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Project: Engenisis
Heaven's Prayers
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Full Summary:
Senator Padmè Amidala has been kidnapped from the Senate Building nestled in the heart of the Republic: Coruscant. Such an organized, quick attack and abduction of the beloved Naboo Senator shakes the galaxy and war efforts as a whole.
Jedi Generals Knight Anakin Skywalker and Master Obi-Wan Kenobi are assigned to rescue the important Republic politician, and great ally to the Jedi Order. They have been stationed in the Outer Rim for over ten months as the Clone Wars drags on and on. Despite the death of Separatist General Grievous and the capture of renegade Sith Darth Maul.
Unbeknownst to them, there is an evil force with sinister intentions behind the kidnapping. It's only the beginning of an unethical ploy to produce force-sensitive infants, code-named: 'Project: Engenesis'.
Notes:
Warnings: This story contains detailed birth descriptions, medical gore and horror, war depictions, mental health hardships, and a kidnapping. As the story evolves, these warnings may change and be lengthened. Reader discretion is advised.
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, neither is the universe of Star Wars; they belong to George Lucas, Lucas Films, and Disney, and appropriate associates.
Also, I am not a medical professional and this is set in a science fiction universe, and is not meant to make birth one way better than the other. A good birth is defined by the birther, baby(s), and support system; there are many ways to have a baby. Contact birth professionals for actual medical guidance, birth planning, and expectations.
Chapter 1
This was taking too long; General and Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker nervously twitched if studied carefully. Skywalker was on his way to locate and aid Galactic Republic Senator Padmé Amidala. While he was confident she had things well under control, as was the status quo, he still worried.
Any secret spouse would worry about his secret beloved that had been kidnapped. They had not seen each other in what was closer to a year, which was torture to a whole new degree. And the only time he could see her is when she's been kidnapped by Separatists from the Republic capital planet, Coruscant. All while he had been fighting endless, pointless battles in the Outer Rim! He was supposed to protect the Inner Rim and heart of the Republic, but most importantly her! How?
As a galactic senator, she should have been surrounded by security at the Senate Building. And as a Naboo senator, who was their past beloved Queen, she should have had her elite security team, the Royal Handmaidens, protecting her, too. Force, even his creation and her droid, Human Cyborg Relations C3PO should have been protecting her! He was going to have to go over her security details with her head of security, Captain Panaka.
What was worse was that she had been taken at all. Padmé was prolifically combat trained and an artist with a blaster; he knew better than anyone she was more than capable of taking care of herself and others. The fact that she had been taken meant who did it had massive resources, power, and ability to have her.
The Hero with No Fear nervously fidgeted his robotic hand behind him as he stood at the helm of his Republic Venator-class Star Destroyer and fleet leader flagship. These telling movements were very un-Jedi of him, but than again so was being married. A sudden hand went on his right shoulder from behind him, he jumped and glared behind him to see his friend and former Jedi Master, Master Jedi and General Obi-Wan Kenobi.
"Don't worry, we'll find her. I'm sure the Senator is fine, knowing her," Kenobi's calm voice assured.
While Skywalker wished he was assured, he was not. Something was not right, he knew it, he just could not explain why. "Well the sooner we find her and find who took her, the better," his tone became darker and more threatening as soon as her captor. By the time he was through with them, they would not know their own name while knowing pain: true pain.
Obi-Wan, feeling his old apprentice and padawan's emotions, lightly squeezed his shoulder and put his hand behind himself. "Just remain calm, it's the only way you'll be able to help her," the teacher reminded.
Skywalker looked back at the helm and passing blue streaks of hyperspace. A part of him understood Obi-Wan was right, another could not make such promises.
"Approaching destination, coming out of hyperspace, General," a clone at the commands below announced according to protocol.
Skywalker looked at the man under his command, "Understood, ready the troops." He looked further down, "Admiral Yularen, you have the bridge," General Skywalker informed as he walked towards the lifts, Kenobi following.
Once the generals arrived at the hanger, 501st Commander Rex approached them. "The men are ready for some action, General," he informed. The astromech droid, R2D2, whistled and shuffled with excitement behind him.
Skywalker nodded, heading towards: his, Kenobi's, and Rex's transport. "I'm sure they're excited, but those months in the Yerbanain trenches will surely be missed," Anakin sarcastically quipped. He meant it to be with his usual nonchalant and charismatic self, but it came out nervously, or at least nervously for him. While he sensed his men, especially Rex, picked up on it, they remained stoic.
