Later:

~Anakin's POV~

When Anakin returned home, sometime in the early morning, he was alone. Both internally and physically. Shantra had retired to her own dwellings, after several quiet apologies for making it worse. Anakin had rebuked these with a dismissive wave of his hand.

He had no one to blame but himself.

Sighing, he walked into the hose, and could not even muster a smile at the sight of Leia lying on the stairs, her small body curled up and a blanket around her shoulders. Her back rose and fell slowly, deep in sleep.

He assumed she had waited up for him. He sighed more deeply and walked over. He knew Obi-wan would not be here. Knowing the Jedi Master he probably had left minutes before. Anakin half-wished he would have stayed.

Anakin scooped Leia into his arms gently, careful not to wake her. She's so perfect, he marveled silently, as her face rested against his shoulder. Her undone hair swished lightly over her face and shards of the morning sun came in from the windows, dancing on the floor, as if showing him what the remainder of his heart looked like momentarily.

Leia, though only three years old, looked very much like Shmi. Her round face and graceful smile, the way her eye slit up whenever she grinned up at him. Yes, just like his mother. And Padme.

"Hmm?" Leia murmured, softly. Her eyes fluttered open, only to settle back down into peaceful slits. "Motha?" she murmured. Anakin's gut twisted. No, baby, only me, he thought, and carelessly sent it through the force.

He could sense her tangled, sleep and warmly hazed mind tug at his playfully for a moment, she not fully understanding the sadness in him. Leia gave a comfortable nod of bleary acceptance, settled herself more firmly in his arms and with one tiny hand, grabbed his shirt within a balled fist.

"No chaos….Harmony, fatha," she whispered, before her head fell back against his chest. "Harmony…" she murmured in case he had not heard, before she was asleep again.

Anakin's eyes blurred. She had probably already memorized the Jedi Code to please Obi-wan. If only she knew how wrong the Code could be, how terribly, selfishly wrong…His entire life consisted of chaos. And she, his little bundle of peace, she was being affected. Force, life was so unfair. Punish him, but not his baby girl.

Anakin crept up the stairs and tucked her into bed. He glanced at the one across from it. Luke was absent from his bed. Anakin scowled, and wondered if Luke had gone to sleep elsewhere on the stairs, and in Anakin's fog of hazy depression, he had missed him. He turned and the scowl deepened when he discovered he was incorrect. Luke was not on the stairs.

Anakin bolted into the kitchen, and let out a breath of relief when he saw Luke Skywalker at the kitchen table, a cup of juice in his hands, which lay limp with sleep. Anakin had to let his mouth quirk up in a smile. He walked over quietly, but his appearance startled Luke.

He was so strong in the Force, and though many described it as a blessing, Anakin felt guilty for bestowing his children with his curse. He had hoped that, when they were born, they would be born normal, like Padme.

"Fatha?" he muttered, sitting up. A small trail of dried drool stuck to one side of his face. The rest resided in a tiny puddle on the table. Anakin's gut twisted at the endearing scene.

"Good morning, my son," he whispered hoarsely, as he kissed Luke on the head. "Did you have fun with Obi?" He asked, taking a seat next to Luke. He needed someone to talk too. Luke looked down, and hitched the blanket up higher on his shoulders.

"Leia did," he murmured. Anakin recoiled in surprise. "You didn't?" He asked. Luke shrugged, still looking down, and circled the rim of his cup with a finger. "I love Obi," he replied slowly.

"And Nava. But…They don't do stuff like we do. Obi doesn't like to fix things like you do, and Nava wouldn't race me on the pod-racer track. All they do is work; and I…" he paused, for lack of words.

Anakin nodded. "Want to have fun?" he suggested. "Yes," Luke sighed and rested his chin in his palms mournfully. "We'd have lots of fun together. Or if Soka were here, she'd play with me, or Lux-Lux. Leia doesn't really like that stuff, either. If motha were here, she'd teach me all kinds of big words I could use to trick Nava," he giggled.

"We used to do that all the time! She taught me to say tremendous, picturesque, ostentatious, brinkmanship…all the big words. And she'd tell me stories of Naboo, and the Gungans. Before…Before we moved here," his shoulders dropped, then he looked up with clear blue eyes.

"Nava used to help, and she'd tell me old stories about Jedi who saved citizens, and the nice people who helped. I like those stories. Soka taught me how to check the wires in a starfighter, and Lux-Lux taught me how to shoot. And you know what me and Trepid used to do? We'd draw traps on paper, and the try and make them so that we can catch some of the clones and scare them," he covered his mouth, giggling at the small prank.

Anakin's heart wrenched. "But that was a long time ago. I miss that stuff, and the clones. I miss Rex and Cody, too. They always laughed at the stuff I did, and clapped and cheered like they were happy. They always said they were proud of me, and called me little bud all the time," tears clogged Anakin's throat.

Luke looked down. "I miss that. A lot. So does Leia, but she doesn't say stuff like that, she's too scared, you know?" Anakin nodded, he knew all too well. "Anyway," Luke let out a small sigh and twiddled with his thumbs.

"Do you know where motha is?" He asked. Anakin thought back, when he and Shantra had returned to the table, Padme and Jiro had been…Gone.

"No," he replied, softly, wishing, force he wished he could tell Luke something different! "Oh," Luke whispered He kicked his chubby legs, thoughtfully. "Fatha?" He asked. "Yes, Luke?" Anakin dreaded the question.

"Will she come back?" Oh, that nearly broke his self-restraint. Anakin inhaled sharply. "She will," he agreed. "She loves you guys very much, Luke. She'd never leave you," he assured Luke. At least he had no doubts about that.

