Part 30: Arrivals of Power.

Padmé turned her face away from the sky, though the horrifying image continued to haunt her mind. Smoke trailed from scorched buildings, bombarded by the Separatist gunships which took part in a raid upon the Core, their merciless destruction intended only to serve as a distraction for the real motive behind their attack; to kidnap the Supreme Chancellor.

A major coup for the alliance and something of a mixed Sabacc pot for those in the Cantham House Committee. Though Palpatine's absence could grant them permission to conduct a search of his office, the propaganda created via the HoloNet would only serve to increase the now unofficial dictator's popularity amongst the ignorant or corrupt masses.

Few citizens in the Republic suspected the real truth behind the Clone Wars and those that did were fast becoming aware of the need to conceal such knowledge and concerns, while those who were corrupted by the insidious scheme cared little for the civilian casualties that Coruscant would suffer today.

Inwardly she flinched as her ears caught the sound of yet another medic ship heading towards the scene of yet another injury stricken being. Today's raid had come too close to home, forcing an evacuation of the Senate, which was not without bloodshed, as she and her colleagues were constrained to use their blasters to fire upon the droid army that attacked the arena in order to seize the Chancellor.

In a way she had been thankful for her previous experience in facing such close quarter conflict, resulting in a greater accuracy than most Senators who claimed knowledge in weaponry. She was also thankful that Cordé had been safely out of harms way in the Temple crèche, for Five Hundred Republica had not escaped a scorching either.

Which brought her back to the surroundings she was encircled by now, the Healers Ward within that building where her husband was raised and where their daughter had been safely protected during the raid. And the thought of her husband brought her to seek a further assurance from the patient she was visiting.

"Do you really think they will send for them?"

Qui-Gon's gaze was the perfect mixture of serenity, compassion and understanding. "Who else could they count on to succeed? His team has the highest ratio of success."

"It's just been so long, Qui-Gon," Padmé murmured with a sigh. "Five months spent fearing the truth in the worst rumours, the constant struggle to keep Cordé innocent from them and therefore content. And then there's the politics. Every move I or Mon, or Bail, or Garm, or Finis make, he is three steps ahead of us, carving more and more power away from the Senate and into his own control. Opposition is no longer effectual, there are too many self serving fools concerned about their own survival before that of the people we serve." She paused to ask him something else. "Has Mace discovered anything?"

"He's tracing the source as we speak," Qui-Gon replied. "Though the word of a Jedi is no longer held in very high regard any more. Few of those fools will be surprised if we announce our suspicions because relations with the office have become... difficult."

"There's rumours that the Order collaborated with the Separatists to bring this kidnapping about," Padmé revealed in disgust.

"Such news does not surprise me," Qui-Gon returned. "Whatever advantage this move has gained us, we lose in the face of public perception and belief. His moves will also become harder to predict."

Padmé frowned. "By this reasoning then we have to let things play out as he wants them to?" she queried, her companion's nod a confirmation she feared would be the case.

Qui-Gon inclined his grim face. "It may be our only hope."

"You coming?"

Obi-Wan forced himself to muster the usual trace of a smile. "I haven't the courage for politics. I'll brief the Council."

Anakin frowned. "Shouldn't I be there too?"

"No need. This isn't the formal report. Besides," Obi-Wan gestured at the large number of journalists and cameras that hung around the Senatorial docking, eager to congratulate the heroes who rescued the Supreme Chancellor from the clutches of General Grievous and Count Dooku. "Someone has to be the poster boy."

"Poster Man," Anakin retorted, pained.

His former Master could not help but let loose a chuckle. "Quite right, quite right. Go meet your public, Poster Man."

The Jedi Knight took a step towards the crowd, then turned back as a thought occurred to him. "Wait a minute. This whole operation was your idea. You planned it. You led the rescue. It's your turn to take the bows."

"You won't get out of it that easily, my young friend," the Councillor returned with a shake of his head. "Without you I wouldn't have even made it to the flagship. You killed Count Dooku and single-i rescued the Chancellor, all the while, I might be forgiven for adding, carrying some old broken down Jedi Master unconscious on your back. Not to mention making a landing that will be the standard of Impossible in every flight manual for the next thousand years."

"Only because of yours and Qui-Gon's training, Master," Anakin started to say.

"That's just an excuse," Obi-Wan cut him off. "You're the hero. Go spend your glorious day surrounded by politicians and journalists."

"Come on, Master, you owe me," Anakin protested. "And not just for saving your skin the tenth time..."

"Ninthtime," Obi-Wan corrected. "Cato Neimoidia doesn't count, it was your fault in the first place. I'll see you at the Outer Rim briefing in the morning."

Anakin took another step, then the real motive for the Negotiator's hesitancy finally became clear. "She's at the Temple, isn't she?"

Obi-Wan nodded. "It's where we agreed to meet if Coruscant was ever raided."

His former apprentice frowned. "And I thought we no longer had secrets any more?"

"There are some things between a husband and a wife which will always remain private," Obi-Wan replied. "Now go."

