Chapter Ten
Paradigm Shift: Finale
Senator Amidala had a gift for secrecy.
Cody supposed that all Galactic Senators maintained strict confidentiality, given the nature of politics – but this particular Senator jealously guarded her private life. More troopers had poured into the apartment over the past six hours, scouring rooms from top to bottom and finding nothing that would allow Cody to pinpoint Amidala's current location.
He had no doubt now that she was in the company of a Jedi.
That made her an enemy of the state, if she was indeed conspiring with a fugitive. On the other hand, if she had been taken by force, Amidala would be placed under house arrest and removed from her position in the Senate until evidence was found to support that claim.
At least that was what the official report would say.
Cody had his orders from the Emperor himself. When Senator Amidala was found, she would be brought to Palpatine, period. Obi-Wan Kenobi would make that trip as well, if Cody could figure out a way to capture him without literally losing his head. But he still had questions – questions that he kept locked inside his mind. Like where was Skywalker's body.
The young Jedi's lightsaber felt heavy hanging from Cody's ammo belt as he paced the main floor of the suite. The dust and fog had cleared during the rainstorm, and the extent of structural damage to the circular room was immense, like a bomb had been detonated. Cody glanced outside, watching a pair of troopers load the final corpse into a gunship under a pale violet sky. It was nearly sunset according to the planetary chronometer, but the atmosphere was shrouded in thick clouds. Thin traces of golden yellow peeked around the edges of the densely packed clouds, colored crimson by the fading glow of the sun, but would swiftly disappear as a gust of wind carried the storms across Galactic City.
Cody turned away and strode down the far hallway toward the Senator's study. Inside, an Intelligence officer sat at the desk, hacking into the files stored on Amidala's datapad. So far, there had been no mention of anything that might lead them to her. The Senatorial encryptions had been easy enough to break, as Intelligence had been given the master code, but all those files were simply documentation of Amidala's work in the Senate. Notes on proposed amendments, records of past rulings, and various other political agendas filled the screen. There was no reference to friends or family – and no evidence of personal holo messages being sent or received from the terminal. The woman either lived for her work…or she had something to hide. Cody gambled on the latter – his observations of Senator Amidala and perusing her biography confirmed that she was dedicated to her causes, but she was also a young woman who had never entered into a serious romantic relationship. And if the gossip around Five Hundred Republica could be trusted; she had frequent visits from one Anakin Skywalker, including the early morning or late in the evening – which could place them in a very scandalous liaison.
No evidence had been found to support that theory, so Cody dismissed it as juvenile hearsay.
"Sir, I may have found something." The Intelligence trooper's voice disturbed Cody's line of thinking, but he recovered quickly and circled around the desk to peer at the display screen. "I was unable to find a record of the Senator's affiliations – family and so forth – but then it occurred to me that every Senator has a means to travel off-planet. So I checked the purchase records and found…" He pointed at an entry with flourish.
Cody leaned in, eyes narrowing as he read, "45 gallons of ion fuel for a Naboo Star Skiff. And?"
"And I looked into the private landing pad registrar and learned that Senator Amidala has a registered claim on Pad 452A." The trooper looked up at him triumphantly.
Cody's patience was wearing thin. "Come to the point, trooper," he commanded roughly.
"Sir," the trooper's tone was incredulous, "In locating the skiff we can determine whether or not Amidala is still on Coruscant. I had a squad stationed in that sector investigate the pad and they reported that it's vacant, except for a small speeder. A speeder that was not docked there the night before."
"So they've left Coruscant," Cody said slowly, examining this new information in his head. "It's unlikely that they're still in-system, but the picket line would have picked them up on sensors and –"
His comlink crackled to life. "Commander Cody," it was the Sergeant assigned to his squadron, "We've received a garbled transmission from the Subjugator in orbit above the planet."
"Patch it through."
The message was cluttered with static, but words began to filter through. "…Bridge Commander Kaph…. Imperial Star Destroyer Subjugator. I …Priority One…Commander Cody of High Command."
"Can you clean that up?" Cody snapped. He was normally more collected but this whole mission had them all on edge.
"We're trying, sir," the Sergeant replied. "We're still working on reestablishing the communications array. Right now we can only receive the transmission." He spoke to someone on the side, his voice muffled as he turned away from the comm, and then said, "I think we've got it, sir."
The comm clicked loudly, and then, "Repeat: this is Bridge Commander Kaph of the Imperial Star Destroyer Subjugator. I have a Priority One message for Commander Cody of High Command. Do you copy?"
Cody straightened, letting authority reflect within his tone as he announced into the comlink, "This is Commander Cody, Bridge Commander Kaph. What is your message?"
He could picture the Bridge Commander unconsciously adjust his posture as he was addressed by a superior. "Sir, our orbital perimeter was breached at approximately 0900 hours local time."
Cody blinked in disbelief, even as his stomach dropped at the prospect of failing in his duty. "That was over fourteen hours ago, Bridge Commander," he reprimanded harshly.
Kaph clarified hastily, "I know, sir, I'm sorry, sir – but our communications were offline due to an unexplained anomaly on the planet's surface and we have just received a response from Coruscant HQ."
"Understood. Continue, Bridge Commander."
"Yes, sir. The ship was a small passenger vessel of unknown design. It broke the picket line by drifting underneath the Subjugator, where sensors are minimal. It then fired boosters and jumped into hyperspace with a very broad trajectory. We are working on it now, sir."
Bridge Commander Kaph delivered his report as any soldier would, but Cody detected a slight inflection in his description of the unknown ship's antics. He had invented a theory – as any ARC in the same situation would do. Cody fully intended to hear it, but first he needed a few more details.
"You said the ship was of unknown design. The sensors did not identify the craft at all?" Cody asked with a hint of skepticism.
"Sir, we were lucky to see the ship before it made the jump to lightspeed. I've never seen a pilot calculate hyperspace coordinates that fast – except once." Kaph added quietly.
So that's it, Cody remarked to himself. The Bridge Commander's behavior was shining a little more light on his personal theory of who had been flying that ship. Now Cody would ask for that theory, and he would know if Kaph was telling the truth. "You have a theory, Bridge Commander?" Cody said in a way that it was part statement, part question.
Kaph hesitated for a moment. "Yes…sir… Sir, the only way that pilot would know about the minimal sensors on a Star Destroyer's underbelly would be if he or she had military experience. And the speed with which that ship determined jump coordinates was – unbelievable. The one time I saw that, sir…the maneuver was executed by a Jedi."
Cody was impressed by the Bridge Commander's deduction. And he had to agree. Only a Jedi relying on their ambiguous "Force" would have the foreknowledge to make such a reckless move. If indeed this ship was the one Cody needed to find – which it most likely was – then he had to gain Bridge Commander Kaph's full cooperation. "So you believe the ship was piloted by a Jedi fugitive," he commented in a thoughtful tone. "And you have people working on a possible destination?"
"Yes, sir."
Cody nodded in satisfaction. "Good. Inform me immediately when you have it narrowed down."
"Yes, sir. But – sir, with all due respect – what is going on down there?" Kaph sounded desperate for information. Cody could sympathize as a fellow soldier, but as a member of High Command and on a mission appointed by Emperor Palpatine, he had no time to indulge curiosity.
Still, he offered blandly, "Soup's on but no one has the time." It was an old combat saying, one that every clone trooper knew from their primary education days on Kamino. It meant that something was happening, but no one seemed to know what. It meant, 'Watch your six.'
As he had anticipated, Kaph took the hint. "Understood, sir. Subjugator out." Cody lowered his arm, aware that the Intelligence officer was staring at him avidly, listening to the exchange.
Cody fixed him with a dark-eyed glare, the half-moon scar on his face making him appear more menacing. The trooper looked down, cowed. Cody ordered firmly, "You are dismissed, INT-9417. And good work." The trooper glanced up swiftly, stunned by the compliment. He clambered from the desk and saluted, then hurried from the room. Cody sighed heavily, and opened a private channel on his comlink. "Meet me in the study." In less than a minute, the Sergeant entered, saluting respectfully. "Close the door, Sergeant," Cody instructed, rubbing the bridge of his nose between two fingers. The Sergeant complied at once and then removed his helmet, setting it on the desktop.
