Chapter 13.
A/N: As always, thank you for the feedback! I appreciate it. FYI, I am deviating slightly from Revenge of the Sith canon. But I guess the whole pairing that I've created deviated in the first place sooooo….
Palm trees swaying in the wind. Cerulean waters. Balmy breezes. A green flash of light.
Mon awoke with a start. Her head throbbed with the images that her mind had conjured while she'd been asleep. Her head also throbbed with last night's wine. She sat up on the bed and realized she was still in her clothes—and wasn't under the covers. In fact, the bed hadn't been unmade at all. Her apartment was silent. She checked the living room and found only more silence. She spied her comlink on the end table and checked the messages.
The first one read:
You fell asleep. I advise that you drink water.
She smiled wryly to herself. The other message she read was about a last minute meeting with the Chancellor. Mon raced over to the senate and met with several members of the Loyalist Committee-cum-Delegation of 2000 outside of the Chancellor's offices.
"No matter what happens," Bail said to Padme and Mon, "I'd like to have a meeting after this at Cantham House."
"Of course," Padme said, "I called in several favors for this meeting, but there are no guarantees. But it's the best we can do at this point."
"Do you want to take the lead in this?" Mon asked her.
"Yes, I do." She responded, "Chancellor Palpatine and I have had a fairly good personal relationship."
"All right then," Bail sighed as he took both Padme's hand and Mon's hand in his.
Mon and Padme then took each other's hands as well, so the three formed a small circle.
"Whatever the outcome in there," Bail said, "We stick by each other. No matter what."
"Indeed," Padme said, "we're all in this together. To the end."
Krennic sat at his desk surrounded by designs and blueprints, which were all projected in hologram. He sat back in the chair with his hand propped against his jaw as he sunk deeper into thought. He had seen the old comlink on her nightstand when he delivered her to her bed the night before. His fingers had even grazed against it as he left the room. Krennic had wanted to take it, to probe it, to scour the device for messages. But he didn't. It stayed where it was on the table.
Now, his thoughts were consumed by it. If Mon were actually engaging in sedition, that device was probably the proof. He knew the punishments for those who went against the Republic were becoming increasingly more stringent and brutal. He needed to stop her before she could do something irrevocably foolish. He couldn't fail her.
"The meeting was lip service," Padme sighed, "Nothing more."
The senators sat dejectedly in Bail's house around a large table with a lunch spread, all untouched.
"What else is there to do?" Mon asked.
"We need to discuss this with the Jedi," Padme persisted. "I know they are trustworthy—even if the Chancellor has control over the Council now."
Bail opened his mouth to protest but he was cut off by a crack of thunder that shot across the bright sunny sky. The group raced out to his landing platform and watched a horrific scene unfold before them. A squadron of fighters blew across the cityscape. Mon followed their path as they descended upon the Jedi Temple. Almost immediately, a fusillade of laser shots rained down on the structure. The senators gasped, some cried out, others grasped each other's arms. Nee Alavar turned away in horror as part of the temple caught fire.
"Padme!" Bail cried.
Mon glanced over to her right and saw Padme swoon. And before anyone could catch her, she tumbled to the floor in a faint. Mon dropped to her knees and cradled Padme's head in her lap.
"Padme? Padme?" She repeated her name for several seconds until her friend's eyes fluttered open.
"What is going on?" Senator Tills asked, though Mon was unsure if she meant the temple attack or Padme.
"Let's get her inside," Bail scooped her up in his arms and went back into his apartment.
As the shots continued outside, the group hastily decided that it would be best if everyone returned to the safety of their homes.
"Can you take her home?" Bail asked Mon.
"Of course." She said.
"Take my ship." He said. "I'll come retrieve it from you when things calm down."
Mon nodded and saw the senator home. Upon entry to her apartment, Padme glanced around, as if hopeful there would be someone there. Mon found this odd; Padme lived alone.
"Do you want me to stay?" Mon asked her.