He watched the Hero With No Fear walk away from the shuttle, the hatch cycle close, and then he waited for the craft to lift off before he turned to face the other occupant and R2, the smile upon his face fading away. "You wanted to speak with me."

Mace Windu rose from his seat to observe the scene on the docking platform, a frown forming across his features as he observed the Chancellor put his arm around the Chosen One's shoulder to pose for the cameras. "It's Anakin. I don't like his relationship with Palpatine."

"We've had this conversation before," Obi-Wan pointed out. "It's usually you and Master Yoda who counsel my own concerns on this friendship."

"There is something between them. Something new. I could see it in the Force," Mace replied grimly. "It felt powerful. And incredibly dangerous."

"I trust Anakin with my life," Obi-Wan replied carefully, waiting for his friend to confess more of his concern.

"I know you do," Mace added, turning his eyes to him. "I only wish we could trust the Chancellor with Anakin's."

"Yes, Palpatine's policies are questionable," Obi-Wan continued with a frown. "To me his doting on Anakin like a kindly old uncle to his favourite nephew always seemed a deliberate relationship on his part."

"The Chancellor loves power," Mace confirmed. "If he has any other passion, I have not seen it."

Obi-Wan sighed as the view at last betrayed the outline of the Temple, from which he could sense his wife and daughter, waiting for him. He had hoped for a private reunion, some time away from the present strife in the Republic. Now from the sound of things that was not to be. "What would you have me do?"

"I am not certain," Mace admitted. "You know my power; I cannot always interpret what I've seen. Be alert. Be mindful of Anakin and careful of Palpatine. He is not to be trusted and his influence on Anakin is dangerous."

"I know all this, Mace. I haven't missed that many meetings at Cantham House." Obi-Wan shook his head. "Have you managed to confirm that the capture was an inside job?"

"What else could it be, the timing was too much of a coincidence. We traced the Sith Lord to an abandoned factory in The Works, not far from where Anakin landed the cruiser. When the attack began, we were tracking him through the down level tunnels. The trail led to the subbasement of Five Hundred Republica."

"And who's handling the investigation?" Obi-Wan inquired. "I'd be happy to sit in, I know my perceptions are not so refined as some, but..."

Mace shook his head. "Interrogate the Supreme Chancellor's personal aides and advisers? Impossible. Palpatine will never allow it, though he hasn't said so."

"But he doesn't have the authority to interfere with a Jedi investigation..." Obi-Wan started to say, only to falter. "Does he?"

"The Senate has surrendered so much power, it's hard to say where his authority stops," Mace replied. "And with Anakin's instability rendering him ineligible for Mastery, his relationship with the Chancellor is no longer considered the asset it once might have been." He sighed. "You haven't been here, Obi-Wan. You don't know what it's been like, dealing with all the petty squabbles, the special interests, the greedy, grasping fools in the Senate, and Palpatine's constant, cynical, ruthless manoeuvring for power,- he carves away chunks of our freedom and bandages the wounds with tiny scraps of security. And for what? Look at this planet, Obi-Wan! We have given up so much freedom- how secure do we look?"

Obi-Wan felt his heart seize inside him, not even the signature of his wife and child a comforting balm any more. He recalled the last happy days he spent with them, at the villa in Varykino, five months ago. It had been the first time he experienced the normal day to day of family life, with nothing to care about except the happiness of Padmé and Cordé, as their baby girl became familiar with the splendour of Naboo's Lake Country and the extended family from her mother, spoiled by visits of grandparents, aunt, uncle and cousins, who were more than willing to keep the crechling occupied while her parents enjoyed a second honeymoon.

The temptation to stay there forever, and never return to Coruscant was as potent then as it felt now. But equally present was the hope that somehow, the Republic would see what was wrong with the Chancellor's rule and unite to overturn it once more. Current plans from the Cantham House Committee were not so optimistic, waiting for Palpatine to play his Sabacc hand before they showed theirs.

"Mace, we'll go to Yoda together, and among the three of us we will work something out," Obi-Wan at last replied. "Some way of forcing Palpatine's hand. A very, very wise Jedi once said to me; 'we don't have to win. All we have to do is fight.'"

"I seem to have forgotten that particular Jedi," Mace answered slowly. "Thank you for reminding me."

As they entered the Temple, Obi-Wan sank into the embrace of the Force, seeking the precise location of his wife and daughter, trying to ignore the guilt which pressed on his mind caused by his five months absence spent fighting in the Outer Rim. He found Cordé first, the distance leading him to deduce that she was in the crèche with the younglings. For a moment he savoured the bright Force signature of his daughter, which seemed to him to be like a beacon in the darkness that surrounded the Jedi, his hope for a better future.

Then he let go and searched for his wife. Quicker than he expected, the location presented itself to his mind, causing his feet to move along the corridors, pausing in turbolifts and passing through the Ysalamiri barrier which protected the healers ward, until he entered Qui-Gon's room.

