Chapter Eighteen

"She's not kicking. Should we be concerned?"

I pry open one sleepy eye at the question, frowning when I note that my usually restless husband appears to be just as restless as ever. The discovery isn't very surprising since Anakin has always had difficulty falling asleep and, when he does manage to do that, he can't stay asleep. Still, after the busy day we've had followed by an equally active evening, not to mention the amount of Jawa beer he'd imbibed, I'd hoped he could settle into a state of relaxed contentment and, perhaps, rest quietly tonight. I can't imagine why he's not completely exhausted. I sure am.

But, unlike me, Anakin looks more ready for conversation than slumber. His anxious mind is racing, and I can tell this is going to be one of those nights when he becomes preoccupied with all the worst possible outcomes. I've noticed this pattern with him. These bouts of fatalistic pessimism almost always follow his happiest days, those rare but blessed moments when everything just seems to go right. It's almost as if Anakin is anticipating that some unforeseen disaster will suddenly snatch away everything that he loves the most. I'm saddened by the tendency, but I also recognize that he has good reason to fear as he does. He's experienced that very scenario more times than not in his thirty-four years of existence.

Anakin continues to gently sweep his hand back and forth over the slope of my abdomen, as if he's trying to silently will our child into activity. I study the worried furrow creasing his brow and sigh inwardly. He is most certainly in one of his moods. It's unlikely that I will be falling asleep any time soon. I know this, but I make the attempt to redirect him, nonetheless.

"Stop worrying," I whisper, closing my eyes again, "The baby is asleep. You should be too."

"How do you know?" he frets, "She's always her most active when you're not. How do you know something isn't wrong…?"

I sigh his name in gentle consternation, wishing I could call back his unrestrained joy from earlier that day and chase away his anxious frown entirely. There is no reason for him to anguish unnecessarily, not when he has so many wonderful things to celebrate. But he can't see that. He's obsessing. Attempting to convince him of that will likely be an exercise in futility because when the anxiety takes hold of him, he can't shake his fear. Instead, he mut reason his way out of it. Again, the shift in his mood is ironic considering that this day has been filled with nothing but good news.

After weeks of campaigning, it had been officially announced that Shmi Skywalker had won her seat on the Galactic Senate as the first elected senator of Tatooine. Naturally the news had caused a ripple of excitement among the planet's citizens because it was the first time Tatooine had been formally recognized as part of the Galactic Republic. Shmi's swearing in ceremony was set to take place four rotations from now on Coruscant. But since it was unlikely that any of Tatooine's citizens would be able to attend that grand event in person, the Lars-Skywalker family, along with the entire town of Anchorhead and most of Mos Espa had engaged in a raucous celebration of their own.

The festivities had lasted late into the evening, with most of the attendants getting drunk on their victory and some rather potent Jawa beer. Anakin had been no different and, today had marked the first time that I've ever seen my husband intoxicated. Surprisingly enough, Anakin is a rather loud and jovial drunk. He's friendly and gregarious and ridiculously affectionate when he's inebriated, as if the alcohol had stripped away the scarred veneer that had shaped him over the years leaving only the bright, generous, optimistic boy he had been.

He made the rounds during Shmi's celebration, warmly embracing almost everyone he encountered while also declaring his love for them emphatically. He toasted several heartfelt speeches to his mother, which had caused me and his mother smile and cringe over his drunken sincerity. While his behavior was both mortifying and amusing, it was also rather endearing to see him smiling and laughing so freely…though I did spend most of the evening trying to stave off his sexual advances.

By the time we returned home to our tiny abode on the moisture farm, however, there had been no holding him back. In between earnest kisses and stumbling out of his clothing, he had then proceeded to tell me in graphic detail how much he wanted me, what he wanted to do to me once he had me naked and what he wanted me to do to him. In hindsight, I realized that all the times I thought I had witnessed Anakin Skywalker in his most unfiltered state had not prepared me at all for when he was truly unfiltered and free of all inhibition. Trying to rein him in had been an experience to put it mildly.

It took some time, but I managed to coax him into a brief, tepid shower, which he did not appreciate in the least (I had no idea he knew so many Huttese swear words…). Thankfully though, he sobered up a bit following the shower and became much easier to handle. I was able to get him into bed, sans pajamas, without much difficulty. Once we were settled, we both snuggled together beneath the blankets to ward off the desert chill wafting in from the outside. I expected him to fall asleep. I should have known better.

Anakin wasn't done with his seduction attempts. His earlier bold aggression tempered into gentle entreaty instead and somehow, he succeeded in persuading me to make love with him after all. It wasn't the raw, primal pounding that he had originally intended, but I found his clumsy enticement infinitely sweeter. After it was over, I had been mere seconds away from being carried off into a deeply satisfied sleep when Anakin began caressing my belly and then asked his seemingly random question.

