Something was wrong.

Obi-Wan bolted out of bed, panting. He was sweating, and there was a fire in his gut as if he felt like he was going to be ill. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Moments later, Siri awoke with a start.

"What…?" Siri hissed, looking around wildly.

"You feel it too?" Obi-Wan asked.

When Siri nodded, they both grew even more worried. Was someone trying to poison them? Was that why they felt so odd? What about Padmé?

Obi-Wan leapt out of bed and ran to his sister's room, but Padmé was fast asleep, completely unperturbed by whatever was bothering them.

"Obi, you hear that?"

Whirling around, Obi-Wan saw that his wife had followed him but noticed a sound he hadn't. Pausing, he then recognized the distinct sound of someone incessantly slamming their fist on the front door. Following Siri, Obi-Wan rushed to the front door and opened it to reveal their smuggler friend, Almusian. The man looked absolutely frantic and was panting for air as if he had just run across half the planet. He pushed his way passed them, closing the door and dragging them into the lounge to speak.

"You guys have to get out of here—now!" Al said frantically, his voice high and panicked.

"What are you talking about? What's going on?"

"It's Naboo—and the Empire—the spies—Athia—"

"Al," Obi-Wan cut in. "Calm down. What's happened?"

Al stopped when interrupted and attempted to slow his breathing. Closing his eyes, he said a little slower, "Athia—the spy you met with—she's been captured. The Rebels we were going to move from Naboo to Nimo'alke are dead—all of them. They know—they must know of your involvement. You guys are the ones who arranged this, who met with Athia, and—and—"

"When was she captured?" Siri asked.

"Two hours ago, around 0345," Al answered hastily. "Look, I've got my ship prepped, fueled, and running. Get Padmé up and let's get the hell out of here!"

"What's wrong?"

Obi-Wan, Siri, and Al turned to see Padmé in the entranceway to her bedroom, looking disheveled and confused.

As Al once again began to explain the situation, Obi-Wan started to think about different possibilities. They could leave immediately, but any doubt left in the Empire's mind would be gone and they'd have a fleet on their tails so fast their heads would be spinning… but still… Al was good at escaping notice, particularly Imperials. They could leave now. They should leave now.

As Al was making this point as well, Padmé interrupted him. "No, we can't leave. Today's the last session; we can make it through the day."

Obi-Wan almost gaped at her. "Padmé, just because I said yesterday—"

"It's not just that," Padmé shook her head. "If we're going to be talking to Senator Tlenden about the Alliance, we don't want the Empire to know about it, right? They'll know if we leave now. If we vanish when everything goes to hell, we'll be playing right into their hands. This has to be a trap."

Siri rolled her eyes, growing annoyed with her sister-in-law. "We can't stay—we can't go to the senate tower."

"If they knew for sure that we were responsible for all this, they would have shown up long before you did, Al." Obi-Wan conceded reluctantly. "You said Athia was captured about two hours ago, right?"

"Yes."

"Then they don't know," Padmé immediately concluded.

"They could just be biding their time," Siri argued.

"What possible reason would they have to do that? If they had everything they needed they'd come after us." Padmé pointed out. Much to Obi-Wan's annoyance, he understood the logic in her argument. Whatever the Empire had on them, it wasn't solid enough to send a firing squad just yet. But then…

"How did they find out about the operatives? And Athia?" Obi-Wan asked no one in particular.

"Maybe Athia made a mistake somehow," Siri remarked. "She was pretty freaked out when I last saw her. She could have slipped up."

"And somehow revealed everything about the Naboo operatives and nothing about us?"

"Vader already knew about Naboo," Padmé pointed out. "He mentioned it at dinner."

If it was possible, Al looked even more panicked. "You had dinner with Darth Vader?!"

"Now's not the time to be going over this," Obi-Wan sighed. "Let's make a decision."

"We should stay." Padmé said firmly. "Today's the last day before the final recess."

"What's the point?" Siri asked. "If we're just leaving and not coming back anyway, why does it matter if we keep face or not?"

"Because they'll probably be tailing us anyway," Padmé replied. "If we flee, they'll start searching for us immediately, and that may cause problems with our meeting with Tlenden. If we wait and leave when everybody else does and don't raise suspicion, there won't be a problem until the end of the recess, and that's an entire two weeks."

Blast it. "She does have a point." Obi-Wan admitted grudgingly. He would have made that argument himself if it didn't include risking the lives of his wife and sister.

"You people are insane," Al nearly yelled, flailing his arms into the air to emphasize his point. Still, Al was very intelligent; he would see the reason in her argument as well. "I'll have my comm. channel open and I'll be waiting in my ship. You call me as soon as the session's done and I'll be anywhere you need me in a heartbeat, got it? And call me if things go south sooner than that."