"Are you all right, sir?" He asked tentatively. Cody looked over at him, staring into the most well-known face in the Empire – the face of every clone trooper. Cody might have been looking into a mirror, except that the Sergeant did not have a scar cutting across his right cheek.
"Do you have an unconventional designation, Sergeant?" An odd question to an outsider, but any clone would understand. An unconventional designation meant that a clone was known as more than a number or rank. Many had been given names – by the Jedi with whom they served.
"Deuce, sir." A wan smile tilted his lips. "Jedi Master Shaak Ti called me that because she said I could see both sides of a problem and approach them differently."
Cody nodded. "So – what is your analysis, Deuce?" He swept his arm around the study in an all-encompassing gesture, inviting another perspective.
Deuce stood at parade rest, staring at the ceiling with a thoughtful expression. "The probability that the ship Bridge Commander Kaph reported in is the Senator's missing skiff and is being flown by an escaped Jedi is high."
"Extremely high." Cody concurred with his logic, leaning against the desk, the lightsaber on his belt shifting against his thigh. "It seems that if we locate this ship, we locate our lost Senator and a Jedi Master."
"But sir," Deuce spoke up, "A broad trajectory from that quadrant of space could take weeks to analyze, and by the time we get a fix on their location, they could be long gone."
Cody glanced at him bleakly. "Exactly. But what else can we do? We work the mission until it's done – period." He hated how hopeless he sounded, and felt. Skywalker's lightsaber suddenly weighed very heavy on his leg, and a prickle of dread crawled along his spine. Reporting another failure to the ruler of the galaxy was not something Cody wanted to do. Gazing down at the silvery hilt, he muttered to himself, "This hunt would be much simpler if Skywalker was here to give us a hand."
Deuce stepped closer, his mannerism cautious as he asked, "Permission to speak freely, sir?" Cody's eyes flicked up and he gave a slight nod. "I am not…entirely convinced that Skywalker is dead."
The Commander raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest as he regarded Deuce grimly. "And you base this assumption on what?" Despite that the very nature of this conversation was bordering on treason, Cody was genuinely intrigued by the Sergeant's statement. Deuce paused, worry deepening the lines on his forehead, and Cody looked at him expectantly. "Nothing you say will leave this room, Deuce – you have my word."
With that, Deuce seemed to come uncorked. His expression grew earnest, and he moved closer, speaking quickly under his breath. "We have searched this apartment for fifteen hours and have not found Skywalker's body. True, the body may have been lost in the explosion or dumped into the city depths – but we did find the lightsaber. A Jedi is never without their lightsaber, so finding it does verify the claim of his death… But we have not taken into consideration that the weapon may have been lost, or left behind on purpose."
Cody pondered his next move carefully. Deuce had brought up an excellent point – but one did not stay in command very long if doubt was cast on the leader. The Emperor had pulled Commander Cody aside before his departure for Five Hundred Republica and pronounced that "Lord Vader" – aka Skywalker – was dead. He had said something about 'sensing his passing', which made him sound just like the Jedi he had ordered the clones to destroy. If Cody were any other man, he probably would have pursued other angles in this investigation, regardless of what Palpatine had told him. But Cody was an ARC Commander in the Imperial Army. He was not bred to second-guess orders. And yet…
"You have a legitimate hypothesis, Sergeant," Cody admitted, and then his stare hardened. "But we have no reason to distrust our informant. If the Emperor says that Skywalker is dead, then he is dead."
"Of course, sir." Deuce straightened and backed away, a soldier once more. "I meant no disrespect. It was only an assumption." He saluted, and said, "With your permission, sir, I would like to head back to the main floor and continue the investigation."
"Before you go, Sergeant – have the results from the blood sample tests come in yet?"
Deuce withdrew a small datapad from the pack slung around his back and typed a few keys. "Not to the full extent – but the lab was able to determine a match for one of the samples. It seems that some of the blood belongs to Senator Padmé Amidala." He hit a few more keys. "Nothing has been confirmed on the second sample as of yet."
So the Senator had been wounded? Cody was stumped. All of his conclusions were falling apart at the seams. Perhaps Amidala was not a collaborator with Kenobi, but a captive. That put the whole operation in a new light. He still had one nagging thought – and Deuce had proven to be an asset to the mission.
"Off the record, Deuce – do you believe that if Skywalker is indeed still alive, that he could have been piloting the ship that slipped by the Subjugator?"
Deuce dropped his datapad in his pack and replied in all seriousness, "Skywalker was the best pilot in the entire fleet. Sneaking through a picket line of Star Destroyers would have been all too easy." Then he added, "If he were still alive." Deuce saluted again, and then departed. Cody leaned against the desk, his thoughts muddled in confusion. If, if ,if. Every fact pertaining to this mission seemed to begin with "if." Cody missed the certainties of the battlefield. Friend or foe, point and shoot. All of these grey areas were impossible to penetrate.
His comlink trilled. "Commander Cody."
"Commander," came the deep, smooth voice of Mas Amedda, the Vice Chair of the Galactic Senate. "The Emperor requests an update on the investigation at 0100 in his private office."
The prickle of dread morphed into an icy flood that filled his veins, but Cody answered impassively, "Understood, sir." The comm clicked off, and Cody glanced out of the viewport set into the far wall.
The sky was deep cobalt, and the lights of the city paled the twinkling stars that appeared fleetingly through gaps in the lingering clouds. He checked his chronometer. 45 minutes until he was due to meet Palpatine.
45 minutes to come up with a theory that would save his command – and quite possibly his life.
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Fear.
It was the predator that stalked Anakin Skywalker from the moment he was old enough to understand the emotion. Since that day, it circled him endlessly, like a scavenger bird above a dying beast. Just waiting for its opening to strike – to entrap him in its iron jaws and devour his soul. The light could not help him defeat his nightmares, and so the fear grew, feeding upon his vulnerability. So he had turned to the dark. But it could not help him, either. The dark only made the fear stronger.
And now he was neither light or dark, floating in the grey mists of limbo – and the monster that was his fear awakened from the slumber his angel had lulled it into, and bared its slavering fangs at the shard of hope sheathed inside his heart.
His face did not betray the desperate war he waged with fear. For all intents and purposes he was the anxious young husband, trying to be useful as his wife brought new life into their world. Anakin had been prepared to run all the way to Maternity with Padmé clutched in his arms when three med droids had burst into the conference room, accompanied by a floating stretcher. Placing his precious burden on the stretcher, the group had rushed through a labyrinth of corridors. Padmé had grasped his flesh hand the whole time, squeezing it painfully whenever a contraction stabbed into her body.
The droids had ushered them into the same exam room where he had glimpsed his unborn children while Obi-Wan was asked to remain outside. Anakin sent him a brief, worried glance over a shoulder before the door slid shut. He had helped move his wife from the stretcher to the bed, and a blue canopy rose above her lower body – a privacy shield for the birthing process, one of the droids gently explained.
Anakin watched Padmé with wide blue eyes, marveling at her composure as she complied with MD-02's instructions in between contractions, which were now about 7 minutes apart. She amazed him. She knew the risks had multiplied, both to her and the twins. She knew that the labor was beginning much too early.
She knew what had happened in his nightmare.
Yet here she was – a pillar of strength as she listened to the droid's detailed account of how they would proceed. She had not cried out – not like she had in the conference room – but her eyes would close in fierce concentration when the pain held her in a vise grip, and tiny moans rose from her throat.
Her eyelids fluttered open, and velvety brown orbs held his stare with a warm glow. Anakin brushed tendrils of sweat-dampened hair from her flushed cheeks, and she smiled up at him. He managed a weak grin and lowered his eyes – and then he saw the silver chain around her neck, tucked under the collar of her hospital gown. Padmé lay still as gentle fingers probed her neck and withdrew the japor pendant, placing it reverently above her breastbone. His gaze was irresistibly drawn back to her face, and once their eyes met her expression changed, her fine eyebrows knitting together as she read into his mood. Anakin immediately glanced aside – but knew that he had been caught. Two slim fingers reached out and tenderly pushed golden tresses from his eyes, and he swallowed hard. The fear growled, vibrating in his bones, and he fought to recall Padmé's words about changing the future. Already the nightmare was rendered obsolete – the most obvious difference being that he was standing by her bedside instead of his old Master.
