Chapter Nineteen

"When exactly did I agree to become a moisture farmer?"

I bite back an amused grin over how peevish Anakin sounds. For the better part of an hour, I've watched him and Owen haul huge containers of water back from the vaporators and load them on a respulsor wagon for transport to Mos Eisley later that afternoon. The day is unpleasantly arid, the heat made more oppressive by the fact that it is midday and both suns are high. Both Owen and Anakin have long since abandoned their shirts during their tireless efforts to empty the vaporators which has left me and Beru with the secret pleasure of admiring our respective husbands from the comfort of our shaded perches.

To Beru's credit, she is at least contributing to the work by keeping a careful count of the containers collected while also ensuring that their weight is evenly distributed in the wagon and that the load capacity is not exceeded. I, on the other hand, am simply seated near the house, far away from the suns' oppressive waves while enjoying a cool glass of blue bantha milk. Clearly, I'm enjoying the better end of this arrangement, but that doesn't stop me from teasing my husband mercilessly.

I squint up at him as he delivers yet another full water container to the cart. "Have you always been such a complainer, my love?"

He immediately makes a face at me, but before he can retort something predictably sassy in response, Owen interjects from just behind him, "For as long as I've known him, Padmé. It's his greatest talent."

Anakin pins him with a sullen glare. "You're so hilarious, Owen," he gripes, "How would I go on in life without your unsolicited commentary? Shall we attempt to find out?"

Of course, Owen ignores his dripping sarcasm in characteristic fashion. "Speaking of your nonexistent work ethic, did you ever officially quit Agis' shop?" he inquires of Anakin casually, "He asks about you every time I see him in Mos Espa."

"Oh…no…" Anakin cringes in afterthought, "Now that you mention it, I don't think that I ever did."

Owen shakes his head with a snorting laugh. "Typical. You're a complainer and a poor employee!"

I wisely muffle my answering snicker behind my hand while the two continue to bicker. The fact that Anakin and I find ourselves on Tatooine at all is rather fortuitous. In a rare turn of events, we both found ourselves with schedules free of responsibility in the same week. Our original plan had been to fly off to some secluded planet for some much-needed privacy and relaxation.

That plan inevitably changed when Cliegg expressed his anxiety over being able to assist Owen with the water collection that month. With Shmi still acclimating to her new role as senator, he was loathe to leave her alone on Coruscant. Anakin had graciously volunteered to fill in his stepfather's stead and what had been meant to be a weeklong vacation for us turned into a week of backbreaking labor for him. Despite my merciless teasing, I truly am proud of him. He really is a good son and a good brother, though he'll likely never recognize those qualities in himself at all.

"It's so hot out here and I've been working so hard!" Anakin sighs dramatically, "If only someone would bring me a glass of bantha milk too."

I don't miss the meaningful look he inclines in my direction. He's pretending to be surly, but I can spy the laughing gleam in his eyes even from a distance. I like playing these silly bantering games with him because they make him absurdly happy, and anything that makes Anakin happy makes me happy too.

Unperturbed by Anakin's insinuation that I'm not being nearly as attentive to him as he'd like, I take another draught of my beverage and smile. "Your hands appear to be in good working condition," I tell him, "I believe there's still some in the kitchen if you'd like to help yourself."

Beru covers her answering guffaw with a cough. "I'd be happy to get you a glass, Ani."

"Thank you, Beru. I'm glad to know that some people still know how to display common hospitality."

As Beru disappears into the house with muted chuckles, I reply to Anakin primly, "Need I remind you that I am currently growing a human being right now? It is quite exhausting work, I assure you."

"Yes…if only we all had that ready excuse," Anakin mutters under his breath.

I blink at him, round-eyed. "I'm sorry, Ani. I didn't quite catch what you said. Would you mind repeating that?"

"Simply expressing my undying devotion to you, my love." Owen snorts at the obvious lie, earning yet another quelling glare from Anakin.

My smile widens. "Hmm…that's what I thought you said. Carry on."