The three nodded, and Al bowed his head, still panting, and worriedly rushed out of the apartment.

Everyone just stood there. It wasn't as if there was much else they could do at this point; despite any logic they argued, they were all still terrified.

"All the operatives…" Padmé muttered softly, but Obi-Wan cut her off.

"We can't be focusing on that right now. Let's get ready."

This was going to be a very long day.

"Governor, can you help me?"

Tarkin turned to see a child with sandy blonde hair, a thin and bruised face, and shining blue eyes watching him.

"What do you need, little one?" he asked.

"Master says I have to practice my swimming and underwater combat. He says one of the things I have to work on is using the Force to hold my breath for a long time. Can you time me in the pool?" The boy questioned softly, trying to stand tall against the towering figure of the grand moff.

He sighed somewhat irritably. He had been preparing for a meeting, but he supposed he could spare some time for this. Besides, he needed to clean up the boy's face. Nodding towards a particularly bad laceration that was still bleeding slightly, he said, "Did you just get out of a training session with the emperor?"

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

Here the boy's eyes seemed to change somehow. "I'm not supposed to call you 'sir' anymore."

"And why is that?"

"Master says I've been promoted. He says if I do well I'll get a name."

Tarkin raised his eyebrow. The child had just been called 'boy' by Palpatine up to this point. The concept of actually having an identity should be extremely exciting, but the child looked as if it were nothing.

It was probably at this point that Tarkin had begun to wonder what in the blazes Palpatine was doing to this kid.

A beeping sound startled Tarkin awake and he automatically hit the snooze button on his alarm. However, the beeping continued. Confused, he opened his eyes and looked at his chronometer, which read 0607; his alarm was set to go off in a little under a half hour. What was…?

Following the sound, Tarkin noticed it was his comlink that had awoken him. He immediately grabbed and activated it. "This is Grand Moff Tarkin."

"Governor, come to my quarters immediately." Darth Vader's voice said through the contraption before cutting the communication.

Sighing heavily, Tarkin quickly got out of bed, cleaned himself up as best he could, and hastily threw something presentable on. Thankfully his quarters were in the palace; he had been given this residence almost twenty years ago when he had first met Vader.

Within five minutes of the call, Tarkin was at Vader's door. Before he could even knock, the door slid open for him, and he entered. Looking around, he saw Vader standing by his balcony glancing at a data pad. On the floor beside him was an Intelligence agent, his eyes wide open and empty. Tarkin jumped with a small yelp.

"What happened?" he asked, his heart racing.

"He disobeyed." Vader remarked softly, apparently too engrossed in what he was reading to answer more fully.

"Disobeyed?" Tarkin questioned, still staring at the lifeless agent.

Vader finally finished whatever he was reading and lowered the pad, looking at the governor. "He was giving me a report when I sensed he knew of information about the Rebel base. He wasn't assigned to that operation, so if he knew the information, he broke protocol."

"And you killed him for it." Tarkin stated monotonously. He couldn't have reprimanded him and then left the more formal punishment up to Intelligence?

"It was a severe breach," Vader replied. "Intelligence agents of all people should understand that they only know what they're allowed or ordered to know."

"So why did you call me?"

"I learned the information he knew. I figured you'd want to hear it."

Slightly annoyed, Tarkin folded his arms. "You couldn't wait until I woke myself up?"

Vader blinked. "I thought you were already awake."

His annoyance increased. They had known each other for about twenty years; one would think Vader would eventually observe when Tarkin woke up every kriffing morning.

Of course he wouldn't. It wasn't pertinent.

Sighing heavily, Tarkin said, "Go ahead and tell me, then."

"The information from Dantooine has yielded a location for the Rebel's main base." Vader stated, immediately catching Tarkin's attention.

"They've located the main stronghold?" he repeated breathlessly.

Vader nodded. "Yavin 4. I can give you coordinates."

"Don't bother wasting time; inform the nearest fleet immediately." Tarkin ordered with extreme pleasure. They would get them, they would have them in their grasp, and they would destroy them!

As Vader did so, Tarkin ordered for some droids to send the agent's body to Intelligence along with a data pad that held a report of what had happened. When it was all finished, Tarkin watched the Sith Lord as he spoke. The young man was dressed in the same clothes as yesterday, and the dark circles under his eyes indicated that he hadn't slept at all last night. As soon as the Sith finished speaking to a grand admiral and cut the comm. channel, Tarkin asked, "Why haven't you slept?"

"I was arranging events."

"You have done plenty, milord," Tarkin replied, nodding towards the man's comlink. "You should go to bed."