"She leaves all the time. You do, too. Is it…Is it because of me, or Leia? Did we do something wrong?" He asked, timidly. That was it. He couldn't take that. Anakin looked away, sharply, as a sob escaped his throat. His emotions threatened to spill out of its container.

After a moment of holding back tears, he turned back to his son. His four year old son who should never, ever have to think this way. Force, they were only four. They shouldn't have to go through this!

He put both hands on Luke's shoulders. "Luke, I promise you, nothing you have done, nothing you could do, would make me leave you. Nothing, do you hear me? I love you very much Luke, you and your sister. Neither of you is to blame. We just…It's just…"

he rubbed the back of his neck, how could he explain this to him? "Me and motha aren't being very nice to each other, and we aren't being very good friends right now. Its adult stuff. But I promise, neither of us will ever leave you and Leia lone alright? I will always be here for you, always," he promised, and meant it, with every fiber of his being.

Luke's bottom lip puckered. "I didn't do nothing wrong?" he squeaked. Anakin's bottom lip puckered, too. He took a deep breath. "Nothing. You're a good boy, Luke. I'm very proud of you, and so is your mother. Soka would be, too," he tried to tease. Luke glanced down at his feet.

"Soka is gone," he reminded his father in a mumble. "So are the others. You and motha, you won't leave, too? I…You used to yell at each other a lot, and now you don't talk to each other. It…The Force is wrong," he tried to explain befuddled feelings, sensed by intuition and by his own natural instinct together.

Anakin's heart felt like clay, being squeezed and wrung out by pain. He hadn't realized that his own actions would betray him in the force, that his Twins would pick up on the hostile atmosphere in the air so easily. How could he not have known? Wasn't he this sensitive as a child?

Anakin pulled his son into a hug, and kissed the top of Luke's head when the four year old started to sob. Anakin, unable to bear the pain of his light, his Luke, felt tears run down his own face.

He hid them in Luke's hair, and held him close against his chest. He kissed the top of Luke's head repeatedly, as if his kisses could fight away Luke's confused pain.

"I won't leave you," he swore. "Everything will be alright, Luke, I promise. I'll make it alright," he would live up to his name and forget about everything else. He was a father, now, and he would do anything to protect his child.

Luke only continued to sob, his fragile little heart beating with the confusion and fear he had been holding in all the months since Biyalia was destroyed. What had Anakin done? What sort of monster did this to his children?

He sobbed too, into Luke's hair, ashamed of his weakness, of his insensitivity, his own selfishness. He could take many things, but he could never take the fact that he had hurt someone he loved.

Even seeing them hurt by another was better than this. This time, he had done the damage himself, and it made him want to wring himself out, purge all the darkness in him away until only compassion and love was left. Enough for the entire universe.

"I'll fix it," he promised; he was drained by his own misery and shame, left as exhausted as Luke by it. "I'll fix everything, Luke, I swear to you."

So it was said, so may it be.

~Padme's POV~

It was nearing dawn when they arrived. Padme stumbled into Jiro's room with queasiness, knowing from the countless times she had been here where it was by instinct. This place, among many other titles, had also become a second home to her, and it showed in the way she collapsed into bed limply.

She was exhausted, and at the moment, too numb to register the tears that were falling from her eyes, or the dull, slow and melancholy thump of her heart.

She buried her face in Jiro's pillow and sobbed, without shame. She gripped the soft linen in her hands and squeezed repeatedly, clawing at the fabric as if they were Shantra herself.

She mumbled begs, begs for her Ani, begs for solace, for answers, for something that would ease the pain in her heart. Anything. She sobbed out apologies, apologies for everything-every kriffing thing she had ever done wrong in her life-and every injustice against a man that had already felt too many. She was so absorbed in this wracking cleansing of internal conflicts and bursting tempers that she did not notice when Jiro took her into his arms.

She did not see when he pulled her against him, her face pressed to his chest and her hands balled in the back of his shirt. He wrapped his arms around her, shielding her from her from madness, one hand snug on her waist, keeping her there in his warmth. And all she could think was that he was so warm; so much warmer than the chill in her heart.

"Padme," he murmured. She did not look up, only gripped him harder, willed him to be silent so she could weep in solitude. "Padme," a firm and large hand cupped her chin and raised her head to meet his gray eyes.

Padme let him, and realized, dimly, that she was in his lap. She also realized that those eyes were opaque and murky, like the morning mist over a lake.

Then she kissed him, and before she could re-think this (or, start thinking. There had not been much thinking involved for her lately) he was kissing her back. Then, in a universe that had spiraled out of control that day on Geonosis, the picture she had made for herself shattered.

The rest of those pieces of said picture spiraled out of control, too.

Suddenly she realized that though it should not have, her body was aflame with desire. She did not stop. Anakin, Anakin, Anakin, she tried to think, to remind herself. You can't do this to him. Anakin, Anakin! But eventually pieces of his name vanished until there was nothing. Nothing but empty space, feral desire and simmering pain in her mind and heart.

Then her dress was being slid off her shoulders, and Jiro's hot breath was on her neck as he whispered her name repeatedly.

Padme gripped him to her, welcoming this distraction from anguish. Anakin's name fled her mind as the sun rose high above Courascant. In its place was replaced another. Jiro. Jiro. Jiro. Then Padme stopped thinking completely and succumbed to desire.

Alright, judging from the desperate reviews I've gotten, I can only think that as soon as my readers get done with this chapter, I'll have a mob outside of my house, demanding my blood. All I can say is...Don't kill me yet guys. For one: I haven't finished writing the rest of the series, and I really want everyone to see where all of this misery is leading, and two: we haven't even gotten to the good parts yet!...Remember, there will always be peace in the end, whatever end that may be.

~Queen Yoda