She'd fallen asleep.

"Leia," Luke whispered, crouched beside her on the cot. She was still in the cell— that much hadn't changed, but she was also far, far away at the same time. She could no longer feel the hum of the hyperdrive or the sound of footsteps in the hall outside. Everything was still, like the crystal-clear lakes on Alderaan. "Listen to me, Leia."

She squeezed her eyes shut.

The cot beneath her dipped as she felt Luke place his hand on her shoulder.

"Please," she croaked. "Leave me alone."

She opened her eyes just in time to see the pained look in his eyes, her heart twisting and clenching inside of her, reminding her that this was all too real. Luke still had his hand on her shoulder, his touch real and tangible.

"I'm trying to help you."

"You're dead," her voice felt strange like it wasn't even her own. Staring at him was like looking through water; hazy and distorted. "You can't help me. Not anymore."

This was a dream. Luke wasn't actually there, no matter how much she wished he was. This was all in her head, and so was he.

"You're making a mess of things."

"I'm trying to fix things," she insisted, voice dry and hands tightening. "Can't you see that?"

"You're not supposed to be here," he shook his head, eyes drifting past her to stare at something beyond her vision. "You don't belong here, Leia. Neither of us do."

"I didn't ask you to come," she snapped.

She regretted the words as soon as they were out, but Luke didn't seem hurt as he pursed his lips. There was something in his eyes— something that Leia didn't like. It wasn't hurt or anger. It was sad, pitying even.

"You're my sister," he explained. "I'll follow you anywhere."

Leia knew that he meant every word. He would follow her anywhere, through time and space. Even down this path of self-destruction.

She shook her head. "You can't stop me. I've already made my decision," she said before adding; "this is what needs to be done. To save the galaxy."

"You've already failed," he said, his words were like salt in an already festering wound. Burning, hot, and deep. The Force rolled and churned in agreement. "Anakin Skywalker is still alive, and our mother is already pregnant. You haven't stopped anything, Leia. You've just managed to tear time itself apart."

His words cut through her like a saber, maiming and slicing Leia as she felt something course through her— her chest clenching in pain. Luke was right. She had failed.

"There can't be two of you in the same timeline," he continued. "You being here is an affront to the Force."

"I didn't know that she was pregnant," exclaimed Leia. "The ritual—"

"—came with a price," he said, cutting her off before she had a chance to even explain herself. "As all Dark Side spells do. You were tricked. And now it's only a matter of time before the Force tries to correct the paradox that you created."

"I wasn't planning on making it out of this alive," she said, weakly. "If I die, then so be it. But I will not let Palpatine rise to power," she shook her head. "And I will not allow Vader to come into existence."

"Killing our father won't stop Palpatine," he had said that before, and Leia had never listened to him. "You need him."

She shook her head vehemently at that. "No, no. I am not doing that."

He shook his head, sadly. "You might not have another choice."

"I don't need him," she hissed. "I never needed him."

He sighed, gaze falling on something behind her. "You can't hate him forever, Leia. Even if it warms you now— your enmity for him will leave you cold in your grave."

If it had been anyone but Luke telling her these words, she might've taken it as a threat. But she knew it wasn't. He was only telling her the truth, whether she wanted to hear it or not— which she most definitely did not want as she closed her eyes, feeling the Force swirling around her, flowing through her.

"Please," she wasn't begging— she was far past that. "Leave. Me. Alone."

"It isn't too late for you, Leia," he pressed. "I failed; our father failed. But you still have a chance to fix things. You and father—"

"Get out."

"—if you would only let go of your hate—"

"I said get out!" she bellowed, her hands coming in front of her as Luke recoiled, the Force around them twisting and churning painfully as she commanded it, drawing it on herself as he gave her a soulful look. You're not my brother, she thought, already feeling the dreamscape around her beginning to crumble and fade. You're just an echo. A shell of the man you once were.

"You don't believe that."

"Luke is dead," she breathed, hating the way her voice sounded so cold, so heartless. But there was no going back. "So stop haunting me."

With one final push, he was gone; disappearing into the nexus that was the Force, the place where his presence was felt like a void, a black hole. She could feel herself starting to wake up, everything fading and falling away.

When she did wake, Leia could feel tears in her eyes; hot and dripping freely down her cheeks. She wiped them away, her gaze lingering on the visible divot on the cot as she let out a choked sob.

As much as she loved her brother, it was easier living without his ghost.

In his absence, Padmè had found her way from the medbay to the conference room. When he found her, she was seated at the table, hair still drying in a simple braid down her back. Her face was illuminated by the glow of a holo-pad, her tired eyes rising to meet his as he entered the room.

