Vokara Che sighed. "Skywalker. Why am I not surprised?"

Anakin attempted a grin from Obi-Wan's arms. "Sorry," he croaked.

"Bring him over here, Kenobi," Vokara said.

Obi-Wan brought him into the room Anakin had spent more time in than out of this past year and laid him down on the bed. "His droids called me to tell me he'd collapsed on the 'fresher floor."

Vokara gave Anakin a stern glare. "Why was he alone if he was so sick?"

"Last day of session," Anakin managed. "Not an invalid. Not a baby."

"Let me be the judge of that," Vokara Che said.

Padmé's comm beeped. She pulled it out and activated it, hurrying down the Senate halls to where her speeder was parked. Anakin hadn't commed once, so he had to be okay. The session was over, so she had several months to spend with her handsome husband and beautiful children. "Yes?"

Luke stood in tiny holographic form, sniffing and scratching his face. "Mommy, don't be mad."

Padmé's stomach dropped. "What's wrong?"

"Daddy wasn't feeling good but he wouldn't call you, so he passed out, and Uncle Obi-Wan took him to the Halls of Healing because he was really thirsty, but he just kept throwing up," Luke said.

Worry, fear, and frustration arose in Padmé. She pinched the bridge of her nose. "And they wanted you to tell me so I wouldn't get mad at them for not telling me sooner."

Luke nodded eagerly before he caught himself and shook his head.

"Tell your father and Uncle Obi-Wan that they're in big trouble," Padmé said. Anakin had to notice he couldn't keep water down before he got so dehydrated he passed out. He should have commed her or something. Either he was too sick to think of it, which meant she should have stayed home with him despite the session and her husband's stubbornness, or he had just been too stubborn to admit he was wrong and he did need her.

Luke turned. "You're in big trouble!" he hollered. He turned back. "Daddy says he's dying, and you should have more sympathy for him."

Padmé snorted. Bantha shavit. If Anakin was dying, he always said he was, "Just fine." She shook her head. "I'll be right over, sweetie."

"Okay," Luke said. The comm shut off.

Padmé sighed. Her poor, sick, lovable, stubborn, dumb husband.

Obi-Wan met her at the entrance to the Halls of Healing. "He's getting worse."

Luke walked out, sniffing, clinging to Ahsoka.

Padmé started towards her distressed son. Obi-Wan grabbed her arm. "He'll be fine. Come with me."

Padmé swallowed. How much worse was worse? She followed Obi-Wan to a private room. Anakin was flushed, hooked up to an IV and tossing and turning.

Her heart wrenched. She sat down beside her husband and ran her hands in his damp curly locks. "How are you feeling, Ani?"

"I'm…fine," Anakin choked out. A tear trailed down his cheek.

He really was getting worse. She smoothed back his hair. "Oh, sweetie. I'm here now. It's going to be okay." She pressed her hand to his forehead. "He's burning up." Tears flooded her eyes.

Obi-Wan laid his hand on her shoulder. "They're doing everything they can to bring his fever down."

Padmé put her younger children to bed in Obi-Wan and Siri's apartment. Ahsoka and Lux needed their sleep for their impending baby. Padmé brought the older ones with her and Obi-Wan to keep a silent vigil over Anakin, as they refused to go to bed and she was in no mood to fight them.

They all had to keep out of the way of the nurses who fought to bring Anakin's fever down. Despite their efforts, Anakin grew delirious, tossing and turning and muttering.

"Padmé," Anakin muttered. "Padmé."

Padmé shot up from the couch and hurried forward. She gathered his warm, dry, human hand in both of her and pressed it tightly. "I'm here, Ani."

"Padmé. No. Stop. Don't hurt her." He relaxed. "Up the ridge. Take out that tower. We'll need air support!"

Padmé stroked his forehead and cheek. "It's okay, Anakin. I'm here. You're safe."

His brow furrowed. "Are you an angel?" He grew limp and didn't move for a while.

Padmé curled up against his side. "It's okay, Ani. You'll be okay."

Anakin's arms encircled her, gripping her tightly against his side. "I won't let you take him! Let him go! Get your hands off my son!"

Padmé tried to sit up, but Anakin held her too tightly. "Anakin?"

"Daddy, it's all right!" Luke said. "Nobody's trying to take me anywhere."

"Don't touch him!" Anakin cried.

"Daddy, nobody's touching me!" Luke shouted.

"It's all right, Daddy, I shot them all. Luke and Ben are safe," Leia said.

Anakin's grip on Padmé loosened. She sat up. His glazed, glittering eyes were fixed on Leia. "You shot them all?"

"Every one," Leia said.

"Good." Anakin slumped against his bed. "Careful, Palpatine's crawling through the window."

"I've pushed him out," Padmé replied.

"Push that kriffer out," Anakin said.

The kids snickered.

"Don't you dare repeat that," Padmé warned.

"I wanna go home, Mom," Anakin whined.

"We will, Ani, just as soon as you get better," Padmé said. She felt his forehead. He might be cooling off. Maybe.

Anakin's body ached. A warm lump was curled against his side. His mouth was drier than he ever thought possible. He dragged his eyes open. Padmé lay at his side, her brown hair spread against the white blanket, her hand on his stomach. She was breathing heavily as she normally did when she was asleep, which she claimed wasn't half as annoying as his snoring. Obi-Wan was asleep on the couch, Ben leaning against his side and Luke sprawled across his lap. Leia perched on a chair in a corner, a datapad lighting up her face with a blue glow. The sun peeked out from behind drawn shades in his window.

