Author's Note: I see there was a bit of confusion about the ending of last week's chapter. Looking back at the way I worded things, I can see why one might assume the hologram was of someone else, but that's not what I intended. The hologram is of Padmé, but she 'didn't recognize' herself because she considers the version of herself that Anakin loves to be a lie. Sorry about that; I have since reworded the ending of that chapter to make things clearer. Don't worry, guys, Anakin's not having an affair!

Chapter 10 – Introspection

I never cared for you!

You are a puppet!

Everything you do is to my precise design.

You think you can protect your husband from me?

You have already failed!

He is mine! You have ensured that, my dear.

Your betrayal only strengthens my hand.

You think he will still love you after he learns who you are? What you have done?

You lie about your identity…

Hide his children from him…

Torture his Padawan…

He will hate you!

And he will have nowhere to turn but to me!

Foolish girl.

Foolish, foolish child.

You thought you could deceive me?

Padmé's legs felt hollow.

She was trembling, limbs shaking so violently that she could scarcely keep balance. Her vision was blurred with tears and her teeth were chattering from the cold. How she had managed to escape the tunnels was beyond her. Yet here she was staggering to her apartment with a quaint wooden box in hand.

"Padmé?"

The front door opened to reveal her sister, Sola. Her eyes widened at what she saw.

"Oh Padmé! Are you alright?"

She hurried forward and wrapped an arm around her. Padmé leaned against her shoulder, eternally grateful to have her support.

"Sola," she breathed.

They entered the apartment and her sister led her toward the living room.

"Ahsoka! Help me out, would you?"

Padmé looked up to see her apprentice startle at their arrival. She was wringing her wrists by the couch. When she didn't move, Sola grew frustrated.

"Ahsoka!"

"It's okay," Padmé managed. She pushed herself away from Sola.

"Padmé, you're not –"

"I'm okay."

Ahsoka looked back and forth between them. Her eyes then darted down to the box in Padmé's hands. "Did you…?"

"Here," Padmé said weakly. She offered the box to her, yet Ahsoka didn't take it.

"What happened?" she asked.

"I got them for you. They were…" She swallowed hard as a wave of nausea rolled through her. "They were under his bed."

"How did you get in? Or out?"

Padmé didn't answer. "Take them," she said instead. "They're yours."

Ahsoka hesitated before tentatively reaching out to accept the offering. She seemed to be wary of it.

"Go on," Padmé said. As Ahsoka opened the box, Padmé leaned back against Sola when her knees began to wobble. Her sister stabilized her. "Are they as you remember?"

Ahsoka set the box aside and held the two lightsabers in her hands. One hilt was significantly shorter than the other. Padmé had found that odd when she found them, but Ahsoka clearly didn't. She twirled them about, reacquainting herself with her lost weapons. After a moment, she pressed down on the triggers and activated the blades.

"They're blue!" she gasped.

Padmé nodded against her sister's shoulder. "Anakin fixed them for you. He said…" Once again, she trailed off, but this time it was guilt rather than nausea which gave her pause. "He said you'd need them someday."

Their eyes met and Ahsoka's grip on the hilts tightened. She just then seemed to realize that the dynamic between them had switched on its head. Padmé was weak, practically unable to stand without her sister's help, while Ahsoka was in a position of strength with two lightsabers in hand. Should she choose to do so, she could turn her weapons on Padmé and flee. She would be free.

Padmé set her jaw. Go ahead, she was telling her. Do it. I'd deserve it.

But Ahsoka didn't take advantage. Instead, she lowered the lightsabers and extinguished the blades. Padmé released a shaky breath, but it wasn't quite in relief. She was remarkably apathetic all of a sudden.

"You should lie down," Sola said, oblivious to the tension of the situation. "I'm sure you need rest."

Padmé mumbled her agreement. Her eyelids drooped and her posture slackened further still.

"Ahsoka? Would you?"

This time Ahsoka didn't demur. She clipped her weapons to her belt and stepped forward to assist. With her sister on her left and her apprentice on her right, Padmé allowed herself to be led away to her bedroom.

"I'm sorry," she said to them both.

