Knight Errant

Chapter 4: There is No Death, There is the Force

A/N: I'm not usually a fan of suggesting musical accompaniment... But I highly suggest listening to "The Night King," by Ramin Djawadi. It was a major inspiration for this chapter and the two fit sooo well together.

A loud BANG BANG BANG echoed in from inside the apartment.

Padmè and Bail turned towards the noise in surprise. On the other side of the transparisteel, Captain Typho stepped towards the front door warily, hand resting on the blaster at his belt.

Bail frowned worriedly. "Move," he said quietly, hands suddenly on her shoulders.

"What? Bail-" she blustered uselessly as he gently pushing her towards the far side of the balcony until her back was against the exterior wall. The baby kicked several times in succession, but she ignored it. She strained her ears to hear what was going on.

Once Bail was assured they were out of sight, he drew a blaster out from underneath his cloak. Holding her back and out of view, he leaned forward and peered through the transparisteel.

Someone banged on the door again, this time with more urgency. Bail's grip on his blaster tightened. If there was a squad of Clone troopers on the other side of that door, there wasn't much he was going to be able to do to protect his friend. He was decent with a blaster, but not good enough to take on entire squad. Even with Captain Typho's help. But he refused to stand by while a pregnant woman was shot down just because the father was a Jedi.

That was not the official line, of course. Quelling an uprising, they had called it. But he was no fool. There was no one in the Jedi Temple these days but Jedi too old to be in the field, and younglings too young to go to war. He hadn't said anything to Padmè, but he knew what this was: a genocide.

The only thing he didn't know was why.

Inside, Captain Typho opened the door with a quiet hiss, blaster raised and ready to shoot… And immediately dropped his blaster arm. He shoved his blaster back in it's holster before quickly gesturing someone inside.

Bail's jaws dropped and his eyes widened in an incredulous expression.

"Oh my!" C-3PO gasped dramatically from inside.

Padmè craned her neck, but couldn't see anything. "Who is it?" He didn't reply, but relaxed his hold on her.

"Milady…" Captain Typho called from inside the apartment as she stepped around Bail and back into view.

Padmè's heart leapt in surprise as she watched a group of Jedi younglings shuffle in through the door. Two young padawans, braids hanging behind their right ears, entered at the rear, herding them onto the plush carpets.

Typho stuck his head out the doorway to ensure no one had seen the group, before slamming the locking mechanism.

All of their robes were torn, dirty and covered in grime and she could see the still wet tear tracks on the cheeks of the younger children. Neither of the padawans (both human; one male and one female) looked a day over 16 standard, she speculated as they huddled in the entryway. And as far as the quivering children trailing behind them… a variety of ages and species, but everyone of them terrified. The baby squirmed.

Padmè reentered the apartment hastily, rubbing the top of her stomach. Bail followed quietly behind her.

The female padawan, a dark skinned girl with an oval shaped face and a field of freckles smattering her cheeks stepped forward, the youngest of the younglings sitting on her hip. Her eyes widened in surprise, focused on Padmè's midsection as she walked over to them. The pale ginger haired boy stayed behind with the others, watching Captain Typho warily.

"Senator Amidala," she said quietly, giving Padmè a clumsy bow as she balanced the small Togruta girl on her hip. Her eyes flicked back up to the older womans face. She took a deep, calming breath before speaking. "Master Skywalker said - he said you can help us."

She could see the struggle in the girl's face to maintain her composure.

"The Temple... They just marched in… And… We have nowhere else to go," she finished with desperation.

A terrible feeling blossomed inside of her. "What is your name?" she said gently, walking over to her and placing her hands on the girl's shoulders. She squeezed them to keep her hands from shaking.

"Mira," the girl replied quietly.

"We will get you somewhere safe. I promise. I just..."

She hesitated. She didn't want to ask… Didn't want to know. She wanted to stay in this moment for as long as she could, no matter how terrible it was. Because in this moment Anakin could be alive. If she asked and... Please let him be alright. Please, she prayed silently. "Do you know what happened to him?" she asked heavily and waited for her world to end.

"Master Skywalker?" Mira's eyes flickered down to her pregnant belly before returning to her face. "I- I don't know... He sent me and a few others off to save as many younglings as we could and come to you. Everything was so chaotic - I don't know him after that."

