Part 50 - Legacy of the Jedi

The sun was coming in bright through the window this morning. The sky was clear but the atmosphere was still cold, and a great blanket of white covered the panorama, making the view from the windows a dazzling one. Padmé knew it was early when she opened her eyes - she could tell by the mere stillness of the atmosphere - but she had rather not awoken yet; it was the persistent ache in the small of her back that had brought her back to the realms of consciousness, and she wished that it would just give her a moment's peace. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had a night of uninterrupted slumber.

Padmé tried to alleviate the pain by shifting about, endeavouring to make herself more comfortable, but it was of little use, and she soon gave in with a dissatisfied groan.

She then turned her head to look at Serenn as he lay sleeping next to her. He didn't sleep in here every night - he had made it quite clear to her that he found it rather inappropriate, despite things - yet Padmé had begged for him to stay for the past few nights. She hadn't had a smooth pregnancy, and had been ill and feverish more often than not, so she frequently craved some form of extra comfort to distract her and to put her mind at rest. Perhaps she secretly wanted the place of the absent father to be filled, too.

She reached out to him and ran her hand up and down his naked chest, and she listened to his breaths as they came and went in steady succession of each other. He still puzzled her; he must truly be a master of the Force to be able to defy age and time as he had, to be so fit and energetic.

She moved herself a little again and settled her head on his breast, rubbing his arm up-and-down from the shoulder down to the top of his metal limb, and emitted a gentle sigh, and as she felt his warm skin beneath her fingers, a memory came to her from the folds of the past, of being back on Naboo with her sister, Sola:

/'Count Dooku, I said - do you have any issues with him? I mean, concerning how you each view things and stuff, of course. I know that he's definitely not a contender for the 'potential boyfriend', not like that charming young Anakin…'/

She smiled a little - how would she ever explain all this to her parents? Would she have to? Would she ever be able to? Did she even want to?

/'Are you of the 'love and politics don't mix' variety?'/

Her smile faded as further memories flooded in. That night had turned dark once Sola had left. She was not about to forget the anger and malice with which Serenn had treated her as she had come across him, sat in her 'fresher room with those bloody wounds.

/'Stop it! Why can't you leave me alone?'

'You are alone. Very alone'/

She exhaled slowly and tapped her fingers against the Count's artificial limb.

/'Serenn…please…I think you'd just better go'/

She couldn't believe she was lying with the same man right now, nor could she believe that it was now Anakin with whom she was so much more afraid to be.

She felt a tear appear at the corner of her eyes and it rolled down her cheek and onto Serenn's chest; the strangest, and perhaps most incomprehensible thing about this 'union', about this relationship between her and Serenn, was their history; she couldn't quite make herself understand how a man who had once taken her against her will, and even against her knowledge, could come to occupy such a firm place in her heart. She loved him, though she hadn't told him that, not in those words anyway, but she also still loved Anakin, the Anakin of old who had, following an awkward courtship, won over her heart. But Anakin wasn't here anymore, and he was as good as dead until he came back into the light and out of the Emperor's grasp. The dilemma of these two men, these two lovers, caused her much stress, for she could never be quite sure of where her feelings should truly lie; She carried Anakin's children in her womb, after all, so shouldn't her loyalties lie with him? And yet, hadn't she consummated a firm relationship with Serenn? Hadn't he, the Count, offered her children some form of future security? Hadn't he eventually come to cast his own feelings aside to embrace both her and her unborn offspring?

Another small tear arose in the corner of her eye and she wiped it away; she'd never imagined she'd end up in this sort of mess.

She felt the movement of her children in her belly and she ground her teeth together, groaning as an ache followed this. She was sure the two babies were having a good fight in there - they never seemed to want to rest.

"Are you all right?"

Padmé wiped her eyes again and rose her head off Serenn's chest as she heard his deep voice reverberate around his chest. He was looking down at her now with some concern, and she had obviously woken him.

