Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars or anything related to Star Wars. Nothing. Nada.
Chapter 13
"APPROACHING PLANET. ENGAGE SAFETY DEVICES."
Sabé looks around from her perch, at the armor clad men now running around, scurrying to their seats.
Saché sighs, smiling wanly at the small crowd of men that's formed around her during the trip to Geonosis.
"Lesson's over for the day, boys." She holds up a finger, expression brightening. "When next we meet, I'll teach you about the mating rituals of some of the foremost civilizations in the galaxy!"
Her sister had spent the trip giving the troopers, in her words, the 'quick and dirty' facts of life.
"They're woefully ignorant," she'd sighed.
Anatomy, biology, mechanics, as Saché so tactfully named it, and etiquette, were all heavily covered.
Sabé is certain her and Saché's own grasp of the subjects are somewhat skewed, their Nam hadn't shielded them from the harsher aspects of reality, the darker desires most beings held, but Naboo and their training had softened their views some. The lessons Saché gave the men was far gentler than the ones they'd received as children.
Sabé snorts at the distressed looks on several of the men's faces as they exchange worried glances, clearly thinking they won't get the rest of Saché's indispensable information.
One of the men raises a hand, like a youngling in school. "Wait, I don't understand that last bit. What are we supposed to do with the-"
The question dies as he spots Master Yoda hobbling toward their group.
"Ready yourselves, you must. When reach the planet, we do, prepare for battle," Master Yoda tells them.
"We're gonna need a translator for these poor guys," Saché mutters under her breath, as the group disperses.
Sabé snorts at that, trying to cover it with a violent sneeze.
One of the troopers puts his helmet back on before gently pushing the girls toward their seats.
"Thanks sweetness," Saché tells him, plopping into her seat.
"You're welcome, sir," he replies, nodding sharply.
Saché cringes, shakes her head and corrects him, "Not 'sir. It's miss."
Sabé nods in agreement.
The carrier rocks as they enter the atmosphere. Sabé grips the front of her seat and waits for the ship to stop shaking. Slowly the rumbling quiets and the ship steadies as the PA roars overhead again.
"PREPARE FOR INITIATION."
Troopers spring to life around them.
Exchanging knowing looks, Sabé and Saché fling their harnesses off and run.
Between anatomy and biology they had taken a bathroom break and found a storeroom full of armor. They'd decided that rather than be told to 'stay put' by Master Yoda, they would simply avoid him all together by stealing a pair of suits and stowing away with the troops dirtside.
They'd come for Padmé and they weren't being left behind.
"Come on," Sabé hisses as they try pointlessly to finish putting on their stolen armor and blend in with the troops.
They duck behind equipment, surveying the scene before spotting a transport and hurrying towards it.
Half shouting, they jump on, startling the men.
"Miss!" One of them shouts, grabbing Sabé by the collar and hoisting her up, setting her down with little effort back on her feet, keeping a hand on her shoulder to keep her steadied.
Saché flips up her visor and grins. "Hello boys!"
"Miss, you need to hang on!" One of them shouts, grabbing both of their wrists and roughly shoving them toward heavy straps dangling from the roof inside the transport.
Gripping the strap, Sabé leans into Saché and closes her eyes, hoping they survive and find Padmé. If she's alive, they're going to kill her.
#######
"Well that doesn't look good," Saché mutters, making a face as they wander through the makeshift medical tents, brimming with wounded troopers and a few Jedi, searching for Padmé.
When they'd entered the dry atmosphere, they'd planned on running off and starting their search right then and there. The troops had other plans.
"You aren't allowed off the transport," the lead trooper had told them. "You'll stay here until the area is secured."
"Like hell we will," Saché snarled.
Perhaps sensing they weren't receptive to his command, he'd nodded at one of the other men, and before either of the girls could protest, they were knocked to the ground by the landing and the officer had one of the men clamp heavy ankle cuffs on them.
