what's going to happen--hopefully).

To Gilraen Aclamense: Cool name. And I'm working on the updating thing.

To ThoseWereTheDays: Glad you like it.

To Alley Parker: Glad you think so. I feel that way about RotS AUs, too. As you probably figured from me writing one.

To Anakin's Force: Wow--thanks. I haven't been brave enough to plunge into TFN yet. I definitely agree with you about Obi-Wan in canon--but for Obi-Wan it's all about what the Jedi want, and he went with that. So sad! cries And yeah, Padme's about to become a significantly more important character, I think.

To WoketteUK: Thanks! I'll try and make it live to expectations! (I can already hear Yoda--"do or do not . . . ")

To Mrs. A.Skywalker: Wow! Another board! Which one? I'm so shocked by this. And thrilled. Wow . . . . Thanks so much.

To Nicole: Thanks. I really appreciate your compliments. I'm glad you think it's so great. I don't think it's half bad, myself. ;)

Disclaimer: The Flanneled One and Lucasfilm own all. I'm not making any money of this, which means I don't have any. So don't sue, savvy?

Ten

I didn't sleep well that night. My sleep was disrupted by an endless stream of dreams— more like memories, twisted just slightly, as if the darkness had seeped into my mind and perverted my very thoughts—long ago, the fear of being sent to the Agri-Corps, battles with Xanatos, Qui-Gon's death and my first battle with a Sith, anger and guilt, the early days of Anakin's apprenticeship and the terrifying knowledge that I didn't have a clue what I was doing, the beginning of the Clone Wars and the ever-increasing doubt that I was doing the right thing by keeping silent about Anakin's relationship with Padmé, battles on a thousand worlds, pain and flame and darkness and death, Anakin's fingers closing into a fist and Padmé gasping for air and crumpling to the ground, the clash of saber against saber and fire all around us, the shock of my blade severing flesh, the pain in Anakin's voice as he screamed at me, falling—

And other images, too, of sandy flats and a crowded hovel and a junkshop I had never set foot in and a squat Toydarian floating over me and shouting, the thrill and adrenaline rush of a Podrace, moving too fast to see what was coming next with my eyes—but I'd never Podraced, had I?—and rage and anger and Padmé in a white lace dress taking my mechanical hand in hers—what?—pictures of myself with Padmé, holding and her and kissing her and—where was this coming from?—facing . . . myself as I stood atop the ramp of Padmé's starship—

A repetitive beeping sound cut through the sleepy fog in my mind, and I rolled over and groaned, brushing sleep out of my eyes, almost surprised to feel a beard under my hand, to discover that I was Obi-Wan Kenobi after all and not Anakin Skywalker. Still muzzy and half-caught in dreams, I struggled up to a sitting position. What had that been about? A Podrace? Kissing Padmé? I had never felt like that about her. Had I been picking up on Anakin's thoughts and memories somehow?

I sighed and pushed the strange dreams from my mind as I looked up and glanced at the chronometer set into the data console across the room. I blinked, trying to clear my vision. Surely that time couldn't be correct—

It slowly dawned on me that correct it was, and that I had overslept by nearly four hours, based on the time I usually got up. I groaned again and dropped my head into my hands, running my fingers back through my hair.

Wonderful, Kenobi. Sleeping late is exactly the way to improve this situation. I'm sure it will deeply impress Commander Onasi, among others.

Well, there was no help for it now. I sighed and dragged myself out of the bed just as the shrill beep of the door came again, informing me that there was someone outside who requested my presence. I reached out with the Force and felt the clear, sharp mind of Healer Shian Risto.

Perfect. Just perfect. She had to be one I greeted looking like I'd just rolled out of bed. Which, of course, I had. I pressed the button on the wall beside the door and her face appeared on the viewscreen. "General Kenobi?" she said. "I'm sorry to wake you—"

I covered a yawn with my hand. "It's nothing, Healer Risto. I was getting up anyway."

Her skepticism was written clearly across her face, but she refrained but commenting. "I was hoping to speak to you," she said instead. Her eyes were serious. I reached out to brush her sense with the Force and picked up a great deal of concern and anxiety, though nothing screamingly urgent, with a low undertone of impatient irritation. I winced, hoping I hadn't put that annoyance there, though it was more likely than not that I had.

"Give me just a moment," I said in reply, and cut off the communication.

Force. What a way to begin the morning.

"What did you wish to speak to me about?" I asked about fifteen standard minutes later. If Healer Risto noticed that my hair was still wet from the 'fresher, she didn't say anything.

"Several things," she said. She didn't seem annoyed now, and I wondered if I had misread her. "I was going to check in on Senator Amidala—would you mind accompanying me?"

"Not at all." I fell into step beside her. "What things, exactly, Healer Risto?"

She sighed. "Well, for one, I'm afraid General Skywalker has taken a bit of a turn for the worse."

