Chapter Six
Nothing is Whole, Nothing is Broken
Padmé listened as her husband's grief-stricken sobs slowly dissolved into the soft pattern of rainfall, offering mute comfort through the palm that soothingly stroked his head, and her body, which he clung to with desperate strength. She stifled a wince as his fingers dug painfully into her waist, but her hand never paused from its tender consolation. She felt the hot tears that scalded her skin, chilled by the water falling from a slate-colored sky. Anakin's shoulders heaved as each harsh cry left him breathless, and her heart bled for him. He folded his long limbs tightly in an effort to move closer, and the thick veil of her hair covered their faces. The rain left beads of icy moisture on her neck, and his breath warmed her throat as he buried his face into her collarbone.
The minutes began to lengthen until it seemed like the young man cradled in her arms would weep for an eternity. She had never known that one person could hold so many tears. Padmé remembered her mother once telling her that the heart stores tears in a glass bottle, and when it feels sadness, or sometimes joy, the bottle spills over.
The glass bottle in Anakin's heart must have emptied.
His intense grasp on her gradually started to loosen, but she kept her slender arms coiled around his taut frame, patiently waiting for the rigidity to leave his muscles. The sobs were no longer ripped from him, but he trembled against her like a leaf in the wind, and she could hear his teeth chattering. She knew that it was not from the chill haunting the air.
Padmé put aside her sore muscles, the shivers that skittered across her skin, the damp, heavy fabric weighing her down, and her worry for the tiny dreamers sleeping in her womb.
Anakin needed her.
She threaded her fingers through the tangled, coppery locks and gently rubbed the sensitive skin on the back of his neck. It was a trick she had learned for calming the intensity that always smoldered in Anakin's turbulent cobalt orbs. And the rain washed her mind into the current of the past, recalling another time when a restless, angry young man sought solace from her.
"I…I killed them. I killed them all. They're dead – every single one of them. And not just the men…but the women, and the children, too. They're like animals, and I slaughtered them like animals! I hate them!"
"To be angry is to be human."
"I'm a Jedi. I know I'm better than this."
He had tried to hold it inside, to stem the flow of bitter tears flooding his blazing, furious eyes – while she had lowered herself beside him on the gritty floor of the Lars garage.
Padmé had gently offered commiseration, though to this day she still did not know why. All she had known was that this larger-than-life, golden-haired, passionate enigma was treading a dangerous path, breaking every rule imposed upon him and following the whims of his heart. When that heart had led him to exact vengeance on the creatures that had tortured and killed his mother, the pacifist in Padmé cried for resolution. To see Anakin take responsibility for his deplorable actions, and transform through this trial into the great Jedi, the great man, that she and so many others knew he could become. But the other part of her – the part that lay beneath the cool, rational persona of former Queen and Senator of the Galactic Republic – the part that was simply Padmé Naberrie, felt sympathy and even…pity for this fiery Padawan, whose disquieting blue gaze dared her to approach…and yet begged for comfort at the same time.
When he had felt the tender brush of her hand, the walls of his fury collapsed as if made of sand, and she saw a grieving little boy who had lost the only real family that he had ever known. And the unspoken promise she had made to herself regarding his heart and hers turned to ash and was carried away by a warm breeze. She had listened to him weep on that sand-sprinkled floor until the twin suns reached their apex in a blistering blue-white sky. His gangly frame shuddered mightily as he sucked in a deep breath, and Padmé realized that he had not eaten since yesterday, before he had ventured out alone into the desert. The meal she had brought him earlier would surely have spoiled in the midday heat, and with the intent of getting him some food, she began to rise.
Two large, callused hands seized her slim one with surprising vigor, and Anakin looked up at her with swollen, red-rimmed eyes, begging huskily, "Please don't leave me."
Without bothering to consult her unruffled common sense, Padmé allowed him to pull her close, settling her in his lap, as one would hold a small child. She felt the lean, hard muscles of his arm as it curled around her, and angled her body so that her head came to rest against his shoulder. Her hands lay passively atop her legs, the creamy skin a sharp contrast to the bright cerulean fabric of her gown, and she heard Anakin swallow hard before hesitantly wrapping his fingers around them. She turned over a palm and gripped his hand firmly, and then placed the other over his tanned knuckles.
In retrospect, it seemed odd that he would have held her in such a way. To a curious onlooker it would have seemed that she had been the one seeking comfort. But when she had sensed a slight weight on the crown of her head and felt his chest rise and fall in a deep, slow breath, Padmé realized that Anakin did not require soothing words or conciliatory phrases.
All that he wanted or needed was to be close to her.
In the midst of that timeless moment, Padmé consented to the emotions that she had caged inside herself and envisioned her future with him. Anakin was young, hot-tempered, and defiant – but despite his flaws he was the most genuine individual she had ever met. He had offered himself to her freely, ready to sacrifice his dreams in order to create new ones with her. Padmé would have to be hewn from stone to deny the attraction in that. Her imagination indulged in the fantasy of sharing her life with Anakin – of starting a family, growing old together, and putting aside the duties heaped upon her in the Senate to achieve the wish that she had forgotten while attending to the problems of the galaxy.
"We would be living a lie."
The calm, reasoning words she had uttered on that soul-searing night now flooded Padmé's veins with ice water, and the fantasy vanished in a swirling fog of doubt. As much as they both wanted to close their eyes to their responsibilities, she could not ignore the trust her people had placed in her as their Senator. It was her nature to look after the well-being of others, and Nubian children are taught from an early age that acts of service live on long after a person has departed this world. And the Jedi…they were a legend unto themselves.
