Chapter 10

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We woke up early to go pick the wild berries in the forest behind our tiny house. There was a pathway leading into the vast amounts of tall, thick trees, which was lined with tiny stones. The sounds of the animals, the life, in the forest waking up were exciting but loud, and Luke seemed to love them. He placed every creature in the forest, what he had learned from Threepio and the children's books I read him at night, and imitated the sounds they made.

Luke and I were becoming increasingly close. We spent day and night together, and it was clear to me what was going on in his head. We had our friendly inside jokes and exchanged stories about nothing. It was perfect.

As we crept up on the ten or so berry trees and Luke wriggled out of my grasp and began picking. I, too, picked some berries, placing them inside my basket, which was matching to Luke's, except mine was double the size.

"Luke, there are really good berries over here!"

And he came running. He stuffed the berries in his basket, accidentally smashing some of them and letting them ooze through his fingers, childishly.

I didn't yell at him when he wiped the blue substance on his tunic; I didn't care, he was a child.

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Later, we found ourselves in the kitchen. Our baskets were half full, and we had more than enough berries.

Luke was sitting on the wooden kitchen stool, a bowl of mixture in his lap. He was messily beating the mixture with the tool, sticking out his tongue in concentration. He grunted in frustration.

"You okay there, Luke?" I asked, looking up from sorting the berries into good and bad collections. "You seem like you need help."

I came up around him and mixed it with him. He finally got the hang of it, after teaching him very carefully to use his wrist, not his arm. Smiling up at me and thanked me and went on to stick out his tongue in concentration again.

I smiled, still sorting the berries. After a moment of silence, I realized it was too quiet.

"Say we turn on some music?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow at him. This was his trigger to go turn on the stereo system, letting the soft rock soothe us into the baking that we did every other morning.

I realized I loved this life. I realized that being a mother was far more important that being a Senator, being a Queen. I realized that I loved Luke more than anything.

It's funny, because I hold a certain love for my husband that is different from Luke. I can't describe it; I love Anakin with all my heart. He was a kind, devoted man to his duty and to his wife, his love. There is still that love inside of him, I assure you—after all those years of brotherly love to Obi-Wan and the love he feels (felt?) for me must mean something; not all his lost with his body.

With Luke, I love him in a way that I would lay down my own life for my son. It's obvious that the love I feel for Luke is somewhat similar to the love that Anakin had once felt for me. Anakin had lost himself in that love; Anakin had forgotten what it felt like to be in love. But I still believe he hasn't forgotten…

Completely.

"So, how's about we bake some muffins now?" I said to him, my voice audible over the loud music. He nodded and slowly carried the bowl of mixture towards me so we could incorporate the berries in the substance.

My hands began to coax the berries inside the dough, swooshing about inside and breaking some of the berries, letting the nice blue-violet colour run. Luke peered over my shoulder.

"You know what they say about berry muffins," I said, hinting for him to answer the question.

He smiled sweetly. "What?"

"That if you eat the dough, you'll turn into one big giant dough ball," I said. He giggled and so did I.

"That's not true!" He suddenly said. "It can't be. I had some dough when you weren't looking."

"I know," I said.

He cocked his head, his hair shifting to the side of his face. "How?" He asked, oddly curious.

"For one, Mommies know everything," I said through a smile. "And two, you have dough on the side of your cheek." At that, he elapsed into a fit of kid giggles, and I watched his try to wipe off the dough on his cheek with his sleeve.

I put the muffins inside the oven. "Ten minutes," I said to him. "Tell me when its ten minutes…"

"They're supposed to be golden brown, that's what Threepio said, and he looked in the recipe book and then he went and showed me and I read it aloud—"

"All right Luke," I said, and laughed. "You can go colour but makes sure to tell me when its been ten minutes!"

"Okay," and he ran and to his colouring book, a gift from Bail the last time he visited.

Not five minutes later, when I had already divulged myself into my HoloNet news reports in my datapad, Luke jumped up. He turned off the music, and screamed, "Mommy!"

I laughed, calling him a silly boy. "Lukie, it's only been five minutes—not even—they aren't golden brown yet—"

"No!" Luke screamed again, his voice louder then before. That was the last thing he said before he ran into his room. He tried to grab my wrist, but I said, "Luke, I'm going to go check on the muffins," wriggling away.

I giggled childishly at my son, reacting and getting excited over something that was in his room.

But then I felt it.

I'm not a Jedi, but I could feel this.

Luke wasn't excited. He was frightened. He was scared. Luke was running away. And I was walking right into it.

I walked right by my HoloRecorder machine, and it had three new messages. I pressed 'play', and Bail's face lit up in a shimmery, see-through blue hologram. He didn't look happy.

"Padmé," he said, "You need to get out of there. Apparently—"

It cut off. The next one began to play.

"I'm sorry about before, something happened, maybe its your connection—"

It cut off again.

"Padmé, get out of there now," it was choppy from there, with the words 'imperials' said and 'Dantooine' said as well.

Then I knew why my son had run. He had run away from them. They had found us.

He had run away from him.

And then I heard the breathing.

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