"The non stop rain and massive bugs will be the most missed for me," Kenobi bantered back after checking his clone squadron, the 212th, and Commander Cody were readied and loaded. He then loaded onto the transport. "I'm still not sure my clothes are dry… or free of insects," he straightened his robes with a bit of a shiver remembering the countless times hundreds of legs crawled on his skin under his robes.
"Oh, and the electrical storms that interfered with our comms., those are what I'll miss the most," the lynx-eared Commander joined. Decorated 501st clones in the ship laughed and chuckled in agreement as the ship took off and headed to the planet.
Skywalker felt more at ease surrounded by his army of friends. "Alright, we all know the drill. We'll infiltrate the facility. As you know, we don't know what's waiting for us, but we have a decent layout of the building. It seems to be an old medical lab." He projected the holographic image. While the men had already been briefed, he felt it should be gone over again, mostly for his sanity. "The life scanners couldn't make it through the mountain it's tunneled into. We assume the Senator is here," he pointed to the location on the map. "There don't appear to be any external cannons or weapons, but it may be shielded. We'll approach from these three locations and clear moving to the South until the Senator is located and secured."
"Yes sir!" the said in uniform.
"Seems easy enough," Jesse commented, checking his weapon one last time. They began entering the atmosphere and got into landing formations.
The 501st and 212th had quite the welcome. It was one of the most heavily armed facility they had entered. There was a surprise ground assault as well that awaited them. The battle droids came from hidden underground chambers. To top it off, there were battalions of new generation droidd being used. The Republic had never seen them before and their impregnatable fitted shields. The two squardrens could hold their ground, but it lead to most of the troops being diverted to the grounds surrounding the facility. Groups went to each level to clear and search for the captive.
It was an eerie place, Skywalker noticed going through the empty metallic halls. Lights flickered and so much of the facility was long abandoned. It was filthy and all that they found were battle droids, no life forms of any kind. It felt wrong to his bones, but he did not understand why. He stopped in his empty hall, having split from Kenobi and clones. He closed his eyes and willed the Force to him, despite his bizarre unease. Anakin searched for Padmé, calling to their bond. Her normal blinding signature was not signaling to him, like a brilliant navigational star. He had expected to feel her as soon as they approached the planet, but there was only a dim echo of her. While Skywalker knew she was here, or at least had been, that was all, and it was petrifying his bones with each second that passed.
He breathed deep, envisioning his breathe and essence filling and traveling the space with each exhale. With will, desperation and love he called to her through the Force, begging for an answer, a sign, a ray of her illumination.
"Anakin! Anakin help me!" she screamed through their bond. A vision of her in agony surreally burned into his mind. There was cold metal invasively poking and probing her as she fought and pulled away from it. Despite visual confirmation, he could feel it on his body as she felt it. He felt her pain—her agony.
He snapped back to his body breathless. Padmé was close, she was very close. His feet moved before his brain could tell him where to go, and they followed his clenched heart. Blindly and quickly he entered a massive room. The room was filled with thousands of battle droids outwardly encircling the only light source. He ignited his blue lightsaber quickly, ready to defeat this roadblock. Determined, he began weaving and slicing through the room in an elegant battle dance.
"Ah!" a scream pierced the silence and echoed through the large metallic space. He would recognize that voice anywhere.
His fury had never been so quickly ignited, not even against the Tusken Raiders after his mother died. It blinded him, something was hurting his Padmé, his life partner, and it would suffer for it. Their sacred connection burst into flames with the reconnection and he felt her pain as if his own, and it fueled his anger further. He could not move, for he was frozen by her pain. Vision blurred, his senses reached out to the Force surrounding him, the droids, his spouse, and he latched onto it. He clenched down on his enemies and released them with an enraged and woe-begotten howl. A great gust blew and slid him backwards, but he remained well balanced and standing.
The pain subsided sharply, and he could breathe and open his eyes again. Before him lay thousands of crushed and destroyed battle droids collapsed away from his wife in the center. As though a blast had gone off at her location destroying all but her. He ran towards her unable to register much, just that she was tied down in an elevated position on some medical cot with intravenous fluids dripping into her through long clear tubes.
He went for the IV's first and hastily got them out of her as gently as possible. His right hand quickly covered her pricks. He made eye contact with his fleshed hand rushing to soothe her by stroking her dark brown hair. Once he could breath again, he smelled the stringent and all too familiar tang of blood in the air. Of her blood.
