Author's Note: Just wanted to make sure everyone knew this is an AU. Chapter Eight has been updated to reflect MistiWhitesun's suggestions. Thanks again, Misti!

This chapter is again short; I'm trying to catch up on my word count for NaNoWriMo but still felt like updating. So, it's short. Sorry about that.

Disclaimer: The Star Wars Universe was created and is owned by George Lucas, this is just my imagination at work, based on the universe he has created. If this story is similar to another, it's pure coincidence.

Note: Thoughts are in italics.

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"You sure are pregnant. No question about it."

The doctor hovered over Padmé, smiling down at her. For an Imperial doctor, he sure seemed happy - something she had not expected. Something about him gave her the creeps, but she didn't worry too much. Anakin will protect me.

She reached out for Anakin's hand, wanting his warmth to pass on to her. She was freezing, shivering even. His fingers wrapped around her hand, which was so very small compared to his own.

He remained amazingly calm at this point in time, very unlike his initial reaction. Then again, he probably did not want the staff to see him like he was previously.

"It looks like you are having--"

"I don't want to know yet. I - we - want to be surprised," Padmé interuptted quickly.

"Very well then. You can go then. Just talk to the receptionist and schedule an appointment," he replied, now sitting in a swivel chair on wheels. He scooted across the room and began to right something down. "Just give this to her. I'll see you then," he continued, standing up straight and handing her a small yellow paper. He bowed his head respectfully. "Lord Vader; Lady Vader."

Padmé slid out of the bed, Anakin wrapping his arm around her waist. They walked out of the exam room together, it feeling like a perfect moment. She handed the raven-haired receptionist the slip and they scheduled a checkup.

Walking out together, hand-in-hand, Padmé felt at peace. She was having a baby. They were having a baby.

Our very own little Skywalker.

- - - -

"Anakin?"

Padmé placed her hand on her belly, though she was not yet showing. Curled up in one of the cream colored chairs, she looked into Anakin's blue eyes. He sat on the brown sofa to her left, reading over something.

"What, Padmé?"

"Once the baby is born, can I visit Naboo?"

"I'll think about it."

Padmé sighed, wanting him to just speak to her as they normally did - actually conversing. She threw her head back, shutting her eyes. Standing up, she walked into the bedroom and picked up her comlink from off of the nightstand table. Calling her sister, she wanted her to hear the good news. At least, to her it was good news.

"Sola Naberrie,"

"Sola, it's Padmé,"

"Hello Padmé, how are you?"

"Good. I have some news. Good news. Great news!"

"What is it?"

"I'm pregnant!"

The long pause on the other end indicated to Padmé that it was only good news to her. She's hesitating.

"Oh. That's, that's wonderful."

"You aren't happy."

"It's the spawn of Darth Vader, Padmé."

"He's my husband."

"You're talking about me." Anakin walked into the bedroom, setting his datapad on the other nightstand. "Who are you talking to?"

"Oh, Sola, Anakin just walked in," Padmé smiled, letting both know what was going on. She covered the comlink, turning to him. "I was telling her the good news."

"What?"

"I was telling her I am pregnant."

Vader slapped the comlink out of her hand and shoved her against the wall. His eerie, ice blue eyes stared into her fear filled chocolate eyes. "Why are you talking about it?"

Padmé's eyes filled with tears. "I wanted to tell my sister before she heard it on the news. Is that okay?"

"No. It's not."

"But, Anakin, why not?" Padmé sniffed, too afraid to even look at him - her own husband. She loved him so dearly, and still hated him so passionately. He was the monster of her dreams. Her pleasant dreams.

Without answering her, he released his grip on her. She slid to the floor, her curls falling in her face. "I love you," she mumbled, and Vader looked back at her.

"Don't get all mushy with me."

"I'm not talking to you. I'm talking to my baby."