A/N: While I was proofing this chapter is seemed pretty dull to me, but I don't know how you'll all feel about it. It moves away from Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon, which is probably why I don't find it near as interesting. But for some reason I just needed to include a broader picture, so this chapter is pretty much Padmé's perspective. There's some Anakin in here too, but I'll get into him a lot more later. And rest assured that I will get back to Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon. In case you can't tell, Obi-Wan happens to be my favorite character and when I started this, he was my only focus. The story has broadened since then but I'm slightly biased. Sorry. By the way, thanks for all the feedback on chapter one…I did some revising, so if you commented on something, I hopefully tweaked it a bit accordingly. Anyway, hope you don't lose interest with this one!
Chapter Two
Across Naboo, the victory was being celebrated. The field of droids was prone to the rejoicing Gungans. The pilots returned to a hangar full of jubilant cheers. The Queen stood in her palace looking over her planet with grim satisfaction. Many had died, but the victory was theirs. In a galaxy full of war and hate, there was only one this more deadly—the sheer indifference of the galaxy. Naboo occupied only a sliver of the galaxy—their sovereignty meant so little in the bigger picture. But to the natives, and especially the Queen, the sovereignty meant everything. It meant the sacrifice of homes and comfort. It meant sacrificing lives. It meant sacrificing peace. A tear slid down her face. She was devoid of her royal trimmings. For at least a moment, she stood as any citizen of Naboo, as any citizen of the Republic. She was weary, battered, and heartbroken. Her mind could not stop retracing the recent events, looking to see where she had failed, where she had chosen incorrectly, where she could have averted this disaster. But this disaster had roots that outdated her relatively few years. Suddenly, she felt so young, so inexperienced. Yet, while she herself was still in her youth, she had led her planet to victory. In her tormented soul, she could not be convinced that she was completely justified. But what could she have done? She could only stand firm, be bold, and now start the process of rebuilding her ragged planet. She had to examine and grieve the losses, but always value the victory.
Tearing herself from her sad reverie, she left the balcony, its marble scarred with blaster burns. She entered the meeting room where her royal officials were busy taking stock of the reports from across the planet. As they became aware of their Queen's presence, they slowly quieted down, showing her the respect her position merited.
Her face composed tightly, she asked, "What is the report?"
"The Trade Federation is retreating, Milady," one of her advisors told her in exhausted glee. "All their manned ships have left orbit. We can still detect them in the system, but are moving slowly out of range."
"The droids?"
"Ready for scrap metal," another told her with a smile.
"Damage?"
"Minimal. Most of the damage was to the Royal Palace itself. The people are scared, but rebounding already. Communications are still down—the Trade Federation took great care to ensure it wouldn't be working anytime soon. But our technicians are already working on it and have only hopeful reports."
Amidala took a deep breathe. Her rule over Naboo wouldn't end in disaster. Then she remembered a loose end to their victory—the mysterious attacker. She had entrusted that problem to the Jedi's able hands. "What of the Jedi?"
There was an odd silence as her advisors looked curiously at one another.
"They engaged a mysterious attacker down in the main hangar."
"The surviving pilots have returned," another advisor said. "There has been no mention of the Jedi."
"They would not leave," Amidala said, her voice too tired too sound too perplexed. "Send a detail to go search for them on the lower levels beyond the hangar into the power core."
"Yes, Milady."
"We owe the Jedi a great debt for our success," she explained. "We must ensure that their welfare is secured."
"Of course, Milady," the advisor said, before ducking out to carry through with the orders.
The sigh that escaped the Queen's lips was unable to be contained. One of the advisors looked at her peculiarly. "Your Highness, why such the long face? We have our victory today?"
"Victory?" Padmé asked morbidly amused, finally realizing the irony of the word. "I think I finally know that what we won today was not a victory. We may have won, but it was not a victory, because we still had to fight. And peace is the true victory, and we lost it today."
Her advisors became gravely silent, accepting her words as a reality that hadn't wanted to contemplate. She nodded stiffly to them, thanking them as sincerely as she could before she retired to her study. She ordered that she be left alone unless something needed her dire attention. When alone again, she allowed herself to collapse unceremoniously on the elegant couch. Closing her eyes, she exhaled deeply, trying to regain composure. When she was elected Queen, she had been little more than an idealistic child, but now she felt far older than her years. The weight of the world had threatened to pull her sanity and clarity under, straining her, yet she insistently had straightened herself taller in the face of adversity. It was overwhelming her very soul.