Padmé's face was tear stricken, something he had not seen. While pain was their cause, now she had a blend of relief and joy making it through her expressions. She went to grab him but roughly collided with her restraints, having forgotten about them. She inhaled sharply and they both gazed down at the restraints.
Time stood still.
Her white medical gown did not lie flatly on her abdomen but curved and rounded up significantly with an unmistakable swollen stomach of pregnancy. Late pregnancy. He could even feel it thickly through the force, the quickening of life within her. His eyes snapped back to hers in shock and wonder, desperate for explanations.
She opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by pain. Her body clenched up violently as she curled in involuntarily, pulling against her restraints, which he now saw were on her ankles too. They locked her legs apart and kept them in gynecological stirrups. Her sleeves were crimson red, fresh with blood, and her ankles and feet streaked and dripped with the same life force. Her body had involuntarily contorted and pulled so hard against the restraints, they tore into her flesh.
In a second, her binds were snapped with the Force and her clenched fists instantly went to her contracting stomach. It left red strokes and stains on her pristine white gown; a horrendous panting.
He could visually see her stomach clench and shrink in an unnatural way. Human birth was no stranger to Anakin, and the constriction of her contraction was alarming; it was as though she were possessed.
Skywalker quickly glanced to the IV bags and read the medication and descriptions. It was a birth accelerant not meant for humans. Without thought, his hands covered hers and he willed her drugged uterus and surrounding muscles to relax and release. Her body visibly eased into a relaxed position and Amidala heaved in needed oxygen.
"Anakin!" she breathily called, "Oh, Anakin!" she cried as more tears streamed down her face. "They want our baby! They want to take our baby!" she informed, stiff arms fiercely protecting her curved belly. Her body shook from all that had and was happening.
Her life partner noticed how little space her tense limbs and bloodied fists could cover due to her pregnancy's size. His brain quickly calculated she must be near forty-one standard weeks pregnant—full term indeed.
His hands caressed her face and multitasked as tear dryers, "Shh, it's okay, Angel, you're safe now… both you and the baby," he could not believe he had said 'baby'. A reverent smile graced his lips despite the gravity, horror, and shock of the situation.
She deliriously groaned and her body worked hard to sweat out the near poison injected into her veins. "I think I'm going to be sick," she mumbled through her detoxing haze.
Quickly scanning his surroundings for a vessel for her to wrench into, he grabbed a sterile medical dish and handed it to her. It was just in time, and she urgently grabbed it before emptying what little contents were in her stomach.
He held her tussled, unkempt hair back and rubbed her shoulders gently as her body convulsed the medications, hormones and stomach acid out.
Amidala began to spit what acrimonious remnants remained in her mouth and throat. She felt so weak. "Oh… Ani," she weakly called for comfort.
"I'm here, Padmé, I'm here," he soothed, removing the used medical capsule. He noticed behind him were medical trays and rolling tables with seemingly every medical tool, device and bandage laid out meticulously with mechanically perfect placement.
Her breath sped up, "I was so scared that they'd take our baby!" her bottled tears concerning her resent trauma came showering out. Soon hiccupping sobs followed.
Desperately his mind worked. Who could it be? General Grevious had been slain by him and Kenobi, Darth Maul successfully captured by Ahsoka Tano, and most of the Seperarist leaders had signed treaties, the banking clan as well- there was hardly anyone left; Count Douku and the Unknown Sith were only known powers left. Their armies' death spasms were fierce as their agendas refused to succumb. What Seperatist could have managed this?
The Force signature of Padmé screamed into his consciousness and he refocused on her completely. Kirf the animals that did this to her, but they would not interfere anymore; Padmé needed him. "I'm here, they won't get anywhere near you," he vowed.
The Senator's body instantly relaxed as the Jedi's familiar protective presence enveloped her. Frustratingly, she did not have much time to relax before another contraction clenched. It was vastly gentler than her previous, but there was still pain. Her body both bearing down and releasing stiff muscles; her uterus labored and her other muscles eased. Truly bizarre for her. "Oooooo….Oh!" she moaned and cried tightly, clinging and curling to her safety. Her exhausted muscles shook upon their release, free of the drugs. Her hands shakily clasped to his tunic, her manacle letted blood disappearing into the black fabric.