"No, no…" She said absently as she brushed her hand across her abdomen. "You can go."
"I'll get you some water, at least."
Mon did so and brought it to Padme, who was prostrate on the couch. She grasped Mon's hand as she accepted the glass. A sheen of perspiration glistened on both her head and neck. Her droid fluffed a pillow behind her.
"Thank you, ThreePO," Padme murmured.
"You're burning up," Mon placed a gentle hand onto her forehead. "Let's get these heavy robes off of you—"
At first, Padme protested but exhaustion overtook her and she allowed Mon to help her take off the brocade coats she wore. Down to a simple shift, her condition was finally made obvious. Mon said nothing, and hid her reaction as she watched Padme drift off into a fitful sleep.
Mon took a seat on a nearby ottoman and waited for a few hours until the chaos outside died down. It was evening when Padme finally woke up again. Her color had improved and she asked for another drink of water. Mon retrieved one for her and she watched as Padme locked eyes with her sadly, signalling that she knew her secret had finally been revealed. Mon shifted to the couch and threw an arm around her shoulders.
"What? What?" Mon searched her face, "This is amazing—"
"No, it's—"
"Padme, it'll be fine—anything you need—"
An airspeeder suddenly appeared next to Bail's ship on the landing platform. Obi-Wan hopped from the vehicle and ran up the stairs to the living room.
"Master Kenobi!" Mon cried, "What is going on—"
"Senator Amidala," he started, "I must speak with you."
"Of course, Master Kenobi," Padme sighed sadly.
"Will you excuse us, Senator Mothma?"
"Certainly," Mon replied, "I've got to get home anyway. Padme, please contact me if you need anything."
The Naboo senator smiled feebly and nodded. As Mon went down to the platform to board Bail's ship, Obi-Wan trailed her and grasped her arm.
"Have you the comlink?" He asked softly.
She nodded, startled by his intensity.
"Things are falling apart," he said.
"The temple—"
If other events like the one today," he said in a hushed but focused voice, "make it impossible for you to stay, know that you have a way out. I may not be able to help—but I will do what I can."
"Likewise, Master Kenobi." She answered.
He relinquished her arm and nodded.
Just after her sliding her apartment door tightly closed, Mon received a message on her comlink:
Are you all right?
Yes. She replied.
Are you home?
I am now, yes.
There was a knock at her door. Mon opened it. Krennic stood in the hall, his hands clasped in front of him. A shiny new blaster was at his belt.
"Well," she said, "that was quick. I didn't even see you in the hallway."
"I was concerned," Krennic stepped in, "It seems the Jedi have rebelled and thus have put the entire city in danger. I have a meeting with the Vice Chancellor in just a few minutes, but I came to ensure that you were safe."
He went to the window and surveyed the trail of black smoke emanating from the top of the temple. Mon followed him over and looked out across the city as well. She immediately thought to contest his words but ultimately decided to give up on it.
"Now that the Republic has been freed of its shackles placed upon it by the Jedi," Krennic said, "There will be major changes. Exciting times."
Still, Mon said nothing.
"More than a few things weighing on your mind?" He asked.
"More than a few, yes."
Krennic grasped her hands, "Imagine, Mon! Don't you see that with the Jedi vanquished, the Republic can ascend to its full potential?"
"You mean that in regard to your project—the use of the kyber crystals."
"That's very true," Krennic said, "but it extends beyond that. The Chancellor will lead us to greater glory. You should make amends now so you can partake in it, get a piece of it all."
She stiffed against the words.
"Make amends while there is still time, please, Mon."
She pulled one hand up and placed it against his face. "If I had to leave, would you come with me?"
"Oh, don't be ridiculous. Leave?"
"Would you?"
"Why are you even asking this? Like I said about hypotheticals—"
"Orson," her voice was quiet, "would you?"
"Where would you go?"
"Would you leave with me?"
"But this is your home. You belong here—" with me.
"But if it got to that point—would you come with me?"