Δ Δ Δ

Padmé drifted in and out of sleep. Her mind felt fuzzy and her body feverish. When she was lucid enough to register her surroundings, she noticed different people at her bedside. At first it was Sola, and then later on she thought it might have been Sabé. Now when she awoke, Padmé found her mother seated in the corner of her room on a stool. She seemed to be knitting something, her lips pressed together tightly with concentration. Sensing Padmé's gaze, Jobal looked up.

"Celine? Are you awake?"

Padmé tried to speak, but no words came. Her throat was horribly dry.

"Hold on, I'll be right back."

Jobal set her knitting aside and hurried toward the fresher. She returned a few moments later with a glass of water in hand. How had she known that was what she needed? Motherly intuition was a remarkable thing.

"Can you sit up?"

Padmé felt a bit lightheaded, but she managed to prop herself up against the pillows. She accepted the glass with two hands and took a deep drink.

"Thank you," she rasped, lowering the glass and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"How do you feel?"

Jobal picked up the stool from the corner of the room and set it down by Padmé's bedside.

"I…" Padmé frowned as she glanced over at the window. It seemed to be either early in the morning or late in the afternoon. She couldn't tell whether the muted light streaming through the shades was fading or not. "How long was I asleep?"

"Eighteen hours, I think."

"Really? That long?"

"Sola seems to think you're fine."

"But you don't believe her?"

Jobal smiled weakly. "I was worried," she confessed. "But you seem alright."

"Yeah," Padmé mumbled. She took another drink of water before setting the glass aside on her nightstand. "I'm alright."

"Sola told me what you did."

"Are you disappointed in me?"

Jobal seemed to be confused. "Disappointed? Why would I be disappointed?"

Padmé didn't answer. Her face felt tight and she was unable to meet her mother's gaze, as if doing so would cause her to crack.

"Celine."

Padmé winced. "Don't call me that."

"But it's your name."

"No it isn't."

"It's what I named you."

"You named your daughter that. I'm not your daughter. Not really."

Jobal placed a hand on her shoulder and Padmé was forced to look up. Her mother's expression was firm, stern almost.

"Don't you say that, Celine. Don't denigrate yourself like that."

"Why not?"

Her mother's face shined with sympathy. "I know you're suffering. You're being torn apart."

"I am," Padmé confirmed, her lower lip trembling. She tried to look away, but Jobal grabbed her chin and held her steady.

"It doesn't have to be this way."

"No," Padmé said automatically. "This is the only way."

Jobal didn't understand. Nobody did, least of all herself.

"I wish I could help you."

Padmé closed her eyes and relished her mother's touch. "You are," she sighed.

Her mother released her chin and brushed a soft hand against her cheek. When Padmé looked down, Jobal leaned forward to plant a kiss on the top of her head.

"Remember that you are loved, my child," she whispered.

Maybe she didn't deserve it. Maybe she never should have found them. But she had, and there was no going back now. They were her family. She couldn't let them down.

"Thank you, Mother," Celine said.

Δ Δ Δ

Ahsoka was waiting for her on the landing pad. They locked eyes and Padmé's heart jumped in her throat.

"My lady?"

Sabé was at her side. Her handmaiden's presence served as a reminder of her role in these proceedings. Today she was not Ahsoka's master, but her benefactor.

"Sorry, Sabé. I'm alright."

It had been three days since her infiltration of the Jedi Temple. She had managed to explain her ailment as nothing more than an illness, but something about Sabé's demeanor suggested she knew there was more to it than that. Padmé often wondered how much the handmaiden really did know.

In addition to taking time off from work, Padmé had skirted her obligation to train Ahsoka for the past three days. Master and apprentice hadn't met with each other once during that time. Padmé claimed that the ordeal in the Temple had been exhausting and she didn't have the energy to train her, and in part this was actually true. Yet the real reason had nothing to do with her fatigue and everything to do with her conflicted heart.

What would Anakin think if he learned what she had done to his former Padawan? How would her mother and sister react? She didn't want to disappoint them. She didn't want them to learn how monstrous she really was. Her default was to hide the truth from them, but she didn't want to do that anymore. It hurt her to lie like that. Her experience in the Sith shrine had revealed that.

A part of her fought back against this logic. Everything she did was for them! She was entirely justified in her actions! It didn't matter what they thought, as long as they were safe.

But that voice no longer swayed her. Because now she knew that it wasn't her voice at all.

It was Palpatine's.