Skywalker got even closer to her and held her as securely as he could. He engulfed her; a massive, fearsome creature protecting her small, vulnerable frame. "That's it, Padmé, you're safe now. Let your body do what it needs to do," he encouraged.
While he was unsure of the naturality and circumstances of her labor, he repeated what he had heard his mother Shmi Skywalker say many a time to local slave women and birthers as they suffered a life into the universe.
She leaned into him more and nodded her head nestled to his built chest in understanding. His words soothed her like a balm and she did not have the overwhelming fear and helplessness of before. Her Ani was here, and she was safe; she was always safe with him. The surge passed and her breathing regulated to a more normal pace.
"How about I treat your wrists and ankles?" He said once he felt her body ease and pain subsided.
She nodded her consent and leaned away from him. She could not will herself to go very far. Padmé lifted her carved wrists between them so he could access them.
Skywalker bitterly evaluated the raw, red and bleeding rings deeply set into her flesh. Force! They must go to her bones!
Memories of his past flooded him, for these were common slave wounds. He looked behind himself and used the Force to bring a medical stool and table with wound care, bacta, sterile gauze and bandages to him. He sat down and positioned himself optimally.
Gently, he took her right hand and eased it down to his thigh right above his knee. "Can you keep it here while I treat it?" He asked, aghast at the severity of her wounds and bleeding rate. The pain it must be causing her, and the pain that toxin had caused for her to not care.
She nodded yes and some silent tears ran down her face, the leaking fluid aiding the detoxing. Her scent soured. She sweat through her robes as every pore perspired.
Anakin gave her hand an assuring, loving squeeze and gathered up some of his pant fabric for her to hold.
She scrunched the cloth in her palm finding a comforting purchase in the familiar textile.
He bent down and determinedly set to work. First, ready the supplies. "It will sting at first, but soon the bacta will kick in," he informed her with facts he was sure she already knew.
She gave a passive nod.
He, after sterilizing his hands, warmed a glob of clear bacta gel between his rubbing left fingertips and added a strong coagulant powder. Then he applied, with practiced hands, into the deepest parts working towards the less severe.
A hiss sounded from his patient and his eyes empathize as he body and mind remained stoic. He hoped to get this wrist treated before a contraction began, so time was important. He watched as the bleeding abruptly stopped and her flesh cinched together. The healing properties of the bacta in full effect.
Satisfied, he then got an antiseptic and anesthetic spray and sprayed it around her wounds, kindly rotating her appendage.
Padmé visibly relaxed and he knew the relieving effects were active.
He softly cleaned the thick, oxidized blood of her skin.
Lastly, he got a device that calculated and deposited nano-droids that protected and stitched together the wound, leaving a black metalic cover. The coverage would adapt to the healing, and deactivate the nanodroids accordingly. Once no longer powered, the microscopic droids would disintegrated into useful minerals, metals and vitamins and were absorbed by the bloodstream and surrounding cells.
Having been on the battlefield and injured often, he acquired unique knowledge. He took the bacta again, no need to heat it after the numbing, and lightly applied it to the edges of her wound and the closure devices. As the accelerated healing continued, and the anesthetic wore off, the itch could be maddening. This prevented it. He also wrapped the gauze around the wound multiple times to act as a padding. It would protect the wound from foreign bodies and her accidentally hurting herself for the first standard rotation.
Memories of her Neux claw injuries and scars flashed to his mind's forefront. That had been a long, arduous process for his beloved. It took six months of highly condensed bacta and concoctions of other medications applied every four hours for them to finally seal. The acidic, flesh-eating Neux venom laced on the talons made sure of that, and disintegrated any nanodroid technology. While droids could have cared for her, they lacked the skill and care to not aggravate the wounds and cause pain. He quickly decided to become her tender, though she had been reluctant due to the tax it would have on him. Those heinous wounds… there was a significant risk of it never healing, of it even killing her. He bit back the memories to focus on the present.
After a final inspection of her bandaged wrist, he was satisfied and straightened. He grabbed her hand, careful to not be near the gauze, and soothingly rubbed his thumb on her palm bringing it to his mouth. He softly whispered kisses on the top of her hand and palm. "I'm so sorry," he murmured, resting her palm on his cheek.
She gave a gentle smile, "It's not your fault; don't you dare blame yourself," she ordered gazing sternly into his eyes.
He gave a hollow nod and eased her hand down and moved around to her other wrist and began the process again. "Tell me about the baby and your labor, medically speaking," he asked, relieved there was not another contraction yet. He diligently stooped over and his healing work continued.