Sleep began to infringe on her consciousness, and she didn't fight it. She had nearly drifted away when her comlink beeped. Alert immediately, she sat up, tiredness falling away from her. She pressed the button on the console next to the couch. "Yes?"
"I am sorry to disturb you, Milady," the voice came back. "But we have found the Jedi."
"Good. What of them?"
"I'm afraid you'd better come to the palace medical wing at once," her advisor suggested.
Without hesitation, Padmé replied, "I'm on my way."
As she exited her study, several handmaidens fell in step with her. She noted them distantly. Each had been through the same trials today, and yet they still waited to stand by their majesty's side. She respected them and was forever grateful. She wound through the elaborate palace until she finally reached the medical wing. Several advisors and a handful of guards immediately greeted her, falling into step beside her.
"What happened?" she asked quickly, not wasting time.
"It appears they were engaged in some kind of battle," the advisor tried to explain. "But with what, we can't know."
"Yes, I saw their opponent. It came just as the pilots were leaving and we were headed to the throne room," the Queen explained. "They said they would handle it."
"We have found no evidence of an intruder, except perhaps this," he said, motioning to a nearby guard. The guard produced a stub of something, charred off at one end. "We can't be sure what it is, but it appears to be a weapon not unlike that of the Jedi."
"Perhaps it belongs to the Jedi," she suggested.
"Perhaps," the advisor said slowly. "But it is said that a Jedi is never separated from his weapon. We found another lightsaber next to the Jedi. We have compared the two—while they have the same basic makeup, this one is different in ways we cannot explain."
"Where are the Jedi now?" Padmé asked, her eyes trying to see through the people.
"The healers are caring for them."
"They are injured then," she deduced.
"Yes," he said slowly, somewhat uncertain. "You should talk to the healer's about that."
"Take me to them," she ordered curtly.
The advisor nodded and led her through some more corridors. They came to the emergency bay—a wide open, sterile white area. Healers and medical technicians were working quietly, with a subdued sense of worry and urgency. She quickly eyed the two Jedi—the older one was submersed in one of the bacta tanks and the younger one was lying on a bed. The head healer, Kyan Terik, appeared tired and his face was drawn with stress. "Your Highness, I am glad to see you are well," he said. He had been Padmé's doctor since she became Queen, and she had always respected and trusted him.
"How are the Jedi?"
Kyan knitted his eyebrows. "The older one—"
"Qui-Gon Jinn."
"Yes. He has suffered a severe wound to the abdomen. I have never treated a wound quite like it. It is unique. There was no bleeding from the puncture sight, but it is also more potent and painful due to the instant cauterization of the wound."
"Will he recover?"
"I think he has a good chance, although I don't know how. The wound should be fatal within minutes. The location and extent of the damage—he shouldn't have even had a chance."
"He is a Jedi," she offered.
"I suppose. Whatever it is, I think after two or three days, he should be out of the bacta. From the looks of things now, he should be up and about in a week."
"What of the younger one?"
Kyan looked over gravely at the young Jedi on the bed. "I don't know. His 'injury' is more mysterious than Master Jinn's."
"What is it?"
"Well, that's just it. There isn't any physical wound that I can find."
Amidala studied the prone figure again. Monitors had been hooked up to him and were producing readouts. "Then what is wrong with him?"
"I hate to admit this, Milady, but I don't have any idea. He is uninjured physically, but his life signs are extremely weak. His heart rate is almost too light to detect. A layman might pronounce him dead. His brain waves are also subdued. I can't explain it. It is almost like he's in a coma."
Perplexed by the situation of the Jedi, she moved closer to the bacta tank where Jinn floated. "We owe them a great debt," she said softly.
"We are doing everything in our powers to help them," Kyan assured her.
She wandered over to Padawan Kenobi's bedside. The young man was older than she was, but looked so lost and defenseless in unconsciousness. If it hadn't been for the feedback on the monitors, she really would have thought him dead. His features were colorless, and his body produced no movement. Kyan was standing next to her. "It would help to know what happened down there," he said softly.