My heart froze intro solid ice at the same time my heart leapt up into my throat. "W-worse?" I stammered. My voice was hoarse and ragged, I realized, and wondered at the strength of my reaction. It felt as if my heart had stopped beating at her words.

She glanced at my face, then laid a comforting hand on my arm. "Hey, nothing like that, General Kenobi. Calm down. It's just that the shock he had yesterday—well, it's weakened him a little, that's all. And his back—falling off the bed wasn't the best thing he could have done for it, to say the least. I had to replace the bandages entirely. I'm afraid he's slipped back into unconsciousness for the time being, and, well, he's just a bit weaker than I'd like. I don't suppose you have any idea what set him off yesterday?"

"None," I said honestly.

She frowned. "And you told him Senator Amidala was all right earlier?"

I nodded. "I don't quite understand it," I admitted, and heaved a sigh of frustration. I had spent most of yesterday afternoon turning that exact question over in my mind and come to no conclusions whatsoever. "It feels as if I'm missing something, but I have no idea what that might be."

Her frown deepened. "And you didn't say anything that might have set him off while you were with him earlier?"

I shook my head. "Nothing . . . ."

She bit her lip. "Do you think someone else might have . . . said something to him?"

I slowed my steps without even realizing what I was doing. "Like who?"

She gave an uncomfortable shrug. "I don't know. I didn't say a word, and the medical droids aren't equipped with vocabulators—" She looked away from me, her fingers tightening on the edge of the datapad she was carrying.

My mind immediately jumped to the fury that had burned in Onasi's blue eyes as he confronted me. That man is a mass-murderer . . . a monster

But no, how would Onasi have known that Padmé would have provoked such a reaction in Anakin? It didn't make sense. And it was an unworthy thought anyway. Simply because I didn't like the man didn't mean he was responsible for everything that went wrong around us. His point of view was as valid as mine, much as I hated to admit it.

"Was there anything else?" I added.

She turned a corner on the way to the unit where Padmé had been installed and I followed her. "I'm also concerned for Senator Amidala," she said. "She's very tired, and she doesn't seem to have much energy. She's very worried. It's not good for her, or for the babies."

"What can we do?" I asked quickly. "What can I do?"

Healer Risto gave me a tired smile and stopped in front of Padmé's door. "General Skywalker is her husband, isn't he?" she asked.

I hesitated. "I—Yes," I admitted after a minute. "He . . . loves her." I had known it for a long time, but admitting it like that, telling a near-stranger—it felt odd, and I felt alone and adrift. I no longer had to worry about Anakin's place in the Jedi, because we were the only Jedi left, no longer had to cover for him when he slipped up in his reckless longing to be with his wife again after a long mission.

Had it been a mistake, to cover for him like that, to let him continue on a path I knew was self-destructive, knew was against the Jedi Code? But I hadn't been able to turn them in, because it made them so happy, and after every mission Anakin looked a little older and a little less alive, and every time I saw Senator Amidala she looked a little more worn and a little more tired, but when they were together they were the radiant queen and the exuberant youth I had first known all over again and their happiness, their love, lit up the world around them. I supposed I would never know now if I had been right or wrong.

"And he is the father of the children," Shian prompted. I nodded, pulled back to the present by her words. She made a face. "Well, one thing's for certain. I don't envy you explaining this situation to the Jedi Council, Master Kenobi."

I know I flinched. She had not meant me any pain through her words, but they were like a lightsaber stabbed into the still-bleeding wound in my heart that was the loss of the other Jedi. I rubbed my hand wearily across my eyes, trying to hide my reaction from her. "What are you suggesting, Healer Risto?" I mumbled tiredly.

She shrugged. "She wants to see him. I suggest we let her."

I blinked at that. "I—are you sure she's strong enough?"

She sighed. "No. And my supervisor would have my head for even suggesting such a thing. But Sith, if he's going to put me on both trauma and obstetrics and overload me at the same time, the least he can do is deal with it when I do things my way. And I think it would be better for her to see him, rather than not."

I had had no idea that Shian had been working so hard. "I'm sorry," I said. "It's on our account that—"

She shook her head. "It has nothing to do with you, Master Kenobi. Well, not a whole lot, anyway." She gave a wry smile. "He just doesn't like me."

"Why not?" I asked. "You seem . . . well, you don't seem particularly unlikable."

She grinned. "You'd still say that even after I bullied you into letting me examine you?"

I hesitated, feeling a smile start to play at the edges of my lips. It was almost a foreign sensation after the last few days. "Well," I hedged. "On second thought . . . ."

She laughed, then sobered. "To be honest, it's because one, I'm younger, two, I'm female, and three, I was educated at the University of Aldera."

"What does that have to do with anything?" I asked blankly. One part of my mind added, So she is Alderaanian. I had thought her accent sounded familiar, but it was rather odd to encounter a Core-Trained Healer out here on the Outer Rim, Republic world or not. No one cared about Elanna, tactically, strategically, or politically.