She watched him and didn't allow his eyes to wander from hers. He didn't speak. He didn't inhale as if to begin to speak. He didn't open his mouth in a show of searching for words. All he did was gaze back at her, his blue eyes flashing.
"We could go, Orson," Mon's voice was barely audible and very broken, "We could be together away from all of this."
He stared at her for a moment, frozen at her words.
"I've got to get to my meeting," he said flatly.
He turned on his heel and left her apartment.
The door slid soundlessly behind him. The air in the hallway seemed thinner and he inhaled deeply to catch his breath. He took a moment to compose himself, stiffened as he stood straight, and proceeded to leave the building.
He was approaching the turbolift when its door opened, revealing Bail Organa. Krennic swiftly took a breath through his nose and set his jaw in response to seeing the senator. Organa stepped out into the hallway and locked eyes with the Commander.
Organa was a few inches taller than Krennic, a fact that Krennic immediately noted as the senator headed directly for him. However straight he stood, he couldn't help his neck from sloping forward, like a predator watching his prey.
Or like a cornered animal.
Krennic anticipated ugly words, or even a physical altercation from the way Bail looked at him, but as they neared each other, Bail did not speak. Nor did he move in any way other than forward down the hall. They passed each other and Krennic threw a glance over his shoulder. Bail did not look back.
While many senators lived in the building, Krennic knew whose apartment Bail was going to.
Bail knocked on the door and it opened almost immediately. Mon's face fell, he noticed, at his presence, but she swiftly corrected herself and recovered.
"Good evening, Bail," she said, "Are they fly lanes clear now? Your ship is tethered downstairs."
"Yes, I saw it on the way up," he responded, "thank you. How is Padme?"
"She's resting." Mon thought about telling Bail about what she'd discovered but decided that it was Padme's secret to tell.
"Good," he said, then, after a pause, "Mon, do you have a minute?"
"Of course."
He came in and they sat together in the living room. She offered him a drink, but he declined. Mon steeled herself for what she knew would be an unpleasant conversation.
"Mon," he said, "I think it's time to make some plans."
"All right, then."
"You must ensure that you have a way to get out," he said, "And I will help in whatever way I can."
"Thank you, likewise, Bail."
"Also," he continued as he reached into a deep pocket in his robe. From it he pulled a blaster gun and laid it before her. "You have to protect yourself."
Mon recoiled from the weapon. "Oh, Bail…"
"Take it. I want you to have it. Keep it safe." He instructed, "Get clothes—something you'd never wear—something easy to move in. Have a bag ready to go."
"Bail—"
"They're cracking down on the undercity; security is very tight now down there," he said, "but it's your best bet for an exit. Memorize these maps."
"—You're scaring me—"
"I'm sorry," Bail laid his hand on hers, "But this is where we're at. Prepare."
She nodded.
"I—I also have something to tell you."
"What?"
Bail paused, looked away for a moment as if he were second guessing his decision, and then finally looked back to her.
"I overheard something," he said, "I—I can't be sure of everything I'd heard, but it had to do with you."
"Me?"
"Yes," he said, "I was at the Vice Chancellor's offices and I overheard a conversation he was having about you—and Castor."
"…Why? With whom was he speaking?"
"He was talking with Commander Krennic," Bail felt ill.
"About Castor?"
"Mon," he said, "They planned Castor's death."
She felt as if she had been struck across the face. Backhanded.
"Amedda made it happen," Bail said, "and Krennic requested it."
She put her head into her hands as the words hit her.
"I'm so sorry." Bail said.
Mon raised her head slightly and fixed her gaze at the blaster before her.
"Thank you for letting me know." Her voice quavered.
"I'm so sorry." He said again as he rose.
Bail made for the door, turned back for a moment, and saw Mon hunched over on the couch. He then continued out, leaving her alone.
"So Commander Krennic," Amedda said, "The Jedi have proved to be as malicious as we've always suspected. Now that the Jedi question has been answered, we are free to use the kybers as planned. Clear your schedule so that you are free to go to Chandrila next week."
