Chapter 20
Padmé was rushed into the infirmary in the Jedi Temple without so much as a glance, and assisted into scrubs by three Jedi Healers in record time. Cordé was already waiting, having begun the prep of the Jedi Master, the blood that was needed for the procedure already hooked up, the surgical instruments lined up for easy access.
Padmé entered the surgery, getting her first glimpse of the wounded Jedi, and just about lost her lunch. Cordé was flanked by four more Jedi Healers, all of which were touching a part of the Jedi Master's battered body.
Mace's injuries were horrific, the worst Padmé had ever seen. His right arm was hanging by a thread of muscle from his shoulder. His right shoulder had been separated from the rest of his body completely and something had cleaved into the side of his neck, hitting the artery, but not severing it.
The Jedi Master was slowly bleeding out on the surgical table.
Padmé stepped to the table and extended her hand to Cordé, keeping her eyes on the pulsing artery in Mace's neck. She had to close that first, before any other injury could be attended to, or they'd lose him. Cordé placed the first tool into the open palm and Padmé got to work.
They worked tirelessly, Padmé using soluble, but durable, stitches in the Jedi Master's injuries. The neck wound was the easiest, but most critical, to sew and so it was her first priority. Once closed, she didn't pause except to wipe the sweat off her forehead with her elbow. She moved on, slowly closing the Master's neck wound and sewing the tendon and muscle back together to ensure he wouldn't lose the range of mobility he would need.
The hours passed quickly, the Jedi Healers rotating out of the room and relieving one another as they practiced keeping Mace in a semi-trance so not to feel the pain and to slow the rate at which the blood left his body. They managed to keep it to the same rate in which it was being replenished by Cordé's machines. It was a talent Padmé only noticed in passing, but was thankful for. Without it, Mace would have been dead long before she'd arrived.
Padmé's work on Mace's shoulder, reattaching all of the tendons and muscles, took the better part of the morning and ran into the afternoon. She worked tirelessly, aware that Mace's life was not yet out of the danger zone, deliberately and systematically reconnecting tissue, bone and cartilage.
She didn't notice the passing of time in minutes, but felt it in her hands. She paused to flex them every now and again to ensure she didn't lose their mobility, but never stopped for too long. Mace's injuries were severe enough she didn't dare stop for more than a few moments.
Absolutely focused, she didn't notice as 1300 came and went and with it her chance at refuting more of Helkor's testimony. For with, or without her, the Tribunal would continue. Not that she noticed. As she worked on Mace, the ramifications of her actions were as far from her thoughts as Tatooine was from the bright center of the universe.
It was well into that evening when she tied the last of the knots on his shoulder, bringing the darkened skin together and sealing the last of his gaping shoulder wounds. Padmé paused only to stretch before she began work reattaching the arm to the newly reattached shoulder.
It was almost midnight by the time she finished. Her fingers were beginning to cramp in spasms and her back was aching as she motioned for Cordé to start the blood transfusions running at full power. The machine whirled up and Padmé watched the monitors carefully to ensure that the analysis tools were accurately recording the amount of blood in the Jedi Master's system.
If the Healers hadn't kept him in the trance, Padmé was certain she would have lost him in the first hours; probably even before she'd even arrived. It was because of their patience and strength she'd been given that precious extra time to work. Time she'd needed and was thankful for. Even now they were keeping his vital signs stable as his body was slowly replenished of the blood it had lost. Somehow they were controlling the bodily functions of the Jedi Master.
Cord placed a hand on Padmé's shoulder. "You're exhausted and Mace should be put into bacta as soon as we can. Come on."
Padmé looked to the Jedi healers, knowing she should wrap his wounds herself and see that the mixture in the tanks were appropriate, but her mind was starting to get fuzzy as the stress and adrenaline that had been keeping her going was beginning to bleed off. But she couldn't leave yet; she had to see him put into bacta. She needed to. If she didn't, she would never sleep regardless of her exhaustion.
One of the Jedi Healers entered the room and slowly brought the others out of their trances, relinquishing their hold on the Jedi Master's bodily functions. Slowly, over the next few minutes, Mace's battered body resumed functioning normally. Padmé kept a close eyes on the monitors, watching for spikes or drops in any of the functions. His blood pressure dropped, but only by two points, before holding steady. His heart beat, still weak, didn't change and she exhaled softly as the Healers stood away.
Mace's body was functioning on its own and hadn't shut down.
