Disclaimer: Star Wars and all associated characters, plotlines, and worlds (good and bad) are property and copyright © of George Lucas (aka The Richest Man in Hollywood). This is purely for fan entertainment only.

Also a warning… this fanfic is rated MA for adult themes. I have also officially crossed over into "Obidala land"… in other words, if you're offended or otherwise do not like the pairing between Obi-Wan Kenobi and Padmé Amidala, then please don't read further to spare yourself the irritation. Otherwise, enjoy!

Chapter 13 – Parallel Hopes

Padmé haunted his dreams once more. She had often fluttered through them, usually taunting him with what he could not have, or reminding him of his guilt. This time, her face contorted in pain once more, sweat beading down her forehead. It was the same dream as before, reborn. He saw her writhing in childbirth, Obi-Wan at her feet. He knew as he remembered it, that she would die. He knew it within him as well, and recognized it to be the same dream as before, his premonition.

Darth Vader woke in his chambers, bolting upright in the special container meant for his sleeping. He forgot momentarily where he was, what the situation was, and his face contorted in familiar pain at remembering the dream. As the tired, burned muscles of his face pulled back at him in a different, physical pain, he was reminded instantly that he was not beside his wife in their bedroom in Coruscant. He did not have his elegant Senator beside him, lounging in the silken sheets. Instead, he was stuck in the hell that was his badly burned body.

Which brought him to wonder, why had he had the dream again?

His first instinct was horror at the thought that the premonition had not been fulfilled, and that Padmé was somehow pregnant again and was going to die in childbirth. But he pushed that idea away almost as immediately as it came. It was ridiculous, could not be true. He mulled through the dream, remembering every intricate detail- as he had tortured himself with it night after night during Padmé's pregnancy. It was exactly the same.

He still held the memories tight in his brain, could not let go. He shuddered inwardly at himself- he was never going to let go of the premonition. It had driven him to this madness in the first place, and had caused the destruction that had wrenched Padmé from him. He had remembered it again only because he knew Padmé was still alive. He would never allow himself hope.

Hope was for men that did not kill their wives. Hope was for men that could control their destinies and not lose everyone they had ever cared about.

But, he corrected himself, he had not lost Padmé. Not yet.

There was still hope.

She traced lazy patterns across his chest, lounging after a mid afternoon nap. She realized, amused, that pregnancy again brought her to want that nap. She tilted her head up to look at his face, noting how well he hid the conflict within. She knew through their bond that he was troubled, but did not seek to force him to talk about it, yet. Instead, she brought up her own, happier thoughts. "Obi, I'm not hiding this child, I will finally be able to have a family."

He looked down at her, and smiled lightly, "Yes, this child will be of a different age, you will not have to hide it from the Emperor or Lord Vader." He could not help the distaste at saying the final name, the anger that curled around the final syllable. He was finding those feelings harder and harder to control.

Padmé smiled, grabbing his hand, playing with his fingers. "I hope this one is a girl." She stated simply.

He chuckled, "Oh?"

She nodded, focusing all attention on his fingers, "She would be less likely to get caught up in Jedi politics."

He snorted, "No she wouldn't. Women are Jedi, too." He reminded her.

Padmé shook her head, "Not my daughter. My daughters will be diplomats and overthrow the Republic. Someone has to." She grinned at looked up at him, "For we can't trust the men to."

He swatted her hands away and touched her nose, grinning, "My dear Senator, the blame falls in your hands as well." He sobered, "No one could have foreseen the Chancellor's power play." He let himself glance at her face just a while longer, committing the serene lines and her gentle smile to memory, as happy memories never seemed to last.

She seemed to ignore his entire point, and continued, "Naturally, you'd want a boy to carry on your name and your legacy."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "No, there's no name to carry on." He looked away, "While I will be proud of either a son or a daughter, I tend to agree with your sentiments." His hand strayed down to her abdomen. He allowed himself the tender smile at the thought that life grew there, life filled with the Force. He voiced this aloud, "Our child will be strong in the Force, as you may have guessed. And hopefully we will have a meek mannered daughter that does not wish to explore her Jedi heritage."