"You have to let go of your fear."
Padmé felt the initial surge of tension into her muscles that signaled an approaching contraction, but she kept her focus on Anakin, cupping his cheek in her palm as she murmured, "Look at me." He shook his head just slightly, his hair falling over his eyes, and turned away. Her other hand snaked out and captured his face between her palms, saying again, "Anakin, look at me. Please." It was half-command, half-plea, and she knew that Anakin had neither the willpower nor the desire to deny her. Tentative blue eyes peered from beneath tousled strands of gold, and shades of his emotions sparkled in those orbs like a kaleidoscope.
She saw the raw terror consuming his mind, along with the dwindling wish that she was right about his nightmares of her death. Salt water blossomed within her vision, and she whispered sadly, "Oh, Ani…"
Without a care for circumstances or propriety, Anakin swiftly bent over her, burying his face into her neck, pressing a kiss on the sensitive skin. "I can't bear to disappoint you," he whispered hoarsely into her ear. "Help me, Padmé. Please – help me let go of my fear. You're so strong…I don't know how you do it." He pulled away, and his gaze burned into her like blue stars, the passion simmering within giving her renewed energy. Pain washed over her, and she dropped her hands, worried that she might dig her nails into his cheekbones. Anakin clasped her hands within his own as if he wanted to somehow take the agony from her. Once the contraction eased, Padmé's exhausted thoughts remembered his words and she forced her eyes to open.
"I'm strong because of you," she replied softly, and gave his calloused fingers a weak squeeze. "We'll do this together, Anakin, and everything will be all right – you'll see. We are strong together." Her heart had been slashed deeply by Obi-Wan's cutting remark, for there had been many dark nights when she had lain awake, frightened that her love for Anakin would ruin his life, his dreams. But they were about to welcome their little hopes into the world, and she knew that whatever consequences she may have to pay – she would gladly pay them just to see their tiny, perfect faces, and fall asleep each night knowing that Anakin loved her. A fond smile curved her mouth, and she kissed his hand. "I love you."
Anakin could only reply with the same passionate affirmation. "I love you, too." As med droids and Polis Massans scurried around, the two lovers sat uninterrupted – the calm in the eye of a storm – communicating in a way that transcended speech and even the mysteries of the Force. Anakin embedded his wife's soft promise into his subconscious, silently repeating it over and over to subdue the tremors wracking his strong frame as the fear howled for release. Padmé remained steadfast and focused for hours, breathing out the pain as best she could, as the contractions grew closer together and increasingly taxing on her weary body.
When the contractions were scarcely a minute apart, GH-7, the Head Medical droid of the MedCenter, floated over to the bedside near Anakin. He looked at the droid anxiously, still gripping Padmé's sweating hands and asked desperately, "How much longer will she have to keep this up? Isn't there something you can give her for the pain?"
GH-7 rotated slightly to face him, speaking in a masculine tone that was believably sympathetic for a droid, "The labor is progressing very well, Jedi Skywalker. Your wife has dilated nearly 10 centimeters and both infants are shifting into the proper position for natural birth, so surgery should be unnecessary.
Active labor will begin speeding up the process very soon. As for the pain – we did explain to Senator Amidala that there are several options available, but after relaying the risks involved, she refused all of them."
Anakin's head whipped around to stare wide-eyed at his wife. Her face was flushed and sweaty, purplish rings darkened the area around her eyes, and locks of damp brown curls clung to her cheeks and neck. But her lips flexed into the barest smile as she murmured tiredly, "It's a small price to pay for our babies." The next contraction was the most intense yet, and Padmé could not stifle her agony anymore.
She let a scream erupt from her throat, and her eyes burned with hot tears.
Anakin felt her scream rip through his heart, but he reached out and brushed her tangled hair from her forehead, whispering encouragingly, "You're so strong, Padmé – I'm so proud of you… Pretty soon you're going to be a mommy." She did not have the energy to form a reply, but her pain-clouded eyes opened halfway and his flesh hand sensed a brief squeeze from her fingers. His blue gaze flickered sideways and saw the midwife droid hovering at the end of the bed, along with GH-7.
MD-02 drifted over to the opposite side, near Padmé's head, and instructed calmly, "Milady, when the next contraction comes, you will need to push with it." She managed to nod just as another surge of pain enveloped her, and her muscles automatically started pushing before her brain could issue the command. She could hear a woman screaming, and she wondered dimly why her throat hurt. Fuzzy shapes floated in and out of her vision, and she clutched a large hand, using it as her center in this painful, disorienting world. The pain sharpened again, driving red-hot needles into her lower body, and she shrieked, the beads of sweat on her cheeks mingling with the tears that trickled from the corners of her eyes.
Anakin watched the midwife droid move closer to the edge of the bed, and another droid zipped over holding a thick white towel. He craned his neck, struggling to see what was happening, but the privacy shield covering Padmé's legs blocked his view. He started to move towards that end of the bed, his fingers slick with sweat, when Padmé's grasp tightened convulsively. He jerked backwards in surprise, instantly returning to her side as she cried out frantically, "Don't leave me!"
He shushed her tenderly, smoothing his fingertips over her forehead. "I'm not going anywhere, Padmé. I'll never leave you, I promise." He kept a fond smile on his lips though his heart thundered inside his ribcage over how warm her skin felt. Anakin watched her slender body sag with relief as the contraction ended, and kissed a crimson-stained cheek, taking comfort in her familiar scent.
"Milady, the first infant has crowned," GH-7 called enthusiastically. "One more push will complete the delivery."
Anakin grinned, the excited twinkle in his blue eyes masking his fear as he said, "You hear that, Padmé? One more push!"
Padmé was adrift on a sea of pain. Her body felt drained of all energy, like an empty husk, yet the muscles in her abdomen doggedly kept pushing, ushering their little ones into a new world. Helpless tears clogged her throat, and her husband's face swam hazily into view…and the concrete walls of her stalwart façade began to crumble. Pretending that she was not exhausted and scared was consuming the reserves of strength that she had left. "I'm so tired…" Padmé whispered, vainly attempting to hold back a sob, "I'm so tired, Ani. I don't know if I can push anymore…"
"Yes, you can." Anakin pressed his palm against her cheek, leaning close until he filled her vision, and she felt his breath on her face. "You can do this, Padmé. I'm right here with you." Her muscles bunched tightly together, signaling another agonizing contraction, and Padmé clamped her mouth shut to bite back a scream. "Push, Padmé!"
The scream parted her lips as her body complied of its own accord, and white light exploded behind her eyelids, the pain intensifying beyond anything she had experienced…
…And the mewling cry of a newborn interrupted the sudden silence her scream had left in its wake.
It was the most beautiful sound Padmé had ever heard.
She weakly strained to lift her head, but she could not see past the privacy shield. "What –" She licked dry lips and asked, "What is it? Ani?" Her gaze slowly moved sideways, but Anakin was oblivious to her words. He stood motionless beside her as if in a trance, staring wide-eyed at the far end of the room.
Tiny whimpering noises filtered to Padmé's ears, but it seemed to her that a newborn should make more of a racket. Worry coiled around her thudding heart, and she struggled to touch her husband's arm. "Ani?"
The midwife droid suddenly floated into view above the privacy shield, holding a squirming bundle of white, and Padmé's air left her in a rush. "Isita oido."