"You can't-you cannot do this!" Sabé yelled as they pulled both she and Saché to the middle of the transport, depositing them with muttered apologies.
"They just did," Saché grumbled, crossing her arms and glaring at the cuff.
Once the men were off, out fighting, the sound of blaster bolts ricocheting and the smell of burning metal filling the transport, Saché reached into her pocket and pulled out a small blade.
Saché had been picking locks since she was five. This was youngling work.
It took her less than a minute to get the cuffs off, her own and then Sabé's, then they'd hurried off and into the sandy mess.
They jumped back on the transport seconds later, covering their heads and diving for the sheltered corners.
"We didn't get blasters!" Saché shouted. "How did we forget blasters?"
It was an unforgivable oversight.
So while the fight raged on, they cowered.
"So much for being useful," Sabé sighed.
Slowly the noise around them calmed, more shouting than fighting, and the troops came back.
"We came to..." one of them begins, looking at the discarded cuffs. "...release you?"
"Thanks," Saché grunted.
Getting up, the girls hopped off the transport, onto the shifting sands to begin their search again.
After what felt like hours, they'd found a trooper who'd told them there'd been 'chatter' about a woman falling from a transport earlier and that she wasn't a Jedi.
"How do you know?" Sabé asked.
The troops barely knew what a girl was, how would they know a Jedi from not?
"They called her a Senator."
Saché tugged at her hair in frustration. "You could've started with that."
"Was she hurt? Where'd they take her?" Sabé asked, wringing her hands.
He'd pointed them in the direction of a line of medical tents. Frantically, they ran towards it.
They'd asked everyone they saw if they'd seen Padmé, but so far they'd come up empty. It's fraying their already tattered nerves.
A medical droid hovers past them, and Saché reaches out, grabbing it by one of its twirling arms.
"Hey! We're looking for our friend. Shouldn't be too hard to find: girl, brown hair, brown eyes, about so tall," she holds her hand up, approximating Padmé's height, "looks kinda like us. She's probably with an obnoxious bearded man and guy with this goofy braid thing, probably exuding an unearned aura of entitlement."
The droid beeps.
"I just told you," Saché snaps.
"Use smaller words," Sabé suggests.
"Ladies," a deep voice interrupts them.
Releasing the droid, they find themselves facing Kit, standing behind them with a pleasant expression on his face.
"Kit!" Saché grins. "What's a nice Nautolan like you doing in a desert like this?"
"Have you seen the Senator? We've been all over," Sabé asks, her stomach in knots.
"She is with Master Yoda," he answers without hesitation.
Saché shoots him an exasperated look. "Profoundly unhelpful. Where is he?"
"I was just going to meet up with him. Come with me and I'll show you," he explains, waving a hand toward the back of the tent, to where some of the worst of the injured are.
Saché's eyebrows shoot up, thinking the same thing as Sabé.
What is Padmé doing back there?
All the worst possibilities begin forming in Sabé's mind.
She's gravely injured, near death, being resuscitated...
They trail after the Jedi, weaving through cots of injured, avoiding puddles of blood scattered on the floor, covering their mouths to guard from the smells of death and pain. Saché makes a face as she sees the state of the men, grim and exhausted all at once.
When they reach the back Kit pushes the curtain separating it from the front of the tent out of the way.
Kit gently nudges them to the left and around.
They've only gone a few meters when Sabé catches sight of a dusty, tattered Jedi's tunic standing next to a white clad woman with messy hair.
"Padmé!"
The woman in white turns, confused by the sound of her name. Her mouth drops open in shock.
"Sabé! Saché!"
She rushes over, dodging medical personnel, grabs them around the necks and gives them a tight squeeze.
She's barely pulled back when a scowl forms on her face.
"What are you doing here?"
Saché arches an eyebrow. "Do you really need to ask?"
She looks unsurprised. Her nose wrinkles as she takes in their appearance, stolen clothing from her closet and clone armor. "What happened to your clothes?"
