Padme leaves early the next morning. She wakes up early, and when I stir at her movement, tells me she has to attend a Senate session. She says goodbye and hurries from the bedroom.
Hours later, sufficiently rested, I try to get out of bed, but when I put weight on my legs, they crumple beneath me. I pull myself back onto the bed using my arms, which fortunately have a little strength left.
I stay in bed for several hours, not wanting to bother anyone. Eventually, there is a knock on the door. "Good morning," Obi-Wan calls through the wood, "are you awake?"
"Yes," I reply, yawning despite myself.
He opens the door and slides in, holding Luke. Yoda is behind him.
"Hello, Master Yoda," I say, genuinely happy to see the small Jedi.
"Greetings, Young Skywalker," he intones gravely, hobbling in on his walking stick.
"Did you come all the way out here?" I inquire.
"Live on this planet, I do," he informs me. "Come to Obi-Wan's house every morning, I do, to Force-heal your daughter. Need Force-Healing you do as well," he says sternly, "If to recover, you wish."
"I'm fine," I say, "I'm sure that if I rest for a few months, eat right and all that, I'll be up on my feet in no time."
"A few months we do not have," he says sternly, "overthrow Palpatine we must, before a better hold the new government takes."
I shrug and, out of protests, do not argue any more.
I've never really understood Force healing, myself, but Yoda takes a seat on the floor right where he is standing and closes his eyes in meditation. The new eddies and currents in the Force, which I have become used to since their appearance, begin to hum and reverberate with Master Yoda's signature.
After Yoda sinks deeply enough into his meditation that we can speak freely without bothering him, Obi-Wan sits in the same chair where he was yesterday and sits Luke in the other one. "Where's Leia?" I ask.
"Asleep; she's always tired after healing," he tells me.
"Oh. Has it—made any difference at all?" I struggle with the words.
"Not mentally," Obi-Wan says remorsefully, "But physically, yes. She's been growing better. She's actually almost as big as Luke."
"I big," Luke informs us solemnly, smiling so that I can see the tops of white teeth pushing through his gums.
"Yes, you are a big boy," I agree.
He hides his face in Obi-Wan's robes.
"Why is he so scared of me?" I wail out loud, frustrated, "I'm being nice, I don't look that scary—"
"He's just a little nervous around new people," Obi-Wan replies, "He doesn't get to see anyone but Yoda, Padme, Leia and myself. It took him over a month to even get used to Padme. And remember, for the past three months, you've just been sitting here, not moving. And now suddenly you're talking, so that must be odd. Here, though," he continues, plucking Luke up onto the bed, "Why don't we try again. Luke, this is your Daddy. He just woke up after being asleep for a very long time and now he wants to talk to you. Can you say hi?"
"Hi," my son echoes, popping a fist into his mouth.
"Did you have a good birthday?" I ask, desperate to get him to keep talking.
"Good birfday," he agrees, "Mommy broughted me Golbdy."
"What's Golbdy?" I ask, semi-concerned, semi-entertained.
"Golbdy my friend! I show," he says, and bounces off the bed and careens out of the room at breakneck speed.
"Golbdy?" I ask incredulously, "My son is playing with something called Golbdy?"
Obi-Wan shakes in silent laughter, "It's a stuffed dragon she bought him for a birthday present. Love at first sight. Not sure where he came up with the name, though," he adds, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
"Are either of you or Yoda training him in the Force?" I ask, suddenly curious.
"No," he says hesitantly, "Yoda wasn't sure it was a good idea. And I wanted to ask you, and Padme is dead set against the idea anyway."
"I don't want the Jedi to die out," I mutter, "I don't want to be single-handedly responsible for the downfall of one of the greatest things in this galaxy."
"It wouldn't be you," he says, smiling bitterly, "it would be your good friend Palpatine. And…maybe it's time for it to die. I've been talking with Master Qui-Gon."
I open my mouth to reply, but at that instant, Luke bursts back into the room, a dragon swinging at his side.
"Look," he commands, pushing 'Golbdy' towards Obi-Wan. "See? Golbdy."
"Why don't you show your Daddy?"
"Okay," he agrees reluctantly, allowing himself to be placed once more on my legs. "See? This Golbdy."