"No, I must prepare for the day." Vader shook his head.

As Vader turned and went to his bedroom, Tarkin refrained from rolling his eyes. The man had no off switch to his obsession; once he was assigned a task he would do it no matter what. If he felt he had a reason to be up all night, he would stay up all night, and if he felt he still had to go and work the following day, no amount of exhaustion would stop him. And no amount of coaxing from Tarkin would help, either. Still, if the boy was going to make himself pass out in the middle of the day, it was probably best that Tarkin be there to catch him.

"What sort of arranging were you doing last night?" Tarkin asked conversationally as he sat on a couch in the main lounge.

"The Rebels on Naboo have been eradicated."

Tarkin looked sharply in Vader's direction. "Does that include the senator and the representative?"

"No. Master wants me to get as much information as possible from the senator. I'm not sure of the representative's involvement beyond protecting Amidala. The handmaiden is probably a good information gatherer."

"Handmaiden?"

"Siri Naberrie; she's the representative's wife. She grew up in a foster home down the street from the Naberrie family, so she's been involved with them for a long time."

"I see. How many Rebels were on Naboo?"

"Approximately—"

"Just star-chart it for me," Tarkin interrupted in exasperation.

Vader reentered the room looking more refreshed and wearing a new outfit. "About five hundred."

Tarkin blanched. "That many?!"

"In comparison to the planetary population it isn't much." Vader remarked as he walked to a mirror and began to examine himself as usual.

"How long have you known about them?" Tarkin asked suspiciously as he watched Vader smooth nonexistent wrinkles on his tunic.

The young Sith Lord remained silent for two minutes, as was usual for his morning ritual, and then he faced Tarkin. "I've known for a little over three days."

"And you waited until now?"

"I had to test the Naberrie family," Vader replied calmly. "My hypothesis was that they would retaliate in some manner, and I was correct. The Rebels were arranging to leave the planet en masse. They were no doubt tipped off about my investigation."

"And yet Palpatine wants to keep them alive." Tarkin quipped, growing steadily more frustrated. Their involvement in the Alliance was so bloody obvious to him at this point that he was half tempted to arrange for their execution without permission.

Vader didn't comment.

Curious, Tarkin asked, "What do you think of the matter, milord? Do you think they should just be killed at this point?"

"Whatever happens to them is Master's will." Vader replied, heading towards the front door.

Tarkin followed three steps behind him, saying nothing. He really didn't know why he bothered asking those sorts of questions when he knew perfectly well what the answers would be.

When the two entered the lift, Tarkin leaned against the back wall and watched Vader. "Are you going to go walking?"

The Sith nodded.

Tarkin sighed. Once that man started his morning routine nothing would interrupt it. He had better ask whatever questions he had remaining now or he wouldn't get a chance until later. "Do you know for sure if the Naberrie family told the Alliance operatives?"

"I didn't see any actual exchange," Vader replied. "But they were the only ones outside of myself and two Intelligence agents who knew. I watch them while they're in the senate tower, and I have an agent stage their apartment until my arrival at night."

"You stay there all night?"

"If necessary."

Tarkin sighed again for what seemed the hundredth time. No wonder the Sith looked tired. "And yet no suspicious activity?"

"They had a visitor this morning."

"At this hour?"

Vader nodded. "We don't have him on file, so it's likely he's a Rebel. I've got someone tracking him as we speak."

The lift came to a stop, and Vader was about to exit. Tarkin stopped him for one more question. "Have you arranged for a handmaiden vacancy?"

Darth Vader nodded mutely, and then departed.

The traffic was particularly horrible today. The air lanes were filled with speeders sitting bumper to bumper, and all the inhabitants were starting to get annoyed.

"Probably a wreck," Siri commented softly as she leaned back in her seat.

Obi-Wan grunted in acknowledgement, his gaze drifting elsewhere. His eyes focused on a small dark blue speeder. A middle aged female Twi'lek sat in the driver's seat, holding the controls firmly and irritably as she waited for traffic to move. Beside her was a male Twi'lek of similar age who seemed to be conversing with her. In the back sat three other Twi'leks, far younger in age, who bore resemblances to the two in the front. One was folding her arms impatiently while the other two seemed to be laughing together about something. It was a family, and they were just going through an ordinary morning.