Sabé glances first down at her own outfit, then at Saché's, before shaking her head. "Don't ask."
Padmé opens her mouth to chastise the, but gets cut off by a groan from behind her.
Casting a sad look at her friends, Padmé turns and hurries back to the cot in the corner.
Following her, the sisters stop just short of the bed.
Sabé feels her breath catch in her throat.
On the bed, face screwed up in pain, clutching the stub of an arm, is Anakin.
"What happened?" Sabé asks, her voice just barely loud enough to be heard, and she almost doesn't think anyone did, when Padmé answers.
"He fought with Dooku."
For a moment no one speaks, then Saché crosses her arms.
"Dooku?" Her eyebrows shoot up and she looks like she's fighting off the urge to say 'I told you so'.
A few minutes later, Master Yoda hobbles over, followed by Windu, both looking grim.
"Yes," Windu tells the gravely. "It seems Dooku has been a part of the plot all along."
Saché glares at him for a moment before rolling her eyes. "You don't say."
"I suppose we owe the two of you an apology," he adds.
Sabé and Saché wait expectantly, but no apology comes.
"How did the two of you get here?" Padmé finally breaks the silence that settles over them.
Sabé gestures toward the Jedi. "We caught a ride with them."
Padmé's eyes narrow as rounds on Windu. "Why would you bring them?"
He crosses his arms over his chest, arches an eyebrow.
"They really didn't give us much choice," he answers. "They were quite insistent and I have no doubt they would have found a way to get here whether we brought them along or not. At least if we kept them with us, we could keep an eye on them."
Padmé isn't impressed with the explanation, despite the fact that it's accurate to a fault. "That's not an excuse. Surely you could have found a way to keep them on Coruscant."
Letting out a low grunt of agitation, Saché rolls her eyes skyward. "We're standing right here you know."
"This is a war zone," Padmé adds, turning her glare on Saché. "It isn't safe for the two of you to be here."
"You're here," Saché counters, raising her chin slightly.
"I came with a Jedi guard."
Saché waves her hand behind her.
"We came with a whole damn army."
For a second Padmé glares in silent fury, grinding her teeth, while Saché simply smiles, certain she's won.
Finally, Padmé sighs, pressing her fingers to her eyes. "You two..."
"Deserve a raise for our devotion?" Saché supplies, grinning at her sister. "I think this should put us up for a pay increase. I'm sending a message back to Panaka the second we get back to Coruscant."
Padmé laughs and pulls them both back into a hug. "Don't ever do anything like this again."
"Only if you don't."
Padmé pulls back, smile dropping fractionally as she finally gets a good look at the sleeves of the blouses they're wearing, poking out from under the armor. "Is that my dress?"
After being berated for once again stealing from the Senator's wardrobe, and promising they won't do it again, which they would, Sabé and Saché had left the tents and gone to wander among the troops.
Several men came up to greet them, tell them about their exploits, wondering about what battles they'd get to fight in next.
Sabé's heart twists as she surveys the identical men, listens to their stories.
It's horrible. They've been engineered to die fighting for a Republic that didn't even know they existed.
"Disgusting, isn't it?" Saché whispers, worry coloring her features.
"What's going to happen to them?" Sabé asks, knowing she might not like the answer.
All she receives is a vague shrug in reply.
"They can't use them? They wouldn't would they?"
Saché arches an eyebrow. They would, they will.
"It's slavery," Sabé hisses. "Even if they're happy about it, don't know any better, it's still slavery."
Saché nods, but doesn't speak. She's got no words of comfort.
"Miss Saché," one of the troopers jogs up to them, followed by another pair of white armored men. "I was telling them about women."
He gestures importantly to himself, obviously proud of his expansive knowledge of the opposite sex.
"And now you wanted to show them what we look like?" Sabé asks, forcing a smile.
Her worries aren't his, and she won't ruin his good mood with her fear.