She stared at the large, golden-brown hand framed by her slender fingers, and acknowledged the stinging pang in her heart as she once again reached the same conclusion she had that night. A relationship between a Jedi and a Senator was an impossibility. A dangerous secret.
"One we couldn't keep even if we wanted to."
Even if they somehow managed to keep it a secret - as Anakin had declared so vehemently that they could – it would eventually be uncovered, and what then? Anakin would be expelled from the Order, a disgrace and an example for other Jedi, and she would be relieved of her position as Senator, having to endure the silent anger of the people of Naboo for betraying their trust in an elected representative.
But they would have each other.
It was the only good she could see in that outcome, and it might even be worth the sacrifice. Gazing down at their clasped hands, Padmé wordlessly admitted that her heart would not escape this experience unscathed. The more she was with Anakin, the more she felt the holes in her soul being filled with him. Once she took that final step, the one that she kept smothered in wraps of obligation and altruism…there would be no going back.
"I couldn't do that."
Shuffling footsteps approached from the courtyard, and Anakin tensed like a coiled spring, his hand slipping from hers as if burned, and they stood as one as Threepio entered.
"Master Anakin, Miss Padmé," the droid said in a subdued tone, "Master Cliegg would like you to know that the burial will be taking place shortly."
Anakin inhaled sharply, his breath hissing through his teeth, and Padmé answered softly, "Thank you, Threepio. Please tell Cliegg that we'll be up in a few minutes." Threepio waddled out of the garage, and Padmé's brown eyes swung to Anakin. He was braced like a soldier going into battle, his hands clenched in fists at his sides, his eyes fixed on the floor. Her heart ached for him, but she could not bear to sink any deeper into a relationship that would scar her forever. "I should find something suitable to wear," she said quietly. It was a flimsy excuse, but at least it would help her escape his compelling presence. She headed for the doorway, when his hoarse voice called her name.
"Padmé – Milady," he corrected himself and raised his eyes to hers. Padmé was struck to the core at the haunting emptiness in his blue orbs. "Thank you for your condolences, but, what I did just now…was inappropriate. It won't happen again."
His tone was firm and authoritative, and she might have let it go, if not for the single tear that trailed down his jaw as he spoke.
"Oh, Ani…"
Heedless of the consequences, Padmé glided forward and enfolded Anakin in her arms.
That she had surprised him was obvious, but soon he returned the embrace fiercely, pressing her into his chest. Warm breath wafted across her neck as he pushed his face into the curve of her shoulder, and the suffocating wraps around her feelings briefly parted long enough for Padmé to mouth into the dark folds of his tunic, "I love you, Anakin."
And then she tucked it away. She would take that secret to the grave, no matter how much it hurt. She keenly felt the wiry muscles on his back, his tears moistening her collarbone – and lightning flashed overhead, thunder rumbling deep in her bones, and Padmé left the ruminations of the past.
The Anakin now sheltered in the circle of her arms was older; the muscles under his thin robe were well-defined tools, rippling with power and decorated with battle scars. He was no longer a gangly Padawan watching her with infatuated eyes, but an accomplished Jedi Knight whose passion for her never wavered or diminished. He was still hot-tempered, and possessed a rebellious streak that continually astonished her, yet he was maturing – more than ready to accept the rank of Master and be a good father to the twins. If he had one flaw that could become his downfall – and perhaps it already had – it was his devotion.
Devotion to Obi-Wan, to the Chancellor, and to her – Anakin always placed his personal loyalties above those to more encompassing institutions. Padmé knew that he considered his loyalty to her above all others, and as she pondered the possible repercussions of his way of thinking…the more she realized what had happened to her Ani.
She willed all of her love to the surface of her being, until it seemed to flow out of her pores and mingle with the rainwater. She concentrated on bestowing her steadfast affection into the pads of her fingers as they caressed Anakin's hair and neck. From deep within her soul, she pleaded to the Force, or whatever gods there may be, to help her rescue the man she loved from the darkness eating away at his heart.
He sniffled quietly, the tremors of his limbs subsiding, and he slowly pulled his face away from her shoulder. Thick clumps of wet hair, darkened by the rain, dangled around his face, iridescent droplets gathering at the ends. He would not meet her eyes, so Padmé gently stroked his soaked tresses from his cheek, looping the longer strands around an ear, and laid a soft kiss just above his eyebrow, near his scar. Anakin shuddered like a newly-hatched avian, frightened and alone in a strange world, and tried to shrink away from her touch. Padmé leaned close and captured his face between her palms with tender firmness, and tilted his head until their noses brushed together. His gaze darted to hers briefly through lowered eyelashes – a flash of blue among the grey curtains of rain – but he could not summon the courage to hold her stare. Those magnificent chestnut orbs reflected her love for him with an intensity that outshone every star in the heavens…a love that he did not deserve.
He could have killed her. And their twins.
Her blind faith in him caused equal parts adoration and self-loathing to swell inside his chest as the tiny spark that he had crushed with his own brutality flickered weakly through the roiling black shadows. Anakin felt the warm exhale of her breath on his lips, and her soft fingertips tightened just slightly on his cheekbones. And her voice floated above the storm's cadence, echoing in his ears as well as his heart.
"I love you."
Three words that filled the empty spaces of his tattered conscience and compelled him to lift his chin from the defeated position near his chest. Her eyes drew his like one searching for light in the darkness, and the overwhelming rush of emotion came spilling out of his mouth. "I'm so sorry…" The eyes that encompassed his universe overflowed with compassion, and Padmé pressed a finger over his lips, stopping any further words of apology before giving him the sweetest kiss.