What did ordinary even mean anymore? Ordinary when he was a child had meant getting ready for school alongside Padmé and Sola, eating a delicious breakfast with his whole family, and then going to class. He and Sola would do their best to pay attention, but they would eventually grow tired of sitting still and would start passing notes. When Obi-Wan had graduated primary school at age twelve he had enrolled in the service corps, following in the steps of his adopted parents; an ordinary day then meant getting up, getting his assignment for the day, and working to help others. But ordinary took a turn for the worse once Padmé had become queen. Ordinary became stress; they always had to worry about the safety of their planet, how it aligned with Imperial decrees, how they could make contact with the Rebel Alliance and offer their assistance. And then, finally, once Padmé became senator and Obi-Wan became a representative, ordinary became this. It became the constant worry of exposure, of capture, of execution.

He knew he shouldn't be feeling this way. He had been brought up to fight injustice, and this was probably the most peaceful way to do it; Obi-Wan wasn't a fan of violence. He knew there were people in worse situations; fugitives who had lost everything, prisoners who were being tortured… the list went on. He had little right to be complaining. Still, watching that family just act like a blasted family and not have to constantly fear for their lives…

Obi-Wan shook his head. This was the last day. They wouldn't be nearly as exposed anymore after today. But it also made him dread what was to come; once they made the final step and just stayed at the Rebel base, there was no going back. They would be official traitors.

"Obi?"

Obi-Wan turned at the gentle voice of his wife. She was watching him with concern, having noticed his worry. Reaching over, she squeezed his hand and smiled, her eyes hardening.

"We'll get through this," she whispered with conviction.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath and nodded in reply. He glanced to the back of the speeder to check on Padmé, who had been quiet for the entire ride. She was sitting stiffly and looking out the window, her eyes clouded with thoughts of what was to come.

The traffic began to move abruptly. A squad of fighters flew by, heading towards an air base. Their movement must have been what caused the traffic jam.

"Kriffing military," Siri grumbled as her grip on Obi-Wan's hand increased. He perceived her nervousness in her tone, despite her best efforts to hide it. They were both looking out for anything that would indicate the Empire was getting ready to finish them off; watching the Empire's military was not helping improve their moods.

Noting the senate tower, Obi-Wan released his wife's hand as they started to move. Siri piloted the speeder to a parking area (Obi-Wan wasn't a huge fan of piloting, so he mostly left it to his wife) and the three hopped out in silence.

As they headed to Padmé's office, many different scenarios flew through Obi-Wan's mind. There was no logical reason for a firing squad to be waiting for them anywhere; Obi-Wan supposed the Imperials might want to make a show of their execution and do it in a public place, but it still didn't make sense; they could have just been captured at home and executed publicly anyway. Something was still missing; their enemy was still looking for something.

Siri stopped Padmé when they reached the door to her office. "Let me go first."

Obi-Wan looked at Siri a little worriedly. He knew she was armed; as Padmé's handmaiden she served as her aide and security, so she was allowed to carry a blaster. Still, if she started acting this paranoid, their guilt would become obvious very quickly. They had to remember that Vader would still be watching them. Obi-Wan furrowed his brow slightly and shook his head subtly at Siri, who paused and threw him a glare. She didn't seem to want to worry about subtlety anymore.

Sighing, Obi-Wan at least tried to make it look normal. Turning to Padmé, he leaned against the wall and folded his arms casually. "What do you think we'll talk about in the senate session today?"

Padmé glanced from Siri to Obi-Wan, knowing that they were exchanging some sort of dialogue but not knowing what it was. Still, she trusted them well enough to play along. Facing Obi-Wan fully, Padmé replied. "I imagine they'll talk about the security bill some more. Tie up loose ends and the like."

As the two conversed, Siri strolled into the office as if she were just unlocking it and prepping it for Padmé. Obi-Wan tensed every muscle in his body despite his best efforts to look calm. His heart seemed to beat so loudly he couldn't even hear what Padmé was saying. Suddenly he felt relieved, his muscles relaxed, and he looked at the door as Siri exited and raised an eyebrow.

"You guys coming or what?" she asked, motioning inside.

Obi-Wan and Padmé followed her inside, closing the door behind them. Padmé sat at her desk, sorting through all of her files. Obi-Wan watched her for a moment as she ensured the Empire wouldn't find anything incriminating in her office. Eventually, he turned to leave and go to the representatives' offices next door; he had to clean up as well. However, something seemed to be missing, and he wasn't sure what it was until Siri pointed it out.

"Where's Sabé?"

Pausing, Obi-Wan looked at his wife. Sabé was always on time, and she should have been here by now. He highly doubted it was a coincidence, but at the same time, it didn't make any sense; Sabé was loyal to Padmé, but she wasn't a Rebel. She didn't know anything about their involvement. What purpose would it serve to interrogate her?

As Obi-Wan contemplated it quietly, Siri began to grow agitated. "Shavit, they must have her. What are we going to do? We can't just leave her stuck in some cell!"