The boy standing with the younglings spoke up, stepping forward hesitantly. "He was part of the Temple defense," he said quietly. "I heard him taking command before my Master ordered me to go with Mira and Hankor. He was leading the charge to protect the crechè..."

Her heart dropped into her stomach as the words sank in. Leading the charge.

"What happened to the crechè?" Bail asked quietly, from behind her.

Neither Mira or the boy answered, both sets of eyes lowering to stare at the ground despondently.

That was all of the response Padmè needed. She let out a loud sob and buried her face in her hands. Anakin was always where the battle was thickest. If the crechè had fallen, then…

Her world collapsed. Anakin was gone. He had to be. He never would have stood by and allowed such a tragedy to happen.

Her Anakin was gone. She'd never see him again. His blond curls, that cheeky grin, his overwhelming desire to help people. The way he beamed under praise. His beautiful blue eyes that reminded her of the lakes at Varykino. No more of his terrible puns, no more greasy droid parts littering the bedside table.

She almost didn't feel herself being lead to one of the couches. The cushions hit the back of her knees and she collapsed onto it bonelessly.

"Milady," someone said, trying to pull her attention, but her mind was firmly stuck in a endless loop of their last moments together before everything went wrong. Before he had started having those terrible dreams…

[He looks over his arm resting on the back of the couch and watches her approach, eyes focused the bugle in her nightgown with an adoring smile.]

This isn't happening, she tried to tell herself.

Anakin would come back to her. He always came back to her. He'd made his way back to her after countless missions. Quell, Felucia, … Hells, he had even made it out of that bounty hunter's trap on Vanqor. The bridge of a Star Destroyer had collapsed on top of him, and he still made it out.

[His eyes light up and he looks happier than she's ever seen him. "That's…" he says, lost for words. "That's wonderful, Padmè." He rubs soothing circles on her shoulders with his thumbs. "...We're not going to worry about anything right now. This is a happy moment."]

Oh Gods, she sobbed. He'll never get to hold our child… He was so excited. We were going to do this together and now I'm alone. What am I going to do without-

"Milady."

["What do you think of the name Luke?" she asks blissfully. His strong arms are wrapped around her as they lie completely naked in bed, flesh hand splayed across her stomach waiting for the baby to kick. The skin-to-skin contact of his chest to her back is soothing after such a long separation.

"Luke is a terrible name for a girl," he teases tiredly, eyes half closed.

She scoffs. "It's not going to be a girl. It's a boy. Call it mother's intuition."

"No. It's a girl… Call it my Force sens- Wizard…" he cuts off in amazement when the baby kicks into the center of his palm. "She's so strong," he marvels.]

It was so grossly unfair. Everything they had done had been in the best interest of the Republic. They'd kept their marriage a secret so that he could stay a Jedi and protect people. So that she could serve in the Senate and help bring the war to a peaceful resolution. A thousand times they had chosen duty over one another. A thousand sleepless nights on opposite sides of the Galaxy waiting for the war to end so that they could finally be together.

He'd been born a slave and the moment he had been handed his freedom, dedicated his life to helping others. And this was how the Republic repaid him! With a blaster bolt in the back from his own men, trying to defend a bunch of children!

They were supposed to have forever, but they'd run out of time.

Bail and Mira managed to drag Padmè to the couch before she collapsed. They shared a glance, both uncomfortable and unsure what to do. What can you do for a woman whose just found out her husband is dead? He wondered sadly. There was still a chance that Skywalker would make it out, of course. But he reasoned it was rather unlikely. Skywalker had his share of flaws, but he knew the man would have protected those children with everything he had. If the troopers had made it through, it had been over his corpse.

It was an uncomfortable thought.

Much to both his and Mira's relief, Dormè rushed in to comfort her. They both stepped back to let the handmaid in. "Milady," she whispered mournfully, rubbing circles against Padmè's back as she cried.

Padmè's grief was palpable in the room.

Beside him, the Mira girl looked about ready to burst into tears herself. He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. He couldn't imagine what the poor girl had been through in the last few hours. Her lip quivered slightly. But then she took a slow, deep breath and set her shoulders back.

If only we all had that Jedi sense of calm...