Padmé's forehead wrinkled slightly in confusion, and then Anakin's husky voice murmured, "It's a boy." Her heart swelled in her chest, and the emotions she felt blossomed into a starburst of colors within her soul. Her firstborn was a son. She had given her Ani a son. The midwife droid finished cleaning him off and bobbed slowly over to Anakin, offering him the small bundle. He glanced quickly at Padmé, blue eyes fever-bright with anxiety, but she tilted her chin, encouraging him. He timidly opened his arms, and the midwife droid promptly deposited the infant into his embrace and hurried back to the end of the bed, preparing for the arrival of the other twin. Padmé basked in the brief calm, a joyful smile illuminating her countenance as their son's meek cries ceased the instant he was cradled against his father's broad chest.
Anakin Skywalker had seen many things in his short life – some too wondrous to describe and others that he did not care to remember. But none of those moments could compare with holding his newborn son for the very first time. To escape the stares and whispered remarks of his peers while he was growing up in the Jedi Temple, Anakin would occasionally sneak away to the Nursery where the newest members of the Order dwelled. It had been a peaceful, secluded refuge for him, and infants of various ages and species had always been glad to see him. Their innocent eyes had never judged him. As an only child, Anakin had never really interacted with little ones, and he was always amazed by how those would-be Jedi felt within the Force. The youngest glowed like tiny white flames, regardless of their potential. As they matured, the white light began to reflect other colors, from intense blue to the palest yellow. Anakin would speculate that the colors represented a child's developing personality, and how that affected the ways with which they could use the Force.
Even though Anakin was unable to sense his son, he was certain that no star burned brighter than the newest Skywalker. His skin was red and wrinkled, but his tiny hands and feet stopped flailing as his unaccustomed eyes peered up at the dark shape contrasting with the harsh white light. Fine blond hairs encircled the crown of his head, and Anakin felt his mouth quirk into a lopsided grin as he glimpsed the barely visible cleft in his son's round chin.
"Talk to him, Ani." At the sound of Padmé's soft voice, their son's head struggled to turn in that direction. Anakin bent over slightly, giving his wife her first good look. He watched her exhausted face light up, and she slowly raised a hand to caress the baby's cheek. "Hi there," she murmured happily, and her smile widened as her firstborn cooed in response. She laughed faintly, brown eyes glancing at her husband. "He has your chin."
A shadow fell across them, and all three family members looked over at Administrator Tuun. "Congratulations," he said warmly, "To both of you." Anakin noticed that he held a small datapad, and his head tilted sideways, pondering its uses, until Tuun asked, "What name have you chosen for him?" He was looking directly at Anakin, waiting for a reply.
Padmé resisted the urge to chuckle when she saw the expression on Ani's face – the one that said he had absolutely no idea what to do. His indigo eyes dropped to stare at her pleadingly, and she addressed the Administrator with a quiet, firm voice. "Luke."
Tuun entered the name into his datapad and slowly backed away from the bed, while Anakin gazed down at little Luke. "Luke Skywalker," he announced lightly, testing the name on his tongue. "I like it."
A shrill whine echoed from one of the panels on the wall, and Anakin spun around to look in alarm. "What is that?" He asked worriedly.
And then Padmé cried out hoarsely.
"The labor is resuming, Jedi Skywalker," MD-02 replied in its maddeningly calm tone.
Anakin swiftly handed Luke to another med droid and took Padmé's outstretched hand, grasping it tightly.
She screamed again – weaker than the last time – and fear jolted Anakin's nerves like white-hot electricity when he overheard MD-02 call to GH-7, stating, "She's losing too much blood."
Tuun immediately came over to the young couple, feeling empathy for this vibrant young man. "Blood loss is normal during childbirth, Jedi Skywalker," he spoke reassuringly, hoping to soothe Anakin.
Anakin glanced back at Padmé, the fear whispering that she seemed paler – but he silenced it by wordlessly repeating his wife's phrase: "We are strong together."
Instinct drove Padmé to push, and she reached deep inside her being to find the strength she needed to guide their daughter into the world. The salt streaks on her cheeks were once more damp with tears, and her throat felt raw as she screamed. This time she was joined by a high-pitched wail, and Padmé felt her entire body relax like a wrung-out rag, sleep enticing her to rest. But she couldn't sleep – not yet. The wails continued even as the midwife droid rose into view, holding a writhing white bundle, and said in its soft-spoken alien dialect, "Isita oida." It placed Luke's twin sister into Anakin's eagerly awaiting arms, and he hurried back to Padmé's side, noting abstractly that several med droids were still stationed around the far end, moving quickly. Then his bawling daughter captured his full attention.
Her small red face was scrunched up as she howled at the top of her lungs, tiny fists clenched in front of her chest, and Anakin thought she was adorable. A thatch of dark hair crowned her head, and he jiggled her slightly in his arms, murmuring gently, "Shh…it's okay…Daddy's here…" She squeaked, cutting off in mid-wail, and squinted up at him. He lowered her towards her mother, and Padmé smiled faintly, her hand shaking as she touched their little girl's forehead.
"You know your Daddy, don't you?" Padmé remarked weakly, fighting to keep her eyes open. Her lips twitched into a tiny smile, and she asked, "What name have you chosen, Ani?"
As she had expected, Anakin's blue eyes blinked at her in shock. "Me?"
"Yes, you. Name our daughter, Ani."
He stared down at the youngest member of his family thoughtfully as she shifted against his chest, and a name drifted to the surface of his mind. It was the name he had picked while trying to fall asleep after Padmé had shared her exhilarating news – had that really only been a few days ago? He had planned to share it with her in the morning…but…
Twisting away from the dark pull of his nightmare, Anakin grinned proudly and declared, "Leia."
Padmé's head tilted, and her smile grew as she said, "Leia Skywalker. It's a beautiful name." Her eyelids fell of their own accord, and something pressed into her diaphragm, making it harder to breathe. She sucked in short gulps of air, whispering feebly, "Luke and Leia. They're perfect…" Padmé gasped, her eyes snapping open as her lungs constricted. Naked fear blanketed her bleached face, and she called out helplessly, "Ani…?"
Chaos flooded the room.
------------
Hope had reentered the universe, and Obi-Wan felt privileged to witness its arrival, embodied by two small babies. Expanding his restricted scope of the Force into the exam room had pushed the Jedi Master to the brink of mental exhaustion, and for a moment he thought it was all for naught when the only thing he could sense was Padmé's pain. He had almost withdrawn to escape her physical agony, but he resolved to endure the echoes if only to glimpse the newborns within the Force.
The birth of Anakin's son was more breathtaking than any sunrise Obi-Wan had ever seen.
The little one's pure, unbridled Force potential blazed as brilliantly as a star, and he observed wisps of rudimentary thought brush against Padmé and the empty spot that was Anakin. Incredibly, the boy still recognized his father and reclined quietly in his arms. The Jedi Master was puzzling over that even as the second twin – a girl – joined the Skywalker family. She shone with Force potential just as fiercely as her brother, and Obi-Wan noticed that she appeared to be reacting to Padmé in a way the other infant had not. She was obviously and visibly distraught as she was carried away from her mother, yet she seemed to relax the moment Anakin cradled her tiny body against his chest. But the Force was stirring strangely inside the room, flavored by a hidden danger, and both babies responded to it with a sensitivity that amazed Obi-Wan. Padmé's face turned white, and her chest rose and fell rapidly. Alarms began screeching from the monitors on the wall, and med droids swarmed around the bed as Administrator Tuun approached Anakin, who looked as if he was in shock.
Tuun was speaking to the young man, and Obi-Wan saw his old friend pale, ice-blue eyes freezing with fear, and the child in his arms began wailing inconsolably. A few seconds later her sibling joined in the chorus, his howls mingling with hers in near-perfect unison. Obi-Wan ran to the doorway, determined to burst inside and demand to know what was going on, but the door refused to open. He dashed back to the viewing area and slapped his palm on the glass, trying to draw anyone's attention.
Tuun's inky black orbs stared at him from the across the room, and he held up a single finger, signaling the Jedi Master to wait. Obi-Wan watched as the Polis Massan gently extricated Anakin's daughter from him and handed her over to the midwife droid, then spoke again to him. Anakin seemed to nod slowly, and then he fell to his knees by his wife's bedside as if his legs could no longer support him. Dismay seeped into Obi-Wan's blood as he gazed at Anakin's kneeling form, and he remembered the younger man's confession.