She opened her mouth as if to respond, looked at me strangely, and then closed it again and turned to the door to key it open. "You know, Kenobi," she said as it slid open and she stepped inside. "For a Jedi, you aren't half bad."

I followed, once again utterly bemused by our conversation. She seemed to have a talent for doing that to me.

Padmé was lying in the bed with her eyes closed, but they fluttered open as we stepped inside. Shian was right. She didn't look well. Her eyes were hollow and bruised, and her skin pale, ashen. I swallowed hard. "Oh, Obi-Wan . . ." she said. Her voice was tired and breathy. "Shian. Good morning."

"Good morning, m'lady," Shian said. "How are you feeling?"

Padmé blinked, slowly, then started struggling to sit up. "Fine," she said. "I'm fine. How's . . . how's Anakin?"

"Would you like to see for yourself?" I asked, before I even really knew what I was saying. But seeing her like this, remembering Anakin's agony over her imagined death—

"S-see him?" she blinked, and again her face altered entirely, as if light had poured back into her eyes. "Is he well enough for that?"

"He's as well as can be expected, m'lady, and relatively stable," Shian replied. "It's not far. Do you feel up to it?"

Padmé sat up. "Of course," she said, that stubborn tone I knew so well in her voice. "Obi-Wan, help me."

I glanced at Shian, and when she nodded, I went to Padmé's side as she slid her legs off the side of the bed and practically lifted her to her feet. It took a bit more effort than I expected, and she smiled at my "oof" of effort. "Afraid I weigh a lot more than I used to," she said teasingly.

"Not at all, Senator," I said. "Light as an Aurean mist-flyer."

Her smile widened. "You," she said, "are a bad liar. Never go into politics, Master Kenobi."

"I have endeavored to avoid it," I answered, and steadied her as she took a step forward and her grip on my shoulder tightened. "Do you feel all right?"

Padmé was leaning heavily on me, but the look on her face was determined enough that I had no doubt she could have run the length of the Republic Arcade on Coruscant had she wanted to. "Never better," she declared.

Padmé was sweaty and tired and clinging to my shoulder by the time we reached Anakin's room, and I was feeling far too thankful that I was not a woman and would never have to go through this to be politically correct. Shian keyed open the door for us, and I helped her stumbled inside and over to the side of Anakin's bed. Padmé sank down onto the edge of the bed with a tired sigh.

"Ani?" she whispered, her voice soft and hesitant. She reached forward as if she were about to touch his face, hovering over the scar across his eye, right above the breath mask, but just before she made contact her fingers trembled. One hand fluttered up to touch her throat, and then she pulled her fingers back as if she had been burned, balling her hands together in her lap. For a moment, I sensed fear and an indecisiveness rare for Padmé overlaying with the steadiness of the love that rose inside her like a Kaminoan wave on a rough night. "Force," she murmured, and looked up at me. "O-Obi-Wan—"

I took a step forward, swallowing the denials, apologies, regrets, that raced for my mind, and laid a hand on her shoulder before I even knew what I was doing. "Don't give up, Padmé," I whispered. "It's all right. I—he does love you."

She took a deep breath, and smiled bravely up at me. "I know," she said.

"Master Obi-Wan?" The scratchy voice made me jump, and I wondered wildly what was wrong with me that I hadn't even noticed Master Yoda standing by Anakin's bedside until just now. I was even more tired and distracted than I'd thought. "Talk with you, I must," he said, and I sighed.

"Yes, Master," I said obediently, and squeezed Padmé's shoulder slightly. "He needs you," I told her, and followed Yoda out of the room.

"Brought Senator Amidala to see Vader you have, Obi-Wan?" Yoda asked as soon as we were outside, and I winced, all too well aware that he had referred to Anakin by that name specifically to call my attention to what I was doing.

"I thought it would be better if they were together, Master," I said. "Healer Risto agreed with me."

Yoda frowned. "A Jedi, Healer Risto is not, Master Kenobi. Allow feelings to sway decisions, a Jedi does not. Vader is dangerous."

"He . . . lost control yesterday at the mere thought he might have killed her, Master," I said, finally able to keep my feelings to myself no longer. "She was worried about him! She is the one person—" I hesitated and trailed off, not certain how I wanted to finish that sentence.

Yoda tapped his cane against the floor. "Yes, Obi-Wan?"

"The one person he cares for more than anyone," I finished in a voice that was little more than a whisper. "If anyone can bring him back to us, she can."

Yoda peered up at me thoughtfully. "Perhaps," he said finally. "Perhaps. And perhaps, underestimate yourself you do, Obi-Wan."

"What?" I stared at him. "Master—wh-what do you mean?"

"More you are to . . . Anakin than Master, Obi-Wan," Yoda said. Was it just me was his tone grudging and reluctant? "Friend, brother, father, you are. That, also, you should not discount."

He hobbled off in a different direction and left me standing there in the hallway without a clue how to respond to that, or even what to think in response to his words.