She nodded, "Yes… I just hurt all over…"

He gave her a knowing smile and propped himself up on his elbow so that he could look down on her. He then slid his hand onto the skin over her swollen belly, and closed his eyes. "Well," he said as he ran his hand over the great curve, "these two blighters seem to be saying 'let me out' with surprising vigour." He then opened his eyes and looked back at her.

Padmé felt her lips draw up into a smile and she lolled her head backwards, chuckling gently as the tension of the moment shattered. "Don't be ridiculous," she said.

He smiled gently and drew lazy circles over her womb. "It made you laugh."

Padmé shook her head and reached up to him, stroking his face and running her hand through his hair; pregnancy did strange things to women, there wasn't a doubt, and yet she was certain that it did even stranger things to men…

Obi-Wan was sat alone in the large dining hall of the manor as the sun rose over the snow-covered grounds and made the land sparkle like one massive precious stone. He had never really liked the cold weather - he could remember a certain incident long ago where he had accompanied Master Qui-Gon to a distant, snowy world, one which had involved a snowball, a log and a lightsabre, and it was all best left forgotten, at least in his opinion. It didn't stop him from thinking fondly on the past, though, and he soon sat back from the table and fell willingly into his reservoir of personal memoirs.

On a mat laid out before him was a lightsabre hilt, one which he had been working on just now. It was complete except for the vital crystal, and he had just taken it upon himself to tidy it up a little. It kept his mind occupied if nothing else.

There was then suddenly a creak from the far end of the hall as the large, ceremonious doors opened and a lone figure walked through. This brought Obi-Wan firmly from out of his reverie and he looked, a little annoyed, toward the door to discern the identity of the intruder. His aggravation only intensified tenfold when he realised that it was unmistakably Count Dooku.

"Good morning, sir," he called over with his customary gruffness. "And how does this morning find you?"

"Don't insult me with such unwonted civility, Master Kenobi," Serenn growled equally brusquely in return whilst he walked toward the large dining table and took a seat, one which was a little too close to Obi-Wan for his comfort. And there he just sat in silence, glowering into nothingness.

Kenobi took a calming breath and instantly began to fiddle with the lightsabre again, looking for some kind of distraction with which to channel his irate energies. "Is there something I can do for you?" he asked.

Serenn now watched the Jedi's fingers as they danced over the metal casing of the lightsabre, fiddling here and there with its finer elements. "Is that handgrip comfortable?" he asked with a frown, studying the weapon and finding it to be so much different to his own, and far less aesthetically pleasing.

Obi didn't meet the Count's eyes and found himself begin to tinker only the more feverishly. He then heard a rustle of material as the Count leaned forward and pointed at the 'sabre. "I find that charging port ill-placed, as well. Surely it would be better over here?"

Obi slammed the weapon onto the table and scowled at the man with such agitation that it surprised even himself; his eyes were bulging and his face was flushed red, and in in his most threatening of tones, he growled, "Can't you just keep that big mouth of yours shut?"

Serenn's brow cocked and he slowly sat back in his seat again, his hands going out to the sides as he offered Obi-Wan a small, casual smile. "Forgive me. My advice is clearly not wanted."

"You're right, it's not," Obi glowered. "This is Anakin's lightsabre, not my own… He made it whilst he was imprisoned and it just needs finishing."

"Finishing? Whatever for?"

"For his children."

This answer seemed to fracture the Count's overconfident aura and his eyes darkened. "I see," he muttered. "So just one between them?"

Obi-Wan shrugged. "I don't know… Maybe only one of them will become a Jedi. They might not both inherit their father's talents."

Serenn's frown deepened.

Obi-Wan heaved a great sigh. "What?"

The Count continued to stare at Obi-Wan, giving him a look that genuinely scared him. "What makes you think that it's wise?" he muttered. "I know that these children represent a hope, but to teach them the ways of the Jedi…? What makes you believe that either of them won't make their father's mistakes?"