"We don't know if that's what happened," Padmé tried to reassure her.

"You can't deny all kriffing day that everything is going to hell, Padmé," Siri snapped.

Before an argument could begin, Obi-Wan interrupted both of them. "Enough. Padmé, keep cleaning up. Siri, go find out where Sabé is. I'm going to my office."

As Obi-Wan got near the door, it opened before he could reach it. The representative for the colonies in Chommell, Rekk, stood in the doorway. He jumped when he noticed Obi-Wan.

"Forgive me," he said hastily. "I didn't mean to intrude."

"It's fine, Rekk," Padmé replied from her desk. "Come on in."

Obi-Wan stepped aside to allow the man to enter. He was going to leave until he heard what the representative had to say.

"I just wanted to give you my condolences, senator."

Obi-Wan froze.

"Condolences?" Siri asked sharply.

"You… you haven't heard?" Rekk sounded like he didn't want to be the one to relay this news.

Obi-Wan slowly turned on his heel to watch the exchange, dread filling him.

"I'm afraid not," Padmé shook her head, trying to keep a calm expression.

"Sabé… Sabé was in an accident on her way to work." Rekk said slowly. "It's all over HoloNet – there was a huge wreck that backed up tons of traffic. They just cleared it, and they said everybody involved was killed. They didn't say who, but I recognized Sabé's speeder in the wreckage. It looked like she lost control and slammed into oncoming traffic."

Obi-Wan felt sick. He watched Siri gape in horror as Padmé stood abruptly and turned towards the window. Neither woman could say anything, so Obi-Wan stepped in.

"Thank you for telling us, Rekk."

Rekk caught Obi-Wan's meaning and bowed deeply to them before leaving. The office was still for several minutes as everyone processed the information. Obi-Wan had suspected the Empire might have captured Sabé for questioning, but this? Why would they… how could they… what purpose was there in killing her? She was innocent!

Anger coursed through Obi-Wan, but he shoved it down. Getting overly emotional wouldn't help him think straight, and he had the distinct feeling he would be the only one doing that today.

"That's it." Siri shook her head, her fists clenched. Obi-Wan immediately grew nervous; his wife was not nearly as good at controlling her emotions, and getting her to not do something rash might be more than he could handle right now. "We have to leave. Now. They had absolutely no reason to kill Sabé apart from warning us."

"Shouldn't that make it all the more reason to play it safe and stay?" Obi-Wan rebutted.

"You were saying we should get the hell out of here!" Siri argued hotly.

"Yes, because I was concerned they were certain of our involvement." Obi-Wan snapped; he was trying very hard to control himself, but his emotions were beginning to spill over. "If they killed Sabé, it could be for several possibilities. One is that for some inexplicable reason they suspected she was the one involved with the Alliance. The other is that they're on to us but they're just warning us, which means they still don't have anything tangible."

"Or it could just be an accident, right, Padmé?" Siri jabbed, looking at her.

Padmé was silent. Obi-Wan shot Siri a hard look. Leave her alone.

Despite her rage, Siri quickly realized she had stepped too far. Blowing out a frustrated breath, she said, "I'm sorry. But… what the blazes are we going to do?"

"We're going to do just what we said we'd do." Obi-Wan instructed slowly, keeping his voice level as he felt his stomach churning with anxiety. "The morning session begins in ten minutes, so let's be prompt."

"What about lunch?" Siri asked. "Padmé, you can't go with Vader."

"I have to," Padmé replied quietly.

"Then we're going with you." Obi-Wan immediately said.

Padmé said nothing.

Taking a calming breath, Obi-Wan left in silence, going to his office. The representatives had three small offices conjoined by a foyer. When he entered the foyer he saw that the door to Tsa's office was closed, but Rekk's was open. Rekk glanced up from his work, looking at Obi-Wan worriedly. Obi-Wan managed to offer a small smile before going to his own room and closing the door.

Finally alone, Obi-Wan collapsed in his chair and buried his face in his hands. He couldn't believe this. Sabé—the operatives—the spy—Kuna—it was all washing over him, consuming him. He let it go through him, he let his body tremble, he let a sob of dread, terror, remorse, and utter desperation quietly escape his lips, and then he began to breathe again. He took long, calming breaths, and he just sat there. He would clean his desk later. He just needed to be alone and collect himself. He just needed to breathe.

One day it would come. One day the Empire would fall. One day there wouldn't be this kind of oppression, this kind of tyranny. One day Palpatine would die. It wasn't today; it may not even be within the next decade. But one day, it would happen. And Obi-Wan would be there to see it. And then he would be free; they all would be. He wouldn't have to worry about his safety, or that of his wife, or Padmé, or anybody. No, the galaxy wouldn't be perfect after the Empire, but it at least wouldn't be this. He had been watching the repercussions of Imperial tyranny since he was twelve years old starting his first day of the Naboo Service Corps, and he was sick of it.