"He's full-term and healthy. I was forcibly induced, but he's ready," she communicated after the sting of the first treatment ebbed. "I have no idea how far I've progressed or the distance between contractions. The droids did not communicate anything to me," she chewed her lip with fret.
Anakin quickly took in the information but was especially entranced with one detail. "He?" he asked with anticipation, still staring at his work. Were they having a son?
She let out a laugh, "I never checked officially; I'm using my 'mother's intuition'."
His eyebrows raised and he chuckled at her sexing of their child, because as soon as his brain registered his impending parenthood but a few moments ago, he envisioned a little girl. A girl much like her mother.
"What?" his Chosen One amusedly asked.
He went rather coy, "Well, I think she will be a girl. Must be my 'father's intuition'."
She rolled her eyes with a laugh, "Somehow, I knew you were going to say that, though I'm not sure 'father's intuition' is a thing." Towards the end of her sentence her eyes drifted, brows furrowed, and her hand started to rub circles on her belly with her treated hand. Instinctually, her left hand reached for him and met his forearm with a vicious clasp. By the Nubian goddesses, she was so comforted by the fact she was not alone anymore!
Gauze still in hand, Anakin sat up and assessed the wrapped bandage already on her wrist, wondering if it would fall off. It stayed, and he focused on supporting her and comforting her through this surge.
Skywalker's brain noticed how close the birthing surges were.
While he knew nothing of drugged labor and how it impacted her contraction timing, he knew in natural unmedicated births, this meant advanced labor.
He waited for the pain to end and quickly finished the gauze wrap, his sense of urgency heightened. "Tell me what you're feeling like Padmé. Do you feel the need to push?" his eyes bore into hers, searching for any answers.
She negatively nodded, "No, no I don't need to push. I feel fine, all things considered," she laughed at the absurdity of the situation.
Anakin could see her strength shine through her irises. Joy too, at what he could assume was her impending motherhood and eagerness to meet her child… their child.
He released a tense breath. No urge to push, clear thinking process and her humor was intact. All wonderful signs. He wheeled and scooted to the end of her bed and began treating the ankle that looked the worst; it was her dominant right side, which made sense. "I'll keep note of the time between contractions." Once he was at the end of the bed, he noticed a control panel at the end and messed with the interface.
He found interesting settings and options and began inputting them. Soon, a track of her labor projected near Padmé's head. The times between contractions recorded. He glanced over the information, unsure how helpful it was while she was drugged. "Here we go, this has been tracking everything. Contractions were about a minute apart, but now the length is decreasing without the stimulant," he informed as he finished her ankle and went to the next.
"Have your waters broken, or been broken?" his nostrils flared. How dare someone or thing invade her hallowed body and invade her. Break her sacred waters, which was archaic, and induce her labor, risking her and their child's health.
They shall beg for death a thousand times before he shall indulge them. It was not a threat. It was a promise he made to the universe. Nonegotiable.
"No, they were about to break them, at least I think," she uneasily communicated shifting. From her memories of the long, medal probe approaching her and the sudden chill in the room. Near deadly.
Anakin glanced at the end of the bed where she nervously stared. Indeed, there were two medical droids in a crumbled mess, one holding an utterly unsettling device. He mentally cursed himself, they could have been useful.
He cautiously hoped her situation was reversible, so her body could choose when to begin the process. So she could recover, rest, and go to her beloved home planet: Naboo. Anakin was positive she would want to "bring into the light" there, in the embrace of her family and in accordance to Nunian practices and rituals surrounding, what they ardently considered, the sacred phenomenon gifted by the goddesses.
His angel deserved that, the birth he was sure she desired and had planned.
He finished the treatments.
Lovingly, he squeezed her feet with assurance and tender wishes. She responded with a grin, giddy with the pain relief and sweet contact, and waved her toes at him playfully.
He chucked dryly and stooped to kiss her feet 'get well soon' kisses, knowing it would tickle her.
Padmé curled her feet and she relished the sensations not associated with anything she had felt since abduction.
Love, tenderness, care, harmless tingles, and gentle worship. She was safe. Their baby was safe.
Seeing her appear out of the drugs and pain assured him greatly. Padmé was alright, and able to be evacuated without issue. The drugs had not been able fully engage the birthing process and her body was naturally teetering to stillness. To be ruled by its own intuitive, knowing timing.