With a respectful nod to Padmé, the Healers shifted Mace to a stretcher and moved him into the next room. Padmé followed, observing as they efficiently attached a mask, adjusted the privacy shield around his hips and slid him into the bacta tank.
"Many thanks to you, Doctor Naberrie."
Padmé almost jumped at the sound of the wizened voice and smiled sheepishly as she looked down to find Yoda standing beside her. "Your welcome, Master Yoda. I did what I could."
"And much it is." Yoda nodded once with approval, his face seeming to have gain years since she'd last seen him. "Needed Master Windu is."
Padmé watched as the Bacta levels were checked carefully and the monitors calibrated. "Every Jedi is needed, Master Yoda. If you'll excuse me, I should check the mixture on the tank to ensure he'll get the correct dosages."
"If you must." Yoda waved her towards the tank.
Padmé shook off the hand Cordé placed on her shoulder and strode to the tank. She closed her eyes, pressing her fingers to the bridge of her nose and squeezed as she forced herself to focus. Anakin's mixture, the night she'd collapsed, what had she been adjusting it to? Carefully, deliberately, she thought back to that night, knowing her mind was sluggish, but also knowing amputation in this case was not an option. If Mace's wounds turned septic, he would die. She had to remember if she was going to save his life.
Anakin's face, surrounded by the bacta glow, came back to her mind slowly, the pad appearing in front of her gaze. Only the numbers wouldn't come into focus. She fought, trying to focus, to get a clear image, but could only watch as her hand passed sluggishly over the numbers, not certain which ones had been pressed.
Think! she raged at herself, her thoughts lashing violently through her mind. His life depends on it. If you don't succeed now, all of your work will be for naught. You'll have thrown away your career for a man who's impossible to save. Think!
But she couldn't. Not without help, not without focus. She sagged against the tank, breathing raggedly. "Master Yoda."
"Hmm?"
She lifted her gaze to his. "I understand that Jedi sometimes need to use the Force to focus their thoughts. Is there some way for one of them to help me focus mine?"
"Why need it, do you?"
Her gaze shifted back to Mace's seemingly lifeless body hanging suspended in the bacta. "Before my collapse during Anakin's care, I had devised a combination of bacta levels to help speed along recovery to minimize the possibility of a wound turning septic. Only, I never got the chance to write them down. They're locked in my brain. If Master Windu is to recover, I need that formula. If his wounds turn septic we'll loose him."
Yoda examined her carefully. "A Jedi have in mind, do you?"
"I was hoping you could help me, Master." She smiled faintly. "The longer we wait to implement it, the better the chance of a wound turning bad."
Yoda stepped to her side, motioning for her to kneel. "Painful this may be, Doctor. Ready are you?"
She nodded, kneeling beside him, and managed not to flinch as his hands settled on her face. She took a deep breath, waiting.
Yoda's fingers settled on her temples, and his eyes closed. "Remember, Doctor Naberrie. Information need, do you." He murmured softly, as if chanting.
Padmé closed her eyes, focusing on the memory she was trying to dredge up, uncertain exactly how it would work. Slowly the image began to focus and she swore she felt Yoda slowly using the Force to manipulate that memory. To bring it forward, into her conscious mind.
Suddenly, clearly, she remembered what she'd been doing. Her gaze flew open and she stood, punching in the sequence of dosages she needed. The mixture turned a slightly yellowish-green color as it changed before returning to its normal rosy consistency.
Yoda stepped back.
She nodded, satisfied for the moment, and turned to one of the healers nearby. "You, Healer."
"Anja Deska, Doctor Naberrie. Jedi Healer".
"Jedi Healer Deska, are you on rotation in here tonight?"
She nodded. "Yes, Doctor. Do you have further instructions?"
"Just one." She glanced back at Yoda. "If there's any change for the worse wake me immediately. You'll know by a gray tint entering the bacta. And for the love of the Force, don't touch the controls. The mixture is specialized for his kind of injuries."
"Of course, Doctor. Will you be staying at the Temple until he's removed from the bacta?"
Padmé hesitated, her head beginning to ache, and she hadn't yet removed her scrubs. She should still, theoretically, be under house arrest and so subject to those conditions. But she couldn't leave with Mace still in the danger zone.
"Staying she will be." Yoda's voice was firm, taking the decision away from her. "Prepared one of the recovery rooms Jedi Skywalker has, so nearby she will be."
"Thank you, Master Yoda. For everything. If you'll excuse me?"
They nodded, and Padmé stumbled her way back to the surgery and their sanitation stations. She scrubbed down, carefully cleaning off the bodily fluids and tossing the covers in the disposal. She wasn't thinking as she finished, nearly asleep at the sink.