Owen is teasing Anakin for being so "pathetically whipped" when the sudden sound of a small starship's engines whir loudly overhead, drowning out my husband's biting retort. The ship hovers in for a landing just as Beru emerges from the house bearing a tray of milk, meat, and bread. "What's going on?" she asks, setting the tray aside on a nearby table, "Are we expecting guests?"

I shrug in confusion as Anakin and Owen exchange a questioning glance and then start forward to greet our mysterious visitors. I've only just finished pushing myself to my feet with the intention of following them when Anakin and Owen reach the ship. The hatch immediately opens and Obi-Wan and Ahsoka come striding down the gangplank. Anakin stops short at the sight of them and, even from the distance, I can spy the wide, startled smile that is wreathed across his face.

"Obi-Wan!" I hear him greet jovially as I make my waddling approach, "What are you doing here, old man?" He grins over at Ahsoka. "Snips, pleasure to see you as always."

Before Ahsoka can take him to task over that hated nickname, Obi-Wan is already admonishing him about his own moniker. "Anakin, how many times have I told you that I don't find 'old man' to be a term of endearment?" he sighs wearily, "Nevertheless, it is good to see you, my friend."

I watch with a sentimental smile of my own as Anakin reaches out to shake his former master's hand enthusiastically before turning to scoop Ahsoka up into a playful hug. She indulges him with a longsuffering eyeroll and chastises him about the overwhelming display of affection, but it's evident that she is as glad to see him as he is to see her. After they've finished greeting each other and Obi-Wan and Ahsoka have politely acknowledged Owen, I duck in for my own hugs. Obi-Wan is a great deal more formal and merely bows in greeting, but Ahsoka embraces me without reserve.

She and I have gotten to spend a fair amount of time together in the past few months because of the numerous missions she and Anakin have had. We've grown surprisingly close in that time. She's become like a younger sibling to me. I can't help but marvel over how easily I've picked up surrogate sisters all across the galaxy since Anakin and I fell in love. First Beru and now Ahsoka. It only seems natural then to beckon Beru over and formally introduce the two.

"What brings you both to Tatooine?" I ask Ahsoka afterwards, "This is a long way from Coruscant, is it not?"

She cuts a careful glance over at Obi-Wan before she answers. "We were actually in route to Ryloth and decided to stop here on the way," she says, "I believe Master Kenobi has something he wishes to discuss with Anakin."

"Yes, I do indeed…" Obi-Wan murmurs dryly, directing a quelling look over at Ahsoka before turning to address Anakin, "Could we possibly have a word alone?"

"He's on vacation, Obi-Wan," I interject before Anakin can get a word in edgewise, "So, if this is about a mission, he respectfully declines."

Anakin glowers at me sharply. "Padmé! Really? I can speak for myself."

"No, I second that," Owen throws in, "Because you're actually on semi-vacation and we still have a dozen vaporators to hit before the afternoon is done."

Thankfully, Beru steps in and begins ushering her husband away before he and Anakin can descend into a round of predictable, childish bickering. "Don't worry about it. I'll help you finish up. Anakin, go talk with your friend!" She leads Owen away with him grumbling in protest all the while.

I barely acknowledge their departure because I'm too busy surveying Anakin, my eyebrows raised in stubborn expectation. After a brief silent standoff, he expels an accommodating sigh. "We can talk, Obi-Wan, but you heard the wife," he says, "I can't come outside to play with you today."

"That sounds distinctly wrong on countless levels," Obi-Wan utters sardonically, "But Padmé, you have my word. I shall leave Anakin where I found him and return him to you shortly."

"Very well," I concede with some grumbling reluctance, "If you need privacy, you can go into the main house."

"You can relax," Ahsoka says softly, no doubt taking note of my suspiciously narrowed eyes as I watch Anakin and Obi-Wan walk away, "My master is being sincere when he says he has no intention of stealing Anakin away for a mission. He wouldn't intentionally deceive you, Padmé."

I hunch forward self-consciously, sensing the underlying rebuke in her tone. "Am I that obvious?"

"Obvious that you value your time with your husband, and you won't allow anyone steal it from you?" Ahsoka discerns keenly, "Yes. You're obvious. But there's no need to apologize for that."

"That's strangely magnanimous of you," I remark, "I thought the Jedi frowned on attachment."