"I saw her die – giving birth to our child."
The hiss of depressurized air filled the suddenly oppressive silence, and Obi-Wan quickly spun to face the Administrator. "What's happening in there? What's wrong with Padmé?" His words seemed to tumble over one another, and his heartbeat thudded loudly in his ears.
"Senator Amidala," Tuun began, his tone saturated with regret, "has gone into hypovolemic shock. There were complications during the second twin's birth and she has lost a significant amount of blood. We are doing all we can for her, but… But we do not have the blood supply needed to replenish her body."
"Could you take blood from me? From Anakin?" Obi-Wan asked frantically.
"You are recuperating from significant injuries, Master Kenobi," Tuun chastised grimly. "Blood loss would endanger your health. As for Jedi Skywalker – I did make that suggestion, but I'm afraid he has gone into shock. The only thing he did was mumble something about 'not letting it happen again'."
Obi-Wan's storm-colored eyes slid sideways to stare through the transparisteel at Anakin's hunched form. He was clinging to Padmé's limp hand, pressing it against his forehead, and even at this distance Obi-Wan could tell that he was shaking uncontrollably. The twins' wailing continued unabated – sensing their mother's physical distress and releasing their fear for her through the only means that they had available.
And Obi-Wan feared for Anakin.
His emotional stability hinged upon the welfare of his beloved wife, and without the Force he could not protect Padmé as he had initially intended. If the worst should happen… The Jedi Master barely suppressed an icy shiver that raised the tiny hairs on his arms. Without Padmé, Anakin would fall – not to the dark side, but into the black depths of depression…and insanity. Obi-Wan doubted that even he and the twins would be able to sustain him after such a devastating loss. But…
What can he possibly do to help her now?
Even as the morbid thought materialized, the Force suddenly became silent – as if all noise had disappeared from the universe. Obi-Wan froze, muscles tensing with wary anticipation, and the Skywalker twins had grown absolutely still, their eyes open wide like they were waiting for something only they could perceive. Anakin's chest heaved with a shuddering breath – Obi-Wan's eyes narrowed as he looked at the younger man. His lips seemed to be moving, almost like he was praying. Then he raised his face upwards, tears streaming from beneath closed eyes –
And what happened next changed the fate of the galaxy forever.
------------
Anakin would give anything to be proven wrong.
It was not an easy concept for him to admit, but it was true nonetheless. Pride was what had led him into the black mire of fear and obsession, and he had willingly grasped the lifeline Palpatine had thrown to free himself from it. But that lifeline morphed into iron shackles of servitude and moral depravity – and in despair, Anakin had assaulted the Force, blindly hoping that its destruction would somehow release him. Now his angel was fighting for her life, and he could do…nothing.
Being the second-most powerful Jedi within the Order had been a rush for Anakin. Oftentimes, it seemed as if there was nothing he could not do – no deed that was beyond his reach. He felt like the god his fellow students had viewed him as, and the sensation only fueled his pride. But the god had fallen, been stripped of his powers…and now he existed as a mere mortal, aware of the measureless strength that used to infuse his body, but no longer able to wield it. Even to save the woman who was his soul.
Med droids swarmed around her like giant metal butterflies orbiting a flower garden, the drone of their repulsors mingling with the shrill, steady whine of the health monitors. Anakin could not hear Padmé's weak gasps above the din, so he watched her chest expand and deflate in short, quick bursts, her skin nearly as colorless as her hospital gown, dark curls pooling around her shoulders. Then the increasingly familiar form of Administrator Tuun blocked his view, and he was forced to look into that disconcerting, blank face.
"Jedi Skywalker," his soft-spoken voice drifted over the shrieks emitting from the tiny bundle nestled in Anakin's arms, "your wife has gone into hypovolemic shock, which means that she has lost a significant amount of blood during the second twin's birth. We are going to give her intravenous fluids to stimulate her body to regenerate red blood cells, but it will take time for the fluids to have any effect. What she needs is a blood transfusion, but our facility does not carry human blood in storage." Anakin felt a long-fingered hand touch his shoulder. "Anakin…I am truly sorry, but – if the Senator does not receive new blood within the next ten minutes, she will die. I'm sorry."
Life drained from Anakin as all color seeped from his cheeks, and his heart floated on an icy sea of numbness. The nerve endings in his arms deadened, and the precious treasure cradled between them began to slip. He was dimly aware of Tuun gently removing Leia from him, her wails filling the room in concert with Luke, and the Administrator spoke again. "We may be able to extract some of your blood and give it to your wife after it is filtered through a purifier. Would you be willing to do that?"
Anakin did not hear him at all.
Fragments of coherent thought started to surface through the numbness, and one in particular rose above the rest, and exited his mouth in a single, whispered sentence. "I won't let this happen again."
"Anakin?"
Desolate, ice-blue eyes focused on Administrator Tuun, and the young man nodded slightly.
Tuun knew from experience that Anakin was not responding to his question. The Jedi hero was absorbed in shock, and the only world that he perceived was the one he saw in his mind. Tuun headed to the door, ready to address the frantic questions of Master Kenobi, while Anakin heard the sorrow-choked vow made four years ago at his mother's graveside echo in his head.
"I wasn't strong enough to save you, Mom. I wasn't strong enough. But I promise – I won't fail again."
And then the fraying threads of willpower snapped, and Anakin's knees hit the floor with a jarring thump. Yet he felt nothing.
He was nothing – without her.
Hopeless emptiness cloaked his spirit in grey fog, and the creature known as fear began stalking toward the tiny spark, whose light sputtered like a candle flame in the wind. He heard Luke and Leia's frightened cries, and the sound heated his freezing blood, filling him with reluctant determination.
Anakin fell deep inside himself, his resolve to try and touch the Force drastically waning with each beat of his heart. He clung to the belief that he would somehow find a way for his family to be together – that his little stars would not grow up without their mother.
When all was quiet, like the waters of a still pond, Anakin timidly opened his mind to the vacuum created by the absence of the Force. He felt as if he had been swallowed by nothingness; all sound disappeared – even the rapid thudding of his heart, yet he stubbornly expanded his consciousness into the void, searching for any trace of the mystical energy field that had named him its Chosen One.
There was only empty space.
Anakin cast off his timidity and stretched his perception to the brink, sweat trickling down his temples, and silently pleaded for a reply. None came.
Please…
I have to save her.
He felt the outer fringes of his mind begin to strain under the pressure, and pain erupted behind his eyes.
I won't let her die!
Tendrils of thought weakened, and started to crack, and Anakin's perception reached its limit. It dwindled like curls of smoke rising from a snuffed candle and, utterly spent, Anakin returned to full awareness.
Opening gritty, swollen eyes, he squinted in the bright glare of the exam room and crawled on hands and knees towards Padmé. Slowly, he reached up and tenderly clasped her limp hand, pressing her knuckles to his forehead like a subject swearing fealty to their sovereign.
Memories of Padmé revolved past his mind's eye like shards of colored glass. Padmé, as a slender dark-haired girl, walking into Watto's shop and leaving with his heart. Padmé, tucking a blanket around him and accepting his humble gift with genuine compassion. Padmé, standing in the swamps of Naboo, proclaiming that she was the Queen. Padmé, clothed in white regalia, sharing with him a bright smile of celebration. Padmé, looking up at him with uncertainty after he called her beautiful. Padmé, telling him not to look at her with all the passion he felt because it made her uncomfortable. Padmé, clad in a gossamer pastel gown that caressed her soft skin, offering her lips to his kiss. Padmé, her delicate features bathed in firelight, refusing to love him for the sake of duty and obligation. Padmé, sitting beside him in the Lars garage, guiding him back from the black rage with her gentle, strong light. Padmé, brown eyes glistening with emotion in the face of impending death, softly admitting that she loved him. Padmé, standing before him on a stone veranda drenched in the topaz glow of sunset, wrapped in ivory lace, pledging herself to him as his wife. Padmé, slumbering peacefully by his side, his skin still burning from her touch. Padmé, joy illuminating her expression, whispering that she was pregnant. Padmé, brushing her chestnut curls and daydreaming about the home where they would raise their baby. Padmé, murmuring gentle words of comfort after his nightmare tore apart the fabric of his universe. Padmé, firm and caring in the wake of his growing paranoia. Padmé, opening her arms while blue-grey sheets of rain draped around her body. Padmé, reassuring him of her unwavering devotion and trust in him.