Anakin's lips met hers hesitantly, but soon he had wrapped his arms around her with ardent abandon, turning her insides on fire. He wanted to disappear in her, to only exist in a place where nothing could touch them and the harshness of the galaxy was simply a distant memory. Padmé knew what he was attempting – trying to soothe his tortured mind in a way that she suspected he had done many times before – but she also knew that complete healing could not come from her. Anakin had to make peace with himself. She pulled away gently, a fluttering sensation in her stomach as Anakin nuzzled against her palm, and she watched his face turn to stone as a heavy hand landed on her shoulder.
"We should get out of the rain," Obi-Wan murmured from above.
Padmé looked up and over her shoulder at the Jedi Master, whose serious blue-grey eyes gazed at her with deep worry. She gave him the smallest of nods, and then returned her attention to her husband. Anakin stared hard at the towering form of his former Master, the muscles of his jaw bunching as he clenched his teeth, fear and anger and anxiety shaping his expression.
Obi-Wan studied the young man, as one would watch a half-tamed animal – as unpredictable and dangerous. He understood that although Anakin was now blind to the Force – the reason for that still eluded him – the dark side was nonetheless tainting his subconscious, goading him to pursue the basest of instincts. On the heels of that flash of insight, Obi-Wan slowly raised his hand from Padmé's shoulder at let it fall to his side. In all of his time as a Jedi, he had never even heard of instances like their current situation. Obi-Wan had no prior experiences or knowledge to draw upon for guidance. It was like playing a game of dejarik in the dark – without being able to see any of the pieces, or the next logical move on the board. As his old friend's keen blue eyes shifted between regret and ferocity, Obi-Wan decided that as a Jedi, he had no standing in this chapter of the story, no wise advice to offer.
He would follow Padmé's lead.
The tension emanating from Anakin was palpable; Padmé felt the skin under her fingers tighten and his eyes seemed to burn within their sockets as his entire body coiled like a spring. She expected the twins to react to their father's mood, as had been the case since he had reentered their lives only days before. When her womb remained silent, a hard knot of panic began to form in her stomach. The warm weight of Obi-Wan's hand withdrew from her shoulder, and once more the rest of the galaxy disappeared, and it was just her and Anakin. Every protective motherly instinct flared in Padmé's heart, urging her to discover what was wrong with her babies, yet she shoved them aside and focused on Anakin. Palpatine and his own fears had maliciously assaulted his trust in her, and she would have to convince him that he was worthy of her trust, before he trusted her.
The psychology of that rationale was absurd, but nothing Anakin did could be defined as "normal", even by Jedi standards, and he had endured a scarred past.
A tender smile curved her lips, and as Anakin's unseeing glare continued to burn through the veils of rain, Padmé lightly caressed his cheek with her fingertips.
Anakin fought desperately to remain in control as remnants of darkness threatened to drown him once more in their black depths. Padmé's kiss had been his lifeline; pulling him out of the swirling vortex his despair had created. He had seized it, relying on that physical symbol of their bond to restore his mind. The shadow of his old Master fell across her, and his palm lay softly on her shoulder – and the dark shards drove spikes of fury into his brain, choking off the skein connecting him to Padmé. Anakin gathered every shredded fiber of willpower he had left to keep from tumbling into the cold abyss, weaving a fragile shield around the tiny spark inside his chest.
He was tired, so tired of fighting…of striving to be the best…so tired…
Soft fingers brushed his cheek, and the disorienting haze altering his vision cleared, revealing a pair of warm brown eyes. Anakin blinked hesitantly, and Padmé's face swam into view, strands of her dark hair clinging to her skin in wet curls, a smile blossoming on her lips. Tears yet again burned the back of his throat, but he swallowed the sting as the trust illuminating his wife's gaze flooded his exhausted form with energy. The ghost of his lopsided grin flitted across his face, and his hand rose to press hers against his cheek.
Padmé read the unspoken assurance in Anakin's eyes, and she breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Obi-Wan looked on as the dark clouds retreated from the young man's features, satisfied that for the time being he posed no threat to the Senator and her unborn child.
The distant drone of engines rose above the soft rumble of the storm, and Obi-Wan glanced skyward, eyes darting back and forth nervously. "We must go inside," he reiterated sharply.
Padmé heard the brittle apprehension in the Jedi's voice and in response tucked her legs under her body as she prepared to stand. The muscles in her calves trembled and struggled to support her weight, and aches traveled along her nerves as she gritted her teeth with the effort. Anakin's sapphire orbs watched her worriedly for a handful of seconds, and then he swiftly clambered to his feet and held out his hand to her. She tossed him a fleeting, grateful look, grasping his outstretched hand as her limbs shrieked in protest. Then her legs gave out. Padmé gasped in surprise, lurching toward her husband, her small hands fisting his robe in a vain attempt to remain upright. Anakin saw the fear splash across her face and swept her into his arms in one fluid motion. She winced painfully as her wounded shoulder burned from the movement, but thankfully her thick tresses covered the expression.
Obi-Wan and Anakin met each others' eyes briefly, and without bothering to wait for any further comment, Anakin strode past the Jedi Master and into the shelter of the apartment. Obi-Wan gazed after his stiff-backed form for a heartbeat, nettles of uncertainty prickling his thoughts. Casting one last concerned glance at the rain-soaked sky, he hurried after his former apprentice…and farther down a path shrouded in mystery.