"Golbdy sounds like a very brave dragon," I say, impressed, "Would you like to hear a story about Golbdy and Luke?" He nods cautiously, chewing the dragon's already scruffy red tail.
And so, on the spot, I begin to make up a story about Golbdy the dragon and young Sir Luke, who tamed him from the time he was a little egg. They grow up together, and go on exotic adventures. They have just rescued the Alderiaan princess, Leia, from certain death, when Obi-Wan stands up and leaves with a quick smile.
Luke, enthralled by the tale, doesn't even notice he's gone.
After awhile delicious aromas start wafting in. My stomach growls with hunger. I haven't tasted any food besides that cake last night in Force only knows how long.
I hurry to finish the tale—the young knight and the dragon move into a castle, become kings, and rule happily ever after. As I reach my conclusion, Obi-Wan maneuvers into the room with a food tray balanced precariously on one hand. "Brought you breakfast," he says cheerfully, "You need to get your strength back. Anakin, the eggs, sausage, toast, and milk are yours, and Luke, the oatmeal is yours."
I wrinkle my nose. "I'm not sure I'd trust anything you cooked, Master," I say good naturedly, "Do you remember that time you tried to make peanut butter cookies?"
He rolls his eyes at the memory. "I've actually become quite the chef," he informs me, "It was either cook for myself or eat Yoda's stuff. And if I'd fed Yoda's stuff to the twins, it would probably constitute as child abuse."
"Hear you, I can," Yoda says.
"Oh…" Obi-Wan flushes, "I thought you were still healing…your cooking isn't that bad, Master Yoda, I was just joking..."
Yoda shrugs his shoulders indifferently. "Begun to heal, your bones have," he tells me, "After eating you should be strong enough to walk."
"Thank you, Yoda," I say, stunned. "I didn't realize it would be so fast…"
"Not expect much, you should," he says gently, "Not be able to walk far will you, and not for long. But better you will get, and then attack Palpatine we will. Goodbye, Obi-Wan, Anakin, Luke."
"Bye, Yoda."
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After lunch I am strong enough to make it to the kitchen. But once there, I collapse onto a chair, panting heavily. Obi-Wan puts my arm over his shoulder and we stand, he supporting my weight fully, both with the Force and his own body.
"Thank you," I say when I am finally back in my comfortable bed. I close my eyes and drift off to sleep almost instantly. "Thank you…"
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The days pass like that for several dreamlike weeks. Sleeping in mornings; hours with Obi-Wan and Luke. Luke slowly begins to trust me, but he still clings to Obi-Wan unless ordered to do otherwise.
Once I am stable on my feet, I try to visit Leia at least once a day. She never responds, just sits there like a beautiful porcelain doll.
Padme visits when she can, which is not often. Once every two weeks or so she pops in, sometimes for an hour, sometimes for a weekend. Those days are always special, spent with her, talking, laughing, stealing the little time we have. Somehow, on the days she is here, the food tastes better, the heat is more tolerable, and everyone seems happier.
Luke learns new things everyday, only a small portion of which is words. For example, he learns how to turn on a practice saber after finding the cabinet where they are kept. We are more careful after that, and all the cabinets are locked. And, true to what I've heard of him, Luke is a lot of trouble. It seems like his constant goal in life is to discover how to open the door so that he can participate more freely in his favorite activity—making mud pies, which he embellishes with leaves and attempts to feed to innocent bystanders.
The afternoons are spent with Obi-Wan getting my strength back up. At first we simply walk around the house, slowly at first, then faster, faster, until about three weeks later I am able to jog.
Then we get out lightsabers, and my body sinks into the familiar katas with such easy familiarity I forget there ever was a time when I was not strong enough to lift the hilt.
There are some things I need to relearn, or remaster, but the basics, the things I've known for ages, are still with me, and I am able to let go of my body and let it fill with the Force and let the Force move me with such fluidity and ease that Obi-Wan suggests we have a practice duel. I loose quickly and badly. And so it is with new resolution that I set about practicing.
Five weeks later, I beat him.
When I excitedly tell Master Yoda the next day, he looks thoughtful, and says, "Time to attack Palpatine it is."
I don't know if I agree.
A/N:
Ha! Look how fast I updated! I think three more chapters at the most, and a prologue for sure. Well, enjoy! I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. Thanks to those of you who've stuck with me this far.