Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars, sadly.

A/N.: Hi guys! I hope you enjoy this new update. I know it took a while but RL and the fact that I've started a novel doesn't leave much time left for this story. However, I write when I can. Leave me your thoughts and thank you for hanging around!

The Queen

The hangar was filled with ships, an amalgamation of vessels from different manufacturers, altered in various degrees. There were passenger ships, freighters and even some odd starfighters. Most of them, however, were heavily armed, having been modified by bounty hunters, smugglers and even pirates.

All of them had been arrested in Alderaan over the last couple of years, all of them deprived of their most valuable possession that now awaited reassignment or simply dismantlement.

Anakin ran his palms over their hulls and smiled. There was something about ships that he had always loved; their certainty, their perfect mechanics, their infinite potential to bestow a man his freedom, the very thing he had always yearned for.

"I don't know which one would be more suitable. Something with a confortable living space for the three of you, some weapons, with a good hyperdrive, but at the same time inconspicuous," Bail said, deep in practical thought.

To him, like to many people, a ship was but an instrument. To Anakin, however, it was much more than that. A ship was a reflection of the person who flew it, a part of him. Almost like his lightsaber was an extension of himself.

The young Jedi smiled. "Yes, of course." He replied as he surveyed the impounded crafts. Obviously Bail was right, if he was going to travel through the Galaxy with Ahsoka and Rex for long periods of time, searching for Jedi and attempting to establish the seeds of a Rebellion, they needed all those qualities in their craft. Anakin would fix it to his own liking, of course, like he always had. But this ship was to be his home and as he connected to the crystal that powered his blade, he wished to connect with the engines, the hyperdrive and the cannons.

An old corellian freighter caught Bail's attention. "Maybe this one would be appropriate," he remarked, "It has all the necessary commodities for you and your crew."

"I'm sure it does." Anakin replied, but for some reason, the Force told him it was not the one. He walked past the alderaanian Senator and entered deeper into the hangar. A flash of blackness caught his attention.

He approached the ship, it was beautiful and, as he surveyed it more closely, a lump formed in his throat. It looked exactly like it, except for the color. His mind transported him to a day in the desert when he was a little boy, being chased down by a Sith, in a time when he didn't even know what it was. He remembered running towards it, shining under the blistering sun.

It was in a ship exactly like that one that he had gone through space for the first time, it was in a ship like that he had given the japor snippet to Padmé, the one she was still wearing the last time he saw her, it was in a ship like that he had been so cold and realized that he might never see his mother again.

Anakin ran his hand through its black and shiny hull and all the memories assaulted him like a thunderstorm.

He sensed Bail approaching him, but the Senator said nothing. He watched as he picked up the datapad next to the ship and looked at it intently.

"The Nubian," his friend said, "It is scheduled to be dismantled for parts tomorrow. It belonged to a crew of pirates from Naboo who built it from the carcass of an old Nubian Yacht, but it is actually modified to be a combat cruiser. It has all the characteristics we need, weapons system, hyperdrive, shields and good living conditions, even if it is a little big."

"Did you know the first ship I ever traveled in looked exactly like this?" Anakin asked, ignoring the practical observations his friend made.

Bail settled down the datapad and set his eyes on him. "During the Naboo crisis?"

The question went without answer and Anakin touched the perfectly drawn yellow stripes on the side of the ship with his flesh fingers.

"Anakin," Bail started, "Padmé and I were good friends." The Jedi looked at his friend with the mention of her name. "I know that she was expecting a child, not that she ever told me anything, but it was hard to hide." He said with a smile and looking at nowhere, as if remembering a pleasant moment from long ago. "I know you two had a special connection. The way you looked at each other was unmistakable. And then after everything…" he stopped for a moment, searching for his words, "the Emperor announced her passing, I went to her funeral. He said it was the Jedi but she was just too much of an obstacle." He sighed, the smile had faded from his face. "What I mean is, I am sorry Anakin."

"I'm sorry too, Bail. And thank you."

"I think she would like you to take that one."

"You know, not long ago I would do anything to save her. Now, I just want to do whatever she would want me to. I may never see my child, I may have lost my wife, but I want to make her proud."

"I'm sure you will, Anakin. I'm sure you will." Bail said, setting a hand on his shoulder. "Let's move it to the Palace hangar so you can ready it for take-off. I will take care of everything; I'll just have to erase any records of it and change the registration information."

Anakin nodded as he pressed the button to open the hatch.

