Shortly after waking up one sunny morning, I feel a tightening in my abdomen as I grab a glass of water. Another day, another contraction. They aren't close together, but I know that someday soon they will be. They'll be happening every few minutes and I'll be lying on a hospital bed with doctors and medical droids around me. My hand runs over my stomach as the baby moves a little. The baby always seems more active in the morning.

As I take a sip of water, letting the cool liquid wet my dry throat, I hear footsteps enter the kitchen behind me. I turn around and smile at Padmé. "Good morning," I tell her. "Did you sleep well?"

Sadness clouds Padmé's entire being. Her eyes droop and she's frowning. Her shoulders a slumped as she shakes her head slowly. "I'm so sorry, Leya," she mumbles, gripping her comm tight in her hands.

Her next words shook my core. The heavy cup slips from my fingers and shatters on the floor. Glass and water splashes everywhere. My breath quickens. My knees buckle as I stumble to the ground. My hands and knees press into the glass shards as tears spring from my eyes and anguish fills my heart. This can't be happening. It can't. Not to him.

Obi-Wan is dead.

I barely feel Padmé's arms slide around me as I cry. Sobs echo across the marble floor. My hands and knees burn as the broken glass is embedded into my skin. But I don't care even as red droplets mix with the water. I don't care as Padmé and Moteé pull me off the kitchen floor. I don't care as they help me to one of the living room couches. I don't care as Ellé uses tweezers to extract shards from my skin. I stare blankly at nothing as the tears stop flowing. I stare blankly as my breathing returns to normal. I stare blankly as I realize that my baby will grow up without a father. I stare blankly as I realize that I will never see my Obi-Wan again.

The physical pain has long subsided, but the mental and emotional pain still holds strong. My pain is stronger than me. The soft comforter that adorns my bed is no longer comforting. All I want is to feel Obi-Wan's hands wrapped around my own. I want to feel his soft hair against my head as he lays his head on my shoulder. I want to watch his joy at the thought of him being a father. For the longest time I had secretly hoped that the baby would have his auburn hair and blue eyes. That the baby would take after their father. And now I'm pleading to the Force to allow me something to have of him.

A slow, quiet knock raps at my door. The door opens without waiting for a response from me. Padmé hesitantly enters the room. She is dressed nicer than usual, in traditional Naboo mourning attire. She sits on the bed by my feet, watching me. "They're holding a funeral. Would you like to go?" she asks.

I take a deep, shaky breath. "I-" I start but cut myself off. My fingers clench around the blanket on my lap. "I don't, I don't know if I can do it." Padmé reaches a hand out, placing it on my calf.

"I'm sure he'd want you there, but he'd understand," she says. "He was always good like that."

"I want to." My voice was strong as I look at her. "I do." My jaw clenches as tears attempt to escape again. "I just. . . I can't. I can't do that to him. I can't be the crying pregnant lady that tarnishes his good name." My attempt at being strong breaks. I open and close my mouth a few times, shaking my head as a sob is heard. "He was the one everyone looked to for guidance, as an example of the perfect Jedi, the perfect man." The surrounding furniture seemed out of place with my disheveled state. I rub my face and head, trying to keep what little composure I had left.

"When I-when I last saw him, you wanna know what he said?" I ask rhetorically. "He said he knew the baby was his because he could feel his Force signature around it and he could feel mine as well, like they were intertwined in one being. That no matter what happened during this war, there would always be a piece of us that lived on in the baby. I can't. I can't go in front of members of the council, bawling and eight months pregnant. They would know he broke the code. That can't, absolutely cannot be their last memory of Obi-Wan. I won't let it. He needs to be remembered just as he was. The perfect Jedi. And he was, regardless of him breaking some stupid rule. Master Windu can't know. Master Yoda can't know. Only Anakin. Only the one who knew him best."

Padmé wipes off a tear from her own cheek, and I realize that she lost someone, too. A friend. A trusted ally. Someone who had once laid their life on the line for hers. We'd be in opposite positions if it were Anakin who had been blasted off the roof of a building. Padmé, trying to stay strong, offers me a small, sad smile. "I understand." She pats my leg and stands. "If you need anything, don't hesitate."

I nod and she leaves me to my thoughts. Not that I want to be alone with my thoughts. My thoughts are depressing. I eventually fall alseep with tears cascading down my cheeks and my head pounding.

The next day isn't much better. My nose is plugged and my head hurts. Everything hurts. My very being hurts. Not even the movement of my baby is comforting. I close the door of the bathroom and turn on the sink. Sticking my hands under the running water, I splash my face with cold water, as cold as the sink water could get. My hands grip the edge of the sink as I watch the water continue to flow.

While the coldness soothes the cuts on my hands and my warm face, it doesn't soothe the emotional hurt. I lift my head and meet my own eyes in the mirror. They're puffy and bloodshot. My fair cheeks are flushed and my hair is limp. I feel almost selfish focusing so much on my own pain rather than celebrating Obi-Wan's life or planning our baby's future.

My eyes drift down to the crystal resting against my sternum. It still pulses with life despite Obi-Wan's death. Can a tiny kyber crystal truly hold on to Obi-Wan's life force with him gone? I can't help but roll my eyes. Now it's just a pretty trinket to remember him by. I can feel my heart thumping in time with the pulsing crystal. It's truly the only thing that has come close to being relaxing.