After he finally managed to get a hold of himself, Obi-Wan stood, his eyes still closed. He remained still for a moment longer and then finally went to the senate arena. Siri and Padmé were already in the pod alongside Tsa, Rekk, and Cordé, Padmé's only other handmaiden, who assisted the representatives. Padmé was standing at the front of the pod, facing the arena with determination, her hands resting on the console. Siri stood close to her, her hands clasped firmly in front of her.

When Siri noticed Obi-Wan, she walked over to him. She looked calmer now, but that was only because she had internalized her emotions. Her anger was still bubbling, waiting to be used, but what was obviously bothering her now was the loss she felt over Sabé. Although he wasn't very good with reassuring anyone, Obi-Wan wanted to hold her, he wanted to comfort her and just be with her, but he couldn't do that; not here. Instead, he nodded to her, trying to convey that he understood what she was going through and they'd be out of here soon. Somehow she got the message, and she nodded in reply with a small smile. The two sat together, and Obi-Wan subtly slipped his hand into hers, squeezing it.

The morning session went by without Obi-Wan noticing it at all. He heard nothing except the echoes of their voices. He was only thinking about what in the blazes they'd do about lunch. How would they survive an encounter with Vader today? They were barely holding it together; he doubted he'd be able to contain even his own emotion in front of that man. Obi-Wan had a sinking suspicion that Sabé's death was directly related to the Sith Lord, and the thought of sharing a meal with him after that made Obi-Wan sick to his stomach.

By noon everyone stood to leave. Tsa, Rekk, and Cordé departed first, but Padmé stopped Obi-Wan and Siri.

"Go find Al." she whispered. "Tell him that he'll be taking you two to Salkende."

"What?" Siri hissed.

"Don't argue," Padmé immediately interrupted before Siri could continue. Obi-Wan felt his own ire rising; what was she thinking? She couldn't go to lunch without them. Padmé seemed to be under the impression she was invincible, but they all knew she wasn't. "Just do that for me. Tell him to pick you two up right after the end of the session. Meet him in one of the designated spots; nobody can see you guys meeting him."

"Pick us two up?" Obi-Wan repeated her words. "What about you?"

"I've got an alternative way," Padmé replied cryptically. "I'm not going to Salkende; you two are."

"Where are you going?"

"Naboo."

Obi-Wan blanched. What was she thinking? "Vader said we couldn't go there yet."

"The Rebels are dead," Padmé noted grimly. "The threat is over now, isn't it? Besides, I'll have clearance."

Obi-Wan and Siri were both getting ready to argue, but Padmé gripped their forearms. "Just go – we don't have much time."

He couldn't allow this. He couldn't. Padmé couldn't be left alone to that Sith monster. Obi-Wan tried to argue again, but Padmé shook her head fiercely. "Go."

He hated this. He hated this. This wouldn't end well. Padmé looked at them, her eyes growing harder by the second. She would not back down. Eventually, the stand off ended and Obi-Wan took Siri's hand, guiding her out. He felt his wife grow enraged with him as he complied to Padmé's wishes, but there was nothing else he could do at this point. They just had to trust her.

But that didn't change the fact that he had a very bad feeling about this.

Padmé had always been good at hiding her emotions when necessary. She had always been able to handle the stress of politics. She had always been able to read when others were untrustworthy. She had welcomed the thought of being able to help others in a peaceful manner; becoming queen had been a privilege and a dream come true. When she was introduced to a Rebel operative during her reign, she had thought she could do even more good. She knew she could help more people.

That was why she had done this. That was why she had chosen this path, why she was risking her life every day. Because deep down, she knew somehow she was helping countless numbers of people. She was taking care of her sector, she was ensuring that the Alliance continued to stay one step ahead of the Empire… through her help, the galaxy would eventually be rid of the Empire.

She had told herself she would endure any hardship. She would report everything and somehow still keep herself, her brother, and her sister-in-law safe. Somehow they would all get through it together.

The past week had definitely tested those beliefs. Not only was she and her family in imminent danger of losing their lives, but one of her handmaidens had been murdered because of her. And yes, it was murder – Padmé knew she could be naïve, but even she could see this for what it was: Imperial handiwork. For some inexplicable reason, the Empire had deemed it necessary to kill Sabé – a life had been snuffed out, an innocent life, all because of Padmé. She didn't know what to feel, how to feel—anger, hatred, pain, sorrow, guilt, depression, hopelessness, fear… everything swirled as one within her, making her break into a cold sweat as she paused to catch her breath in an abandoned hallway.