With this weight lifted, he drew attention to her disheveled hair's state; it was so uncharacteristic.
His closest companion adored her hair and kept it well. With the current situation, she would never desire disheveled hair in her way. Its state obviously due to her situation and little care she had received since being taken.
He brushed thick curls behind her ears to clear her face. Another surge began; he waited for the wave to recede.
During high tide, he held her and shielded her as she reached and reeled him in. He uttered his sincere support and kind love while it crested.
His voice was so soothing and she tried to allow space for her pain instead of a deadlock refusal. While not ideal, she was no longer unsafe. Anakin was here. Her pain, much less than her previous pains, ended and she straightened slightly.
"How about I tie back your hair; does that sound good?" her lover asked.
Eagerly she nodded as he read her mind.
He produced a compact comb and hair band from one of his many belt pouches and compartments.
Padmé noticed how his hair had grown in the last months, and how he probably needed to tame and pull it back, too.
The man was familiar with brushing Amidala's hair, though not from the front. He did his best to tame her wild locks and smooth them. There were so many tangles and knots; he worked them out gently.
The Senator did not feel any discomfort or pain.
Her under hair was wet with sweat, and if rung would have dripped.
Padmé contemplated on how such a small, normal hygienic act brought her so much serenity. Her scalp sung with tingles as her hair became untoiled, and her neck shivered with exposure to cool, drying air.
Practiced hands gathered and looped her hair into a messy bun, keeping her long locks off of her damp neck. "There we go," he announced, relieved it had been accomplished before another contraction. The durations were distancing further.
"Thank you," she said relaxed.
He kissed her forehead and tucked a few wispy hairs behind her ear. "Of course, my lady, happy to help. How's your position? Do you want to move?" he asked, ready to assist in any way.
"I want to stand—I'm sick of this bed. I want to move. I want to get out of here," she said with an urgency. Freedom from her previous prison could not happen soon enough.
That was a good sign. They could make it out of here and get onto Anakin's cruiser. There she could get proper medical care. "Alright, I'll help you. Take it at your pace. I'll carry you to the evac point; walking could bring on actual labor," he said offering his hands and support.
"I'm not complaining," she said, needing great assistance to maneuver to a stand. Her limbs felt like jelly, every muscle exhausted.
Amidala expected a certain balance and sensation to her body as she moved but was surprised. As soon as she was tentatively on her feet, she hunched over and leaned on her husband, "Force, he's so low," she rubbed her underbelly with one hand and took a halted step. "Oh, and the pressure!" she exclaimed, squatting down slightly to relieve pressure. No such comfort was gained. She could not move any further.
Skywalker stayed steadfast in body, but his raised eyebrows and dilated pupils conveyed his realization. She was close to the final stages of labor, very close. The decrease in labor surges must have been correlated with the medication removal, and not actual labor progress.
There was no way she was going anywhere. He bitterly realized.
Renewed panic spread through Amidala. She was trapped again. A contraction hit her again, and she sank into her husband as a balance and holding point. Her only sanity in this nightmare. The helplessness and fear was hitting her all over again. Her body refused to cooperate and anchored. It felt ready, it felt in sync with the rhythm of an overpowering beat thumping louder, faster and closer into an ancient genesis. "It's happening. Anakin, it's time, I can feel it!" She said with fear.
Gentle hands rubbed her lower back and provided kind counter pressure to her opening pelvis. A smell hit him, it was familiar, it was the musk of birth emanating from his spouse's body. Distinct, sharp, alerting, hallowed, and unmistakable. "You're doing so well. Let your body open," he encouraged in full, terrifying acceptance. Again, using words he had heard his mother use countless times. He kissed the top of her head, "I love you so much."
To the proud and powerful woman's fear, this was happening whether she wanted it or not, and surrender was the only option she had now. Amidala no longer needed to, or could, fight this. She swayed her hips back and forth.
An invasive sensation flushed through the birthing body. It literally took her breath away as an unbelievable pressure lowered into her lower back and rear. A rush of heat flashed through her. She needed to take her clothing off now! The crimson stained and itchy medical gown was raised over her head and thrown. She now stood completely bare.
Padmé lowered further onto the squat and reached up to her partner's shoulders and neck. A primal panic set in and she met the eyes carefully watching her. "I can't do this!" she called as this sensation pushed her past what she understood, past her existence.