"Well…Anakin isn't a Jedi. Furthermore, that is one part of the code that is currently…how should I say…a gray area," Ahsoka hedges diplomatically.

"Is that because of Anakin?"

"He's changed more than he knows," Ahsoka replies with a nod, "The Council would gladly welcome him back into the Order if he were inclined."

"That will never happen, Ahsoka." I refrain from telling her that the reasons for Anakin's resistance have as much to do with his own sins against the Jedi as it does with their sins against him. But since that is a truth that Anakin is still coming to terms with himself, I tell her instead, "He bears no ill will towards the Order at all, but it's not where he feels he belongs anymore."

"I understand." Ahsoka seems to understand my unspoken desire not to discuss it further because, thankfully, she doesn't push the subject further. We stand together in convivial silence before she tips a glance towards my expanded middle and asks, "How much longer?"

"Less than nine weeks, though Dr. Moren says it could be sooner. I can't wait. I think he's starting to run out of room in there."

"Skyguy sure is excited," Ahsoka replies, "When we were on our last mission together all he could talk about was you and the baby."

"Skyguy?" I echo with a short, confused laugh, "Is that supposed to be Ani?"

"It's my new nickname for him," Ahsoka confirms proudly, "He hates it thoroughly."

"Then why do you use it?"

"If he's going to insist on calling me 'Snips' when he knows that it drives me crazy then I'm going to give as good as I get!"

I shake my head at her petty logic. "You and Anakin really are fruit from the same tree, aren't you?"

We linger outside for a little longer, chatting about mostly inconsequential matters before my curiosity over Obi-Wan and Anakin's private discussion finally gets the best of me, and I tiptoe my way into the house under the guise of "providing refreshments." Largely ignoring Ahsoka's whispered instruction to proceed with caution, I clear the threshold of the main house just in time to hear Obi-Wan say, "…something you should consider. Obviously, you have time to decide. The Council isn't expecting an answer today."

Despite Ahsoka's mouthed direction to keep quiet, I step out to boldly make my presence known. "An answer to what?" I demand, "What's going on?"

Neither Anakin nor Obi-Wan appear even mildly startled to see me standing there and I can only assume it's because they sensed my approach long before I announced myself. In fact, Obi-Wan sighs despairingly and then flicks a woebegone glance over at Ahsoka. Exasperation is palpable in his tone when he says, "I thought you were supposed to be keeping her occupied."

"I did my best, master," Ahsoka replies, with a furtive smirk directed at me, "but she's a wily one."

"Well?" I press, growing impatient because no one seems particularly eager to clarify exactly what I've just walked in on, "Is someone going to explain or not?"

"You should tell her," Anakin urges Obi-Wan, "It's not like I can make the decision on my own. He's her son too."

Obi-Wan sighs and shifts around in his seat to address me, though I sense his reluctance to do so. "Master Yoda has foreseen that your child will be strong in the Force," he explains, "He will need to be trained to use his skills when he's of age."

He isn't telling me anything surprising. I've suspected as much ever since I began having those strange dreams months ago. And, because I knew that, I've already conceived a solution for my child's training. In fact, it seems like such an obvious answer that I'm surprised that neither of them has considered it. "Anakin can teach him." An uneasy look passes between Anakin and Obi-Wan and I know immediately that there is more they are not saying. "Is there a problem with that?"

"The Jedi aren't entirely comfortable with the idea of a dark side user teaching others to use the Force," Anakin hedges, "They feel it would be wiser to have Luke trained at the Temple."

"But you use the light side of the Force as well," I argue, "Shouldn't that make a difference?"

Obi-Wan and Anakin exchange yet another intrepid glance before Obi-Wan clears his throat and says, "Certain aspects of Anakin's past raise some concerns about his qualifications for training others, especially because he chooses to remain unattached from the Order and its influence."

"Basically, what I'm hearing is that you can't control Anakin, so you want to control his child instead. Do I have that right, Obi-Wan?"

"That's not the case at all," Obi-Wan denies, "The Council wants to do what's best for the child, and for Anakin. No one is forcing him to make this decision, Padmé."