No. You are me.

Not anymore. She was better than him. She would have to be better than him.

But did she even know how?

"My lady? Your comm."

Sure enough, her comlink was vibrating in her back pocket. She had been too deep in thought to notice it.

"I'll get it later."

Adopting a resolute expression, Padmé pushed ahead of Sabé and approached Ahsoka with her hand extended.

"Padawan Tano," she greeted formally.

"Senator," Ahsoka replied. The pair shook, and Padmé was surprised to notice no wariness in Ahsoka's posture. Perhaps the time apart had done them both well.

"Lady Kryze should be arriving shortly," Padmé said.

Bo-Katan had contacted her last night to inform her that she had decided to accept Padmé's offer on one condition: Ahsoka wasn't allowed to communicate directly with her or with anyone on Coruscant. Padmé had fought back against this stipulation. How was she going to give Ahsoka instruction on how to deal with Maul? She would almost certainly need help at some point. But Padmé had to have faith in her apprentice. She had folded. Bo-Katan would have her way for now.

"The parcel, my lady?"

Padmé gave her handmaiden a blank look. "The…? Oh! Right." Sabé offered her a folded garment which Padmé accepted gingerly. "Ahsoka, this is for you."

"A gift?"

"From my, erm… my seamstress."

Technically it hadn't been her mother's idea, but Padmé's. She didn't want Ahsoka to know that, though. It was far more believable this way.

Ahsoka took the gift and unfolded it in front of her chest. It was a cloak made of featherlight navy blue silk.

"I like the hood," Ahsoka said with a smile.

Two dimples in the fabric allowed space for Ahsoka's montrals underneath the cowl. Jobal had spent hours getting the stitching exactly right.

"She designed it with you in mind."

Ahsoka looked up and met her gaze. Her smile faded a fraction.

"Thank you." Her voice was a bit wooden, but she was clearly sincere.

"Don't mention it," Padmé responded, her delivery similarly stiff.

The pair stared at each other for a few tense moments. Should she say something? With Sabé present, this presented a challenge, but Padmé could admit this wasn't why she was hesitating. She didn't know what to say. That she was sorry? Was she really? She didn't regret training Ahsoka, but perhaps she could have done it in another way…

What other way? She only knew the one, and that was the way of the Sith.

The hum of an engine overhead had Padmé looking to the sky. A boxy troop carrier was descending from the air lanes toward the landing pad. The vessel's forward and rear batteries were drooping limply, deactivated in accordance with Coruscant's strict regulations against non-Republic gunships. As the ship touched down, it rotated ninety degrees to reveal a half-dozen Mandalorians standing on the deck. At the head of the delegation with her helmet tucked under her arm was Bo-Katan herself.

Padmé beckoned Ahsoka to follow her. "Lady Kryze, welcome to Coruscant," she said, speaking loudly over the sound of the engine. "I trust your trip was without incident?"

Bo-Katan had a scowl on her face when she stepped off the troop carrier. Two warriors followed her while the rest stayed behind. "Our ship was boarded by Republic forces when we entered the system," Bo-Katan said. "You didn't have anything to do with that, did you?"

"I would assume it's standard procedure," Padmé said flatly.

Bo-Katan's narrowed eyes darted to Ahsoka. "Lady Tano. We meet again."

"We do," Ahsoka said.

Once again, Padmé's comlink vibrated in her pocket. She suppressed a growl and hastily deactivated the device. "Is there anything else we need to discuss?" she asked.

"You informed Lady Tano of our arrangement? She is to have no contact with you or with anyone affiliated with the Republic."

"She is aware." In actuality, Padmé hadn't told Ahsoka personally but had instead asked Sola to relay the message to her. This technicality hardly warranted mention, however.

"In which case, we will be on our way."

Bo-Katan spared her a suspicious look before stuffing her helmet over her head. She spun around and marched back to her ship with the two soldiers on her flanks. Ahsoka made to follow, but Padmé reached out to stop her. She grabbed her by the hand, and Padmé felt the muscles of Ahsoka's arm tense.

"Yes?" Ahsoka said.

Padmé didn't know what to say. Why had she stopped her in the first place?

"I…"

She released Ahsoka's hand as if it were a hot branding iron. Glancing to her right, she saw Bo-Katan watching this exchange from the deck of the troop carrier.