One of the troopers leans in to get a better look at them. He reaches out and takes Saché's hand and examines it, as if she were a foreign creature.
"Very small. Poorly equipped for manual labor." He searches for a word before adding, "Soft."
"And we smell nice too," Saché informs him.
"They do," the first trooper nods enthusiastically. "I smelt them earlier."
"And you're correct. We are not meant for manual labor. That's what big strong men are for," Saché adds, batting her eyes ridiculously for effect.
"That's called flirting," the first trooper explains to his friends.
"It's a little more effective when the person being flirted with is aware of what it is," Saché tells him.
He nods. "Understood, sir."
"Miss," his friend corrects him.
"Sabé. Saché."
They turn at the sound of their names.
Obi-wan, with a few other female Jedi, are striding towards the, looking windswept and tired.
"It's time to go," he tells them as he stops just short of them.
"We're talking to these women," one of the troopers tells him, stepping between Obi-wan and the girls and jabbing a finger at the Jedi. "You already have some."
Obi-wan's eyebrows rise. "Excuse me?"
"Well we are much nicer to look at than them," Saché tells her audience, earning a scowl from the female Jedi.
The trooper nods. "I agree."
"What's going on here?" A captain who had marched over to investigate the trouble asks.
The first trooper snaps to attention.
"Sir, this man is trying to take the Miss Saché and Miss Sabé. We're still talking to them. Miss Saché is very wise and promised earlier to continue her lesson."
Obi-wan chuckles, looking disbelieving. "Saché is wise? What lessons have you been giving?"
Saché's chin rises in offense. "I am wise, you bantha. And any knowledge I give out is none of your business."
"I'll ask you not to insult Miss Saché," the captain tells Obi-wan.
A satisfied smirk forms on Saché's face. "Good to know there are still gentlemen in this universe."
Looking exasperated, Obi-wan forces a pleasant smile for the trooper.
"I meant no disrespect. Saché is an old acquaintance." He shoots Saché an irritable look. "I came to collect her and Sabé. Their friend, the Senator, is being taken back to Coruscant for further treatment."
The captain looks to the girls. "Is this acceptable to you?"
Sabé nods. "Yes, thank you."
Saché links her arm with Sabé's and waves.
"Don't worry boys, I'll make sure you all get the proper instructions. I might have a recording that would be-well, not entirely educational, but informative none the less."
They hurry off after that, attempting to leave the Jedi behind, but they catch up.
"What did you teach them?" One of the Jedi, a Mirialan woman, asks.
Increasing their speed, Sabé and Saché pretend not to hear her.
When they reach the tent, they once again find Padmé hovering near Anakin.
Sitting next to him, they're watch droids cart men onto the transport when Obi-wan, Windu, Master Yoda, and the Mirialan approach them.
Sabé looks at them questioningly.
"We came to see you off," Windu answers the unspoken question.
"To make sure we leave, more likely," Saché mutters.
Judging from their shared looks, she's not wrong.
Sensing an opportunity to speak while Saché glares down the Jedi, Sabé asks, "Where will the troopers be taken?"
Snapping out of her sour mood, Saché's expression softens. "There are so many of them."
"Naboo might be able to absorb some of them," Sabé offers, looking to Padmé.
"Lorrd will help too. They're some the staunchest opponents of slavery," Saché adds.
"Slavery?" The Mirialan looks confused. "They aren't slaves."
"Well what would you call them?" Saché's snaps, glaring at the Jedi. "They are individuals born to a system that was paid to produce them. They've been given no choice in the matter and are meant to be used for a very specific purpose. Sounds suspiciously like slavery to me."
Sabé can see Padmé shifting uncomfortably behind her and looking anxiously at Anakin who has shifted on the cot. She isn't happy with things as they are, but for the moment, there's nothing to be done.
"Saché," Padmé's firm voice breaks the staring contest, "this isn't the time."
"If not now, then when Padmé?" Sabé asks, her voice breaks.
"Later."