Well, I suppose it wasn't completely random. Now that I've reached my 25th week of pregnancy and Anakin can easily feel our unborn child's constant, internal acrobatics, one of his favorite pastimes is feeling for those thumping kicks. He takes an almost childish delight in them. And he doesn't know it, but I am aware of how he whispers his secret hopes and aspirations to our baby at night when he thinks I'm sleeping. It's an incredible thing to watch him slowly fall in love with a child that he had been so adamant about not wanting at all. I smile when I think of those precious, poignant moments and it helps to lessen my irritation with him for not letting me rest now.

"You shouldn't worry so much," I reassure him again, reaching down to still the motions of his hand, "The baby is fine. I promise. He always settles down after we've made love."

"Oh. I didn't know that."

"I read somewhere that the constant rocking motion can lull the baby to sleep," I explain with a tired yawn, "It's perfectly normal." I'm hoping he'll be reassured but instead a grimace of distinct, horrified uneasiness creeps across Anakin's face as he slowly discerns my meaning. His eyes flare wide with understanding and his face instantly suffuses with bright color. I guffaw in disbelief when I see it. "Are…are you blushing right now?"

"Of course not!" he balks, but he reddens even more with the protest, "Former Sith lords do not blush!"

"You are! You're blushing! Oh Ani, that is so adorable! I can't believe you're getting so flustered just because when w—,"

He quickly presses his fingers to my lips before I can finish. "Please stop talking. And don't call me 'adorable.' It's offensive."

I blink at him innocently. "I offended you?"

"Yes, you did. I may never recover from the psychological damage that you have dealt to me."

"Oh, you poor man. So persecuted. So traumatized. So downtrodden." I peck a dutiful kiss to his pouting mouth. "Am I forgiven now?"

"I don't know…" he hedges dramatically, "That kiss was very halfhearted. Perhaps, if you tried again."

Grinning, I scoot in closer to indulge his request only for him to become distracted again by the baby's continued lack of movement. He doesn't acknowledge my responding groan of exasperation at all as he palms my abdomen with growing apprehension. "Are you sure she's alright?" he deliberates, frowning apprehensively, "Maybe I should check just in case…"

I don't bother asking him how he intends to "check" because I can already assume it will involve uncanny Jedi magic. Sighing in resignation, I watch his face carefully as he places both his hands on either side of my abdomen and opens a connection between himself and our child through the Force. My annoyance with him fades as I do. It is certainly a humbling experience to witness the pure wonder that softens his beautiful features as he touches our child's Force signature for the very first time.

He's avoided doing so before now for my sake because he knows I want us to bond with our child as a couple. Perhaps it's unfair, but the idea of Anakin and our child sharing a connection that I will never know or understand makes me feel a bit jealous and insecure. But, at the same time, I must admit that seeing him form that incredible bond with our baby is an amazing privilege. I have never seen him appear more at peace. When it's over, his blue eyes are brimming with tears.

"So, was I right?" I whisper, reaching out to trace his trembling smile, "Was he napping after all? Can we finally go to sleep now?"

"You were right," he whispers back, "About more than you realize. I think we should probably decide on a name."

"You want to do that right this second? Can't we debate about it in the morning?" I ask, closing my eyes once more, "Besides, I thought we already decided on 'Leia' if the baby's a girl."

"I know. I meant that we need to decide on a boy's name."

That statement snaps me back into instant wakefulness. It only takes me a parsec to perceive his meaning. "You didn't," I utter in disbelief. His sheepish smile is answer enough. "Really, Anakin? I can't believe you! We agreed to wait!"

"I swear I didn't do it on purpose! But, once I opened the connection, it just…overwhelmed me."

It's impossible to maintain my scowling demeanor, not when he looks so dumbfounded and humbled in the aftermath. "That's…that's wonderful," I whisper with my own glowing smile of awe, "I knew it. I knew it! We're having a little boy, Ani!"

My heart is soaring with the hope that the little boy that I've been dreaming about for months won't turn out to be just a dream specter after all. He's going to be a reality. I'll be able to hold him in my arms. The joy I feel right then is indescribable. I'm ready to be carried off on that euphoric promise when I belatedly remember that Anakin had been hoping for a different outcome altogether. He might not be feeling the same elation I am. I regard him with a small frown of uncertainty.

"Are you disappointed?" I ask.

He stares at me with luminous blue eyes. "Not even a little."

I feel my heart flutter anew. "Are you certain? I know how much you were hoping for a girl."

"I was," he admits softly, "But he's…he's incredible, Padmé. He's pure warmth and love and light. So much light. He's the most exquisite Force presence I've ever felt…he's the best of both of us."