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Lightning flared its brilliant white into the darkened interior of the Chancellor's office, throwing objects and beings into sharp extremes of light and dark. The tendrils of electricity reflected on the mirrored visor of Commander Cody, summoned from Utapau. It glinted off of the barrels of the DC-15 blaster rifles held with casual ease by the squad of ARC troopers arrayed loosely behind him. It cast deep shadows within the crevasses and wrinkles on the face of Darth Sidious as he stared unseeingly out of the viewport transparisteel at the storm, contemplating the recent turn of events.
The lights in the office flickered spastically as emergency generators fought to maintain power to the entire Senate complex. HoloNet newscasters all over Coruscant flooded the channels with reports of power outages, speeder wrecks, ship crashes, and all sorts of catastrophes on the planet and around the galaxy.
It all stemmed from what Sidious had felt in the Force moments ago.
The chain connecting him to his new apprentice had stretched taut, as if the young one was straining to free himself from their pact. Sidious had nearly cackled with glee upon sensing the inferno steadily building inside the boy, begging for release. He had also felt the arrival of Master Kenobi, and the odd tingles of impending danger sparking between him and Vader. Sidious had ordered a squad of clones stationed near the Senatorial apartments to investigate a potential threat in the area – not directly, of course, but through a series of military channels. If Vader were to discover that his Master had commanded a group of clones to his wife's quarters with instructions to incapacitate her…the result would be less than ideal.
Those troopers had never reported back.
Instead, the Force became charged with energy, intensifying into a single focal point that was neither light nor dark, Jedi or Sith. And then it exploded.
The Dark Lord had never before experienced such an onslaught of raw power; it hit him like a shockwave, and he fought to preserve his center while trying to determine the source. Following the explosion was a surge of despair and rage, flavored by the Force signature of the Chosen One. The ripples spread in ever-widening circles, reaching into the lives of all creatures in the universe.
Then Vader's essence winked out, as surely as one snuffs a candle.
Sidious had sat forward in shock at the sudden silence, submerging in the Force to search for his apprentice – his greatest weapon. The Force felt muted and discolored, somehow violated by the outburst Vader had caused through sheer force of will.
But there was no sign of the young Sith, not even the faintest flicker of life.
There was only one explanation. Vader was dead.
A red tide of fury swelled in his chest, igniting dark fire in his bones.
That vexing, self-righteous Jedi had destroyed his vision for the future! With a cry of rage, Sidious had unleashed torrents of blue-white lightning from his fingertips, shattering the holoreader on his desk and killing two of his guards. When the anger had abated, the Sith Lord had settled into his chair and observed the storm battering the capital, still seething at his loss, yet seeking a solution.
If Vader truly was gone, then Sidious would have to locate another Force Sensitive to serve him as student and enforcer within the Empire. Though none living could possibly compete with the power of the Chosen One, there must be…
The thought trailed off without completion, for Sidious' mind had latched onto another conclusion. No other being would replace the Chosen One – he was unique. However, this one born of the Force had conveniently married and fathered a child.
None living could compete with the power of the Chosen One…yet.
The Sith Lord's mouth twisted into a malicious smile. He would send Commander Cody and his troops to Five Hundred Republica to collect Senator Amidala. He had no doubt that she was still alive – Kenobi had certainly protected her with the intention of molding the child into the savior of the Jedi Order. While the time it would take for the child to mature and then proceed with training was extensive and would set his plans back by decades, Sidious could wait. Then this child would be a Sith to the core, and would not have the dogmatic indoctrination of the Jedi to cloud its judgment. And after the child was weaned, Sidious would be rid of Amidala's virtuous influence in the Senate once and for all.
Abruptly, his chair spun to face the clones. They straightened as one, and Sidious turned his yellow gaze on Cody. "Commander, take a squad of your best ARC troopers and bring me Senator Amidala alive and unharmed. She may be in the company of Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi." He saw the commander jerk in surprise. "No, he is not dead, Commander. To compensate for your failure, you will bring him as well, in any state that makes him fit for containment. If he attempts to flee or kidnap the Senator, kill him."
"Yes, My Lord," Cody saluted, and the troopers filed out of the office.
Sidious rotated to view the rain as it fell in shimmering veils, thunder rumbling lowly, causing the building to thrum in concert with the storm. As he waited for the legacy of the Sith to come to fruition, the words of his old Master rose to echo above the rain, bringing with them an unsettling sensation that left Sidious to brood in darkness.
"Tell me what you regard as your greatest strength, so I will know best what to undermine you. Tell me of your greatest fear, so I will know what I must force you to face.
Tell me what you cherish most, so I will know what to take from you.
And tell me what you crave, so that I might deny you."
I will not be denied, my Master, Sidious thought firmly, and choked off the memory.
The Sith had been denied the universe for thousands of years and now, with the power coursing through the veins of the Chosen One's heir and Sidious' knowledge, he would create an Empire that would surpass the ancient Sith of old. Now that Vader was dead, along with his wavering allegiance to the dark side, there was no one left to stop him.