"I know little more than you do," she said. "The Jedi had faced this opponent before on Tatooine, They spoke little of him, but I knew that when they returned with me to Naboo, this mysterious foe was part of their motivation. They treated him with more distance and perhaps more caution than most of their adversaries. When he appeared again in the hangar, they told us to continue on and to leave that fight to them. We did so. That is all I know."
The advisor had moved closer, and now spoke. "We found them near the reactor core. The younger one was sprawled out on the floor. He held his master's limp form sprawled out on top of him."
Kyan shook his head. "It doesn't make sense," he said sadly.
The Queen was sick of mysteries and fed up with injuries. Straightening herself, she put out her brusque air of authority. "I have great confidence in your abilities, Healer Tarik. The Jedi will be able to explain these mysteries themselves when they awaken."
As Kyan bowed in respect at the compliment, Amidala turned and began to leave the medical wing, her guards and handmaidens in tow. Before she could make it very far, Captain Panaka approached her. "Milady, we have a more complete picture of how the Trade Federation was defeated," he told her, his eyes sparkling with exhilaration.
She could not muster the same enthusiasm. "The pilots?"
"Yes, Milady, the pilots have been formerly debriefed and interviewed," Panaka replied heartily. "They have an amazing story."
"Really?" she asked, feigning interest for the sake of her position.
"Yes, it was the boy," Panaka said.
"The boy?"
"Yes, the small boy from Tatooine."
"Anakin?"
"Yes, Skywalker," Panaka confirmed. "He is the one who destroy the central ship."
Much more intrigued now, Amidala stopped and looked at him critically. "By himself?" she tried to clarify.
"More or less," Panaka said. "According to the pilots, our fighters were holding their own against droid ships and even landing direct hits to the main ship. But they couldn't penetrate the it. Their weapons were ineffective from the outside. They thought they were doomed to lose."
"Where does the boy fit in?"
"Apparently he was aboard one of the fighters. They are not sure why or how, but they said he could fly as well as any of them."
"Yes," Amidala murmured, recalling the podrace she had watched him win on Tatooine. The boy was many things, an excellent pilot at the top of the list.
"He flew right in to an open docking bay, fired and then got out of there. The blast was more than enough to make the ship implode, which then cut the link to all the droids," Panaka concluded.
While on Tatooine, she had found the boy amusing. His youth and innocence were so off-kilter in a place as rough and inhuman as Tatooine. He was a slave, yet a freer spirit than Padmé herself had ever been. But she hadn't trusted him, not like Qui-Gon had, and had resented and strongly objected to entrusting their futures to the boy. As Queen, after all, she always had the final say. However, Anakin did not disappoint. In his unlikely victory, Padmé had found a reason to believe in impossibilities again, something which her role as Queen had deprived her of. He was a hero, but nonetheless vulnerable. And from the moment he had called her an angel, she knew that he was drawn to her. What she hadn't and still didn't want to admit was that she was drawn to him.
Now it appeared young Anakin Skywalker, slave turned hero, had conquered the day yet again. Taking a deep breath, Amidala looked into Panaka's eyes with the stature of a ruler. "Where is Anakin Skywalker?"
"He is waiting instructions in the guest lounge. Since he has come with the Jedi, we did not know what else to do."
"Take me to him," she ordered. Panaka nodded, and they proceeded down the hallway.
When they arrived at the lounge, she requested privacy. The guards nodded and exited, and the handmaidens also nodded and stepped away, waiting for her until she returned. Padmé then collected herself and entered the room.
She wasn't sure why, but for some reason she expected Anakin to look different. But there he sat, small as he was, his blonde hair disheveled, wearing the same bland colored tunic as he had when she first met him. He didn't look any older, and it seemed hardly possibly that such a young boy could have accomplished so many things. But, then again, she reminded herself, she wasn't all that old herself. Trials and tribulations paid little attention to one's age, and it was becoming very apparent that heroes could be made at any age. And heroes could fall at any age, as well, a voice whispered at the back of her mind.
He looked up as she entered, his face brightening with recognition. "Padmé!" he exclaimed without thought. Then remembering who she was, he looked embarrassed and awkward at his outburst, quickly retracting his statement, "I mean, Your Highness."
Padmé couldn't keep herself from smiling. There was still so much youth in him despite everything he'd seen and been through. She could relate to this young boy better than she could any of her advisors, even her handmaidens. They were both far too young for their recent feats, both cast, by their own desires, into a galaxy that was still too big for them to understand. "Please, call me Padmé," she said. "I am sorry that I had to deceive you."
