A/N: To start off with, thanks to Sweet Christabel for the fantastic story image that should (shortly) be appearing here! She made it and it's amazing! Secondly, it was made from images from the Queen in Disguise, The Phantom Menace, and Doctor Zhivago. Thirdly, I have a bunch of free time coming up soon, so chapter updates should speed up! I'm hoping for once a week, but it may be more like once every other week. Finally, just as an update, I'm pretty sure there are going to be about five (longer) chapters and a slightly unnecessary epilogue left in this story. And then we'll be done! Anyway, thanks for the reviews guys and I hope you enjoy!

To Save the Queen

Chapter #37: Death

In a very comforting shapeless hood, my blaster firmly in hand, I jogged through the generator room, ten pilots following me as we swept the immense room for the Jedi.

After swapping the torture boots for many scarves to wrap around my broken blisters and another, more comfortable, pair of shoes, quickly cobbling together another Queen outfit and comfortable but mobile dresses for us handmaidens to wear—all the while ignoring Rabé and Eirtaé's protest that the wardrobe room detour was entirely unnecessary—we had all quickly returned to the throne room. Then, after sending the majority of the pilots off to make sure that the rest of the palace truly was secure, Padmé, Eirtaé, Rabé and I had closeted ourselves away and Padmé and I had switched back places. Once again, she was the Queen, I was the handmaiden and all was right in the world.

While changing, I had told Padmé everything I knew about Yané, Saché and the others' location—pitifully little as it was—and mentioned where I'd last seen the Jedi.

Padmé had then briskly sent Rabé to continue my research and Eirtaé to take some of the pilots down to the hanger to meet the returning pilots. She then ordered me to take ten pilots down to the generator room to see if we could offer the Jedi any help against their adversary. After that, Queen Amidala had swept back into the throne room and, once again, ruthlessly began drawing up the new treaty while the Viceroy cowered before her.

When I had left the room, ten pilots trailing behind me, Panaka was standing at the Queen's back, a blaster in hand, and didn't look like he'd be leaving any time soon.

So, content that I was leaving the Queen in safe hands, I had gone in search of the Jedi.

But the generator room was really big and there were a lot of places they could be. And—

As we rounded yet another corner to find nothing there but the generator pits, I rolled my eyes and decided that this entire effort was a little ridiculous.

I pulled out my comm and sent out a call.

There was a small pause.

Around me, the pilots shifted uncomfortably, their eyes darting from me to the open spaces of the generator pits.

"Tirena," Rabé finally responded, identifying herself by her last name.

"Rabé, can you pull up the screens of the generator pits? We're not having much luck down here."

"Sure. Hang on. Oh, also, we found them."

"What?"

"They're all fine. Saché, Yané, the Governor, everyone!" I could hear her relief and exhilaration across the comm link as a huge weight lifted off my chest. I suppressed the urge to burst into either hysterical laughter or tears. "They're all completely and totally fine! They're being kept in the really old cell blocks off the west wing. Some of the pilots are heading there now to get them out. Although," amusement bled through in Rabé's voice, "By the time they get there, the others may have already broken out. I re-activated that feed and—" Rabé giggled, "Saché and Yané are leading everyone in a brea—" Rabé stopped dead.

"Rabé?" I asked anxiously. I couldn't have this taken away from me. I couldn't hear that they were fine and then find out that they weren't. I couldn't.

"I—Sabé. The Jedi—they—Master Jinn looks like—I don't—" Rabé's voice trailed off.

Around me, the pilots shifted again and, out of the corner of my eye, I could see them all exchanging anxious looks.

"Rabé, what is it?" I nervously asked.

If the man with the double bladed lightsaber was still alive, we were in serious trouble. I didn't really know if there was much we could do to help at all and—

"They're—the dark Jedi, it looks like he's dead. So you don't need the pilots or the guards. But—you have to go to the—I'm sending you the layout. The blinking light is where you need to go and—I think—I think—" her voice broke.

"Rabé?" I asked softly.

"Master Jinn is dead."

The silence rang out.

My head felt slightly fuzzy and blurry.

What? Master Jinn? But he was—he knew everything. He had saved us and rescued Anakin and had correctly guessed that I wasn't the Queen and had befriended Jar-Jar and was a Jedi and was Kenobi's teacher and—

My head stopped spinning.

Kenobi. Jinn was Kenobi's teacher and friend.

"May I have the layout?" I asked, not even feeling particularly surprised that my voice was calm and even.

Around me, I vaguely noted that the pilots—and guards, apparently—looked stunned.

I ignored them.

"Rabé?"

"I—yes. Just a moment."

I waited patiently. Finally, my comm beeped at me.

"There you go. And Sabé? Kenobi doesn't—" she broke off.

"Thank you, Rabé. Tell the Queen?" I asked.