"Forcing us, you mean." Drawing myself up with queenly scorn, I appraise the Jedi master coolly. "You're saying that Anakin is good enough to be accepted back into the Order, but not trusted enough to train his own son?" I charge him, "Am I correct in this?"

"It's not quite as callous and hypocritical as you make it sound, Padmé," Obi-Wan replies mildly.

Dismissing him entirely, I turn my attention to Anakin in hopes of discerning his feelings on the matter. "You're being unusually quiet," I murmured, "What do you have to say about all of this? I'm surprised you aren't livid right now."

"I was…the first time we discussed it," Anakin confesses softly, "I've mellowed considerably since then."

"So, you've known all along that the Jedi wanted to train Luke?"

"For the last month? Yes."

"And you agree with them that you're not qualified to do it?"

"There are ways that I could influence him," Anakin considers gruffly, "negative ways and I…I don't want to take that chance, Padmé."

"You are not a danger to our child, Anakin," I tell him before leveling a withering look at Obi-Wan, "And anyone who implies otherwise is not welcome in my home."

"Perhaps I should give you both time to discuss it further," Obi-Wan murmurs, shifting to his feet, "Ahsoka, we should be on our way now."

The goodbye isn't nearly as warm as the welcome had been, but it's difficult to feel cheerful when I know that so much has been kept from me. I stand with Anakin and watch their ship disappear high into the atmosphere before addressing Anakin again. "Were you ever going to tell me?" I ask him stiffly.

"Of course."

"When? After you shipped Luke off to the Temple?"

Anakin drops his head forward and pinches the bridge of his nose, a sure sign of his mounting frustration with me. "I haven't made a decision either way."

"We haven't made the decision," I correct him tartly, "This isn't something you get to decide alone! Did you ever stop to consider that I might not want my child trained in the Force at all?"

"That's not an option. He is Force sensitive, Padmé! He must be trained!"

"You say that like it's some necessary rite of passage!" I cry, "Should I be honored because the Jedi deign to train my son? Well, I'm not! The Jedi Order alienated you and left you vulnerable to Palpatine's manipulations. I haven't forgotten that even if you have! And now you expect me to willingly commit my son to the same existence? No, Anakin! I'll never do that!"

"Are we really fighting about this?" Anakin sighs despondently.

"We're not fighting! We're disagreeing with passion!" I'm relieved when he chokes back a short burst of laughter over my phrasing and pulls me into his arms rather than maintaining his aggravated scowl.

Anakin and I don't go to bed angry with one another that night, but I can't rightly say that we reach a resolution either. He's conflicted but at least open to the idea of the Jedi training our son while I am staunchly opposed. We both have valid arguments, but neither of us seem to make any headway with the other. In the end, we agree to table to discussion for the morning, but he remains restless throughout the night and so do I. Which is why when I wake in the early morning hours for my usual run to the fresher to relieve myself, I'm not surprised to find his side of the bed cold and empty.

After I've finished emptying my bladder, I creep out into the main living area, imagining that Anakin might have fallen asleep on the small sofa there, but there's no sign of him at all. I know when I don't readily find him that discontentment over our earlier dispute isn't what drove him from our bed after all. He's had another nightmare.

It only takes a few minutes of earnest searching before I find him on the roof of the main house. He's huddled in his usual spot, his knees drawn up against his chest as he stares out into the vast darkness beyond. I know that it's bad when he barely glances at me when I stoop down beside him. He is shaking visibly, his breath shuddering from him in slow, deliberate puffs as if he's fighting back tears. I place my hand against his shoulder.

"Was it a bad one?" I ask gently.

"I don't want to talk about it," he mutters, "If I say it out loud then I give it power."

"I think it's too late for that already," I whisper, brushing his sweaty curls back from his forehead, "Look where we are. You and I are out here in the freezing cold right now instead of snuggled in our bed."

He looks at me then and reaches out to pull my dressing robe more securely around my shoulders. "You should go back inside. It's too cold for you and the baby."

"Come with me." But I know he's set to refuse my petition, so I ask, "Was it a flashback or a premonition?"

"A premonition," he answers reluctantly.