Skywalker recognized her behaviors: transitioning. "Yes, you can, because you are already doing it," he assured with a supporting hold on her.
Her breathing quickened and she had to arch her head down. "Ah! No, oh goddesses, it hurts!" she exclaimed.
Anakin would do anything to take her pain, to alleviate it somehow. If she was anywhere else, she would have the best pain management, he would have ensured it.
Someone birthing in pain, unless elected for spiritual or personal reasons, was considered barbaric and archaic. Laboring and giving birth in pain was incredibly rare, unless of course one where a slave.
Skywalker had already surveyed for pain medications; the captors obviously cared little about Padmé's wellbeing. His nostrils flared at the thought. "I'm so sorry it hurts, but you're almost there, Angel. He's almost here!" he rallied, using the 'he' pronoun for her sake, even if he knew it was wrong.
That contraction passed, but she felt urgency. "Ahhh," she exhaled as a swift relief of pressure occurred. The fluid splashed to the ground. She looked at the puddle with shock. "My waters broke!" she alerted the obvious, but she was compelled to communicate everything.
The General nodded to say he heard her, despite knowing quite well from visuals. He used the Force to bring him some absorbency pads on one of the medical equipment tables. Once placed under her, it instantly absorbed the liquid, which to his observant relief, was in the unproblematic color range.
"I'm scared!" she uttered, staring directly into his soul. It was all happening too fast!
He met her gaze unmoving, "You are safe. You can do this, I'm right here," he affirmed.
Force, she did not believe in herself, but he certainly did. He had enough for both of them as confidence settled in her heart.
"Do you think you can catch the baby? Or should I?" he asked calmly, or so he hoped.
How was he so calm? "You," she breathed, not feeling confident in her position to catch their little one.
"Okay. I'm going to go down on my knees to catch him, okay? You can use my shoulders for support," he informed.
She nodded her understanding and he positioned himself in a kneeled stance. She rested her hands on his shoulders and leaned into him. She lifted her left leg in a backwards kick and circled the hip joint, making room. A low groan began as a contraction built, still no feeling to push. "Ooooo…"
"Good job, listen to your body," he encouraged. "If you want to push, push. If you don't, don't."
She nodded and kicked her legs back one at a time. "He's so low…" she breathed in obvious discomfort.
"I don't see him yet, but I can tell he's close," he said with loving communication. While he tried to remain calm and steady on the outside, his heart was racing and his insides were twisting. He also felt unbridled excitement and fear in equal parts. His partner's body showed him how close their baby was. Her vulva and labias bulged outward with the descending baby barely still contained behind them. "He's very close now. You're doing so well!" His hands shook.
Another contraction mounted and an urge possessed her! "I have to push!" she exclaimed, already bearing down. She did not know what she was doing, but her body forced her to push. The change was instant and some birthing fluids dripped out as her body miraculously adaptable to the lowering infant. "I don't know what I'm doing," she panicked. What she was doing did not feel correct.
He met her eyes, "You are doing incredible. Thinking 'down and low' can help," she stared at him, still scared. "I can use those words while you push, if you want," he offered.
She was comforted by that idea; that she could focus on his voice and words that could direct her. Padmé needed it right now though she could not explain why. She nodded her head right as another contraction began.
"Think down, push down and out," he gently spoke. "Down, down, down," he evenly chanted. He did so rhythmically, a melody not an order. A guide, not a requirement. "Low, low, low."
Padmé nodded relieved to have a focus and direction for her efforts. "OooooooOOOOO!" she exclaimed as the contraction peaked and waned. The pressure was still there. "Oh! He's right there! Oh!" she cried. Some mess must have occurred, because her partner changed absorbency pads. His speed and focus reassured her of safety; how safe she was in this most vulnerable state. This state of pure surrender and inability to do anything but bring forth, to bare, to birth her child and motherhood.
"Oh! Oh! Oh!" she exclaimed bearing down with the unbelievable force her body already was giving. She felt the baby spread her and move down, only to retreat back when the contraction stopped. "Anakin!" she felt the need to call, despite him being right there.
"I saw the crown of the head, Padmé! It's okay if he goes back in a bit, let your body stretch and adapt." His tone was excited, but not loud.
His educated words did little to alleviate her frustration and defeat with the lost progress. Eager. Urgent. She whimpered her discontentment and discouragement.
"He's coming and you'll be holding him soon, Angel!" he encouraged.