"Of course," Rabé responded immediately.

"Good-bye."

"Good-bye. And—well, good-bye." Rabé disconnected.

"Well," I turned to the pilots and, in my very best handmaiden voice—calm, quiet and modulated—said, "I suppose I no longer need you. Please return to the Queen for your new orders."

Then, without waiting for a reply, I briskly activated the map on my comm link and began to walk across one of the catwalks spanning the pits.

I wasn't entirely sure what I was going to do when I found Kenobi. But I did know, with complete certainty, that I had to find him.

So, I did.

It was a small out of the way part of the generator pits. I doubted the pilots and I could have found him without Rabé's help. In fact, I was a little bit amazed that there was even a screen of this room.

The room was actually almost entirely taken up by a melting pit. The melting pit was a large hole that extended deep into the ground, almost to the core of the planet. It was where we dumped the dangerous waste created by the generators. Once turned on, a crisscross of energy beams shot from small protrusions about five feet from the top of the pit, ensuring everything stayed inside of it. Then, we evaporated—or melted—all of the waste.

At least, that was what Panaka had told us during our tour.

Off to the left of the entrance and the electrical beams found there, Kenobi was sitting in the same position that I had found him in that night on Tatooine in the throne room. His legs were crossed, his hands were resting on his knees, his eyes were closed and he was taking deep, even breaths.

To the right of the entrance, carefully arranged with his hair laid out neatly, his clothes straightened, his hands crossed over his stomach and almost looking like he was just resting, was Master Jinn.

I felt my heart break a little.

I went to move forward but then abruptly stopped. I put down my blaster, kicked off my shoes and, for the first time since putting it on, I unhooked the anklet meant to fool Force sensitives. I put my blaster, my shoes and my anklet in between two of the electric beams that acted as doors to the generator pits. Then, carefully skirting around Jinn, (cold, dead—I shoved him to the back of my mind, with Yellow Man, Blue-Eyes, and all the rest) I walked over to the controls in the small niche at the far end of the room, pressed my thumb on the pad and then typed in the password and the orders. I turned off the timed activation of the electrical fields and instead just turned all of them on, upping the power on each of the separate electrical fields until it was practically impossible to see into the small room.

Kenobi hadn't even twitched.

Slowly, my feet still aching and, I realized with some dismay, bleeding through the scarves I'd wrapped them in, I walked towards Kenobi. Silently, I sat down next to him.

There was probably enough room between us for someone else to sit comfortably, but I thought that it was best that way. I didn't know this man well enough to be able to offer him any measure of true comfort.

I had only known him for—with a jolt, I realized that it had only been a week since I'd met him. A week since my world had been turned upside down.

Only a week.

Wincing slightly, I crossed my legs, making sure both of my poor, bleeding feet were carefully lying across my thighs, free from pressure and open to the air.

Then, I leaned back against the wall, and pictured my railing with thousands of feet stretching out below me and the water dancing off into the distance, reflecting the sun above back to me.

When Ma and Pa had died, everything had become something of a blur. I had been so little and no one had really taken the time to explain it to me. And if they had, I hadn't been willing to believe it.

In the weeks that had followed each of their deaths, only one image really stood out with any great clarity. I remembered snatches of lots of things. But the only thing I could truly recall, was the night I had sat out, all alone, on the stone steps leading up to my house.

Whoever it was that had been watching me had been sound asleep inside. And I had gone outside and sat on those steps, in the dark, imagining myself to be anywhere but where I was, anyone but who I was, just squeezing my eyes shut and wishing, wishing, wishing.

And then, I'd suddenly felt a little lighter. When I'd opened my eyes, I'd seen a frail, old woman with a wrinkled face and rough skin sitting with me on the steps. She didn't say a single word. She just sat next to me, in the dark, in the silence. For hours.

And, somehow, it had helped. It had actually helped a lot, even though it was the only time I had ever seen her in my life.

If I could do the same for Kenobi, if—despite not knowing him very well—I could somehow ease his burden just a little by being there, I would be content.

So, in the silence and the pervasive cold of the room, while he breathed deeply and evenly, I sat next to him.

A long while later, Kenobi shifted.

His steady inhaling and exhaling faltered and changed rhythm. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye and saw him move his hands and twist his back a little while uncrossing his legs and instead stretching them out in front of him. He let out a very tiny sigh and kept staring straight ahead.

Following his lead, I let my gaze flick away from him and instead focus straight ahead, unseeingly. In my head, I once again drew a picture of the railing and the drop and the lake and the waterfalls.