Warm, familiar, comfortable arms encircled her, picking her up in a strong embrace. She cuddled close, burrowing her face into the muscular chest. She felt herself moving and didn't care. The arms that held her could only belong to one person, and, if she was dreaming again, she didn't want to wake up. She was going to enjoy it.
It was her last thought as she drifted off to sleep.
Padmé woke the next morning with her mind clear and a purpose as she threw back the covers. She was still in yesterdays clothing, but didn't care as she slipped into her shoes. She paused, frowning at the bed.
How had she ended up there?
She didn't remember anything after she'd began scrubbing down, and hadn't been shown to this room.
"Oh good, you're awake."
"Jedi Healer Deska." Padmé turned towards the door. "How's our patient this morning?"
"Doing fine, Doctor Naberrie, thanks to your timely arrival. I fear had you not arrived we wouldn't have been able to maintain him much longer."
Padmé stepped out of the room and into step with the healer. "What happened to him?"
"It was Grievous, Doctor. That mechanical monster ambushed Master Windu. They'd been attempting to lure Grievous into a trap and were instead caught unawares."
"Where were they?"
"In the under city." Anja led the way into the treatment room and then escorted her into the room with the bacta tank holding the Jedi Master. "We lost Master Plo and two more apprentices before Obi-Wan and Anakin were able to get to them."
Padmé could hear the calm acceptance in the woman's tone, but a part of her wondered if losing a Jedi wasn't like losing a part of ones self. Were they all diminished when another Jedi passed? She shook the thought away and checked the read out on Mace's tank. Mace's color was good, the wounds now pink instead of an angry red, and she was glad they hadn't bandaged them. Direct bacta application was best for this kind of wound.
"Everything looks good."
"That's a relief." Anja smiled. "Will you be staying long?"
"I'd best stay for several days until we know for certain that Master Windu's wounds are healing properly. If there's a complication, I may need to do another corrective surgery."
"I understand. I'm certain Master Yoda wouldn't mind assigning you that room for a few days."
"You don't have many casualties?"
Anja shook her head. "Jedi lead dangerous lives, Doctor Naberrie. Either they're killed out right, or they get lucky and have someone of your skill to step in. If you'll excuse me, I have duties to complete this morning."
Padmé waved the woman away, turning back to double check on Mace's readings. Normal; the same as moments ago. She sighed, letting out a breath and nodded, making a mental note that she had appeared to have found a stable mixture for critical injuries. While bacta as a whole was capable of healing such a wound over time, it took weeks in bacta for such wounds to heal without additional help.
"How is he this morning?"
Padmé turned, a smile lighting her face. "The mixture appears stable."
Anakin nodded to the tank. "The same one you were going to use on me?"
She nodded, moving to stand in front of him. He took a half step back, into a nearby corner, partially shielding them from anyone that might come into the room, behind the bacta tanks. "I was right. It would have worked."
Anakin lifted his hands and gently brought them down on either one of her shoulders, letting out a shuddering breath as his hands touched her, applying the tiniest of pressures to bring her forward the whole way and into his embrace. She went willingly, closing her eyes as she placed her head against his chest and inhaled. His presence wrapped around her as firmly as his arms, reassuringly solid. "I've missed you, Anakin."
"I've missed you too, Padmé. Did you get my message?"
She nodded. "It was very sweet of you."
He nuzzled her hair. "I had to try." He paused, gently running one hand down her back. "Are you free this morning?"
"Maybe."
"Care you join me for the morning meal?"
She pulled away, looking up to meet his gaze. "I thought I owed you dinner."
"You do." He winked at her, letting her go. "Two of them."
She swatted at him playfully. "You!"
"I know, I'm horrible." He nodded to the tank, turning serious. "Is this going to get you in trouble with the Tribunal?"
She turned and looked back at Mace's inert figure floating peacefully in the bacta tank. "Probably. I'm not supposed to practice until after I clear my name."
"How's it looking?"
"I got the malpractice charges dropped yesterday." She turned to face him. "Helkor implanted a recording device on the back of your neck and tried to use the gathered recordings as evidence."
"So that's what it was!" Anakin's eyes darkened. "I see I have another reason to pay Helkor a visit."
"Not until after I get his license to practice revoked, Anakin." She shook her finger at him. "The son-of-a-hutt has a lot coming to him, but he's mine first."