Obi took a short breath and tried to communicate to Dooku his hope and aspirations for these two babies, something this man was obviously a little dubious about. "Not all children make their fathers' mistakes, Dooku," he said plainly. "Surely you know that?"

Serenn chewed on his tongue for a second before he conceded with a weak nod, "But of course."

Obi sat back and suddenly realised how tense the moment felt. "So what can I do for you?" he asked once more.

The Count didn't raise his eyes from the table for the moment, still seeming half consumed by his own thoughts. "Nothing, my boy," he murmured. "I just wanted --" His voice trailed away. "No, nothing…"

Obi exhaled and shook his head. "You know, I don't care how big this place is, but it's just too small for the both of us… It's too small for everyone, for that matter. People are biting other people's heads off right, left and centre and it's getting to me. I know it's getting to you, too…"

Serenn still stared into space, saying nothing.

"I know we haven't made much of an effort during our sparring bouts to get on with one another, but the atmosphere's just so… 'tetchy'. It doesn't help matters."

Serenn nodded a little. He wasn't really listening.

"And I know you're not listening to me," Obi rattled on, "which annoys me no end."

Serenn's eyes turned on him and he smirked at the Jedi Knight. "Forgive me."

Obi shook his head and gave the Count a weary look. "I can't…" he murmured.

Dooku seemed to understand and just looked away again, staring out at the white blanket over the landscape.

"Is Padmé all right?"

Serenn got to his feet and walked restlessly to the windows. "I don't know… I--"

As the Count's words shuddered to a halt, Obi-Wan felt a terrible sense of familiarity roll over him, and his next words thus came uninvited to his mouth. "You look tired," he said.

Serenn clasped his hands at the small of his back, and the dull, metal digits of his right hand curled maliciously about the flesh-and-blood fingers of the left. "I don't sleep well anymore."

Two plains of time seemed to collide and Obi-Wan had to shake his head to get himself back into focus. He swallowed hard and looked away, the coincidence too good to be true. And yet the Force did work in mysterious ways; it had eclipsed one man with another.

"I can't stop dreaming about her," Serenn went on, his body silhouetted against the crisp, bright light. "I see her there every night, over and over…"

Obi-Wan bit his lips. Premonitions were never a good thing, and he did his best to avoid them. He was about to open his mouth to speak when the great doors went again and Bail Organa, of all people, came barrelling through them as if an entire fleet of Federation tanks were on his tail. "We've got news!" he shouted, his feet pounding against the marble floors as he ran toward the two, skidding to an unsteady halt by the edge of the table. Obi-Wan and Dooku just watched him with a typically unassuming Jedi air as he bent over the table and tried to catch his breath.

"Good morning, Organa," Serenn muttered before turning his attentions back to the window. "I do hope you haven't scuffed the floors. Mrs. Tarso wouldn't be happy."

Bail might have thrown something at the man if he had had something to hand - the nearest candlestick was a little too far away - but he managed to curb his anger swiftly and he said, more to Obi-Wan than to the Count; "The Bothan spies! They've found the location of project Death Star!"

Obi's brow rose in surprise and he exchanged a significant glance with Serenn before they all rushed out of the hall together without another word.

Yoda was in the communications centre belowground as Bail arrived with Kenobi and the Count. A good proportion of the rest of the rebels housed at the Dooku mansion were already gathered here, and a giant hologram now loomed in the centre of the table, sending an ominous red glow up the walls of the chamber. Serenn and Obi-an looked up at this as they entered, trying to perceive what exactly the hologram was of.

"Ah, Master Kenobi. Master Dooku," Yoda said. "News we have."

"The Bothans have discovered the location of this super weapon," an eager young pilot nearby interposed before Yoda could continue. The boy glanced back at the large holographic map before he pointed at it. "Take a look!" he insisted.

Serenn gave the young lad a scowl before he pushed past him and walked round the great hologram, studying its every nook and cranny with his dark, turbulent eyes. "Geonosis?" he muttered, recognising the site at once. He looked to Yoda then across to Bail and Obi-Wan. "He's taken it back to Geonosis?"