And as I did, slowly, the people I had stored in the back of my mind—Yellow Man, Blue-Eyes, the Dead Pilot and all the rest—slowly slipped to the front of it. But, instead of remembering them dead, I put them in the garden with me. I took all of their faces, the pilots I knew, the pilots I didn't know, Master Jinn and even the Neimoidians, and I made them alive again and I put them in the garden with me. I watched as they laughed and talked and became friends with each other. I imagined them happy.

They had known what they were doing, all of them, I reassured myself, and they had known the risks. And the gods—I would not believe that the gods would let them be unhappy while they waited for their time to return to the galaxy. I would not believe that they would not be taken care of in the world between.

So, instead, they were in the garden and they were happy. They could also see the drop and the water and be comforted and feel peaceful.

They could. I had to believe that they could.

I did believe that they could.

Next to me, I heard a very small sigh.

The garden and the railing faded from my mind and I turned slightly to check on Kenobi.

He was still staring straight ahead, his posture rigidly, stiffly, tensely perfect.

"We succeeded?" he asked very quietly.

"Yes."

"Naboo is free?"

"Yes."

"Good."

We fell back into silence.

The minutes ticked by.

"You are—you are very calm." Kenobi didn't ask me anything, but, for some reason, it almost seemed like a question anyway.

"I—yes." I struggled for a moment, and then added, "I'm thinking of the railing. It's—it's part of a garden we have in the palace and it—I sit on it, sometimes, and it's peaceful. There's nothing but me, the stone beneath me, the lake in front of me and the sky above me. I love it. I—it's where I feel the most at home."

Kenobi didn't say anything, but kept staring ahead. Only, it looked like he might have been a little less like a statue and a little more like a person. I didn't want to babble at him but—maybe—

"My ma and pa are dead," I said abruptly. "They died when I was little. I was eight when I went to the orphanage and—well, it was nice enough, I suppose. No one was ever really mean. Not any more than kids are normally, I guess. The Matron hated me, but she wasn't ever unfair about it. And besides," I added a little ruefully, "I almost deserved it. I always used to mimic her to her face and I was never particularly kind about it. I missed home and I—it wasn't fair—but I blamed her for the fact that I wasn't with Ma and Pa anymore. Besides," I smiled and Kenobi's shoulders loosened just a little bit more, "she turned all sorts of colors when she was angry or embarrassed and I thought it was funny. I can't blame her for being happy when Madam Winn took me to the Academy when I was ten. And she was happy. The Matron was overjoyed to see the back of me. But, then, I was also happy to see the back of her.

"Madam Winn and the Academy were much better. At the Academy, we learned all the things we needed to become a handmaiden for the Queen. We also learned everything we needed to become a successful bodyguard, or a fashion designer, or a hairstylist, or a florist, or—well," I snorted, "practically anything. I loved it! It wasn't home, but it was interesting and I fit in better. All the girls were learning the same things I was and we were all so busy that no one really had time to be mean.

"But the palace—it's wonderful. I love being a handmaiden. Padmé, Eirtaé, Rabé, Yané and Saché are the best friends I could ever hope for. I can tell them anything and I know that they will always, always be there for me. And I feel so, so useful here." A very, very small start to a smile was dancing around Kenobi's lips. If I kept going, maybe, maybe it would become an actual smile. "I'm good at this stuff. I'm good at being there for the Queen and giving her advice and listening to her. I'm good at soothing Eirtaé and Saché's feathers and I'm an excellent mannequin for Wicaté. You've never met her, obviously, but trust me when I tell you that being a good mannequin for her is quite a feat and definitely something to be proud of."

And there it was. A tiny smile. A miniscule smile. A there-and-it's-gone, blink-and-you-miss-it smile. But it was still absolutely a smile.

So, I kept talking to him.

I didn't tell him anything overly important. I didn't divulge all my deepest secrets to him or all my fears and worries and secret hopes. I just told him about my life.

I spoke about the window in the orphanage where I used to watch the goings-on of the palace. I told him about how hard Madam Winn drove all the girls at the Academy. I let him know how excited I was to be picked as a handmaiden at all and how much it meant to me that I had been chosen as a principle handmaiden. I told him all about that endless first day as a principle handmaiden, where I had practically been sleep-walking through the day.

I just talked to him. And he listened. He didn't say anything at all, but, slowly, so very, very slowly, he sank back into the wall and relaxed against it.

Finally, my mouth began to dry up and I started to think there was a distinct possibility that I was going to lose my voice.

So, I laughed a very tiny bit, rolled my eyes at my limitations and fell silent.

Very carefully, but also hopefully stealthily, I watched him out of the corner of my eye, hoping and praying that he wouldn't tense back up again.

He didn't.

Instead, slowly, haltingly, he began to talk.

He told me about how Jedi didn't know their parents but were instead given to the Jedi temple when they were little and then raised with all the other Force-sensitive children by Jedi called Creche Masters. He told me funny stories about what these little children—himself included—used their Force powers for and how much trouble they all got into. He told me about slowly learning how to use the Force and about the Jedi code and about his friends back at the Jedi Temple and all the fun adventures they'd had together.