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Anakin's booted feet caused tiny swirls of grey dust to rise from the floor as he strode purposefully through the apartment, heading for the smaller salon on the far side. Padmé leaned into his broad chest, cradled in his arms with all the faith of a child as she surveyed their home with wide eyes. Cracks spider-webbed the surface of the walls and pillars, and a dense powder coated all of the furniture, clogging the decorative fountain in the center of the room. When Padmé had awoken earlier to the crash of thunder, the air had been thick with a colorless fog, and she had threaded her way through the residence purely by memory. Now she barely recognized it. Large chunks of molded duracrete littered the floor, power lines dangled from holes above them, sparking erratically, and a gilded statuette lay shattered in a corner, shards of the priceless work glimmering faintly as they passed. Padmé unconsciously placed a hand over her belly, jumping in startlement as a nearby wire snapped with electricity. The sense that this was no longer the safe haven she was accustomed to grew with every step. She wanted to leave – to be anywhere other than this room, this building, this planet.
Anakin felt her tense in his arms, and instinctively tightened his embrace in an effort to soothe her, while truthfully his own unease continued to rise as he sidestepped debris and other hazards. Everything that mattered to him was nestled against his chest, and it was obvious that this place was not acceptable to shelter them. But for now, it would do. The small salon was relatively untouched by the destruction; save for the thin fractures marring the transparisteel windows and a shattered viewport on the same side as the veranda, rain steadily soaking the blue carpeting. Anakin gently deposited Padmé on the sofa, the controlled atmosphere of the apartment chilling their wet skin. He dashed down the hall to an alcove for supplies, retrieving several blankets and an emergency med kit. Wheeling around the corner, he glimpsed his wife sitting on the sofa, hugging herself as she tried to stop shivering with cold, the hem of her dress dripping onto the floor. He was beside her before she could blink, wrapping her snugly in blankets and softly brushing the damp hair from her face.
The shivering began to subside as the downy fabric slowly warmed her, and she sighed. Anakin was staring at her anxiously, biting his lower lip – a nervous habit he had never outgrown. Padmé smiled slightly and touched his cheek, concern rippling through her over how cool his skin felt. She started to remove one of her blankets to give him, but he stilled her hands with a tender, firm grip and shook his head. "I'll be fine," he murmured, his thumbs caressing her knuckles. There was a whisper of movement out of the corner of his eye, and Anakin's head whipped around as Obi-Wan entered the room, quickly combing his fingers through his sodden tresses. The three of them paused, watching each other as an awkward silence filled the salon. Anakin was the first to breach the stillness, vacating his place next to Padmé to hand Obi-Wan a blanket. The Jedi Master gazed at him for a minute or two – long enough for Anakin to debate the wisdom of his decision – and then took the proffered fabric with a quiet word of thanks.
Anakin made his way back to Padmé and knelt before her, setting the med kit on the low table with an apologetic expression. "Padmé…I need to treat your shoulder." She gave him a wordless nod, and reached around her back to undo the clasps of her dress. Anakin helped her peel the slick material away from her shoulder, and he inhaled sharply when the wound was fully exposed. A raw, red blister surrounded the entry point, darkening to a deep crimson in the center, and Anakin realized that the exit point would be just as bad.
Padmé saw the agony on her husband's face and she glanced at Obi-Wan, who had dutifully turned around to avoid embarrassing her. Swallowing a fresh surge of anger, Anakin rummaged through the kit for a disinfectant, a roll of gauze, tape, and a kolto patch.
There were painkillers available in the kit, but he did not dare give any of those to Padmé. The risk of harming the twins was too great, and both he and Padmé knew it.
Anakin saturated a cotton pad with the disinfectant and held it poised over the wound, looking up at Padmé questioningly. She gritted her teeth, her hands balled into fists on her lap, and nodded curtly. He swiftly began to blot the torn skin, fighting to ignore Padmé's pain-filled expression. He had her turn sideways in order to disinfect the exit point as well, and he cringed as she whimpered, but he forced himself to finish. Padmé felt his long fingers on her jaw and she opened stinging eyes to see his worried face hovering near her own. "Are you all right?"
Her chin rose bravely, and she replied, "Just keep going."
Anakin quickly and efficiently placed the kolto patches over the wound, their mild anesthetic calming the pain as he wrapped gauze around her shoulder, securing the bandage with a tight knot under her arm. "There," he said triumphantly, "all done. But we'll need to get you checked out at a MedCenter as soon as possible."
"You, too," Padmé chastised, her fingers probing the skin around the gash on his temple.
Anakin captured her hand with his own, slowly pulling it away from the injury. "I told you, I'm fine," he said tenderly, but with a hint of his typical stubbornness. Padmé rolled her eyes at him, but determined to let it go for now. He flashed her an impish grin, climbing to his feet and turning to face his former Master, who was offering them a semblance of privacy by keeping his back to them as he stared outside. Anakin immediately sobered as he noted the slump of the older man's shoulders, and stepped toward him with a solemn query, "Do you need the med kit, Obi-Wan?" There was the barest of pauses before Anakin said his name, for he had almost inserted the title by which he had called this man for over a decade. He doubted whether Obi-Wan would ever trust him again, but right now they had no choice but to rely on one another.
Obi-Wan remained motionless briefly, and then rotated on heel to face them, patting down his front and commenting mildly, "I seem to be in one piece." His slate-colored gaze touched Anakin's as he remarked, "I suppose I have you to thank for that."
Anakin inclined his head in acquiescence and, in a desperate attempt at levity, said, in reference to their long-standing contest, "I think that makes it the tenth time."
Obi-Wan merely gazed at him impassively.
Anakin looked away uncomfortably, haunted by what he saw in his friend's eyes. It was like he was looking at the shell of Obi-Wan Kenobi – as if his soul had been bled out of him, turning him into a hollow, emotionless being. And Anakin understood that if anyone deserved the blame for robbing Obi-Wan of his vitality…it was him.