Leia glanced up. "Your fever fell in the middle of the night and it's back to low level."

Anakin tried to answer, but all he could get out was a croak.

"Want some ice cubes?" Leia asked.

Anakin nodded.

Leia stood up, placing her datapad on her chair. She walked out and returned in a few minutes with a glass full of ice. She grabbed one piece and slipped it in Anakin's mouth.

Since he couldn't really speak at the moment, he smiled at her.

Leia perched on the side of the bed. "Luke's at the top of our lightsaber class."

The ice cube melted in Anakin's mouth. He swallowed the water down. "There's no shame in being second."

Leia swung her legs. "But no matter how hard I try, he stays better than me!" She fed Anakin another ice cube.

Anakin smiled. Good ol' sibling rivalry. Couldn't beat it. "Leia, you far surpass the rest of your lightsaber class. You are an incredibly gifted swordswoman."

Leia pouted. "Not as gifted as Luke."

"You're better at your art interpretation and appreciation class than he is," Anakin pointed out.

"Oh, yeah, that'll help. Some Sith's trying to kill me. Wait! Let me interpret that art for you!" Leia said.

Anakin laughed. "You'd be surprised. Palpatine had an art piece in his office of a Sith war that glorified the Sith. If I had known what I was looking at, he would have been caught a lot sooner."

Padmé stirred. "Ani?" She sat up, blinking rapidly. She sat up, blinking rapidly. She lit up. "You're awake!" She dove forward, wrapping him in a tight hug. "I was so worried."

Anakin hugged her tightly, dragging his IV with him. "I'm sorry."

"Why didn't you comm me, or someone else?" Padmé laid a hand on his cheek. "You could've died."

"But I didn't," Anakin said.

Padmé kissed Anakin deeply. "I can't lose you," she murmured.

"I'm sorry," he repeated. He pressed another kiss to her lips.

Leia shook the glass. "More ice?"

"Your electrolytes are at a proper level, you have been keeping some food down, so I think it's time to say goodbye," Vokara Che said. "Keep resting, drink lots of fluids, take vitamins, don't come back to your Temple duties until your symptoms subside. I don't want to see you back in here because of a relapse. Do you understand?"

Anakin nodded. "I understand." He didn't have to listen, but he understood what she was saying.

Padmé patted his shoulder. "He'll listen."

Anakin crossed his arms as he leaned back in his hoverchair.

Vokara chuckled. "Get out of here, Skywalker."

Luke stood in the doorway of Anakin and Padmé's bedroom, fidgeting. "So I know you're supposed to be resting, but can you help me with my droid? I'm having trouble with the wiring."

Anakin pushed himself up, pausing the cartoon show about Jedi he'd been watching. "Sure, bring it in here." Giving Luke pointers shouldn't be too strenuous, and besides, mechanical stuff was his weakness. How could he say no?

Luke tugged a blanket that held the half-built astromech and a pile of loose parts through the room to the side of the bed. "Thanks, Dad!" He smiled wide, giving him that look that made Anakin want to live up to the hero his son believed him to be. He plopped down on the blanket, cross-legged.

"What's the problem with your droid?" Anakin asked, leaning over the side.

"Not all of the functions are working correctly. If I fix some of the tools, then the droid has chip issues. I'm not sure if I wired it wrong or if there's not enough wiring or I need new wire," Luke said.

[Astromechs are supposed to be built in a factory,] Artoo piped up from his charging station against the wall. [That's why he's having trouble.]

"Artoo, that's not helpful," Anakin said.

[I was built in a factory on Naboo,] Artoo continued.

"Artoo!" Anakin admonished.

[Fine, if you don't want my advice, I'll shut down. No one wants me around anyway.]

Anakin ignored him. Artoo got sulky when he was low on power. "Have you tried…" He broke off. Luke had a hand pressed over his mouth and was slightly green. "Are you all right?"

Luke nodded. "'M fine, Dad."

"Have you tried turning it off and turning it back on again?" Anakin asked. It was a simple solution that fixed problems more often than people expected.

Luke rolled his eyes. "Yes, Dad, about a dozen times."

"How about whacking it really hard?" Anakin asked.

"I thought you were s'posed to be some sort of mechanical genius," Luke said.

Anakin drew back. "I am! These are good suggestions! You'd be surprised how often they work."

"Well, I don't…" Luke curled over. Anakin whisked his vomit bucket under his son just as he threw up.

Anakin bit back a sigh. He was just about done with vomiting.

Padmé tucked the covers around Luke, kissing his forehead. Anakin curled a hand into a fist. Luke only had a low-grade fever, so hopefully he wouldn't end up like Anakin had.

"Get some rest, sweetheart," Padmé said. "Try to drink a lot."

"Yes, ma'am," Luke said. He curled up against Anakin's side, laying his head on his shoulder.

Anakin wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close. He smiled up at his wife. "We'll be good."

Padmé leaned in for a kiss. "You'd better be," she murmured.

Luke gave an exaggerated gag. Anakin pulled Padmé closer in response.

"Ew, Dad!" Luke exclaimed. "I already wanna throw up, don't make it worse!"

Anakin laughed. Padmé pulled away, smiling.

"You must not be feeling too bad, sport," Anakin said.

Padmé shook her head, walking out of the room. "Behave, you two."

"We will!" Anakin called. He reached for the remote and pushed play on the Jedi cartoon. "You want to watch from this point or start at the beginning?"

"Start at the beginning," Luke said.

The End