"What do you want to name it?" Bail asked.

Anakin was already halfway across the ramp when he replied. "The Queen."

It was a long trip back to Coruscant. Lord Menis spent it in his ship's quarters. He tossed his cloak on the floor, took off the smothering mask that covered his mouth and nose and tossed it aside. He sat on the side of his bed and took in his minimalistic and metallic surroundings and asked himself, for the first time in so long, what he was doing. And more importantly, why he was doing it.

He looked down at his gloved hands and realized they were shaking slightly. Lord Menis closed them into fists.

"This is for Anakin, for Leia, for Luke," he said to himself, he repeated it like one would repeat a prayer. Remembering… remembering. Remembering he almost killed his childhood friend, remembering he took Luminara's life, remembering he slaughtered unnarmed people.

Remembering, remembering.

"I did what I had to do." He said to the empty room, his words echoed on the cold walls and returned to him in a whisper.

"They weren't innocents, they were traitors. It was their fault the war started, their greed and their malice led me to this. And I did it for Anakin, so that he doesn't have to."

Then Lord Menis chuckled and wondered what would happen if anyone were to enter that room and catch him talking to himself aloud. They would think he was mad.

Maybe he was.

Yes, surely he was. He tried to kill Quinlan, he killed Luminara.

They'd grown up together, fought together, laughed together.

The smile faded from his lips. "Enemies, traitors." He whispered and took his eyes away from his trembling, blood stained hands.

Luminara's lightsaber peeked through the folds of his tossed cloak, he had brought it with him. Why? He hardly knew. Perhaps as a trophy, or a souvenir, or proof, or a reminder?

He stood and picked it from the floor. It was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship with a simple yet lovely design. He ignited its green blade and its characteristic sound filled the room.

Lord Menis extinguished the blade and set it carefully on the bed. He sat on the floor in front of it and rested his back on the cold wall. There he stared at it. "Better me than him." He whispered.

Quinlan Vos dragged himself to his ship on the outskirts of the city. For some reason, the Sith did not follow and, despite his injuries, the Force was still his ally and he managed to lose the few clonetroopers that had been able to pursue him.

He took off with no destination, entering coordinates into the navicomputer far into the Outer Rim, where the Empire had no reach. Not yet, at least. Though he could hardly predict how far the Empire could expand over the next few years.

The Jedi Master activated the medical droid to tend to his wounds, though there was little it could do for him. Thankfully lightsabers cauterized wounds, or he would not have lasted long. The only thing that could be done was dull his pain, yet, as inviting as it sounded, the Jedi was alone and he could not afford to cloud his senses even more than the excruciating pain already did.

While he travelled through hyperspace Master Vos dared close his eyes to rest, even though the pain made sleep elude him. But it was not just the pain that refused him his repose, but the constant image of Luminara falling to the blade of the Sith.

Because of him; because of his rashness and the plan he had created.

What a silly idea to align with the Separatists, they should have run for their lives, they should have hidden and work for the endurance of the last remnants of the Jedi Order. But he was arrogant, he wanted to make a stand, even if it was his last.

But it wasn't his last, it was Luminara's.

Quinlan Vos closed his eyes, dwelling in the thoughts of his failure. He had nowhere to go, he had nothing to do, alone in the emptiness of space.

The hardest part of a journey is the beginning. It's easy to know one's goal; the toughest part is knowing which path to take to reach it.

To find surviving Jedi and secure a location for a base sounded like simple enough tasks. But, as Anakin sat at the helm of The Queen, still on the Alderaanian Palace hangar, things seemed to become far more complicated.

The Galaxy was vast, Jedi had been spread thin and all the bases he knew of, were also known by the Empire.

A shrill of beeps came from Artoo. Where are we going? He had asked. But Anakin, Ahsoka and Rex sat silent, unaware of where to begin.

"I don't know." The Jedi Master answered, in an almost deaf voice and the droid was silent, waiting for his master's command.

"We have to leave the Core," said Ahsoka. They did. It was swarming with imperials that, slowly, were taking over security of the planets. Alderaan had managed to escape the close grip of the Emperor, but they all knew it would not last long.

Anakin sighed. "We need a plan."

"Well," offered Rex, a bit hesitant, "Perhaps you have knowledge of where some of the other Jedi was stationed just before… the end of the war."

"Yes, many some of them are still hiding in those planets, unable to leave." Said his young Padawan.