"Good luck," Padmé mustered.

Ahsoka's brow twitched, a flash of surprise across her face. She recovered quickly. "Thank you, Senator." With that cool remark, Ahsoka took a step away and walked purposefully to join her Mandalorian comrades.

"Ahsoka!"

She stopped and looked over her shoulder. Her expression was one of irritation. She wanted to go. To escape. Padmé swallowed hard.

"May the Force be with you."

Ahsoka stared at her silently for several moments before turning around to face her directly. She bowed – but not as an apprentice would bow to a master, but as a peer would bow to her equal.

"And may it be with you, Senator."

Padmé didn't know how to react, so she merely nodded. Ahsoka met her gaze for a long while, and Padmé could read the unsaid words in her body language.

I resent you.

I pity you.

And most surprising of all:

I won't let you down.

In that moment, Padmé had never felt so jealous. Ahsoka was doing this not for her, but for Anakin. She cared for him above all else.

Could Padmé honestly say the same?

She blinked and the troop carrier was ascending into the sky. A door sealed off the open flanks, shielding Ahsoka from view. Her apprentice was free from her at last.

Padmé closed her eyes and released a breath. It felt as if a great weight had been taken off her shoulders. She hadn't anticipated this reaction. What could explain her relief? Training Ahsoka certainly hadn't been a pleasant experience for her. Perhaps she was simply glad to no longer have that responsibility. Or perhaps she was relieved that Ahsoka would no longer be in pain. Safe from her. Safe from the monster.

For a third time her comlink buzzed, but now she was grateful for the distraction. She took it out of her pocket and read the caller ID.

"My lady? Is something the matter?"

Sabé must have seen her reaction. Stuffing the comlink back into her pocket, Padmé adopted her best sabacc face.

"Nothing," she said.

"Shall we return to the Senate, then?"

Padmé glanced back to the sky. The troop carrier had disappeared amongst a torrent of similarly shaped speeders and aircars.

"You go ahead," Padmé said absently. "I need to stop at my apartment for something."

Sabé knew better than to inquire why. "Yes, my lady."

Δ Δ Δ

When Padmé returned to her apartment she wasted no time rushing to her bedroom. There she produced the holo from her drawer and keyed the code in question. She set it down on the bed and only had to wait a few seconds to establish a connection.

"Tyranus."

"My lady."

The count bowed, but it seemed he couldn't be bothered to kneel. Padmé frowned at his impertinence.

"What is the matter?"

Dooku's typically impassive face was wrought with an anxiety which rang even louder in the Force. The man was terrified.

"One week."

Padmé frowned. "One week until what?"

"The battle. It happens in one week."

Her eyes widened. "But I thought you said it wouldn't be for months!"

"Lord Sidious is impatient."

But why? What could explain his sudden haste? He had been patient for so long!

"You fear for your life?" Padmé observed. Her tone was one of undisguised disinterest.

"I have reason to believe he seeks to eliminate me during the battle."

"I wouldn't be surprised."

"He told me his plans. He wants the Jedi Skywalker as his apprentice."

That gave Padmé pause. Why would Sidious disclose that to Dooku?

"I think he wants Skywalker to kill me."

"Then I suggest you don't let him," Padmé said dryly.

"But if I don't, Sidious will kill me himself!"

"I doubt that."

"He has no use of me! You said he would cast me aside when the right time came! Now is that time!"

Padmé rolled her eyes. "Relax," she said. "Sidious wouldn't do anything in front of Skywalker. He wouldn't dare reveal himself."

"But what about after? Might he kill me then?"

Why was Dooku being so dense? He was usually more analytical. This ordeal must really have him shaken. "Your use to him is as Skywalker's victim. Your death serves no purpose to him if it does not come by Skywalker's blade."

"But if the plan fails –"

"He will adapt. He always does."

Dooku seemed to be placed at ease by this assurance, but only slightly. "And what if it doesn't fail?"

"What do you mean?"

"What if Skywalker bests me?"

"Do you think that could happen?"

"A warrior must never overestimate his abilities. I am more talented, but also much older. Skywalker's skills grow with each encounter. The next one might very well be my last."

Padmé's eyes drifted to the windows as she considered. Could Anakin really defeat Dooku? She knew he was powerful, but surely he was no match against a well-trained Sith Lord.