Padmé laughed at this, "Meek! My dear Jedi, you've forgotten who is carrying this child. And who its father is." She nearly giggled, "A meek child from the youngest Queen and Senator of Naboo, and the great General Kenobi? Please. She'll be stubborn by genetics, and outspoken."

He shook his head, "Not outspoken, we shall have to teach her to hold her tongue." He grinned, thinking of a miniature Padmé running around, ordering the great Master Kenobi to play with her at once!

She grinned, sitting up. "She will not hold her tongue; she'll be encouraged to speak her mind at all costs."

"We'll see." He conceded. He could for now put off the thoughts that had been haunting his head the entire time she slept. He could not help thinking of Anakin. He had wondered what thoughts had gone through his young Padawan's head, when Padmé had told him the news. He then wondered the torture that Anakin must have gone through after having his premonition about Padmé's death. He had only learned of it through Padmé, Anakin had never explained it to him. Anakin had hidden everything from him- something he wished to this day he had shared.

If he had shared it, though, would he have listened, or simply pushed it aside? Could they have worked through it together? He had frowned inwardly at that thought. He did not have as much confidence that he would have been able to convince his Padawan that death was just as much a part of life as birth was, and to let things happen the way the Force meant them to.

Especially if Padmé was involved. Even then, he had held her in a special place in his heart, though he had been prepared to leave that place unrecognized until now. He was not sure he could have told his Padawan to simply disregard it.

It shook him to his very core, made him wonder at his own beliefs. Would he be able to let go of Padmé? What if she actually followed her fate this time? It chilled him to think of it, he instantly pushed it away. And his thoughts paralleled Anakin's: I will not let that happen.

The ship was alive with activity as they prepared for Lord Vader's trip to the moon at Endor. They still held the captured Jedi aboard the ship, for interrogation during the trip. She sat, broken, cuffed to a chair near the center of the room. Her hair was matted with sweat, her cheeks stained from tears.

Bene did not want to cry in front of the Sith Lord, though, and her pride stiffened her posture as he walked up to her. She would not let him get the better of her- anyone but him. "You had such potential." She reminded him, trying to break the interrogation from herself.

He turned his helmeted head to her, allowing as much of a menacing glare as the shield would allow. "I am doing precisely what I have potential to do." He turned the subject back, "What is Obi-Wan up to?" he inquired, gesturing for the interrogation master to bring forth his tools. He would not touch them, but allow the man to do his job.

She did not show her fear at the needles the man brought forth, especially at the ones with neurotoxins already dripping out. "I would imagine he's trying to regain strength to fight you." She watched the interrogation master as he selected a different neurotoxin, squirting out green fluid into the air. It bubbled on contact with the oxygen. "Although you're so weak, he could likely best you at any given time."

She had thought to bode him into temper, but he stood impassively, letting her attempts flow right over him. He knew it to be the exact opposite- he was much stronger than Obi-Wan could ever be. Especially with the tactical advantage. He had the high ground, this time.

Bene continued, her eyes closely following the needle. She babbled uselessly about how Obi-Wan was the strongest Jedi she knew, but he tuned her out, gesturing for the inquisitor to perform his duty. He was tired of the game, would let her die. He had thought he would enjoy watching another Jedi fall, but instead his entire attention was focused on the Jedi Master and Padmé. He saw the image of them together at the table, and remembered the extra footage at the end that the spy had sent. He had no idea that it would elicit the specific reaction that it had, but his blood boiled in his veins again. He had taken her from him. In the most intimate ways, he suspected, watching the heated glances between his wife and his former Master, the kisses snuck while they thought no one was watching.

But he would take back what was rightfully his. He could not wait to get to Endor.

I know this one is short, but the next few chapters will be the culmination, and I hope you will enjoy the ending. Almost there :D As usual, please review. Let me know what you think :)