"So long as he plays fair." Anakin grasped her hand. "So long as I have you for morning meal, how about I cook? I'm not bad you know, and it's as good a time as any to prove I'm fully healed."
"I don't know Anakin." She glanced back at the ward, obviously torn between staying in case something went wrong and going with him to some place where they weren't being monitored by security cameras - even ones with dead zones. She only hoped he knew where they were and that they were currently standing in one. "I should really be here in case something goes wrong."
"Anja's around." His eyes sparkled. "And she has your comlink channel."
"She said she had duties."
"She's an apprentice Healer. The medical ward is her duty."
"Oh." Padmé finally nodded, realizing as much as she wanted to ensure Mace's recovery continued without problems, she wanted to spend time with Anakin. Alone. "You win. I accept your challenge, Jedi Skywalker. Lead on and prove that you have regained your motor control."
He bowed over her hand with a flourish. "This way milady." His eyes sparkled, and her heart skipped a beat as he tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. She went willingly, unable to resist, knowing with a positive feeling that she had the bacta mixture right this time and Mace would recover.
She was free to enjoy Anakin's company, and enjoy it she would.
"Voila!" Anakin placed the plate in front of Padmé with a flourish and a smile. "Morning repast a la Skywalker."
She laughed softly. "You've certainly regained your sense of humor. Anja tells me you and Obi-Wan saved Mace's life."
He shrugged, taking a seat across from her and putting his own plate in front of him. "Obi-Wan and I were supposed to be the bait, but Grievous went after Master Windu instead. He was just lucky we got there before Grievous could finish his killing stroke. A moment later and we'd have been too late. Plus, it helps we had Shaak Ti with us - she's a qualified field Healer. She was able to get Master Windu into a Force induced trance which allowed us the time we needed to get him back here and to you. You do nice work, by the way."
"Thank you." She lifted her glass, accepting the compliment and took a sip before trying her meal. "This is delicious, Anakin."
He grinned. "I told you so."
She chuckled softly. "So you did. Can I ask you something?"
He nodded.
"When did you get that thing in your neck removed?"
Anakin's eyes darkened. "Grievous missed me by a hair." He turned his head, showing her the neatly healed scar that was a thin band of white along the base of his neck. "When we first encountered him several weeks ago, shortly after you left, he tried to take my head off his with claws. I ducked, but he caught that thing and ripped it out. I don't know what happened to it."
"Helkor somehow got his hands on it. That was the recording device he'd implanted on you." Padmé took a sip of the tea Anakin had thoughtfully provided with their meal. "I don't know what it recorded or how long it lasted, but it was his key piece of evidence in the malpractice case."
"He'll pay for that. I don't appreciate having my person violated by rogue medical personnel." His blue eyes suddenly sparkled. "Unless its you. How about it Padmé, would you like to violate my person?"
"Anakin!" She laughed, easing the tension Helkor's actions had brought to the table with them. "Can't you ever be serious?"
He shrugged, watching her intently. "Helkor will get what's coming to him. Until then, he can be my amusement at the very least. He owes me that much."
She chuckled. "Fair enough." She turned back to her meal, marveling that he was so handy in a kitchenette. He put her own cooking to shame. She was almost done when she glanced up, noting that Anakin hadn't been keeping pace. He'd barely touched his meal while hers was almost gone. "Is something wrong?"
"You're more beautiful than I remember."
Padmé blushed, putting down her utensils. "Anakin."
He reached across to take her hand. "It's true. I've missed you, Padmé. You've been on my mind every minutes of every day since you left. I keep asking myself what I did to deserve you." His expression became sad. "But you're not really mine, are you?"
"Of course I am! I've thought of you just as often, even when I should have had my mind on the trial."
"Then you've not had second thoughts or doubts?"
"Have you?"
"Never. Not once." He squeezed her hand, searching her gaze. "Would you marry me, Padmé?"
Her jaw dropped in shock, unable to contain the thrill of elation that swept through her with those five little words. Marry him? Be Mrs. Anakin Skywalker? To share his hopes, his dreams and his life? To bear his children, to be his wife in every sense of the word? It was a question she didn't need to think about; yes, yes, Yes! Force yes, in a heartbeat, right now if they could.
The feeling didn't last as reality reared its ugly head and her throat closed, fighting against the urge to shout Yes! to his proposal. She instead voiced the obvious objection. "You're a Jedi."
"And you were my Doctor. That doesn't mean I love you any more or less. I love you, Padmé Naberrie, and I want you to be my wife. To know that you're mine and only mine."