"How can he not be, Ani? We made him together."

"I can't believe I ever asked you to…" he chokes, unable to finish the statement.

Before he can even begin to condemn himself, I silence his regret with my lips. "That's in the past," I tell him, "Let it stay there, my love. From now on, we only look ahead to the future."

Anakin nods in agreement. "Only to the future."

"If he's full of light then I think that we should call him Luke," I decide without hesitation, "It means 'bringer of light.' Seems appropriate. That should be his name, Ani."

"I like that," Anakin agrees softly, pulling me close. He tests the name on his tongue, whispering it again and again. "Yes. Luke Skywalker. It's perfect."

Anakin and I decide to keep the news between us, at least until after Shmi has been sworn into the Galactic Senate because neither of us want to distract from her day. However, I'm feeling so optimistic and excited for the future that I'm struck with the seemingly brilliant idea to invite my family to Shmi's swearing in ceremony. It's only after I've indulged that whim and made the arrangements for their transport to Coruscant that I consider that it might not have been so "brilliant" in hindsight. My husband is in total agreement with that sentiment when I tell him what I've done, and he grumbles about it all morning while we make our way to Mos Espa for our own transport off the planet.

"I just wish you had talked to me about it first," he mutters to me as we watch our baggage being stored, "This will be a big day for my mother. I don't want anything to ruin it."

"You think my family will ruin Shmi's day?"

"I didn't mean it that way," he says, quickly detecting the salty bite in my response, "But you know how tense things are with them. Your mother clearly despises me."

"Despise is a strong word, Ani."

"And yet…a fitting description."

"She's starting to thaw, and you know it. Besides, this is a good thing," I tell him, "They needed to meet each other eventually. After all, we're all family now. They're going to share a grandson."

"Do we really want your sister and my brother in the same place?" Anakin asks me, appraising me with a quick, sardonic glance.

I have only to briefly consider that mortifying scenario before I drop my head forward with a rueful sigh. "I didn't think this through, did I?"

"Nope," Anakin agrees crisply, "Not so nice to be on the other side, is it?"

Mildly annoyed with his smug tone, I shoot him a withering, sideways glance. "You're really enjoying this, aren't you?"

He nods confirmation without a modicum of remorse. "Yes. Yes, I am."

Fortunately, the first official meeting between the Lars-Skywalker household and the Naberries isn't quite as disastrous as we were expecting. It was undoubtedly awkward as our two families from their vastly different social backgrounds warily sized one another up in the landing terminal. But, for the most part, their first meeting at the transport station in Coruscant is a peaceful exchange.

After we are done acquainting ourselves, we are escorted to the apartment that will become Shmi's private residence on Coruscant for as long as she holds her senate seat. The apartment is spacious and immaculately maintained with four large bedrooms and a covered terrace. It's not nearly as luxurious as my former apartment had been, but it is still grand enough to cause Shmi to protest over the opulence.

"This is too much," she declares as she explores the space with growing apprehension, "Cliegg and I don't need all of this. What are we to do with four bedrooms, Ani?"

"What about when Owen and I come to visit?" he asks, "Do you want us camping out in the den?"

Beru is quick to piggyback off Anakin's argument. "If we're calling dibs on bedrooms, then I want the one with the attached fresher," she says.

She and Owen exchange a grinning, enthusiastic "thumbs ups" sign with each other following her suggestion, which incurs a dramatic eyeroll from Anakin. I'm vaguely aware of my own family hovering on the sidelines and listening to their dialogue with varying amounts of curiosity and amusement. Secretly, I'm glad that they're here to see this, to see the wonderful, chaotic family my husband has come from and how much they all love each other.

While Owen, Beru and Anakin bicker over who should get what room and why, my father-in-law firmly interjects and settles the argument for them all. "I believe the bedroom with the attached fresher is the master bedroom," he states grandly, "and that will be reserved for me and my wife. You four can take one of the bedrooms with the adjoining fresher. End of discussion."

"Cliegg, what are you saying? We cannot stay here!" Shmi balks. She throws a desperate glance over at me. "Padmé, tell them that this is too much! Can you not speak with the Chancellor on my behalf?"

I shrug at her helplessly. "This is the senate residential building, Shmi, and you're a senator now," I reply with an awkward smile, "It comes with the territory."

"Besides, this building has top notch security, and you need that," Anakin adds with his usual pragmatism for such matters, "We can't leave you vulnerable to potential threats."

Cliegg frets over the consideration. "Are you expecting those, Ani? Should we be concerned?"

"You can't be too careful these days, Cliegg."

"This is beside the point!" his mother mutters impatiently, "First, I can take care of myself! Second, I'm uncomfortable with all this excess, especially when you consider the way our people live back home. Surely this money could be better spent elsewhere!"