Half the group hadn't a clue what Count Dooku was on about, but Bail just nodded as if it all made sense. "Yes, and we have to get ourselves there as soon as possible," he added.

Serenn looked incredibly uneasy, and one hand went to his mouth whilst the other went to his hip. After a couple of minutes of silent pacing, he asked in a low, steady tone, "How did the Bothans come by this information?"

Bail looked dubious. "The Bothans reveal their secrets to no one, Count Dooku. How should we know?"

Dooku shook his head, biting his lip in a nervous gesture. "It just feels… wrong," he professed.

Organa looked at Obi-Wan with one of his disenchanted looks. "Tell him to shut up for once," he murmured, and Obi-Wan smiled, covering his hand with his mouth and stroking his beard.

"Investigate this, we must…" Yoda announced at length.

"We need to invade and wipe it out!" the enthusiastic youth from before suggested, clenching his fingers into fists and shaking them.

"Don''t be ridiculous, you young fool," the Count snapped, making himself another enemy in the same breath, and the young man glared back at him with wounded pride.

"Right is Master Dooku, though," Yoda concurred. "Cautious must we be."

"This is a Jedi mission," Obi-Wan resolved, walking around the holographic map of Geonosis and staring at the flashing, red blip where the foundries of the Death Star project had been discovered. "Let me go in there first. There's no use sending everyone out there only to get killed. I think an attack of stealth rather than might is called for right now."

"I agree," Bail nodded. "We don't exactly have the 'might' to hand anyway. There are too few of us."

"And what will you do when you get there, Master Jedi?" the relentless youth continued. "What can you do against such power?"

"You might be surprised what a spanner in the works can do," Serenn interjected.

Obi-Wan looked at him and nodded gently.

"I volunteer my services," Dooku went on. "Let Obi-Wan and me go. I owe it to you all, and I fear that Master Kenobi does, too."

"But what about us?" ranted on the youth. "Are we just to sit here and train?"

Serenn walked slowly round the table to the boy, the rest of the gathering parting to allow him through. When he halted before the young man he gave him a hard stare and said, "Your time will come." He then walked on and left.

And the youth breathed again.

Padmé sat at a window high up in the attics of the hall, one which overlooked the battlements from whence she could see the distant fields. In the thick snow, one of the equines had foaled early, so she now had a small, spindly-legged baby frolicking by her side, one which was struggling to keep up with her in the thick layers of white ice.

She smiled at it, having the urge to draw it and its mother right now, but she had not the equipment to hand to do so.

It was quiet and peaceful up here and, as with most attics, it was jam-packed with old junk and long forgotten paraphernalia. There were paintings stacked against one wall, a large, old dresser, a trunk full of old clothes, and much more. Padmé wasn't naturally nosey, but she couldn't deny that she didn't get bored here at the manor with so few people to talk to, so she occupied herself by opening one of the trunks and taking an inquisitive look. It had been filled with piles of antique clothes, all being from before even the Count's time, and hidden in amongst them had been many sets of small children's clothes. It had warmed her heart to see them, and had made her think of her own little babies, who would one day be large enough to have their own little suits and their own little shoes.

She suddenly turned when she heard footsteps on the wooden stairs and saw Serenn poke his head up. "Ah, there you are," he said. "Heavens, what brought you up here?" He stepped onto the deck and gave the long, low chamber a disapproving look. "It's ghastly."

She chuckled lightly and turned back to the window. "You can see everything from up here," she said. "Look, way over in the far field, there's a mother with a foal out there."

The Count walked over and, his eyes following her pointing finger, he perceived the two blithe creatures in the distance. "Ah yes," he murmured, stooping by her side. "How curious… a foal in midwinter."

"Nature has its ways."

"Indeed."

She sighed lightly and shut her eyes as she felt his hands come to her neck and he massaged her skin gently. "Padmé," he said quietly.