Her throat closed. She wanted to say yes. She needed to say yes. But she couldn't. Not when her future was uncertain, with her trials not yet fully completed, her own career on the line and possible incarceration staring her in the face. Not when their marriage would have to be a secret and a lie, something they couldn't speak about with anyone lest it cost him his path as a Jedi. Not when their futures were so uncertain she didn't yet know if she had one anymore.
"Padmé?" He searched her gaze, alarm growing in his own.
She took a deep breath and forced herself to speak past the tears burning behind her eyes. "I can't."
"Why not?"
"We can't, Anakin." She repeated the words, trying to convince herself as much as him. "I'm looking at possible incarceration if the Tribunal finds me guilty. It could be as little as days or as long as ten to twenty years. I couldn't do that to you; to us. You'd never see me and it wouldn't be fair."
"I don't care."
She pulled her hand away, fighting to keep an even tone as she rose to her feet. "I do, Anakin. I don't want to be a trophy wife. Think about it, even if we married under ideal circumstances, we'd still have to hide. We'd have to live a lie. No one, not a single soul, could know about it. Not Obi-Wan, not Cordé. We'd have to always be on our guard, looking out for dangers. We couldn't have a family." She choked, unable to continue, a tear sliding down her cheek. She could still see those blonde haired - blue eyed children she was dreaming about in her mind's eye. Children they could never have.
"Padmé." He pushed to his feet and pulled her into his arms, gently stroking her hair, murmuring soft reassurances. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked."
"It's not that." She closed her eyes, her throat tight. "I want to marry you, Anakin, more than anything, but I can't. I'm sorry, but I can't. Not with so many unknowns."
"Shh. It's alright, my love." He kissed the crown of her head and then gently kissed her closed eyes and the trails of moisture that were sliding down her cheeks. "I understand. I'm sorry, I've thought of little else since I sent you my message. I've missed you; I shouldn't burden you with more. You have enough to worry about."
Her eyes opened slowly, meeting his. "I can only promise you now, Anakin. Not tomorrow, not a year from now, but today and only today. I wish I could do more."
"All I need is your love, Padmé. That's all I want."
"You have it." She slid her hands into his hair and pulled his head down, angling her lips beneath his as she initiated a kiss. His touch was like fire, branding her as his and his alone. She relished it, reveled in the leashed power in his frame, the tenderness with which he held her. She put every ounce of her feelings for him into that kiss, wishing their reunion could have been happier, not bittersweet. She tried to tell him with taste and touch.
Her hands slid from his hair to tangle in the front of his shirt. His hands slid up her back, one delving into her hair, cradling her head, the other settling low. She was pulled flush against him, her curves molding willingly and unconsciously to his. She moaned softly under his mouth, gasping as he deepened the kiss and then meeting his passion with her own. She was tipped backwards, off balance, his hand possessively splayed across her back as he ravished her mouth.
Her hands shifted, flesh meeting flesh as her fingers slipped unwittingly around the folds of his shirt. His chest was warm under her fingertips, smooth and strong; leashed power. She ached into his unconsciously, one hand splayed across the smooth expanse of muscle as the other continued to pull him forward, unconsciously begging for closer contact. For more intimate contact.
He pulled away, his breathing ragged as he leaned his forehead against hers. They were still for long moments, unwilling to relinquish the intimate contact even as he straightened and she regained her feet. Finally, when he spoke, his question was halting. "Is your answer still no, milady?"
She half laughed, half sobbed. "For now."
"For now?"
She nodded. "For now. I love you, Anakin, but I can't marry you. Not yet."
"That 'yet' gives me hope." He kissed her again, quickly but no less gently. "And you still owe me two dinners."
She laughed, breaking the tension between them. "You're fully recovered; surely you don't need to cook for me again."
"I want to." His azure eyes were intense, boring into hers, demanding to be acknowledged. "It will be a pleasurable experience."
She shivered at the implication in that subtle phrase. "When?"
"When does your trial end?"
"Three and a half weeks, unless I can get the rest of the charges thrown out."
He kissed her again, finally finding the strength to relinquish his tight hold on her and give her some space. "Then I'll cook for you - to celebrate your win."
"A little premature, don't you think?"
He shrugged, gently pushing the strands of her now unruly hair behind her ear. "I have confidence in you. Besides, you didn't do anything wrong; there's nothing they can find you guilty for."
She slipped her arms back around his waist and placed her head back on his chest, wishing she had his confidence. "I hope you're right, Anakin. I hope you're right."