I splash my face with water once again before turning the faucet off and patting my face dry with a hand towel. As I leave the bathroom, my lower back and abdomen start to feel tight, but I ignore it. My feet brush against the bottom of my dress as I walk to the living room. Ellé sits on the couch reading a holobook. She looks up at me as I take a seat next to her, struggling a little on my way down. The quiet girl rests her hand on top of mine but continues reading. She knows that I know her meaning. She's there to talk if I want to. But I don't want to. I'm torn between bursting into tears and breaking something.

The tight compression in my abdomen continues every so often as I rest my head against Ellé's shoulder. My face pinches as back starts hurting. I take a deep breath and try to relax. I can feel Ellé's eyes on me, but I ignore it.

"Are you okay?" I hear behind me. I turn my head only to see Teckla and Moteé. Teckla looks mildly concerned as they join Ellé and I in the sitting area.

I nod and rest my head on Ellé's shoulder again. Silence passes between us as I close my eyes, enjoying their quiet company. After a short while, I move my hand to my stomach as I feel my uterus contract. It feel no worse than a normal cramp. Running my fingers absent-mindedly over the fabric covering my stomach, I start reading the holobook over Ellé's shoulder. The one in her hands is about a legend from Naboo. She misses home. I'm with her there.

The high cinched waist of my dress starts to feel uncomfortable as my backache continues. Trying to get more comfortable, I shift my sitting position a slowly. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Teckla stand up and walk over to me. I look at her strangely as she kneels next to the couch and places a few fingers on my lower stomach. I glance at Ellé and Moteé, but they both look confused as well. "Uh, Teckla, is, um, everything okay?" I ask.

"Just breath normally," she orders, not meeting my gaze. An eyebrow raises as she sits there, not moving except for glancing down at her comlink. Okay, I guess. It's honestly probably not the weirdest thing I've been through, someone holding their hand on my stomach for a long period of time. I barely notice Teckla sitting there as I return to reading Ellé's holobook.

It had to have been at least twenty minutes before Teckla stands up with a serious expression. "We need to get you to the hospital," she tells me.

"What, why?" I ask, confused.

Teckla answers with another question. "Have you not noticed your contractions?"

My eyebrows furrow. "Contractions, they're contraction, they happen while pregnant."

Teckla looks at me, completely exasperated. "They're less than ten minutes apart." She says it like it should answer all my questions, but my questioning expression doesn't waver.

"Oh, no!" Moteé exclaims, jumping from her seat, obviuosly realizing what Teckla is trying to say. "Cattleya, you're going into labor."

I scoff and say, "Labor? I can't be going into labor. I've got at least a whole month out."

"That's the problem." Teckla's deadly serious voice makes me pause. My face drops. No. Oh, no. I can't. No. My eyes widen and my breathing picks up pace as I start freaking out. "No, Cattleya, no." Teckla drops to her knees in front of my and grips my shoulders. "Look at me. Look at me." Her voice is forceful as I look at her, panicking. "You're going to be fine. Ellé, get her a bag with some clothes. Moteé, get Padmé." Both girls left the room. "Stand up." Her hands continue gripping my shoulders as she helps me off the couch. "We're going to the speeder. Don't try to rush, you need to stay calm and relaxed."

Captain Typho, Padmé, and Ellé meet us at the speeder. Captain Typho and Teckla help me into the backseat. Padmé sits up front with Typho, and Teckla holds the bag packed by Ellé as she sits next to me, helping me slow my breathing as Typho flies us to the hospital.

The next few hours pass slowly as a doctor and medical droids ask me questions, get me situated and as comfortable as I can get, and check mine and the baby's vitals. They also gave me medicine to try to stop the premature labor. Padmé and Teckla don't leave my side throughout the whole process and Typho waits outside the door, standing guard. The medicine, predictably, doesn't work to stop the labor. It's just my luck.

They start an IV. My contractions grow closer and closer together and the pain increases as time passes, but whatever they put in the IV seems to help a little. The doctor and droids get ready for me to give birth. I barely register the pain and a slight sensation of having to use the bathroom as I focus on pushing out the baby. I know it hurts, but I can't seem to care about anything other than getting the child out of me. I curse Obi-Wan and any entity that could possibly be real for making me go through this. My hands grip the metal sides of the hospital bed as the doctor coaches me through the process.

It lasts longer than I originally thought it would, but the moment I was done pushing, I notice all the pressure stop, like I was no longer pooping out a watermelon. The doctor hands one of the medical droids the screaming baby. While covered in amniotic fluid, I smile at the baby. I almost miss the droid telling me the sex as it hands her to me. Her. She's small and flails in my arms, but I hold her close for as long as I can before the droid has to take her away to clean her. I watch as my baby girl is taken away, but I relax against the bed, sweaty and exhausted. I look up at Padmé, who stands next to the bed and brings a damp, cool towel to my forehead.

My baby girl is given back to me in no time, after I've cleaned up, and I hold on to her tightly, like she's my lifeline. She might as well be. The doctor tells me that it'd be a good idea to feed her. Everything is sore and sensitive, but I make do.

She settles down as she suckles my breast and I just watch her. Her face is puffy and she moves a lot, but I watch for something in particular. I watch for her eyes. They're brown. They're my eyes.

After a few minutes of calm and quiet, Padmé rests a hand on my shoulder and stares down at the baby in my arms. "Do you have a name picked out yet?" she asks. I pause for a moment, running my thumb across my baby's cheek.

"Kaleena."