"Obi-Wan," she greeted, setting the pad aside.

"Padmè," he nodded, his voice stiff as he placed his hands behind his back. He wasn't sure if he should sit down or not.

"Is Leia—"

"She's fine."

He watched as she bit her lip, looking out the window at the moon below. They were still in orbit around Endor, where they would remain until Obi-Wan could figure out what his next move was going to be.

"Anakin is out of surgery," she said, still not meeting his gaze. "It went well. The Doctor says he should be awake soon."

"That's… Good."

"Hmm," she hummed in agreement, fingers tapping against the table. "He won't be happy when he sees the model they gave him. The upgrades that he was working on—"

"Anakin's always been picky when it comes to that arm," he said before adding; "But he'll live."

He knew was inevitable that Anakin would be grumpy when he saw that nearly three years of mechanical upgrades had been destroyed. But at least that meant that he would have something to busy himself with, even if it meant that Obi-Wan would have to listen to him grumble and complain.

"Still," she shook her head. "He's not going to be happy."

And somehow Obi-Wan knew she wasn't talking about the arm.

"I think the arm will be the least of his worries," said Obi-Wan, lowering himself down onto the chair opposite of her. "Padmè—"

"I know," she breathed. "You don't have to tell me. I already know what you're going to say."

"What were you two thinking?" he breathed, incredulous, saying it regardless of the tired look in her eyes. He needed to know; needed an explanation.

"We weren't thinking anything," she said before adding; "we just… fell in love."

She said it as if that were the most simple and cursory explanation there was, and as much as Obi-Wan could understand; could empathize with her, it didn't stop him from pinching the bridge of his nose and letting out an exasperated sigh.

"Love," he began. "Is one thing. But marriage?"

He shook his head, not feeling the need to clarify his thoughts. He knew she was smart enough to read between the lines.

"Was this Anakin's idea?"

"No," she shook her head, raising her head. "It was mine, actually," she said before adding; "I didn't want to be with Anakin unless I could actually be with him. So we made a vow before the eyes of Shiraya with her priest as witness."

He had always taken Padmè for a romantic; an idealist at heart.

This shouldn't have surprised him. Marriage wasn't something that he could see Anakin proposing. He would've been happy just being with her, without the vow or the ceremony. But Padmè was an aristocratic woman from a planet where marriage was culturally encouraged.

But that didn't change anything. No matter how much he found himself able to empathize with them or understand their motives, Obi-Wan still found himself mulling over the ethics of it all. A Senator and a Jedi Knight having an affair was irresponsible enough, but a Senator and a General of the Grand Army of the Republic?

"Do you have any idea," he breathed, "how much of a scandal the two of you have created?"

"We know the Council will—"

"I'm not talking about the Order," he cut in, not letting her finish her statement. "I'm talking about the political ramifications. Anakin would be expelled, yes. But the Senate… They would be outraged. You would lose your position. Your credibility and reputation would be destroyed."

"I know."

"How do you think the other Senators would feel?" he asked. "If they found out that you might have had sensitive information about the War from the Jedi before them? Or to find out that a member of the Order potentially had access to confidential Senate matters through you?"

"They would be angry," she agreed, shaking her head. "They would ask Queen Jamillia for my immediate dismissal. And they would be right to do so."

It was common knowledge that she had signed a contract with the Queen. One of the clauses in that contract stated that she would not do anything to jeopardize the integrity of the Nabooian consulate, which included having inappropriate and unethical relationships. Her marriage to Anakin checked all of those boxes and more.

Her and Queen Jamillia had always had a good working relationship. But not even Jamillia would be able to protect Padmè from the fallout of such a revelation.

"And that's not even considering what will happen to the both of you once the holo-news gets their hands on the story," he said before adding; "I know you both are popular in the media, but they will spin this every way they can and none of them will be good."

"I know."

"Anakin will be expelled from the Order," he continued. "Which is, quite frankly, something I don't even want to think about at the moment. But that being said, Anakin's expulsion might be the least of our worries once the Separatists get a hold of this information."

And once they did, Obi-Wan knew they would have a field-day smearing the Senate as well as his friends. Dooku would be merciless in using their marriage as evidence of corruption within the Galactic Senate, propaganda against the Republic and the Order.

It was a nightmare to think about. Obi-Wan could already feel a headache coming on just from considering all the different outcomes.

"I know," she breathed, voice cracking. "We aren't naïve. We knew the consequences."

Her gaze turned weary; hard-pressed and lined suddenly with age that hadn't been there before, and he was glad to see it. It was proof that she acknowledged the consequences in a rational way that he wasn't sure he could get if he were talking to Anakin.