"Oh! Oh, kirf!" she cursed as she bore down again with a strong surge. The head moved further and further down, stretching her more and more. It was burning and tearing her in two, surely! "It burns! Ani, it burns!" she called moving a hand to her sex in an attempt to put the fire out. Her legs instinctively closed some to slow until her body was ready. Her traveling hand swiped by Skywalker's hands hovering below.
"I'm sorry, Padmé, it's going to burn. You're almost fully crowning."
She high sounds of pain were laced with her quick breaths. Then another pain came.
"Down, down, down," he pulsed, redirecting her focus.
She bore down further, only for the burning to increase and the contraction to end with no relief.
"You're fully crowning. Breath and pant, let your body stretch," the birthing partner announced with a jumble of emotions.
That sounded retched! Urgent! Now! She tried pushing without a contraction—anything to release! Her whole body clenched up, the remaining traces of the drug enhancing it.
Anakin grew concerned as her body locked up. He moved his hand to her arm that waw clamped into his shoulder. He began to stoke up and down to comfort her and ease her now shaking muscles. "It's alright, my love. Easy, Padmé, easy," he calmly soothed best he could. "Breathe and let your body stretch. Try to relax your muscles, best you can," he said.
"Ow, ow, ow," she whimpered, stuck in the flames. Burn. Bulge. Surrender. Her hand returned to his shoulder and she tried to pant.
The level of Padmé's pain was unimaginable, and it had already broken Anakin's heart into millions of pieces and driven away his sanity. But he had to stay present; he had to help her. He was going to be there for her, no matter his state. "That's it, good job. You're doing beautifully, Padmé," he encouraged.
She nodded her head side to side in disbelief right as a contraction began. "Oh, no!" she informed dreading the pain. The urge to bear down was unlike anything before, and she pushed down with all her might and then some deepening down again. Now! NOW! "RRRAAAAHHHH!" she cried the ancient battle cry of birthing humans.
The head fully emerged with a burst of fluids.
"The head's out, the head's out," Skywalker said with pride, awe and marvel. "He's beautiful, and perfect," he began to utter as gentle fingers glided over the scalp. "Give me your hand, feel our baby," he encouraged, offering a hand to her.
Her face was scrunched but she excitedly gave her hand and let him guide it. It was so bizarre and miraculous to feel the soft head of her child surrounded by her solid, laboring flesh. To feel her baby's skin, and know he was right there waiting to enter the universe! "Oh, oh, hi! Hi baby!" she greeted tracing the scalp just as gently as Skywalker had. Another contraction mounted and her hand went to her inner thigh. She felt the baby rotate within her. "Ani! Ani!" she called, unable to articulate further.
"He's turning to help the shoulders pass," he informed her seeing the little head rotate to her left inner thigh.
Her breath stayed rapid but consistent, "OoooOOOOHH!" She was not even pushing, her body was, and she joined in the beat. "He's coming! He's-!" she shouted as she bore down with the insane force her body provided by something primitive. All of a sudden, she felt the shoulders pass one after the other and the baby shot out of her once they were out. "Oh!" she exclaimed in shock.
Though fast, slippery, and followed by a flood of amniotic fluid, the father caught his child.
Amidala moved to a kneel and grasped at Anakin's forearms. Her eyes locked on the little creature he held covered in vernix. She reached for the newborn instinctually and the new father handed the newborn off using his arms, and the Force as a protective back up. Padmé cried and placed the baby on her chest and belly, cord still attached to both mother and child. "Oh, hello," she called in shock and love.
The baby moved and stiffened, then let out a newborn cry in the new mother's protective and safe hold.
Skywalker laughed and cried tears of joy. "You were right, he's a boy," he announced with love.
"Oh, Luke. My perfect Luke," she named with a gentle face stroke.
Skywalker had never heard a more perfect and beautiful name.
"Ten fingers," she announced after counting.
"Ten toes," Anakin followed, having carefully counted them. He reached for a medical birthing blanket and covered his son's back with it. The mother adjusted her hold to cover Luke further.
She cried and rejoiced as a rush of hormones flooded her system. "Hello Luke. I'm so happy you're here."
~xXx~
Notes:
Thank you for reading this, I hope you enjoyed. Reviews are always greatly appreciated, same with follows and favoriting. I find great enjoyment in reading and replying to your reviews and potentially having discussions, and generally nerding out at times. I'm rather rusty at this time to publishing fanfiction and am eager to see the response to this new story, if any. Until next time. :)