"Hmm?"

"I have to go."

She exhaled slowly and felt a cold chill traverse her body as one of her fears now looked set to become reality. "You're leaving?" she asked.

"Yes."

She swallowed and turned to face him so that she could look up into his eyes. "When?" she asked.

He looked pained, as though he were repentant for the suffering he was now to cause her, and he dropped to his knees before her so he could look comfortably into her eyes. "As soon as possible," he affirmed.

She looked down, her eyes glancing rapidly here and there. "But for how long?"

He didn't reply. When she looked back at him, his head was dipped down and turned a little to the side. He had no inclination of answering.

"Serenn?" she whispered.

He shook his head at length and rose those dark eyes back to face hers. "I don't know," he muttered.

She looked down and put a hand to her mouth, feeling suddenly alone and emotional. The fact that Serenn touched her and drew her into his grasp did not help matters and she consequently just burst into tears.

"Easy there," he murmured.

"You can't go," she said. "You can't leave me! I don't want to be alone."

"You won't be."

She broke away from him a little and looked into his eyes, breathing shakily and she framed his face with her hands before she drew him across to her and pressed her lips against his. He immediately yielded and opened his mouth to her, giving her the access she desired, and kissed her ardently in return; that was until he felt her hand rove down his back to the curve of his buttocks and he tore away from her. "No, Padmé," he muttered over heavy breaths.

She kept her hands on him and looked into his eyes. "What's wrong?"

He gazed upon her sadly. "Not here, not now," he said, placing his hand on her large tummy and rubbing it slowly up and down. "It's not right."

She sighed gently and made do with just leaning forward into him, asking him, more or less, to just hold her, which he soon did, enfolding her in his arms. "I might not see you for a long time," she whispered.

"That's no excuse."

She smiled a little at him and tapped a tune out on his breast. "You're very sulky, aren't you?"

She felt the vibration run through his body as he allowed himself a small chuckle and ran his hands over her hair and her shoulders. "I'm afraid, Padmé. Very afraid."

"Then relax," she whispered, running her fingers in a light circles over his pectorals.

He looked down at her and took her hand from his chest and curled it into his, before he removed it and placed it gently back at her side. "I can't," he contended.

She exhaled with a final air of defeat and just shook her head at him. "You're impossible."

He smiled another time in return, but it was a limp one, after which he turned away, got to his feet and began to look around the attic.

Padmé folded her arms and watched him roam. "What do you keep up here?" she asked.

He scoffed lightly. "I don't keep anything up here - I haven't a clue what most of this stuff is, but…" - He looked under some boxes and then peered around a large, old mirror - "there is something up here of mine, something that is truly mine, not merely handed-down."

He pursed his lips and put his hands to his hips before he spied out a large trunk near Padmé's side and he went over to investigate. Padmé turned and watched him as he opened the box and dug beneath the layers therein of old clothes and blankets.

"What are you looking for?" she queried.

He didn't answer for a moment until, finally discovering the sought after article, he made an embittered sigh and said, "I want your opinion, my dear. I am going on a mission with Obi-Wan to try and stop this project Death Star and… well, should I?"

Padmé frowned until the man pulled out a pile of rusty-coloured cloth from the trunk then, unfolding it, held it up against him. She felt her mouth prick up at the corners. "You kept them," she whispered.

He nodded and looked down at his old Jedi robes. They weren't as light as Qui-Gon's had been, but nor were they as dark as the ones Anakin had once adorned. They were somewhere in-between, a reddish-brown colour, and, somehow, they suited him.

"But why?" she asked.

"Excuse me?"

She drew her eyes away from the robes and looked at him straight. "Why did you keep them?"

His brow rose in that characteristic way which meant he basically didn't have a clue. "I don't know," he murmured. "Perhaps part of me always knew that… I'd come back." He shrugged and looked at her hard again. "Well, yes or no?"

She got up and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Go for it."

TBC…