Obi-Wan let Anakin's flippant remark pass by without comment, silently observing as the young man lowered his gaze shamefully, and then he glanced sideways to meet Padmé's deep brown orbs. "You are all right?" He asked in a strange mixture of statement and question.
The Senator's eyes had regained their fiery spark as she answered, "I'm a lot tougher than I look, Master Kenobi."
He felt a corner of his mouth lift upward. "So I see." He casually moved closer, and Anakin's head popped up at the movement. "And…the child?" Obi-Wan asked hesitantly.
Anakin's mouth opened to deliver a biting retort until Padmé silenced him as she murmured, "I – I don't know." Her palm stroked the swell, and her eyes flicked between the two men worriedly before resting on her husband. "They…haven't moved since I – since I was wounded." Anakin dashed over to her, dropping to his knees, and his hands encompassed her belly.
Obi-Wan looked at Padmé with raised brows. "They…?"
She met his astonished gaze without a trace of apprehension. "We're having twins, Obi-Wan." The Jedi Master blinked at her, dumbfounded, and Anakin's cerulean eyes left her middle to study her face, his heart in a quandary. Padmé exhaled wearily, squeezing his hand as she said, "He has a right to know. Besides, I thought you were tired of hiding." Then she raised her voice to address them both by inquiring, "And I believe I have a right to know what happened that caused all of this damage and may have hurt my babies." A hint of steel underlined her words as she spoke in a tone that demanded an explanation.
Anakin flinched just noticeably, his palms falling away from her belly as he and Obi-Wan shared a knowing glance. The younger man bowed his head, wishing that he could disappear into the depths of the planet. He had been nurturing the hope that his manipulation of the Force had not affected their twins, for Padmé had escaped the explosion unharmed.
Their undeveloped talent must have overloaded, and he had fervently wished that perhaps their tiny minds had sensed the danger and somehow withdrawn in an attempt to shield themselves and their mother, for Anakin was fairly certain that Padmé had been spared from whatever had befallen the clones. He wanted to reach out and brush their signatures to reassure them…but he was cut off from their only means of communication.
He could not bear to tell his angel what he had done.
Nevertheless, he swallowed hard, taking her hands as he knelt before her, and forced himself to look into her beautiful face, full of concern and questions. "Padmé, I…" He broke off when Obi-Wan threw up a hand, his face tight with suspicion, listening down the hall toward the veranda.
"Ani, what –" Padmé was rendered mute as Anakin urgently pressed his finger over her lips, his head tilted sideways as he strained to hear what had alarmed Obi-Wan above the drone of the storm. A high-pitched whine filtered through the broken glass of the viewport and echoed down the hall as it circled Five Hundred Republica in standard recon procedure. Anakin was awash in confusion. More clone troopers? He knew that another squad would eventually arrive to discover what had become of the first, but he had not been counting on them arriving so soon. What had Sidious sensed that would make him act so quickly?
Obi-Wan had no compunctions over why the clones were here – the understanding of it froze his blood – but now the problem was getting Padmé off of Coruscant. He whirled the blanket from the shoulders and approached the couple, directly addressing Padmé. "Do you still have the skiff prepped for launch?"
She blinked at him, taken aback at his knowledge of her near-flight to disaster, but replied, "Yes, it's on the Naboo Consulate landing pad near the Senatorial Offices, along with Threepio and Artoo."
"Can we get there from here?"
Obi-Wan was speaking with such insistence that Padmé grew frightened. In her experience, whenever a Jedi became worried, it usually meant that something awful was about to occur. She managed to answer, "Y-yes, there's an emergency airspeeder docked two floors below us, through a hidden passage in my wardrobe."
It was then that Anakin jerked out of his reverie and leapt to his feet. "Where is it that you are planning to go, Obi-Wan?"
The Jedi Master held his lightsaber at the ready and took Padmé's elbow in order to help her stand. "We have to get your wife off this planet."
She looked up at him with surprise and fear at the tense resolve in his tone. Anakin stepped in between them, demanding harshly, "Why? They're not after her. It's either you or me that they want. Sidious knows that I would never let anything happen to –"
"Anakin, you're not using your head!" Obi-Wan retorted crossly. He grasped Anakin's arm and pulled him aside, muttering under his breath, "Why do you think they're here? They are here for Padmé! You are cut off from the Force, Anakin; do you realize what that means? It means that other Force users cannot sense you! Sidious thinks you are dead! He has only one alternative to secure an apprentice that has the potential to be as powerful as you!"
His former Padawan's piercing blue eyes glared at him as he pondered Obi-Wan's tirade, and then they widened in shocked realization. "He wouldn't do that," Anakin breathed, not quite believing what he knew was the truth.
Obi-Wan gripped his shoulder hard. "You have been blinded for a long time, Anakin. Open your eyes." He left the younger man standing there in shock and returned to Padmé, who had managed to stand on her own and watched the exchange with a wary gaze. "Gather what you can, Padmé, and open the passage. Anakin and I will be there in one minute."
Padmé hesitated for a split second, eyes flicking to her immobile husband before giving Obi-Wan a decisive nod and hurrying down the hall, a blanket fluttering to the floor in her wake.
Anakin heard her retreating footsteps and slowly turned to see Obi-Wan waiting for him at the threshold of the hall. "We must go, Anakin." The Jedi's heart lurched over the lost expression on the young man's handsome features, yet he hardened his voice and said, "You must choose, Anakin. We are running out of time."