She was lost. She was drowning. It was too much. There was too much going on, she was in too deep.

But she would go deeper. She would take the plunge. Because despite how alone she felt, she also felt like she had a new direction, a new fierce determination that would guide her. Vader had made a big move today, but Padmé would make an even bigger one.

Taking a deep breath, Padmé hurried towards the emperor's antechamber. She had to get there before Vader left. Hiding where she had just two days prior, Padmé watched the emperor depart with his guards, and shortly after, the Sith Lord himself exited.

Vader looked no different today. He still wore some variety of the same black outfit that he always seemed to wear. His face was blank, and his eyes were gazing at nothing in particular. Padmé watched him move, slinking towards him, and just as he seemed to finally notice somebody was following him, she made her move.

Stepping directly in front of him, Padmé grabbed his forearm and pulled him into a corner, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him. It took all of her restraint to fight down the wave of nausea that overcame her at the thought that she was kissing Sabé's murderer, but if the Empire wanted to play dirty, she would happily oblige. She was desperate enough. Her blood rushed and her heart raced as she let her raging emotions express themselves through the kiss.

Vader tensed so much she felt as if she were holding a wooden board. She felt his hands tap her shoulders incessantly as if he were trying to decide whether he should push her off or not. He didn't return the kiss at all; it felt like he was trying to pull his face as far from her as possible. Eventually his grip became firmer—or perhaps just more frantic—and he shoved her away. His eyes were wide, his face pale, and he was panting as if he had just run a mile. His brow was furrowed deeply, and he took a large step away from her.

Padmé took a step closer to him, causing him to back away even further. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you—it's just…"

How in the blazes was she going to phrase this? She had known what she would do, but she hadn't worked out how she would say it. Vader, however, was completely stunned speechless, so it at least gave her the opportunity to get her thoughts together.

"Today's the final session," Padmé remarked, taking another step towards him until he had backed so far away he was in the corner. "I decided I was going to go home and see my family, despite the risks, but I… I didn't want to miss seeing you. If it's my safety the emperor is concerned about, then I won't visit my family; that way nobody knows I'm there... but I long to at least see Naboo… and if it's such a problem, then you should come with me. I know the perfect spot, and we would be able to spend all our time together."

Vader watched her silently, his mouth sealed shut and his hands touching the wall behind him as if he could somehow get farther from her. Eventually his shaky breathing evened out and he closed his eyes, furrowing his brow. He opened his mouth to speak, but he stuttered, and he opened his eyes once more, looking anywhere but in her direction. He tried to speak again and came up with nothing, and he abruptly broke away from the wall and began to walk in another direction.

Oh, he wasn't getting away that easily. Padmé hastily grabbed his forearm, making him freeze. "Milord, wait. I know you might have to think this over, so I'll wait for you in my office after the afternoon session. It ends early today, anyway."

Vader twisted his arm out of her grip, not looking at her, and continued his hasty retreat.

Alone in the hallway, Padmé felt her knees grow weak as she leaned against the wall for support. She had just kissed a murderer. She had kissed Sabé's murderer. How far would she go for the Alliance? How far should she go?

Trembling visibly, Padmé slid down the wall until she sat on the floor. This felt so wrong. She felt so wrong. But she had to do it. She had to.

With dread, she began to wonder what she would become with that line of thought.

Tarkin smiled and leaned back in his chair, staring at his desk. He had just cleaned it up, ensuring everything was locked away or in a satchel he would take back to the palace with him. He had no intention on staying for the truncated afternoon session; he was going to go back to the palace and enjoy the afternoon with a nice book and glass of wine. His operative was poised to enter the fray; she would approach the senator just before the final session. His work was done for the day; the navy was doing its job with the Rebels and he had no report to make to Palpatine. He might as well enjoy this one respite while he had it.

Just as Tarkin took a deep breath and prepared to stand, his office door opened and a figure burst in, collapsing against the door as soon as it closed behind him.

It was Darth Vader.

Shooting to his feet, Tarkin rushed to the young Sith. "Milord, are you hurt?"

Vader said nothing, just shaking his head and panting for air. Tarkin examined him hastily, trying to find a wound, but there wasn't one in sight. Nevertheless, the man was pale and sweaty, and his hands were trembling.

"Lord Vader, what's wrong?" Tarkin tried again.

"She—I—Master—" Vader stammered, trying to put words together in a coherent manner but failing miserably.

Tarkin grabbed the Sith Lord's arm and dragged him to a chair. He had never seen him in such a state, and it was extremely disturbing. As Tarkin began to comm. for a physician, Vader shook his head.