Owen leans over to kiss his mother's cheek, smiling at her fondly. "You won't be happy until they stick you in a cardboard box, will you, Mom?" he teases her, "Padmé is right. You're a senator now, and this is how it's done. Deal with it."

Shmi sweeps us all with a disappointed glance before throwing up her hands with a dismayed sputter. "I'm disgusted with all of you right now!"

As she stomps from the room, Cliegg says, "She just needs some time to adjust. I'll go talk to her."

After he motors away in his chair, Anakin, Beru, Owen and I are left alone with my mother, father, sister, and nieces in relatively awkward silence. I'm frantically searching for a way to break the ice between us when Owen, in his typical irreverent fashion, says, "So, there are four bedrooms and a legion of us. How are we supposed to make these accommodations work? I'll be perfectly honest. I don't like to bunk with anyone besides my wife."

His joking manner serves to dispel the lingering tension in the room and my father smiles. "No need to factor us into your bedroom bidding war," he laughs, "Jobal, Sola, the girls and I will be staying at a hotel this evening." He looks over at Anakin. "If you would be so kind as to see us to our accommodations," Dad says to him, "We would like to freshen up before your mother's ceremony this afternoon."

I can tell from Anakin's expression that the last thing he wants is to be alone in a transport vehicle with my family without me serving as a buffer, but he is gracious enough not to refuse my father's request. "You'll be fine," I reassure him with a kiss as he prepares to leave, "You're taking them straight to their hotel and coming right back. It will be less than an hour."

Anakin is far from mollified. "You owe me."

"Anything you want," I promise without hesitation.

The corners of his mouth turn up in a mischievous smile. "Remember you said that later. I'm collecting."

"I'm counting on it."

Once I've finished seeing my family off with goodbye hugs and kisses and reassurances to my nieces that we will see one another again soon, I set to the chore of unpacking my and Anakin's things. I'm distracted from the task when my son chooses that moment to practice his daily gymnastics. Smiling, I stop for a moment, pressing my hand to my abdomen and marvel at the thumping sensations beneath my palm.

"Why do I suspect you're going to be just as restless as your father, Luke?" I whisper to him fondly.

"You do realize that I'm going to be living vicariously through you from now on, right?" I startle at the sound of Beru's voice and glance up to find her leaning in my doorway, observing me with a curiously wistful expression. "It turns out that I can't."

"You can't what?" I ask her softly.

"I can't have children of my own," she clarifies sadly, "Apparently, it's some sort of genetic defect that I didn't know I had. The only reason I know about it now is because Owen and I recently began trying for a baby. When we weren't successful, I consulted a fertility droid and well…" She trails off in a hoarse whisper, her brave expression collapsing into a tearful grimace. "There will be no children for Owen and me after all."

"Oh Beru," I sigh, crossing the distance between us to enfold her in a sisterly hug, "that's awful. I'm so sorry to hear that."

She shrugs back from me with a forced but bright, teary smile. "I'm determined not to be sad about it because, like I said before, I am living vicariously through you," she says again, "That is if you don't mind me spoiling your child into utter rottenness."

"I'd be honored if you did," I tell her in all sincerity. I don't know quite what to say to lessen the pain she must be feeling, but I'm suddenly compelled by the need to try. On pure impulse, I take hold of her hand with a small, secret smile and ask, "Do you want to feel something amazing?"

When she nods eagerly, I press her hand to where Luke continues to jump and jostle excitedly. Besides Anakin, I haven't really shared these intimate moments with anyone else, but it feels right to bond this way with Beru now. She is my sister after all.

"Wow…" she breathes out in wonder after pulling her hand away, "Is it always like this?"

"You mean does he move constantly, especially when I'm trying to sleep?" I laugh, "Yes. Without fail. He is definitely his father's son."

Beru's eyes go round at my reply. "He? You're having a boy then? You're certain?"

While I should probably feel guilty for violating the agreement I made with Anakin earlier, I don't. Not really. Surely there are exceptions to breaking such promises if you're sharing happy news. At least, that's what I tell myself when I confirm Beru's question with a happy nod.

"Anakin and I just found out," I tell her, "Can you promise to keep it quiet until after Shmi's ceremony though?"

"Of course." She offers me a bemused smile. "Wow, a little boy. Another Anakin," she marvels with a short laugh, "You're going to have your hands full, Padmé."

"Oh," I chirp in afterthought as the realization dawns for the first time, "You know, I hadn't really considered the fact that there's going to be two of them now."

"Shmi always says that one Skywalker male is enough to drive a mother to the brink of insanity," Beru teases me, "I have no idea how you're going to manage two. Think you can handle it?"

"Don't know, my friend," I reply, grinning with the thought, "but I'm sure excited to try."