"I fail to see how I could be of any help to you," Padmé said.

"But couldn't you, my lady?"

"How so?"

"Skywalker… he is your husband, isn't he?"

Padmé tensed. She neither confirmed nor denied, but her reaction no doubt revealed the truth to Dooku.

"You told me Sidious wanted your husband. It must be Skywalker."

"This subject has no bearing on the matter at hand," Padmé said stiffly.

Dooku ignored this. "You could talk to him! Convince him not to kill me."

"Why would I take such a risk? If Sidious were to find out –"

"If you don't, Sidious will have Skywalker in the palm of his hand. All of your planning would be for naught."

Padmé immediate reaction to Dooku's interruption was indignation, but she stopped herself from reprimanding him. He made a good point. Not intervening would play directly into Sidious' hand. While she could glibly tell Dooku that all he needed to do was simply not let Anakin kill him, she knew Sidious wouldn't leave his plans to something as capricious as fate. If his plan was for Anakin to kill Dooku, he would make sure it happened. Yet he had no idea she knew about this, and therefore would not be taking her into account. Padmé alone had the power to disrupt his plans.

"Point taken, Tyranus," she said. "But let me ask you this: How would you have me make this request of Skywalker?" She winced at her frigid delivery. Why was she still pretending as if she had no affiliation with Anakin? Dooku clearly knew either way. "From my husband, that is," she amended, voice warming a fraction. "Don't you think he might be a bit suspicious if I told him not to kill the leader of the Confederacy?"

"I don't care how you do it, my lady, I just ask that you do. My life and your husband's fate depend on it."

Padmé chewed on her lower lip. What Dooku was proposing was entirely logical. From a purely tactical point of view, she ought to accept it without further consideration. But Padmé wasn't a tactical thinker. Not in this moment, at least. Her emotions got the better of her. Her fear, her dread, her guilt.

If Anakin found out…

It had to happen eventually, didn't it? But that time was always on the horizon, just beyond the realm of inevitability. Her impulse was to push it away, to stall for time. But that was no solution.

"My lady?"

She gave Dooku a curt nod, her display of assuredness undercut by the queasiness brewing in the pit of her stomach. "I will do what I can."

"You will speak with him?"

"Goodbye, Tyranus."

Padmé deactivated the projector before Dooku could ask her to clarify. She pressed her hands together in front of her mouth and turned around. Pacing away toward the vanity, Padmé willed herself to calm down. To think rationally.

Saving Dooku wasn't the issue. Frankly she couldn't care less if he died. All that mattered was foiling Sidious' plans to corrupt Anakin. It was clear to her that the end game had arrived. Palpatine himself had even said it to her face on numerous occasions. This ploy was the crescendo and she had to disrupt it.

And so when she turned around, Padmé had no hesitation in her step. She marched to the bed and picked up the holo. Entering the code, Padmé felt a shudder of anticipation. Was she really going to do this? Was she going to reveal herself to Anakin after all these years of deception?

A sudden jolt of panic had her deactivating the holo in her hand. She clenched her fist around the device and released a shaky breath. This felt wrong. She couldn't explain why, but it just was. Dooku wasn't worth the risk! And besides, this wasn't the type of conversation one held over hologram. She wanted to be face to face with him when she…

When she…

When she did what exactly? Told him their whole marriage was a lie? Reveal that she had been manipulating him ever since they met as children?

Another breath. She had to stop thinking this way. Her master never let emotions interfere with his judgement! This was necessary. Anakin had to know he was walking into a trap.

Before she could stop herself, Padmé entered the code for a second time and set the holo down on the bed. She held a hand to her forehead and did what she could to keep her dread at bay. The blue light of the projector flickered, a frequency wavelength undulating up and down in what Padmé interpreted as a mocking gesture. The seconds stretched into minutes, the minutes creeping into hours…

"Padmé?"

Her wide eyes met those of her husband. He looked a bit worse for wear – his long hair unkempt and his cheeks sprayed with stubble. This was the war's effect on him. The war her master had propagated.

Padmé's chest felt tight and her throat was constricted. She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

"Padmé? What's wrong?"

She placed her hands over her midsection and centered herself. This was something she had to do – for them and for him.

"Anakin, we need to talk."