As always, Krennic made a bow after being dismissed from Amedda's presence. But this time, it was without any resentment.
Krennic came out of Amedda's office feeling energized. From all of the chaos of the last several months, he felt himself emerge victoriously. With his career back on track, he set his sights on Mon. He had to succeed on that front. There would be no fantastical absconding to some far off Outer Rim wilderness. It would be a waste for him, not to mention for her. There was no scenario where he would find himself on an isolated planet, away from his duties. His job was inextricably linked to his identity. And Mon wouldn't steal away either. Not if he had anything to do with it.
He figured that when she suddenly appeared before him, his thoughts had willed her into his presence. But the dark look on her face jolted him.
"Come with me, now." She ordered in a low voice.
Surprised by her demeanor, he followed her through the senate halls silently as they made their way to her office. She stayed one step ahead of him the entire time so that he was forced to focus on the rippling white cloak as it flowed behind her. Her anger was palpable to him and the cloak somehow seemed to amplify it. She turned back on her heel to face him only when they were alone in her office.
"I've just heard something," she began with tears in her eyes and her voice trembling, "that makes me ill."
"Mon, why don't you sit—"
"Do not," she put up her hands to fend off his touch, "do not tell me what to do."
Krennic relented, and was silent as he studied her—but he couldn't for the life of him figure out why she was so upset. She seemed to be overreacting a lot recently. Where was the calm, measured Chandrilan he'd first known? What had made her change so drastically? He sighed.
"I heard," she said, "that you had my fiancé killed."
"What?" Krennic was outraged, "That is a lie."
"Oh yes?" Mon asked, "Now you're committed to the truth?"
"Mon," he said as he tried to grasp her hand, but she pulled away, "Please, please."
She backed away from him as tears began to threaten to fall from her eyes.
"You must believe me," he said, "You must believe me. Please, Mon, you must. I never thought Amedda would have him killed—"
She shook her head at his words, "Then what did you request?"
"To have him moved," Krennic became frantic. "I never thought he'd kill him!"
"Why would you request such a thing?"
Krennic closed his eyes and steeled himself, "Because Amedda instructed me to neutralize you."
She backed up so far away from him that she unexpectedly hit her desk. Mon stared at him for a few minutes, aghast. The silence lay heavily between them.
"What?" She asked feebly.
"Mon, please," they were the only words Krennic could muster, "Please."
"And is that why you're trying to convince me to make amends?" She asked.
"No." Krennic edged toward her, "I never thought Amedda would do such a thing. And I never thought that I—"
"Orson, I don't think I can take much more of this," she said, "I've given you so many chances, I've ignored so many things…"
"You must believe me." He said, "Mon, you must believe me."
He repeated the words again and again as he tried to take her into his arms. Mon backed herself around her desk as she tried to escape his grasp.
He raised his hands in surrender and stopped, "All right."
Mon had put her desk chair in between them and she stood behind it like a shield. With her eyes locked to his, she forced a false calm over herself. If she hadn't, she would've crumbled before him.
"All right," she said softly, "tell me everything."
And, after a moment of silent deliberation, he did. He told her of that first meeting with Amedda about her. He told her how he had researched her before seeing her at the party: her policies, her social habits, her history. He knew everything about her before even talking her.
As he gave her the facts of the situation, Krennic laid everything out in a low, clear voice that was just slightly tinged with a shadow of desperation. He told her about how Amedda misinterpreted his instruction. She listened, frozen, from the other side of the chair.
"So," she said finally after he'd finished, "there always was a price on my head."
"Yes."
"And you warned me."
"And I still do today."
Her decision about going or staying had been made for her in that moment as tears began to stream down her face. She nodded and slowly made her way to him.
As he took her into his arms, Krennic believed she'd resolved to stay under his close protection. And his embrace enveloped her, Mon knew it was time to make some plans.