Saché shakes her head. "What about when there is no later?"
#######
Sabé sits cross-legged and tries to smooth out the wrinkles in her stolen outfit while Saché lays on her back, humming an old lullaby.
They're waiting on Padmé and news about what they're going to do on the long trip back to Coruscant.
As soon as they'd entered the ship, Anakin was ushered off and Padmé had hurried after him. They hadn't seen her since.
A shadow falls across them and they look up to find Padmé, her expression livid.
She slumps down beside Sabé, making a frustrated noise. "They've gone into a meeting."
"And let me guess: you weren't allowed in," Saché huffs, her eyes never leaving the ceiling.
"No."
"Shocking."
They sit in silence for several long moments, Padmé casting sidelong glances down the hall every few minutes, waiting for the Jedi to disperse from their meeting and then the other way down the hall, toward the medical bay.
"I'm sure Anakin is going to be okay," Sabé reassures her.
Saché sits up, her smile mischievous. "What happened between the two of you?"
A small smile forms on Padmé's face. "He's a friend. I'm worried about him."
Sabé snorts. Both she and Saché can tell by her body language that she's grown to think of Anakin as far more than a friend.
"Oh for pity's sake Padmé, how long have we known you? You're smitten," Saché tells her, poking Padmé in the cheek.
A faint blush forms on Padmé's face. "Maybe just a little." Padmé's face falls. "They haven't let me see him since we got on."
"Won't they though?" Sabé frowns.
Padmé shakes her head.
Saché makes a disgusted noise, and her expression settles into determination as she rolls over and pushes herself up, grabbing Padmé by the hand.
"Let's go see your boyfriend."
They hurry down the hall, dodging droids and several clone troopers before they make their way to the medical bay.
There are rows of occupied beds will ill and injured men, all in varying stages of alertness. The girls squint into the brightness of the room, creeping as quietly as they can down the first row, then the second, until they reach a bed with a curtain pulled around it.
How inconspicuous of them, Saché silently grumbles and she reaches for the curtain.
Peeking around the side, Padmé sighs and silently pulls the other two with her into the small space. She gently sits at his side and places her hand on his shoulder, causing his eyes to flutter over.
"Padmé?"
"Shhh, it's all right...I just wanted to check on you."
His eyes open more and a goofy grin forms on his face, the pain medication clearly strong in him. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," she reassures him, lightly stroking his hair.
"Don't do anything halfway do you, sweetness?" Saché jokes, her eyes on his mangled arm.
He chuckles.
"Never." He looks back at Padmé, grimacing. "They'll throw you out, you know? Once they come back."
Her smile falters. "I know."
Feeling like an intruder, Sabé inclines her head toward the curtain indicating to Saché they should step out for a moment.
Shuffling quietly, they slip out of the curtained room and to the side, shielding themselves from the door but making sure they can see if anyone comes in that might discover Padmé.
"Miss?"
Both girls startle and turn to find several troopers staring at them.
"Hello boys," Saché waves, still keeping a wary eye on the door.
"Are you injured as well, miss?"
Sabé shakes her head. "Just visiting."
Suddenly, Saché hisses and Sabé looks over the men's shoulders and sees while. Obi-wan, Windu, and Master Yoda have all arrived.
Saché peeks around the curtain. "Time to leave Senator Smoochypants!"
Padmé practically jumps out of the curtained room and looks between her friends, her face flushed. "Where do we go?"
Grabbing Padmé, they force her down to the ground with them and they begin to crawl, commando style, under the cots, praying they aren't seen.
"Do you need help?" A trooper asks.
"Shhhhhh!" Saché hisses, finger to lips. "If they see us they'll…do…something. We aren't supposed to be in here, strictly speaking."
The clones nod in understanding and push the blankets off their cots so that they cover the crawling girls. Several other men shoot them odd looks as they crawl under the cots, but say nothing. They've nearly reached the door when a pair of unfamiliar boots blocks their path. All three of them grimace, certain they'll be caught, and caught in quite an undignified position.