"And?" I press when he fails to say more, "Was it about me?" He shakes his head mutely, his eyes dropping to my rounded abdomen. "The baby?" His features collapse in a grimace of anguish then, and my heart starts to race. "Does…does something bad happen?"

"Padmé, don't make me talk about it," he sobs.

"Does it happen during my delivery?" I press my hand to my belly, where Luke thumps and rolls with his usual fervor. I try not to falter as I ask my next question, one for which I truly do not want to know the answer. "Does he die, Anakin?" I ask thickly, "Is…is that what you saw?"

"I don't know. I think so…"

The news provokes an odd sense of calm mingled with fluttering panic, followed by instant denial. While I want to weep and rant and fall apart entirely, I can't. I won't. Because I refuse to believe that what Anakin is saying will become real. It cannot possibly be true, especially when, even at this very second, my son is enthusiastically making his presence known and is so wonderfully, beautifully, and vibrantly alive.

"That…that doesn't make any sense," I mumble, shaking my head, "We just had our appointment with Dr. Moren. He said that Luke is healthy, that he was progressing right on schedule, remember? Everything was fine!" I blink rapidly against the tears that threaten, denial taking a firm foothold in my heart. "What about what Master Yoda said? Just this afternoon Obi-Wan told us that he knew that Luke would be strong in the Force!" I argue, "How can that be if…if…?" I can't even finish the sentence. I won't.

"I can't make sense of it either… but I know what I saw, Padmé."

I don't want to ask him, but I cannot dam the words. "What did you see?"

"He was limp. And blue. They were trying to revive him, and they couldn't. All we could do was watch."

"No," I utter and then more loudly, more resolutely, "No! That won't happen. Do you hear me, Ani? It won't happen. It was just a dr—,"

"—Don't tell me that it was only a dream!" he snaps suddenly, "It wasn't just a dream with my mother, and it wasn't just a dream with you!" He regards me grimly, tears flowing. "I always knew that I would have to pay for my sins one day. Perhaps this is the price…"

I cradle his face firmly between my hands before he can give into his despair and retreat fully into the dark void of hopelessness that always seems poised to swallow him whole. "Anakin, we don't know what happens," I argue, and I know I must sound frantic and irrational to him right then, but I don't care, "You dreamed of your mother for weeks because you sensed she was in danger, but you weren't able to get to her in time.

"And my death was a self-fulfilling prophecy. You didn't have the whole picture then…and maybe you don't have the whole picture now!"

"But what if he dies? I have to find a way to stop it! I won't let it come true!"

"He's not going to die," I insist once more, "That's not going to happen!"

"Denial won't serve either of us, Padmé!"

"It's not denial. It's logic. I am healthy. Our baby is healthy." I take hold of his hand and flatten his palm against my womb. "Feel your son. Feel how alive he is! We are not going to lose him, Ani."

He burrows his face against my shoulder, his fingers curling against me. "I love him so much, Padmé. I love you both…more than anything," he chokes, "If I lost you, I don't know what I would do. I can't do that again. I can't…I can't…I would rather be dead…"

"Stop it! We are not going to spend the rest of my pregnancy living in fear, Anakin," I tell him. When I feel him nod against me, I cradle him closer and begin sifting gentle kisses through his hair. My touch seems to ground him and calm his wild trembling, and touching him, holding him this way, grounds me. "Would you feel better if we went to stay with my parents on Naboo until the baby is born?"

"Yes!"

"Fine. I'll make the arrangements. I can talk to Bail about taking a leave of absence as well. I need to focus on preparing for the baby's arrival anyway. I've procrastinated long enough."

Anakin lifts his head and stares at me in stupefied disbelief. "How can you be so calm? Aren't you frightened at all?"

"Of course, I am," I whisper thickly, "I'm terrified. I don't want to lose him anymore than you do. But you and I have already sacrificed enough at the altar of fear, Anakin. Don't you think it's time we tried something else?" Something that doesn't involve you becoming desperate and burning the galaxy to ash, I add silently in my heart.

He looks at me in abject grief. "Something like what?"

I whisk away the tears that continue to fall on his cheeks and offer him a wistful smile. "Something like hope."