"I know you're disappointed," she continued. "And you have every right to be. We lied to you, deceived you. I would be angry too."

"I'm not angry," he sighed, stroking his beard tiredly. "I just don't know why Anakin didn't feel he could trust me."

She flinched.

He didn't mean to be rude, but he felt he owed her a certain amount of truth. His trust in the both of them had been shaken, a small part of him wondering why his own Padawan felt as though he couldn't confide in him. But at the same time, he wondered if they were wrong not to have. As much as he loved Anakin, he was still loyal to the Order; the Council. Anakin knew this.

Is that why his Padawan had kept this secret from him? Because he felt as though he couldn't trust him?

He had always felt as though he and Anakin had a good relationship. They had always so much more than just Master and Padawan, and Obi-Wan had always taken pride in being Anakin's friend too. In fact, if anyone were to ask him how he would describe their relationship, Obi-Wan would've said that they were brothers.

But brothers trusted each other, right?

He was getting lost in his own thoughts, and Padmè could tell this as she reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, gentle and comforting despite the tense atmosphere that existed between the two of them.

"Anakin loves you," she said. "And he does trust you. He just—"

"He didn't want to put me in an awkward position," he breathed, centering himself.

"Neither of us did," she said. "And with everything going on, the War… It just didn't seem like the right time."

"He was planning on leaving the Order, wasn't he?" He already knew the answer, but that didn't stop him from asking the question aloud as she pursed her lips.

"It was his plan, eventually," she conceded. "But he had no intention of leaving until after the War. There was too much to be done, and he knew he had a duty. We both did."

It was the only way that Anakin and Padmè could ever truly be together. So long as the shadow of the Order loomed over them, Obi-Wan knew that Anakin would always be bound to it in some way, just as he had been with Satine. That was why Obi-Wan had never been able to pursue a relationship with her so long as he was a Jedi— he didn't think it would've been possible to serve both love and duty at the same time.

He wondered if there wasn't a war going on, would Anakin have already left?

"I suppose waiting until after the War would've minimized the damage to some degree," he continued after a pause. "But with the appearance of your daughter, I don't know if that is a possibility anymore…" he trailed off, shaking his head. "I'm supposed to meet with the Council in a few hours and I am still deciding on what I am going to tell them."

"If you tell them, they will inform the Senate," she asked, lips thin. He couldn't tell if she was stating a fact or if she was trying to sway his mind.

He watched her closely as she shook her head.

"I hope the Order is prepared to lose one of their top Generals."

"Padmè—"

"Consider what this will do to the War effort," she started. "You know Anakin is so much more than just a General. He is the poster boy for the Republic; a symbol. All of the Clones respect him, and the public loves him. Not only that, but his prowess on the battlefield has been instrumental in changing the tide of the War. Losing him would be a devastating loss."

"You don't have to tell me," he shot back. "You don't think I understand what telling the Council would mean for him? For you?"

He was getting defensive, but he didn't appreciate being threatened. Especially by someone who had never had to get their hands dirty in the trenches while having to listen to the sound of men dying around them.

"My apologies," she breathed, reading his defensive attitude loud and clear. "I didn't mean to imply that you were ignorant or threaten you."

He knew she hadn't meant to offend him, but tensions were just too high between them at the moment to continue this line of discussion.

"Obi-Wan-"

"Anakin will be awake soon," he deflected, changing the course of the conversation elsewhere. "You should be there with him."

They could talk more then. When everyone had rested and Anakin was there, and after Leia was given a chance to explain herself. But for now, it would be best if they gave each other space; time to process and think.

"And you?" she asked, watching him as he pushed his chair back and rose from his seat. "What will you do in the meantime?"

"Meditate," he supplied. "Consider my options."

Decide what I'm going to tell the Council- whether I will them anything, he thought without voicing. He knew that the decision was entirely up to him what happened from here on out; a weight having been placed on his shoulders.

She nodded, understanding what he meant by that very clearly.

"I will leave you to it then," she said, rising to her feet as well. "But in the meantime— if you need me— I will be with my husband."

As soon as she went to leave, Obi-Wan called after her. "Whatever happens from here on out, whatever I choose to tell the Council. You should know that it's not personal."

She didn't turn back around to meet his gaze as she nodded, stiffly. Shoulder's tensing and rising with each breath.

"I understand."

As Obi-Wan watched her exit the room, he wondered if she really did. Or if she was just trying to placate him. Somehow, deep down, he knew that no matter what decision he made regarding them, their friendship would never be the same again.