"The Senator from Naboo was asking for admittance earlier or to be told of Skywalker's status. Should I update her or let her in?" The young, unfamiliar Jedi asks.
"The Senator is too concerned with Skywalker, and I'm afraid he is too concerned with her. They need to be separated. Do not tell her anything," Windu tells the boy before walking off.
Sabé watches Obi-wan's boots shuffle, turn to watch Windu go then turn back to the boy, sighing. "I'll speak with the Senator."
Glancing over her shoulder, Sabé watches Padmé's expression shift from hurt to fury in seconds. She's not going to be cut out of Anakin's life.
She looks seconds from crawling out and telling the Jedi just that when she's pulled from sight by the foot. Saché is zipped away seconds later. Sabé fells herself tugged backward and into the grinning arms of a group of troopers, hidden behind a stack of medical supplies.
"I knew I liked you boys," Saché whispers, eyeing their new hiding spot happily.
Padmé frowns. "Are we just going to stand around until they leave?"
One of the men tosses her a laundry bag.
Several minutes later, Sabé is inside the unpleasant smelling bag, hoisted over the strong shoulder of the trooper, being smuggled out of the medical ward. She hears the muffled voices of the Jedi as they pass them.
"'Scuse me sirs," her clone roughly tells them as they pass.
Sabé holds her breathe until she hears the familiar hiss of the door. The bag shifts from light to dark and knows they've crossed to the hall.
They only go a little further when she's gently sat down and the top of her bag opens, a pair of strong hands helps her out. "Easy does it ma'am."
"You ladies should probably avoid the med ward.'
"Agreed," Saché laughs, still making faces, trying to get the smell from her nose.
Looking awkward, the men mumble their goodbyes before scurrying off toward the medical ward.
Saché waves before sighing dramatically. "Pity. They aren't half bad looking."
#######
When they find their way back to the dark little corner they'd occupied earlier, they slump down against the wall and settle in for the remainder of the trip.
Saché begins to nod off, her head slumping onto Sabé's shoulder.
"If you drool on me I'm going to knock you over."
"Mmhmm," Saché murmurs sleepily.
Sabé has begun to nod off as well when a shadow falls over them, blocking the small sliver of light from them.
Saché grunts and opens one eye. "Oh for-what do you want?"
Squinting up, Sabé finds Obi-wan frowning down at them.
"I need to speak with the Senator."
Padmé arches an eyebrow. "Anything you have to say to me you can say to my friends."
"She'll tell us anyway," Sabé reminds him.
He sighs, runs a weary hand over his face and hair before fixing Padmé in a wary stare.
"Very well. I'm not supposed to tell you this, but Anakin will be fine. They're planning on replacing his hand once we reach Coruscant."
"What do you mean you're 'not supposed to tell'?" Saché grumbles, sitting up.
Obi-wan sighs. "Because several members of the Order feel that the Senator has become too close with Anakin. They were resistant to letting me tell you of his condition, but I convinced them that it would be better to tell you than to have you prying in on things."
Sabé almost laughs. He's a bit late to stop that.
"How terribly noble of you," Saché mutters.
"Anakin is my friend. I am concerned for his welfare, Jedi or not. There is no need for such secrecy," Padmé tells him, her teeth grinding and her expression forced calm.
Obi-wan watches her for a moment, and Sabé frowns.
He's concerned about her connection with Anakin too. Beyond that even. He's afraid of what has grown between them.
He senses danger there.
"Senator, we are afraid your feelings have moved beyond friendly. It's a very dangerous line the two of you are walking. Please, be responsible. I know Anakin's nature and I'm hoping you will do what is best," he finally says. "Get some rest."
With that he turns and leaves, wincing slightly as he walks, and Sabé feels the tiniest bit sorry she hadn't inquired about his injuries.
"Well that's-they're-completely wrong," Padmé finally stammers before slumping down, glaring at the floor.