"No, I—I'm—don't call anyone."

"What is going on?" Tarkin asked sharply, trying to figure out what in the blazes was wrong.

"She—she—" Vader gestured with a twitchy hand, tapping his mouth and shaking his head. He was trying to say something, but he couldn't grasp the word.

"Who? Who's she?"

"Senator Amidala."

Tarkin raised an eyebrow. "Did she hurt you?"

"No." He immediately replied.

Tarkin felt himself relax a little knowing that the Sith Lord at least wasn't physically harmed. Still, he had never seen Vader this worked up. At least there wasn't a rush to ensure Vader wouldn't bleed out or something; now it was time to play puzzle solver.

"All right, start from the beginning." Tarkin said slowly, snapping his fingers to make Vader look him in the eye. "Tell me what happened. Focus."

His wording made something click in the young Sith, and he immediately closed his eyes, took a shaky breath, and then held it. Vader stayed this way for a few seconds before releasing the breath, opening his eyes, and calming immediately. He looked Tarkin in the eye, his expression neutral, but his hands still fidgeted on his lap. "I was leaving the emperor's antechamber when I sensed Senator Amidala. She stepped in front of me and—and—"

Here he stopped, no longer from panic but from confusion. He once again gestured oddly, tapping his mouth and looking at Tarkin with a furrowed brow. He looked so lost Tarkin grew concerned again that the senator had somehow managed to hurt him.

"And what?" Tarkin pressed on.

"She…" Vader clenched the fist that had been tapping his face, and he looked away. "I don't know."

Tarkin blinked. "You don't know?"

"I don't remember what it is."

"Then just describe it." Tarkin said, growing a little confused and annoyed at once. How could he have been panicked about it and now was clueless as to what it was? Or was that why he had been unnerved?

"She put her arms around my neck and she put her lips—"

"She kissed you?!" Tarkin interrupted.

Mentioning the word seemed to bring the memory back, and Vader began to tremble a little once more. He nodded, looking elsewhere.

Amidala had kissed Darth Vader. Blast, she was desperate; Vader's actions concerning Naboo and the handmaiden must have really hit home. Did the senator realize he was behind it? Most likely, Tarkin realized with frustration; Palpatine had ensured that with his introduction. But what purpose would kissing Vader serve? Yes, it would catch him off guard, but it wouldn't stop him. Surely—no, it couldn't be—the senator wasn't actually falling for him, was she? If she was, she was most likely either the dumbest or most cunning woman Tarkin had ever known.

Finally getting a hold of himself, Tarkin asked, "So that's all she did?"

Vader shook his head, his eyes returning to Tarkin. "She asked me to go to Naboo with her."

Ah, there it was. The kiss was to soften him up (or scare him out of his wits as it had obviously done, though Tarkin wasn't sure that was her desired result). Still, it was a very forward move, indicative of just how frantic she was.

It was also a perfect move. Krif, they may not even need Tarkin's operative. The final recess was two weeks long—that would give Vader ten days to spend with Amidala and just rip her to shreds, open her mind to him entirely. If they were on Naboo together, they would be in her territory for sure, but they would also be away from official eyes; Vader could get away with a lot more.

"This is a perfect opportunity, milord," Tarkin told the young man.

Vader blinked, confused.

"You'll be alone with her and in constant contact," Tarkin explained. "You can watch how she interacts with people, see what she does, find her weaknesses, and strike."

"Is that how you get people to like you?" The question would have been a joke if it had come from anybody else. Unfortunately, Tarkin had forgotten about that stipulation that the emperor had mentioned. Sithspit.

Tarkin sighed heavily. "Ah, yes, that. Well, this would be a perfect opportunity for that as well. The emperor would surely be impressed if you not only got the senator to like you, but also if you got all the information he needed in the time you two were together. Do you think you can manage that?"

"I'll always do what is needed." Vader stood, finally himself again. Tarkin watched him nervously as he departed without another word. He had set the man aright, but he still wasn't sure he was up for this mission. Who would win? The cunning senator or the relentless Sith?

So typically when you ask somebody to give you a rough estimate, you say 'ballpark it for me,' at least in the U.S. The etymology of this is believed to be rooted in baseball. Since Star Wars doesn't have baseball, I figured they wouldn't use a term that was based off an American sport, lol, so I made my own colloquialism: I figured navi-computers are insanely accurate along with the help of an astromech droid, but spacers could still use the stars as a rough guide for general things, so instead of telling someone to ballpark something, you could tell them to star-chart it for you! XD Ok, I'm such a nerd…

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter.