Note that an indeterminate amount of time is between each little section & each big section.

PART 2: PLUMMETING…

"Sola!"
"I'm coming!" was her sister's snappish reply. "What are you…"
After a shocked moment's pause, Sola quickly drew her in, glancing at the roaring storm outside before locking the door. She guided the drenched Padmé to a couch, letting her sit. Sola set about drying her shivering sister.
Padmé resisted, straining for air. "No… I…" Hacking ensued.
"You know better! What were you thinking running here on a night like this? And in your condition—"
She abruptly regained enough control of her breathing to gasp, "Anakin!"
"Yes? Anakin what?"
"He…" She could hardly bear to say it. "He tried to kill Obi-Wan!" She couldn't hide her pain and terror from her elder sister. "Why did you tell me I loved him?" she moaned.
Comforting her younger sister, Sola's reply was subdued. "I'm sorry. I was wrong."
"Mom?" Pooja tugged on her mother's sleeve. "Ryoo isn't at Grandma's."
"What do you mean she isn't—"
Padmé held her sister's other arm. "That's… what else I have to tell you.
"Palpatine has her."

"Ryoo Naberrie."
She quickly stood, bowing. "Chancellor."
The man eyed her shrewdly. She eagerly awaited questioning.
"You saw the battle?"
"Yes, Chancellor."
"What part did your aunt play?"
Ryoo snorted. "Hindrance. When Skywalker turned against Obi-Wan, General Unduli had to physically restrain her from running after him… I think she did, anyway. There was some time when no one knew when she was. They found her by a lava vent."
"Is she all right?"
"When she can breathe. She's vanished, again, though."
Palpatine strode to the window. Ryoo had been astonished to be brought to the Chancellor's office. An idea seemed to strike him. "Do you believe…" He turned towards her. "Do you think your aunt's relationship with your mother is such that she will go to your mother for assistance?"
"Definitely."
The Chancellor's gaze was sharp. "A strong term for such a young girl."
She let him know just how she felt about that statement with a few curses.
She'd judged him rightly. Chancellor Palpatine was impressed rather than revolted by her boldness.
Which meant she could say something else. "Aunt Padmé knows you're a Sith." Surprise. She liked seeing that emotion, especially on adults. "She's known. That's why I wasn't allowed to talk to you at the banquet."
"…She told you as much?"
Ryoo shook her head. "I eavesdropped."
"And knowing what I am… doesn't frighten you?"
"Why should it?" she asked directly. "Like I care. I like you more than a Jedi, any day." She smiled mischievously. "I know how close Aunt Padmé and Skywalker are, now."
A brow raised. "Oh?"
She grinned.

"Where is she?!" he roared, igniting his lightsaber.
Ruwee Naberrie didn't flinch. "I can't tell you that."
Anakin grabbed his unwitting father-in-law by the throat, lifting him into the air. "Where… is… she?" he growled, shaking him. Will nothing reach these thick-skulled idiots??!! Even as he treated her husband like a rag doll, Jobal Naberrie only looked upset. Not scared.
"Enough of this!" he squeezed his fist, breaking the man's neck, throwing him away and going for his mother-in-law.
The ensuing few-second struggle showed where Padmé had gotten her agility. Her mother nearly escaped him, somehow knowing how to roll out of his Force-hold. He seized her, his lightsaber at her throat. He forced her to look at her now-invalid husband. "See him?" he gritted, reached out into the Force, and squeezed.
Within seconds, Ruwee Naberrie had suffocated. Jobal fell limp in his grip.
"Where is she?" He struck Jobal, breaking her nose.
The matron pressed her hand to her nose. The bleeding stopped.
"Don't you fear me?!" he yelled in her face.
A sympathic gaze was all he recieved in return. He hated it. He killed her, too.
Part of Anakin couldn't believe he was doing this. Had he really just murdered his wife's parents?
There was one way to find out. He went to find her sister.

• • •

"Where is Padmé?" he hollered, not caring if the entire street heard.
Like her parents, Sola didn't look the least bit frightened. In fact… She looked as if she'd expected this. "I hope the Chancellor is finding Ryoo to his liking."
"What?" He grabbed Sola like he had her father. Her husband moved to try to interfere, and Anakin strangled him, too. Sola winced at his death.
Sweat beaded her forehead. Also unlike her parents, she was angry. "Blast you!" she snapped. "Haven't you killed enough, today?"
Without breaking her neck, he flung her across the room. Sola, he sensed, was the only one who had any idea as to his wife's whereabouts. "Tell me where she is," he said sternly.
Sola shrugged, settling on the couch. Though nowhere near as calm as her mother had been, Sola still lacked the one emotion Anakin sought: fear.
" 'Fear attracts the fearful. Be less afraid.'—or have you forgotten your own advice?"
How in the galaxy did this woman always know what he was thinking? First about her sister, and now—
"You might as well kill me. I'm not handing my sister over to murderers to do as they like with her."
Rage kindled in Anakin—and he'd thought he'd been angry, before. "What are you suggesting?"
Sola noticed his blue eyes turn gray—knew what it meant, he sensed. But still, she didn't fear him. "You know what I'm suggesting."
"Educate me," he growled. "Because if you're hinting what I think you are—"
"You forced her."
Before Sola had finished those quiet words, she was gasping for air, a gaping hole in her chest from his lightsaber. Anakin heard the toddler start wailing.
He stormed around the couch to where Pooja crouched, trying to hush little Benji. Anakin grabbed the infant—
"Go ahead," wheezed Sola, eyes blazing. "Kill your son."
Anakin froze, dumbfounded.
"What? You never guessed?" Somehow, she had the strength for sarcasm. "Don't tell me you never noticed his blue eyes… Or how he happened to stop crying immediately whenever you or Padmé held him…" Sola's strength died in seconds, and she with it.
Pooja squeaked, and both children fell silent… A fearful silence.
Anakin suddenly remembered his mission here, and his anger rekindled. He'd come here for the express purpose of finding his wife, and now any who could tell of her whereabouts were dead.
He reignited his lightsaber, headed for Pooja—
"Anakin!"
The familiar voice distracted him. He whirled. "Barriss—"
His mind blanked.

"Anakin, no!" she wanted to scream, but no sound came out. She had to say something, had to remind him of who he was, before—
 Defending himself, Obi-Wan knocked his Padawan off-balance. Anakin lost his footing and slipped into the lava.
 Anakin!! her mind wailed.
 Obi-Wan sighed, and left.
 She crept forward, careful on the unstable platforms. She knelt by where Anakin had fallen, completing the net she'd begun weaving the instant he'd fallen in.
 She drew a deep breath, closed her eyes, and pulled.
 The net worked. Anakin came up little by little from the lava. She gasped, heaving when she put him on the platform. She could hardly breathe…
 Don't let the his pain incapacitate you, her mind warned her.
 Ignoring her own condition, she quickly—illegally—stabilized her husband. As she finished, a chill swept over her body. Sith.
 She tried to lift Anakin, but he was too heavy, and her midi-chlorians were too lazy to levitate him. Furious at her weakness, she was forced to leave him for those Sith to find…
 She fled through the tunnels, thankful she'd studied the schematic. Artoo was one clever droid—she'd have to ask Bail not to wipe his memory…
 The tunnel jarred, stones falling, blocking her exit. She turned back the way she'd come.
 Black fell.
She awoke abruptly, panting, struggling to breathe.
Padmé turned to her bedstand, getting the inhaler and taking a long puff. The poison vent had damaged her lungs… and mind.
She got up, looking blearily out the window. In the bright courtyard outside, a young couple chatted. Laughed.
Padmé put her hands to her abdomen, now empty from the lives she remembered it had borne. Had she ever known what it was to laugh? Smile? Feel anything besides this murderous fear and self-incriminating agony?
She couldn't remember.

Padmé sat on a log, surrounded by generals. A massive army was around them.
"…We must take out the command post. Without their leader—"
General Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Knight, cut him off. "He will come back! There is still good in him."
"No," she murmured wearily. "We've waited too long. We… I'll try one more time. If he doesn't… you can have your way with him." The words struggled to escape her lips.
Their pitying looks weren't lost on her. Padmé drew herself up, hiding her fatigue. "I'll go now, in fact."
Kenobi tried to stop her. "M'lady—"
"Now; else they make the first move. Artoo—" she said over her shoulder. "Come."
"What about me, Mistress Padmé?"
She tensed as she eyed the golden protocol droid. "Stay here."
"But where is Master Anakin?"
A shudder shook Padmé, but she kept her composure as she turned to her droid. "That's what I'm going to find out."
A heretofore silent female Jedi spoke up. "What that droid needs is a memory wipe."
"Shut up, Tachi," snapped Padmé. She glared at the fierce Jedi Knight.
"Or else what?" scoffed the young woman. General Tachi loathed Padmé for seducing Anakin—for such she had confessed to the Council. "You think I'm afraid of a wench?"
"Siri!" Kenobi finally rebuked. "Mind your own business!"
"She's gotten you, too? Oh, my. You really are a threat."
Padmé pretended to not care about Tachi's taunts, but they stung more than anyone realized. She silently went between the battle lines, Artoo bearing the white flag.
She glanced back at Tachi. The general was already starting to scratch. Turning to the enemy lines to await their response, she shook her head. Killing the insects only brought more; and rubbing, not scratching, made the stinging bites feel better.
They'd told her so.