All these facets of memory and countless others flashed through Anakin's mind, faster and faster, until they became like falling stars, briefly lightening the twilight of his heart with fleeting glimpses of happiness.
The galaxy could not be without Padmé Amidala. She was the most selfless individual Anakin had ever met. She gave of herself to people whom she would never know, would never meet, sacrificing her own personal hopes and dreams to preserve those of her people and the Republic as a whole. She was more of a Jedi than Anakin could ever hope to become.
She was preparing to resign her position in the Senate to raise his children. She was willing to risk her life to deliver their twins safely. It was a price she would gladly pay – he saw it in her eyes after GH-7 told him that she refused all pain medications during the labor.
She would sacrifice everything that she was…for him.
Him – a temperamental, often-absent, secretive husband who helped destroy the principles and the government she sought to uphold. A traitor, a murderer, a liar… And she still loved him.
She sacrificed everything because she loved him.
And then Anakin realized what he must do.
The fear snarled angrily as his intentions were unveiled, and it sunk razor-sharp talons into his heart, bent on the single-minded campaign to eliminate the spark harbored inside. Anakin ignored its rasping growls and dove once more into the vast, blank ether. As his consciousness was fully submerged, he focused every fiber of his being – all that he was – on two words. He held them in his heart, and then projected them into the soundless vacuum, saturated with the emotions that overwhelmed his rationale.
Two words that must be said.
Forgive me.
The syllables reverberated endlessly through the void, and although the emptiness seemed to close in around him, Anakin let the spark fill his senses, and words poured forth like crystalline water.
Please…help me save Padmé. Don't take her light from the galaxy. She is needed here. I am the one that deserves to die. Take me instead of her. Please save her…and forgive me for all that I have done. Please…
A low thrum began to rise, like pounding drums resounding within caverns of rock, and the noise built inside Anakin, vibrating in his bones. The fear let out an ear-splitting roar that deafened him –
Then the void exploded with white light.
This time, he did not cringe away from the brilliance, nor did he recoil from the heat of the flames that encircled him. He peered into the light's epicenter as the thrum filled his ears, and saw his angel there – just as before. Her presence flowed around him and through him like the water that spilled from the waterfalls on Naboo, and tears moistened his cheeks as the intoxicating feeling of wholeness that he sensed only when he was with her washed over him. Anakin reached for her, and the glare intensified, as did the white flames licking at the edges of his mind. He wrapped himself around Padmé, shielding her from the immense concentration of power, and raised his head, eyes closed…and surrendered.
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With a sudden, immense gasp for oxygen, Padmé's inert body lurched atop the bed, her fingertips extending out like rays of light as energy surged into her waning essence. A pair of velvety chestnut orbs flared open in perfect unison with eyes the color of a summer sky, and Padmé's head lolled to the side as Anakin staggered to his feet. He was still clutching her hand between his palms, the metal digits on his artificial hand warm from prolonged contact with her skin. His tanned face seemed pale in the stark glare of the exam room, but his lips bowed into a soft smile, and he gently tugged her hand to his chest, pressing it palm down over his heart. Padmé felt her forehead crinkle in confusion. Her thoughts were hazy, like she was walking through a fog-filled night, and she sensed movement all around her, as well as abstract noises that she could not identify. She struggled to lift her head, blinking to clear her blurred vision, and glimpsed several silvery shapes floating here and there. "What…?" Padmé croaked out as she tried to prop herself up on her elbows.
"Easy," Ani's deep voice flowed like honey down her parched throat, and a large hand cradled the back of her head, the fingers threading through her tangled curls as the other tenderly pushed her to lie down. "It's all right, Padmé. You're going to be just fine."
Her confusion increased tenfold, and she stared up at her husband's face, seeking an explanation. There was something wrong with her? She did not remember anything like that. And what was she doing here anyway? Padmé's brows drew together as she commanded her muddled brain to function. The last thing she recalled was –
She fought to sit up, calling out anxiously, "The twins!" But a firm grasp held her shoulder in place.
"They're both fine, Padmé, I promise." Something in his tone caused Padmé to glance at him, and when their stares connected she felt a current of electricity leap between them, illuminating the deepest part of her heart. It was like some unforeseen reaction had taken place, and in each of their souls they sensed a profound understanding – yet it was something neither of them could hope to communicate.
Anakin's adoring cerulean gaze held a secret, and yet it was not a secret, because in some mysterious way Padmé already knew. And it only filled her with more confusion, as well as heightened her frustration.
"What happened?" She demanded with an uncompromising expression.
Anakin blinked at her with genuine surprise. "You don't remember?" Her dark head timidly shook from side to side, and thousands of unspoken questions lingered within her brown eyes. He did not know if he could give her any answers. What he did know beyond a shadow of a doubt was that he almost lost her – and by some miracle his angel had been spared.
Not only that, but he could sense her now.
It wasn't by using the Force – no, he remained cut off from the rest of the universe. It was far deeper than simply brushing her signature with a momentary tendril of thought. Their souls had become entwined, and the bond they shared had transformed into an irrevocable link that Anakin did not fully comprehend.
He suspected that the reason Padmé felt so disoriented was that his feelings were merging with hers, and she did not have the mental training of a Jedi to find her center amid the chaos in a myriad of overlapping emotions. He did not know what possible repercussions this bond could have in the future – but for now, in this moment, they were together. Stronger together, just like she had said.
"Ani?" His angel was on the verge of impatience, staring expectantly up at him as she awaited his reply. He reached out and brushed his knuckles across her cheek, a pink glow slowly painting the ivory softness. The imposing tilt of her chin eased in the aftermath of his caress, and the sound of a clearing throat drew Anakin's attention away from his wife and to Administrator Tuun, who stood on the opposite side of the bed.
His oval-shaped, white face looked down on her as he inquired softly, "How are you feeling, Milady?"
"A little tired, and sore." Padmé smiled ruefully, "But I suppose that's to be expected."
"Any nausea, dizziness, shortness of breath?"
Padmé turned slightly to meet Tuun's inky black gaze, bemused by his questions. "No… Why do you ask? What happened?"
Tuun hesitated briefly, and then replied in his quiet manner, "Milady, during the birth of your daughter you lost nearly one-fifth of the blood in your body. You went into hypovolemic shock, and we were doing all we could to save you without the ability to give you a transfusion. We were failing. I feared that we would lose you, but –" He glanced at Anakin, and then continued, "Suddenly your blood pressure jumped, and all of your vitals returned to normal." He spread his arms almost helplessly. "We can't explain it." Again, he looked over at Anakin fleetingly and, receiving no response other than the barest grin, Tuun focused completely on the Senator. "Regardless of the 'whys and wherefores', I am gladdened by your miraculous recovery, Milady. If you will permit me to finish checking your pulse and a few other basic functions, I will have MW-001 bring your babies to you immediately."
Padmé granted him permission with a small nod, and as the Administrator's long fingers curled around her wrist, she turned widened eyes on her husband. A brush with death was an experience Padmé had dealt with in the past, but the specific incident had never been so accurately predicted beforehand.
She would have died in childbirth, just as Ani had choked out on the night he came home after witnessing it in his nightmare. Yet she was alive – obediently sticking out her tongue so Administrator Tuun could examine her throat. Somehow, their misfortune had been averted – which meant that Padmé's earlier thoughts on predestination were correct. The future was not set – at least not completely – and that was where her mind discarded the thread of thought into the ether. She was exhausted, and she would leave the circumspect evaluations of fate for another time.