They spend the rest of the flight in silence.
#######
"Why is it always so cold here?" Saché complains when they land at the Jedi Temple.
Padmé disappears before the healer that had come to greet them could even begin to attend to her wounds.
While they waited for her to return, the girls watched the troopers moving injured men from the transport to the Temple.
"I wonder if clones have psychic connections with each other? You know, like twins?" Saché wonders.
Sabé shrugs, continues to survey the area. No Padmé. "Where do you suppose she went?"
"Fresher?" Saché answers offhandedly. She brightens. "We could just ask her."
Padmé appears from a crowd of men, her face twisted up in a clear attempt to keep herself from crying. She looks ready to murder.
Sabé reaches out for her. "Padmé wha-"
"Come on!"
Jogging after her, they barely catch her when she's hailing a taxi.
"Padmé! You can't take a taxi! You're a senator!" Sabé reminds her, grabbing her hand.
"Give me a few minutes and I'll comm. Typho and get a speeder sent over." Saché tells her, shaking her head and looking concerned for her behavior. "Get a grip on yourself, Pads."
Padmé huffs, takes a breath, trying to calm herself.
"I'm just so, so, so…!" She balls her hands into fists and glares back at the Temple "Damn Kenobi!"
Saché looks delighted. "Did you punch him? Please tell me you punched him."
Padmé's anger slips for a moment, allowing a grin before she sighs. "No, I should have though…Look I just want to get home, get clean, and get some rest. We've got a long road ahead of us and I really don't feel like waiting for Typho."
Taking pity on her, Saché hails the taxi and they ride back to the apartment in silence.
Once they're back in the safety of their home they retreat to their rooms. Saché collapses on her bed. "You fluffy wonder! How I have missed you!"
Sabé takes a long, warm shower, glorying in the sweet smelling suds. When she finally emerges she's followed by a cloud of steam.
Her shower bliss is short lived, however, when she sees Saché, arms crossed and scowling, watching a ranting Padmé.
"…the presumption! 'Stay out of their business'! I will not be told how I should behave! They cannot dictate the rules of my life! The very thought!"
She's furious, pacing back and forth, muttering to herself as Saché nods her agreement.
"What's happened now?"
Saché shrugs.
"Abridged version: Beardi told Padmé to stay away from Anakin, again, and to keep her nose out of Jedi business." She thinks for a moment. "Actually, that's pretty much the long version too."
Walking over, Sabé drops onto the bed. "What are you going to do?"
Despite the fact that her back is to them, Sabé already senses the answer.
"I told Obi-wan that I wanted to end the relationship with Anakin myself. He's going to accompany me back to Naboo for a respite," her voice is calm, clearly calculating something.
A wicked grin forms on Saché's lips. "What are you planning Padmé? Not to end things I take it?"
Turning back to them, she smiles. "Not quite."
#######
When Padmé speaks to them a few days later, her expression is blissful.
Though Sabé and Saché knew what she and Anakin were planning, it isn't until they see the radiant look on Padmé's face that they truly know.
"I can't believe they actually did it," Sabé whispers, shaking her head in disbelief.
"I can. I mean, they're them. It seems exactly like them," Saché half chuckles, her expression still colored with concern.
Padmé returns a few days later, not an ounce of regret in her.
"I'm happy," she tells them. "We're both so happy."
Exchanging wary glances, Sabé and Saché congratulated her, gave her hugs and wished her the very best.
They won't tell the Jedi, they won't tell anyone. She's their friend and they're her handmaidens, and they'll keep her secret, to the very end.
#######
AN: That's it, that's the end. It was long because I combined the last 2 chapters, I just couldn't find a breaking point for them. Hopefully you enjoyed this little attempt. I'm going to try to work on the 3rd part, which follows the girls through their adventures during the clone war, but it'll be a while coming. It's a long story and it needs a lot of timeline work. Thanks for reading!