Occasionally, and with much difficulty, he'd tell small, short stories about Master Jinn, who Kenobi referred to as (delete) Qui-Gon. Then he'd quickly move onto something else, such as random facts about planets that I could only vaguely recall hearing about but that Kenobi had actually been to.

All of his stories were fascinating and, despite him not being the best storyteller, I was slowly beginning to be able to draw out a picture of who Kenobi was in my head. I began to have a vague sort of an idea as to who this man was.

And I wanted to learn more.

But, eventually, Kenobi's stories petered out. And, once again, we sat in comfortable silence as the minutes ticked on.

Beeeep.

I jumped a foot in the air and swore loudly. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kenobi's eyebrows rise. I ignored him and began searching for my comm link.

After one more irritating beep, I found it.

"Reccen," I answered.

"Sabé, it's Padmé." Her voice came clearly through the comm link. "We are meeting with Governor Bibble—who, by the way, is fine—Boss Nass, Captain Panaka and the leaders of the underground resistance about what our next course of action will be. I want you come. It's in the Swan Conference room."

"Meet you there?" I asked.

"Yes. Stand with Rabé and Eirtaé. Saché and Yané are fine, completely fine, but they're not coming because they're resting right now."

"Thank goodness," I muttered, feeling yet another flood of relief at having Padmé confirm that Rabé had been right and Yané and Saché were both okay. "Will we be able to see them tomorrow, do you think?"

"We should. You do remember where the Swan Conference room is, don't you?" I heard amusement bleed into her voice.

I rolled my eyes good-naturedly. "Yes, Padmé. I remember where it is."

She giggled, "Good." Then, her voice went serious, "Sabé, is Ambassador Kenobi with you?"

I glanced over at him. He was watching me impassively.

"Yes," I answered with a very small frown.

"May I speak to him for a moment?" she paused and then added, "Alone?"

I blinked. "Oh. Sure. Just hang on half a—"

I staggered to my feet and then let out a large string of curse words, starting to hop up and down.

"Sabé?" asked Padmé, alarmed.

I cursed again. "I'm fine," I said exasperatedly as I hobbled toward the control panel, "Just forgot that my stupid feet have been seriously injured by those ridiculous boots Wicaté designed. Seriously. I have completely bled through the scarves I wrapped them in and I don't think I'm going to be able to—" I let loose another swear as I accidentally brushed one of the blisters on the side of my foot against the wall, "walk, is all. Just a minute."

I quickly powered down the electric beams, so that I could leave the room with the pit in it and Padmé and Kenobi could speak in private.

I very carefully began to hobble back towards Kenobi, keeping my eyes firmly on my feet in order to try and stop further injury from coming to them.

I was halfway there when, suddenly, an arm wrapped around my waist.

Startled, I glanced up to see Kenobi helping me.

"Thanks," I mumbled, feeling slightly embarrassed that—despite having survived the battle—I needed help walking because of the dumb boots I'd had to wear.

After a moment of indecisiveness, I snuck my arm around his waist and leaned on him. He was warm and steady by my side.

Keeping my eyes firmly on the ground and hoping that Kenobi didn't notice my burning cheeks, we made our way back around the melting pit toward the exit. Once we got there, I hurriedly took my arm away from him and took a small step away from him, trying to get my cheeks back to a normal color.

He looked slightly confused as I did.

I gave him an embarrassed smile and, almost as much for Padmé's sake as his, joked, "I survive charging up a staircase filled with droids but I need help walking because of blisters." I laughed a little weakly. "I think that says something important about me, but I don't know what. Anyway," I thrust the comm link at him, "There you are, Ambassador Kenobi. Just give me a moment to hobble off." I flashed him a real grin and he gave me a quicksilver smile in return.

"Sabé, I think you can call me Obi-Wan," Kenobi—or Obi-Wan—said very drily.

"Oh. Alright. In that case, Obi-Wan, just give me a moment to hobble away. And thank you for the help. Padmé," I turned my attention back to the comm link, "I may be a little late. My feet aren't very happy with me right now. But I will be there. Promise."

Padmé sighed, "Just get here when you can. And I will expect the entire story about you charging up a staircase full of droids. Eirtaé has been in a bit of a state because of whatever it is you did."

I forced a small laugh to cover up the way my heart began to sink. "What else is new?"

Then, with a very small wave at Keno—Obi-Wan, I picked up my anklet and blaster (I was not forcing my feet into shoes again) and started to hobble away.

Behind me, I heard Obi-Wan retreat back into the room.

As I left, I hoped fervently that whatever I had done had actually been helpful to him and not just a temporary distraction.