Although Obi-Wan had unwittingly repeated Sidious' words from that terrible night, Anakin silently admitted that it had certain symmetry. Life slowly leaked back into his azure orbs, igniting them with fierce determination as he announced, "Then let's go." He flew past Obi-Wan and sprinted down the hall toward the bedroom as the whine of the gunship's repulsor engines roared past the apartment again, rattling the windows. He skidded to a halt just outside the wardrobe where Padmé stood before a bare spot on the wall, a small satchel slung over her uninjured shoulder. Anakin wordlessly removed it from her arm and tossed it on his back, and Obi-Wan swept into the room. Padmé laid her right hand against the wall and an infrared light scanned her palm. With a barely audible beep, a small keypad slid out from a seemingly ornate indent on the wall, whereupon she typed in a six-number code. Almost instantaneously a panel on the wall slid aside, revealing a metallic passage lined with dim white lights, big enough for them to walk single file. Padmé went in first with Anakin on her heels, and Obi-Wan brought up the rear. As soon as they were all inside, the panel closed behind them, leaving the group in semi-darkness. The only sounds were their echoing footsteps and shallow breathing, and within a few minutes Padmé stopped and depressed a red button set into the track lighting. The door hissed as it opened, and the three companions found themselves in an undersized hangar. A canopied silver airspeeder sat in the center of the hangar, gleaming in the dim light.
By unspoken consensus, Anakin climbed into the pilot's chair as Obi-Wan scrambled into the back and Padmé belted herself into the navigator's seat. Anakin flipped switches and pressed buttons with rapid accuracy, and the anti-gravity boosters kicked in, lifting the speeder off of the floor. "How do we open the door?" he asked as he tightened his restraints. As a response, Padmé touched a sequence of buttons on the control panel and an opening just large enough for the speeder appeared before them, the wind blowing sheets of rain into the hangar.
"This hangar opens on the opposite side of the building," Padmé explained seriously, "the landing pad is northeast of here – not more than ten minutes."
"We'll make it in five." Anakin gunned the engines and the speeder knifed through the rain like a silver dagger, angling high and to the left to make use of the minimum camouflage afforded by the low clouds. Obi-Wan glanced out of the rear viewport and caught a glimpse of the gunship and its white-armored occupants as they disembarked on the ruined veranda.
"Can they track this speeder?" he asked, returning his attention to the front – which he immediately regretted as Anakin nose-dived to avoid a building that suddenly loomed out of the clouds.
Padmé seemed unaffected by her husband's reckless piloting as she replied calmly, "No, this speeder is a security measure, so it is not outfitted with a transponder. Captain Typho assured me that the lack of one would make it more difficult to catch."
Anakin smirked at her. "Very sneaky, Milady." Obi-Wan detected a note of pride in his voice, and then turned grave as he continued, "So, does anyone have a particular destination in mind other than getting off of Coruscant?"
Padmé shifted in her seat to look at Obi-Wan as she spoke, "Naboo is too obvious a choice, as is Tatooine."
"I agree," Obi-Wan concurred.
Anakin chimed in, "We need a place with a decent MedCenter so Padmé can get checked out." His voice fell as he added, "And so we can find out if the twins are all right."
Padmé placed her hand softly on his shoulder, and he briefly flew one-handed to give it a squeeze. "Well, with that in mind there are dozens of possibilities," she stated, her eyes on the swiftly passing clouds. "I think what we really need is a planet where there is someone we can trust, someone who won't turn us in when Palpatine issues my arrest warrant." Anakin glanced fleetingly at her but did not comment, because he was beginning to understand that she was probably right.
The landing pad came into view, partially obscured by the rain and fog, and Anakin lightly touched down beside the skiff. The canopy hissed open and Obi-Wan jumped out, heading up the skiff's boarding ramp, shouting for Artoo to begin the takeoff sequence. Anakin landed neatly on the pad and sprinted around to the other side to help Padmé. The pair ran up the ramp just as the subspace engines whirred to life, and Anakin situated Padmé in the conference cabin as he called, "Get us into space!" Once her crash webbing was secure, Anakin gave Padmé a quick kiss and pleaded, "Don't get up until we're in hyperspace."
She smiled in resignation, and he ran down the hall to the cockpit, sidestepping Artoo, who was plugged into the console, and settled in to do the one thing he did best – flying.
The skiff parted the dense vapors of the stratosphere and the inky blackness of space filled the viewport, billions of stars winking like diamond dust. The pilot in Anakin assumed full command; focused wholly on maneuvering the ship into the space lanes, his fingers flew over the control panel and guided the craft with uncommon skill. Even without the Force, Anakin was gifted with a talent that few pilots could match. Obi-Wan kept an eye on the transmissions board and radar, pointing out wryly, "Port Control hasn't contacted us to file a flight plan."
Anakin grunted, "I figure the power grid must have been knocked out all over Coruscant – which means if we can avoid the picket ships in orbit, they won't realize we're gone for a while." He punched a few more buttons, flexing his mechanical hand around the steering levers while he said to the blue astromech unit at his elbow, "Artoo, access the navicomputer and find an isolated hyperspace lane to…" he trailed off. "Where are we going, Master?"