"From what I remember from our last briefing Master Mundi was in Mygeeto, Aayla Secura was in Felucia, Master Vos and Master Unduli were in Kashyyyk with Master Yoda. I don't know, the Jedi were spread all across the Galaxy, and I wasn't exactly focused on those last few days of the war, too many things were on my mind." The young Knight replied, dreading to be reminded of the things that had occupied his thoughts during those wretched days.

"Mygeeto seems a good enough place for you to start. It's in the Outer Rim and one of the few worlds there that the Empire actually has some control over, so it's good for a quick escape." Bail had suddenly become Senator Organa, making a plan, almost giving orders, even though there was no hierarchy in their small rebellion. It made Anakin smile.

"Mygeeto it is!" The Knight said.

He bid farewell to Bail Organa and the crew made their way to their first mission. What an odd group they were. Two Jedi disguised as simple travelers, a clone with painted armour and a replacement helmet who looked more like a bounty hunter than anything else, and a the most efficient and enthusiastic droid in the Galaxy.

Anakin lifted The Queen from the hangar and soon, the lights of hyperspace illuminated the cockpit, leading them towards this new part of their lives, to the unknown of the future and, perhaps, to the beginning of the victory over the Sith.

Darth Menis had trouble understanding the Emperor's fondness of luxury. Marble floors and imposing furniture seemed to be such trivial pursuits to him that he hardly comprehended the need for them, especially for a Force user, regardless of the side he chose to wield.

He entered the throne room of the new Imperial Palace, which, curiously, had already begun construction during the days of the fallen Republic. Well, everyone thought it was going to be a museum, but apparently the plans for the edifice had always been different.

His Master sat on top of the dais; two red-clad guards surrounded him, stoic as ever. A small man with greying hair stood at the bottom, speaking almost casually to the Emperor, a feat few managed to accomplish.

"My dear friend," the Emperor said at the sight of his apprentice, opening his arms and descending from his throne, "welcome!"

Lord Menis bowed slightly and the small man turned to him, he recognized him immediately, but refrained from any remark, despite his deep dislike of the man and his already known power hunger. "I don't believe you two have met. Lord Menis, this is Admiral Tarkin, I have just appointed him Moff of the Greater Seswenna sector. He will be a great ally to our cause, my friend."

"Lord Menis, it is a pleasure to meet you at last. Our dear Emperor has spoken very highly of you." The Moff said, extending his hand to greet the Sith. Darth Menis, however, did not take it.

"Moff Tarkin, I see you are already ascending the steps of your Imperial career."

The Moff removed his hand and folded it behind his back, his chin rose in defiance and pride. "I am loyal to our Empire and to our Emperor."

"Of course you are." Menis replied, remembering their previous encounters, both of which had left a bad taste in his mouth.

But that had been a long time ago, in another life.

"Moff Tarkin," Sidious interjected, "I will not keep you from your duties any further. I have important things to discuss with Lord Menis. Perhaps we can resume our conversation at another time."

"Of course Your Highness." The Moff bowed and left, but not before glaring at the Sith Apprentice. It was clear, for both, that their relationship would be strained, to say the least.

As soon as the Moff left the room, the Emperor strolled to the window and looked at the view of Coruscant. The Palace was a tall building, eve taller than the now half burnt Jedi Temple. The Sith looked down at the city and its citizens, all his servants, all pawns in his power game.

Lord Menis took his place at his Master's side. The lights of the city shone brightly, the speeders passed by in chaotic rows, as it had always been, as it would always be. Oblivious to their surroundings, to the infinity of pain that would befall them if they uttered the wrong word.

"Your mission, I hear, was a success." Sidious said, interrupting Menis' thoughts.

"Yes, my Master. The Separatist leaders are no longer a threat to the Empire."

"Good, good." The Sith said and paused. "And the Jedi you have encountered?"

"Master Luminara is dead, but Master Vos was able to escape. He was severely injured, however."

The Emperor sighed. "And you allowed a Jedi to escape after killing one of his kind in front of him? Surely you know he will want revenge."

That is not the Jedi way, Lord Menis thought and he almost uttered the words. He stopped himself. "By the time I was done with the Separatist Leaders he was already gone, My Master."

"I shall not hear your excuses!" The Sith snarled and showed his yellowed teeth. A burst of lighting escaped from his fingers and Menis fell in pain. The lightning soared through his body, burning him from the inside out.

It was not the first time he endured the punishment, it had happened many times during the course of his training. But this time the anger was tenfold, as was the pain inflicted upon him.