"It's okay," Anakin said genuinely.
"It is not something I enjoy," she admitted, sitting down on a chair. "But it is necessary I have found. I do not wish to be cooped up, but if I were to travel about freely I would be at a tremendous risk. This galaxy is not a safe place."
"Yeah, I'm beginning to see that," Anakin quipped, recollecting not only his life as a slave but the Battle of Naboo.
"Yes, I imagine you are," Padmé murmured, unsure why she was so drawn to this boy. "Are you feeling well? Captain Panaka has informed me of your actions today. You are very brave."
"Qui-Gon told me to stay in the cockpit," he said with a grin. His face fell suddenly, and he looked questioningly at her. "Where is Qui-Gon?"
Having to look away, Padmé tried to formulate the right answer. Her silence, though brief, was enough for Anakin to detect that something was wrong.
"Something's happened to him, hasn't it?" Anakin asked quietly.
Struggling to compose her breathing, she met Anakin's piercing gaze. She could not lie to him. This boy embodied truth. By his very nature, he demanded the same from her. "He was injured in battle."
"Was it the same man who attacked us on Tatooine?"
"We believe so."
"And Obi-Wan?" Anakin asked. Even though he hardly knew either man, he had a strong connection to the Jedi already. He was practically one of them in so many ways.
"He was also injured."
This news unsettled Anakin. The Jedi had been mythical to him, taking on surreal powers in his wildest dreams. He idolized them and strove to become one of them—to grasp their supernatural powers and fight for justice throughout the galaxy. They were noble beings, driven by a greater good, bringing peace and order to a galaxy of chaos and injustice. In his dreams, they were invincible. They never failed. They always prevailed. Qui-Gon Jinn had fulfilled all of these requirements, as had Obi-Wan and all the other Jedi he had met. They were larger than life, they were…perfect. Never had it occurred to him that they were just as mortal as everyone else in the galaxy. Jedi weren't perfect.
"The healers expect Qui-Gon Jinn to make a full recovery," Padmé said, trying to improve Anakin's spirits. "I am quite confident in that. You will be able to talk to him in a few days, I'm sure."
The attempt had little effect on Anakin's rattled psyche. All he had ever wanted was to be a Jedi and to explore and spread justice throughout the galaxy. But Jedi can fail. For the Queen's sake, he managed a feeble grin. "I guess I can wait a few days," he offered, his enthusiasm sounding lame even to himself.
Padmé smiled warmly. "Good," she said, while getting to her feet. "I am sorry, but I must go now. There is a lot to do now that the battle is over. Is there anything I can get for you, Anakin?"
The boy fought his urge to speak, but Padmé's inviting gaze prompted him to ask his request anyway. "Do you think I can see you again? I mean, if you're not too busy," he added looking down. He kicked absently at a speck on the floor.
Purely innocent and hesitantly hopeful in his request, Padmé kept herself from embracing him. There was definitely something about this boy she could not place. "Of course you can see me again, Anakin. I would not be a good hostess if I did not spend time with you."
"Really?" he asked, his face brightening brilliantly.
"Of course," she happily assured him. "Perhaps we can have lunch tomorrow."
"That'd be great!"
"I'll make room for it in my schedule," she said. She began to leave but noticed he looked ready to say something else. "Yes?" she encouraged.
"I'm sorry to ask for more—"
"Don't worry about it. You are a hero here on Naboo. And more importantly, you are my friend."
He smiled despite himself and continued, "Can I see Qui-Gon? I just want to let him know that I didn't disobey him. Not really, anyway."
Her words were careful. "Qui-Gon is immersed in bacta. His condition is still grave. Perhaps you should wait a few days until he wakes up."
"No," Anakin said with a shake of his head. "I would really like to see him."
"I don't think he'll understand what you have to say."
"Trust me," Anakin insisted. "He will."
Something about his certainty surprised her. Gazing curiously at him, she decided to indulge him. He had already done so much for her, she truly did owe him at least this much. "Very well," she said. "I will assign one of my handmaidens to care for you while you stay here. After you have rested and eaten, she will take you to see the Jedi. Then you are free to wander the Palace with her guidance."
"Thanks," he said, grinning broadly.
Merely nodding her reply, she then turned, and left the room in her developed regal fashion.