Administrator Tuun instructed Padmé to unbend her knees, and then he lowered the privacy shield encircling her abdomen. The muscles in her legs tingled uncomfortably as blood flowed in a new direction, but it only served as a minor distraction as Tuun said with a note of satisfaction, "You are recovering well, Milady. Again, I offer my congratulations, and I will leave you both to get acquainted with your younglings." He motioned aside to the midwife droid, who complied at once with the signal and floated forward, expertly holding two tiny infants. Consumed as they were by the twins' arrival, neither Anakin nor Padmé saw Tuun silently slip from the room and approach the motionless form of Obi-Wan Kenobi, whose face was hidden by the dim glow of the hallway.
Padmé began to reach out for one of the twins when the sudden ache in her abdomen caused her arms to fall back to her sides in defeat. Glancing sideways at Anakin, she remarked unhappily, "I guess I'm not as recovered as the Administrator thinks."
Anakin stroked her cheek, his blue eyes as warm and calm as a tropical sea, and said in hopes of placating her, "You just gave birth to two babies, Padmé. You're probably going to be sore for a few days. I'm sure you'll be feeling like your old self in no time." It was such a pragmatic and practical statement – so not like Anakin at all – that Padmé looked up at him introspectively, her dark eyes studying him with mild fascination.
"Why, Anakin Skywalker," she announced, a playful sparkle lighting up her gaze, "I do believe that I am finally having a positive influence on you."
To her gleeful amazement, he blushed, ducking his head a little in that sweet way she hadn't seen since he was a Padawan. When he looked back at her through lowered eyelashes, running his thumb intimately over her lips, she was acutely reminded that he was no longer that intriguing mixture of man and boy, but her husband. "More than you know," he murmured lovingly, a quirky half-smile lifting the corner of his mouth, and his compelling stare drifted away as one of the twins gurgled for attention.
Padmé took a moment to catch her breath; Anakin's passionate sapphire-blue stare never ceased to heat her blood in a way she could not have imagined possible. Truly, it was a wonder that she had not gotten pregnant sooner. Embarrassed by her own musings, Padmé giggled silently, hoping that her flushed face concealed her discomfiture. Sensing a flicker of amusement that did not come from him, Anakin peered over his shoulder at his wife, but her expression was serene as she shifted her awareness to the twins.
Anakin spotted MD-02 by one of the monitor panels and motioned the med droid over, asking, "Is there a way for my wife to hold the babies without hurting herself?"
"Of course, Jedi Skywalker." MD-02 floated to the bed, touching a button hidden underneath.
A quiet humming filled the room, and Padmé felt her back start to lift up, slowly moving her body into a reclining position. Once the motion came to an end, Padmé eagerly turned towards the midwife droid, holding open her arms with an excited grin.
Anakin chuckled at her enthusiasm. "Which one would you like to see first?"
"Luke," came the instant reply. Without another word, Anakin gently removed his tiny son from the midwife droid and placed him in his mother's arms. And then he watched, settling himself on the edge of the bed. Padmé's lovely face lit up as Luke sleepily blinked up at her, and she tucked the white blanket more securely around his small body. "Oh, Ani," she said, just above a whisper, "he's so beautiful." She bent down and laid a kiss on Luke's downy head, and Anakin felt as if his heart would burst.
An annoyed grumble issued from the direction of the midwife droid, and the new parents glanced towards the source of the noise. Padmé laughed softly. "Leia thinks we've forgotten her." Smiling in agreement, Anakin leaned over and scooped his new daughter into his arms, and the midwife droid discreetly drifted to the far side of the room, having completed its appointed task. Once Leia realized that her father was cradling her tiny form, the indignant frown wrinkling her round face vanished, and she nestled deeper into her blanket in contentment.
Padmé moved her son's feather-light body slightly, and looked at Anakin just in time to see his bright, lopsided grin. He jiggled Leia gently, folding a stray corner of the blanket away from her face, and felt Padmé's eyes on him. He moved a shoulder questioningly, and asked, "Switch?"
She nodded, and with some intricate maneuvering, the twins were transferred from one parent to the other.
Infinitely tender fingertips smoothed the silky dark hair on Leia's head, and then caressed her soft, round cheeks. "My little princess," Padmé crooned, "So anxious to get out into the big world." Leia seemed to sigh as she received her mother's kiss, and then an enormous yawn stretched her tiny mouth. "Yes, you've had a hard day, haven't you," Padmé said with a smile, holding her daughter's small hand between thumb and forefinger. Then she let out a jaw-popping yawn of her own, and heard her husband's laughter.
"We've all had a hard day," Anakin observed, and saw Luke's little eyelids fall closed as he nuzzled into his chest. "We should probably get some sleep." He cocked an eyebrow at Padmé, remarking wryly, "Who knows when we'll get to do it again." She laughed, and the sound filled him up pleasantly, echoing within his own heart.
The warmth in her brown eyes changed subtly, and Anakin fell willingly into their dark depths. Holding Leia tightly in the crook of her arm, Padmé laid her palm on his cheek, and Anakin instinctively leaned in, Luke sound asleep against his chest. "I love you, Ani," Padmé whispered, mindful of their slumbering twins and with an overflow of emotion that stopped her from speaking any louder.
He moved closer, a breath away from her lips, his unshaven jaw scratching her chin, and he whispered, "I love you, Padmé." Their kiss was soft and lingering – a tender celebration of love and of the two precious new lives their love had created. Stars continued to wheel throughout the universe in their eternal journey, and events continued to shape themselves around this one family…but for now, in this blissful, timeless moment, there was peace.
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The silent figure in the hallway did not acknowledge Administrator Tuun's arrival, but remained utterly motionless, holding his arms across his chest. Bearded face illuminated by the light from the exam room filtering through the transparisteel, Obi-Wan stared fixedly at the joyful scene unfolding before him. He sensed the Administrator come up beside him, but was not yet ready to initiate a conversation.
Despite his tranquil outward appearance, Obi-Wan's heart was thundering rampantly in his eardrums, and his thoughts a whirlwind howling through his skull. He strived for calm, delving into the Force to help him regain his center, but fragments of what had just transpired ricocheted through the momentary stillness like blasterfire.
Obi-Wan had watched the Living Force slowly ebb from Padmé with growing despair, and had found himself begging the Force to let her live – another forbidden action for a Jedi.
And then, an explosion of white light.
He had tried to retreat from the blazing glare, but there was no place to hide from its brilliance. He felt the intense heat scorching the fringes of his subconscious, and then Obi-Wan had heard two words.
They reverberated all around him, trembling the threads connecting all life like plucked strings. Like millions of voices chanting in the barest whisper, the words were so quiet, and yet the entire universe thrummed with every syllable.
Chosen One.
While the echoes were still traveling the ebony expanse between stars, the white light was swallowed by a human silhouette outlined with a silvery dusting like the arms of a spiral galaxy. An unnamed fear gripped the Jedi Master as the figure moved towards him, striding along a trail of stars, and Obi-Wan frantically sought to pull away, but the Force held him resolutely inside the vision. The figure stood before him, and slowly blinked its eyes. Blue orbs, lit by an inner radiance, gazed impassively at Obi-Wan, and the starlight-bathed outline of a man's face shimmered into focus. The man's mouth opened, and he spoke in a curious tone that sounded like the voices of a man and a woman blended as one, "Jedi…it falls upon you to guide the course of destiny. See now, what weakness you can find, and cast no judgment or blame."
And as confusion and an ambiguous sense of remorse welled up inside his heart, Obi-Wan instantly found himself standing outside the exam room on Polis Massa, watching Padmé's body heave as she drew in a massive breath and Anakin struggle to his feet. He did not know how long he had stood there, staring sightlessly at the new parents and their little ones, contemplating all possible meanings of his Force-gifted vision. He cautiously opened himself to the Force, and sent a wisp of perception into the midst of the Skywalker family, passing over the twins to focus solely on Padmé. What he sensed left him completely baffled.