Lord Menis writhed on the ground, screaming like a boy, as his Master shouted, enjoying the taste of death and pain. "I will not tolerate failure!"

Suddenly, the lightning ceased. The Emperor crossed his hands behind his back and walked up the stairs to his dais, as Lord Menis struggled with the remnants of the onslaught he had endured. He felt the sweat on his back and forehead. Every one of his muscles burned and his bones ached as if they'd been broken and yet, through the Force, he could feel his body was unharmed, even though it seemed as if the life had been sucked out of him.

"Do not fail me again. Next time I will not be so lenient." The Sith Master said as he sat on his imposing throne once more. "Leave me."

Darth Menis planted his palms on the floor and forced his trembling legs to stand on their own. He found it in him to bow and limped out of the throne room, alone, lost and beaten.

It had been a long day; the twins had been unusually agitated and Padmé had fussed around them all day. She had activated the medical droids no less than three times, only for it to reassure her that her children were perfectly healthy.

She sat on the plush chair that was in between their cribs in the nursery and sighed. She hardly dared to move, lest they would wake up one more time. And, despite the multiple reassurances, she feared they might be ill.

It was late in the night, she knew she should go to bed, but she couldn't help but bask in the sound of her babies' soft snores.

Padmé rested her back on the chair and laid a blanket over her body, soon, after such a hard day, she fell asleep.

She didn't rest long, however. Her light sleep was interrupted by the sound of an opening door and a thud. She stood in haste, the blanket that covered her crumpled on the floor.

In the dead of night, all the small sounds seemed like thunder. She looked at the twins, they remained asleep, probably exhausted from their restless day. Suddenly she wished she had a weapon.

Silently she moved from her place, tiptoeing across the corridor.

She reached the living area and, despite the darkness, she could make out dark form of a man lying haphazardly on the sofa. She had never missed her blaster as much as she did in that moment.

Slowly Padmé approached the dark form and soon it became apparent which man it was. Her heart sank and before she reached him she uttered his name, almost as a question. "Obi-Wan?"

"I'm sorry," his weakened voice said, "I didn't mean to frighten you. I-I didn't know where else to go."

Padmé heard his muffled voice, coming from behind the mask of a stranger, and her heart shattered into pieces. She knew what he was, she knew what he'd become; she'd seen him kill those children and couldn't even imagine the deeds that followed and that made him sink deeper into the darkness and despair. But, despite all that, she couldn't help but pity him and mourn for the loss of the man he had once been, for the friend that always had a kind smile on his face and a word of encouragement to offer.

Carefully she knelt beside her husband's dearest friend and slowly removed the mask from his face and lowered the hood from his head. His auburn locks were still there, his face was the same as it had been only days before his fall. His eyes, however, were empty and the warmth had been ripped from them.

"You are always welcome here, Obi-Wan." She told him and ran a soothing hand through his hair. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm not Obi-Wan anymore." He replied, ignoring the latter question.

Padmé sighed. "I might be a prisoner, but this is still my home and in here, you will always be Obi-Wan.

She saw him smile bitterly in the darkness. "We can leave. All of us. We can look for Anakin and get far away from the Emperor. You don't need to stay here." Padmé said.

The Sith sat up and ran his hand through his pain stricken face. "It's not time yet. I need to keep Anakin safe. I can't let him go after him."

"He is already after him. Have you seen the bounty on his head?" She grabbed his gloved hands in hers. "Let's leave this place, run away."

Menis shook his head. "No, we can't. Not yet. I have an arrangement with Sidious."

"And you think he will keep it?"

"Not forever, but he will for now."

"But people are already hunting him down. If we go we can help him. He is already away from Palpatine's reach!" She pleaded.

"Please Padmé, please understand that I have to keep him safe. And you and the children. I promised him."

"We'll be safer with him!"

"It isn't time yet. One day, I promise. But please know that I will never let anyone hurt you, or the children."

She closed her eyes and kept the tears that threatened to spill at bay. "I know. But I worry about him."

"We must keep him away from the Emperor for as long as we can. When the time comes, when he is ready, he will come. Until then, it is too dangerous." He stopped for a moment and sighed. Padmé could see the sadness in his yellowish eyes. "You must understand, there are fates worse than death."

Padmé stood and paced the room. Her heart threatened to stop for beating so fast. She looked at her friend, there was nothing she could say that would change his mind, there was nothing she could say to change him, to turn him into the man he once was and she feared that man was gone forever. And then, she did understand, so she asked, "like yours?"