Captain Typho let out a particularly unsubtle cough and gestured the assembled group to into another room. Mira and the boy quietly herded the children out of the room. Bail trailed behind them, snagging Padmè's vexatious protocol droid and leading him out of the room before he had the chance to disturb her grief. The droid, for once, stayed quiet.

He lingered in the doorway and looked back at where Padmè sat on the couch sobbing. "I'll have Captain Antilles bring the Tantive around," he said gently, although he was fairly certain she wouldn't hear him. "We'll find somewhere safe and figure out what to do."

She just sobbed louder.

There is no death, there is the Force.

It was never a platitude Anakin could wrap his head around. That someone would realize they were about to die and be okay with it.

Everytime death had shown up on his doorstep, he had fought it like he did everything else: with alarming ferocity and unyielding determination. Maybe it was from being born a slave; an overwhelming sense of self preservation that he was incapable of shutting off. Maybe he was just stubborn. Whatever it was, he never understood what it meant to "go gently into the Force."

Until now.

He was about to die. Correction. He was about to let himself die.

It was a startlingly calm realization to make. Distantly, he could feel the pain the realization brought with it. He would never see his Angel again. He would never get the change to hold his daughter in his arms (because he knew it was going to be a girl). There were a million strings of his life left untied. He shouldn't be ready to leave...

But it was alright. Because every second of every moment of his entire life had led him to this moment. Every lesson learning how to harness the Force. Every minute he had spent in the training salle with Obi-wan as a kid drilling katas into his brain. He'd used every skill he'd ever learned as a Jedi today to get to this hangar.

Maybe this was the moment someone had seen when they had written the prophecy of the Chosen One down on a piece of spare flimsi?

Maybe they had a vision of this. Of him crouching behind a bunch of tipped over crates next to a Padawan burdened with all of the history of the Jedi Order in a satchel strapped over his shoulder..

And a lone single-seat Jedi Starfighter in the entire hangar that hadn't been destroyed.

The single largest flaw in his great plan. He hadn't expected them to destroy the ships. But he knew he should have.

There is no death, there is the Force.

He wasn't a fool. He knew this was a trap. He could feel the Clone Troopers hiding in the shadows waiting. But it was a trap for one. Not two.

He would see Nell safely into the cockpit and protect the ship until it was out of the hanger. And then…

There were too many for him to take on. Not out in the open like that, and certainly not with his leg. He'd lost so much blood already, he was struggling to stay focused on anything for any length of time. Twice he'd made the wrong turn in the ventilation shafts getting here, and they'd been forced to waste precious time backtracking.

Maybe this was bringing balance: preserving the Jedi Order in the face ultimate destruction… At least he would die for something important. Which, in a way, was all he could have ever asked for.

The sticky cold feeling of the Dark Side tainted everything, a preamble to Palpatine's imminent arrival, but it couldn't reach the trance-like state he was in now.

Nell looked up at him, crestfallen.

He understood where they went from here

Good, he thought distantly. That means he's smart. He'll need to be smart if he's going to stay alive.

Anakin took a deep, calming breath before he spoke. "You're going to find a good place to hide once you get out of here," he said slowly, holding Nell's gaze.

"Master…" the boy let out woefully.

Anakin ignored him. "The Outer Rim is a good place to start. Burn your robes, and cut off your braid. That time has passed. Don't trust anyone but your instincts. Keep an eye out for others and once you find them, stick together. The entire history of the Jedi Order is in that bag, and in you. Palpatine is the Sith Lord we've been searching for. Don't underestimate him like I did. Keep those holocrons as far away from him as you can. You must do everything in your power to protect them, do you understand me?"

"Master Skywalker-"

"Do you understand me?" he repeated.

"...Yes, Master" the boy whispered despondently.

"Good. When I give the word you're going to run for that cockpit and you're going to get the hell off this rock and not look back. I'll cover your escape."

Anakin looked over the top of the boxes to double check the hangar was open.

There is no passion, there is serenity.

There is no chaos, there is harmony.

There is no death, there is the Force.

His hands tightened around the hilt of his saber and he took a deep calming breath. The Force wrapped around him like a cloak and whispered in his ear.

Now.

He didn't feel himself stand up, or ignite the blade in his hand. He didn't feel the dull ache from his wounded leg as he shifted stance.

He gave himself freely to the Force.