Obi-Wan glanced sharply at Anakin, but the young man's intense gaze was scanning the open space for the picket line. His lapse into addressing Obi-Wan by his former title was an old habit that Anakin often reverted to when he was concentrating on several tasks at once. It served to remind the older Jedi that this man had been the precocious boy that Obi-Wan had come to regard as a combination of brother and son. The static-filled hologram of Anakin kneeling before the Emperor in the midst of the carnage at the Jedi Temple burst across his vision, and Obi-Wan swallowed back a sour taste in his mouth as he returned to Anakin's question. He studied the star charts critically, calling up lists of planets and colonies on the Outer Rim, until one particular name caught his eye. "There is one place," he said deliberately, summoning the appropriate data to the screen. "It's on the outskirts of the Rim worlds and about as far from the capital as one can get and still be in Republic space. It also has a state-of-the-art MedCenter whose administrator is an old friend of the Jedi – a being of integrity. He will not turn us in."
"Okay…" Anakin drew out the word, and glanced sideways to see his former Master's expression. "It seems like the perfect place. So why do you sound so nervous?"
Obi-Wan stared hard at him. "Because from this moment on, your wife and children will be fugitives from the Empire. You will have to weigh the consequences of every decision you make by how much you value your family."
Anakin's blue gaze caught fire. "Are you saying that I'm not strong enough to protect them?"
"No, Anakin," Obi-Wan sighed heavily. "You have more than enough strength. I'm saying that the safety of Padmé and your children depends greatly on your wisdom. Rash decisions will only aid Palpatine in locating us."
Anakin bit back a venomous retort, despising, as he always did, the conversations when Obi-Wan revealed Anakin's faults and exposed them to the light. Perhaps if he had listened to him years ago, they would not be in this position now. Anakin nursed his wounded pride in silence, the minutes stretching out as tiny silver triangles appeared in the viewport, and then he finally submitted, asking, "Do you have a better location in mind?"
The query was devoid of Anakin's usual sarcasm, which mildly surprised Obi-Wan. He shook his head. "Unfortunately, I don't. It would be beneficial if we had more alternatives, but if we coordinate several jumps, our tracks will stay hidden for some time."
Artoo whistled shrilly, a string of notes wandering all over the scale. "I see it, Artoo," Anakin said calmly, watching a trio of Star Destroyers grow larger onscreen, and told Obi-Wan, "Lock in the coordinates. After I break the line, Artoo, plot five consecutive hyperspace jumps, ending the last one at about 3 parsecs from the destination." The little droid beeped an affirmative and began programming the navicomputer. "Master, be ready power up the shields and turbolaser cannons on my mark."
Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, but nonetheless conceded as he remarked, "You're going to shoot at a flight of Star Destroyers while piloting a diplomatic vessel?"
A feral grin lit up Anakin's face. "Only if I have to." The Jedi Master glanced sidelong at him, and quickly secured his crash restraints. Anakin guided the skiff with the lightest touch, the picket line looming above them as the silver wedge slipped under the shadow of the central Destroyer. He brought the skiff to a dead stop under the monstrous vessel, reducing the engines to sub-light and shutting down all systems except life support, thrusters, and navigation. "Star Destroyers have minimal sensors on the underbelly. If we're lucky, we'll blast out from under them and enter hyperspace before the long-range sensors detect us," Anakin explained in whispers, the outline of his face barely visible in the glow of the auxiliary lights and the distant gleam of the stars.
"How do you know –?" Obi-Wan said in an incredulous undertone.
Anakin shrugged. "Sometimes I pay attention to briefings. And I ask lots of questions."
Obi-Wan stifled a guffaw, and Anakin watched the massive ship slowly turn to starboard. "On my mark," he muttered. Then he slammed his palm on the thruster boost and shouted, "Now!" Obi-Wan powered up dozens of systems in seconds, propulsion driving them into their seats as the skiff rocketed out of the Star Destroyer's blind spot and sailed into open space. The proximity alarms wailed throughout the cockpit as Anakin plowed through the orbital sensor grid and they were free of Coruscant's gravity well. "Artoo!" he commanded, and the viewport flooded with starlines as the skiff leapt into hyperspace.
Anakin leaned back with a satisfied smirk, switching on the autopilot. "That was too easy."
While he was simply acting overconfident, Obi-Wan felt a twinge of disquiet as he took in Anakin's remark. It did feel too easy. He had seen clones ambush Jedi Masters in full command of the Force, and a picket line could not stop one civilian cruiser? "Hmm…"
Anakin's cocky demeanor evaporated, and he unbuckled his restraints to stand, speaking somberly, "Don't worry, Master, there's no way they were able to ID the ship before we made the jump. Besides, our trajectory is so wide that there are dozens of planets for them to investigate before they would even consider…" he broke off, and asked curiously, "Where are we going?"
Obi-Wan shook off the worry that had plagued him for days and smiled slightly. "An asteroid mining colony called Polis Massa. It's very isolated and should serve our purposes well." Anakin gazed at him pensively for a moment, and Obi-Wan thought he saw a flicker of fear in his old friend's eyes. But it vanished an instant later, and it was so abrupt that Obi-Wan dismissed it as his imagination.
Anakin glanced down the hall, and then said, "I'm going to take Padmé to the master suite so she can rest." He left his old Master's presence as speedily as he could without running, a torrent of conflicting emotions churning in his heart.
Obi-Wan allowed him to leave without detainment, and stared vacantly at the swirling colors outside the viewport. A common goal had temporarily disguised the barriers that now existed between him and Anakin, and now in the tranquility of hyperspace, the reality of those barriers screamed louder than any noise. Obi-Wan wished fleetingly that everything could go back to the way it was, but then the voice of his Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, echoed in his head.
"There is no direction but forward, Padawan. The Living Force exists in the present moment, so remain centered in the here and now. Keep the past in the past, and leave the concerns of the future for another time. Go forward, Obi-Wan."
Go forward.