Padmé's quiet strength glowed within the Force – not as bright as to indicate sensitivity – but with a willpower and empathy that was all her own. And yet, lingering just out of sight, there was another presence. It hid behind the Senator's essence, almost as if she were casting a double shadow, and one was weaker, dimmer, than the other. Obi-Wan tried to isolate the differences between the two but found it nearly impossible – the thought patterns were so tightly interwoven that it could be interpreted as one mind. Then he caught a faint flicker of contrast, like alternating bands of color in a spectrum, and Obi-Wan latched onto it, determined to identify the source. There was no mistaking the flavor of youthful earnestness, the intensity of thought, or the determined confidence that permeated the muted presence.
Obi-Wan sat back on his heels in disbelief.
It was Anakin.
But he was sensing his old Padawan through Padmé – which was curious, to say the least. The young man continued to be an empty place in the Force, but when Obi-Wan concentrated on Padmé, he could find the familiar contours of Anakin's essence.
Most curious.
"See now, what weakness you can find, and cast no judgment or blame."
Ambiguity faded from his remorse, and the Jedi Master's shaded eyes fell as he recalled the harsh words he had spewed in anger within the conference room. "You do not belong together, Anakin – do you understand that yet? What you feel for her has made you vulnerable to the dark side!" Obi-Wan wished that he could take them back, but knew that such an action was beyond his power, or the power of any sentient being. Qui-Gon had warned him as a Padawan repeatedly about his self-righteous attitude, and Obi-Wan had thought that he had overcome it. But apparently, he was wrong. Blue-grey eyes timidly rose to observe the contented family inside the exam room, and Obi-Wan resolved to offer an apology – first to Padmé, then Anakin – fervently hoping that it would repair the damage he had thoughtlessly wrought.
"…it falls upon you to guide the course of destiny."
Whether or not his relationship with Anakin and Padmé was ever restored, Obi-Wan had been commissioned to aid them in whatever battles they may have to fight, or hardships they must endure.
He only wished that Yoda were here now.
"Master Kenobi."
Obi-Wan managed to cover up his surprise as Administrator Tuun's voice jerked his mind out of brooding. His gaze never wavering from the view behind the glass, he commented nonchalantly, "I see the Senator has recovered."
"It is beyond my comprehension of modern science, Master Kenobi. Medically, Senator Amidala should have been unable to survive without a blood transfusion. And yet…" Tuun trailed off, gesturing with one hand towards the petite brunette as she smiled down at her newborn son.
The Jedi Master spared him a glance. "The Force is often beyond comprehension, Administrator."
Tuun turned to fully face him, breathing, "So Anakin did do something to save her."
"No," Obi-Wan shook his head only once, his stare drawn automatically to his old friend's golden-haired head. "Anakin didn't do anything. The Force chose to save Padmé." His rigid stance relaxed slightly. Though the reason why she was spared eludes me, Obi-Wan thought to himself. He unfolded his arms and stepped away from the transparisteel, making a conscious effort to pull his gaze from Anakin and his family. "I believe I shall catch up on some much-needed rest."
"Do you not wish to offer your congratulations?"
Obi-Wan absently fingered his beard, and then replied, "Not at the moment. I'll wait until we have all gotten some sleep." He headed for the doorway and paused at the threshold, sending one more indefinable glance over his shoulder at those within the exam room before exiting into the hall, the door sliding shut behind him.
I have some thinking to do.
------------
The galaxy was in mourning.
A heavy, grieving silence swathed the lives of countless beings like a black shroud, and many of them could never understand why – or even feel it at all.
Senator Bail Organa of Alderaan understood the galaxy's plight all too well.
Few would realize that the heart of their society, the conscience and spirit of their very way of life was dead. Slaughtered in one swift, brutal act of vengeance that had waited nearly one thousand years to take place.
He witnessed the massacre with his own eyes – the horrific scene burned into his mind like a branding iron. To see a young Jedi Padawan – no more than eleven or twelve years old – viciously cut down by four clone trooper's blaster rifles after struggling to defend himself with a lightsaber was not something one easily forgot.
Bail had summoned his staff immediately, and ordered Captain Antilles to prepare the Tantive IV for departure. Setting a random course through hyperspace, the Senator of Alderaan hoped to locate and possibly rescue numerous Jedi stationed across the Outer Rim. They had picked up Master Yoda just outside of the Kashyyyk system, having thwarted the attempt on his life by Commander Jordy.
The diminutive Jedi had looked as if he had gone through hell – a grayish, pallid tint to his green skin, coupled with drooping pointed ears and eyes that encompassed the sorrow of a world told Bail that the worst had happened. The Jedi were gone.
When the comm crackled with a transmission from Master Kenobi, stranded near the far-flung planet of Utapau, Bail had begun to have hope that this tragedy might yet be averted. The Tantive IV returned to Coruscant, carrying a pair of fugitive Jedi who planned to enter the Temple and shut down the homing beacon that was calling all remaining Jedi home…to their deaths. Bail journeyed to the Senate Rotunda after parting ways with the Jedi Masters, and had listened to Palpatine's declaration of founding the Empire with a deadened heart. The shock no longer seemed to register anymore – even to Padmé Amidala of Naboo, who had murmured to him while their fellow Senators cheered.
"So this is how liberty dies…with thunderous applause."
Bail had returned to his apartment at Five Hundred Republica with despondency, seriously considering how the small "rebellion" that he and his good friend Mon Mothma of Chandrila would survive in a galaxy controlled by the Sith – when Yoda suddenly walked through his door.
The Jedi Master needed his help. He would face Palpatine in a duel, and he intended to win. But, if he should lose and escape with his life, Yoda asked Bail to aid him in his flight into exile. Eight hundred years of Jedi knowledge could not be allowed to perish or fall into the wrong hands. So Senator Organa agreed.
He floated in his idling speeder behind an elegant spire a few blocks from the Senate complex, staring at the tiny communication device lying on his palm with a mixture of hope and dread, praying that Yoda would succeed in his self-appointed mission. And then the comm trilled shrilly.
He caught the Jedi Master's small form outside of an access tunnel under the Rotunda; the sadness in his tone as he spoke of his failure clenched Bail's heart in an icy fist. They fled to Bail's ship and plotted a course to Dagobah, a Rim world that Yoda had chosen as his refuge. After the Tantive IV dropped off its anonymous passenger, Bail anticipated a trip home to Alderaan, and to his wife, Breha. He had seen too much darkness in the last five days. A few weeks in her sweet company would refresh his soul, and the brisk, clean wind of the snow-covered mountains bordering the Palace would invigorate his determination to restore democracy to the universe.
Yoda had not spoken to anyone since the ship had entered hyperspace. Bail respected the old Jedi immensely and told his staff to leave him in peace. The ancient Master had lost many friends and students to Palpatine's treachery, and for the first time since they had left Coruscant, Bail wondered what had become of Master Kenobi. It was rumored that the Hero with No Fear, Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker, had been among the dead within the Temple. Skywalker had been Kenobi's only apprentice and a good friend. Perhaps the Jedi Master had wanted a few minutes to grieve before disappearing into his own distant corner of the galaxy.
Bail sank into a chair in the briefing room, running a large hand over his eyes. There were many dark days ahead for the galaxy and its many inhabitants. He wondered morbidly if even he would live long enough to see the rebirth of the Republic that the Jedi died fighting to preserve.
Faint tapping noises issued down the corridor.
Senator Organa looked up in surprise as Master Yoda hobbled into the room, the expression on his face so foreign that it took Bail a moment to identify the emotion.
It was hope.
"Senator," Yoda said as he approached, and Bail felt compelled to stand in reverence, "A request I have." He placed both clawed hands atop his walking stick and looked up at Bail with wise eyes. "Divert our course from Dagobah, we must."
Bail blinked. "Of course, Master Yoda, if that is your wish. What is our new destination?"
"To Polis Massa – with all speed we must go."
"The asteroid mining colony?" Confusion colored the Senator's every word. "With all due respect, Master Yoda – why there? What has happened?"
Yoda's deep green eyes sparkled with mysterious knowledge, and his ears twitched slightly as he stated with quiet assurance, "Needed there, I am." He moved past Bail, and stood as motionless as a statue, gazing out at the whirling stars. When he spoke again, it was in the softest whisper.
"Shifted, the balance has."