Padmé moved from her place beside his former Master's bedside to embrace him, her slender arms wrapping themselves around his compact toned figure, her lips finding his for a fiercely passionate welcome home kiss. Obi-Wan let himself forget that they weren't alone and indulged in the pleasure of her touch, his own arms encircling her to tangle a hand in her hair and caress the smooth skin of her face.

As he savoured the embrace of his wife, secure in the knowledge that he would not be parted from her for a while at least, his senses detected something else which was waiting for him, something which five months ago was too small to detect. The sensation was familiar and yet new, the shock of it causing his hands to still, and his mouth to draw back from hers, as his eyes searched hers for confirmation. Her glistening glow and small smile was his answer, and he swept her off her feet to twirl her round in celebration, before gently setting her down to let his hand touch the evidence of her second quickening. Behind him Artoo beeped his own salutation, assuring his mistress that all was well with him also.

Then he drew back from her to speak to the other occupant of the room, wrapping an arm around her swelling waist while he did so. "Hello, Master."

Qui-Gon smiled at his former pupil, who despite his now superior elevation in rank still insisted on the old formality, a sign of the respect and attachment he felt towards the only father he ever knew. "Welcome home, Obi-Wan. I am relieved to see you visiting these rooms relatively unharmed for once." He paused to take a much needed breath before further inquiry, trying to ignore the sudden concern which appeared on the couple's faces. "How is Anakin? And I presume you rescued the Chancellor?"

"We did, destroying General Grevious' ship in the process. Anakin is well," Obi-Wan replied. "At present he is with the Chancellor, satisfying the vocal needs of the press." he paused to change his tone from light hearted to sombre. "He killed Count Dooku."

Qui-Gon bowed his head, the loss of his once former Master painful, despite the differences in their loyalties to the Force and the Republic. "I hope he will find redemption and forgiveness now he is at peace," he murmured. "Now, I'm sure you'd much rather be spending time at home than here."

"Master," Obi-Wan began to say, but Qui-Gon shook his head. "Mace or Anakin can fill me in on what else occurred. And briefing the Council can wait. Go."

In the end, Chancellor Palpatine did not lift martial law until the light started to fade from the orbital mirrors, causing Obi-Wan to deliver his briefing to the Council before he, Cordé and Padmé were able to leave the Temple for the privacy of their apartment in Five Hundred Republica. Together they put their daughter to bed, before shedding their robes of office and duty in favour of comfort for the night.

Padmé stood before the balcony rail brushing curls into her long brown hair while she waited for Obi-Wan to join her. Clothed in an ivory blue Nubian silk night gown, the material looped high over her chest to low down her back, secured by thin straps from a crystallised oval flourish below her slender neck, around which lay her purple necklace. The silk fell in gentle folds to the floor, concealing the recent changes to her figure. A smile caressed her face as her husband emerged from the shadowed lights of their living room to recline against the wall beside the threshold, his blue grey eyes fixed on her in open admiration.

"I'd like to have the baby on Naboo," she remarked, continuing to brush her hair. "In the Lake Country, away from everything and everyone. Those times we spent there five months ago have been on my mind ever since we parted."

"Mine too," Obi-Wan replied, while he stretched out with the Force to bond with the new signature growing inside her. Or rather, signatures, he realised in awe. "You mean babies, my darling."

She almost dropped the hairbrush. "Twins?" she queried, receiving a questioning nod in reply. "I didn't have the healer check, I just wanted to make sure everything was okay. I did think something was different, for my sensitivity seems stronger this time." Padmé paused, fingering a curling lock of hair almost absently. "We'll have to make some changes to the nursery there. If we can get away."

Obi-Wan nodded, running a hand through his hair with a sigh before he joined her at the balcony rail. "I hear from Mace that his power is increasing."

"There's little anyone can do to stop him," Padmé admitted sadly. "I ran a comparison between what laws we had with Finis and what Palpatine has now. The results were frightening. Soon he'll render the Senate completely ineffectual, and then only the Order might be able to stop him."

"Mace is not optimistic on that front," Obi-Wan confided. "Our allegiance is to democracy, to your body of governance. Once it is gone, it will be difficult to mount any legal move against him. He has our best fighters stationed at the furthest reaches of the galaxy, allegedly protected by legions of clone troopers. If the Sith Lord turns out to be someone from his office, then a coup will become our only option."

"And the war?" Padmé asked him. "How did Anakin kill Count Dooku?"

"I'm not sure," Obi-Wan replied. "His last attack on me left me unconscious. I only came round after we tried to leave the ship. Anakin seemed guarded in telling me how, while Palpatine was almost gushing with fatherly pride. But with him gone, there is only Grievous left. If we can take care of him, we can end this war."

"Who will the Order send?" Padmé inquired.

Obi-Wan shrugged. "Mace or Yoda, I think. Current strategy is to force the Sith Lord's hand, to make him declare his intentions. If the strongest of the Order, the Grand Masters, are out in the field, he might feel more confident in doing so." He moved to embrace her, gently resting her head against his chest. "Don't worry my love, I'm not going anywhere."

"It's hard not worry," she confessed as her face nuzzled against the warmth of him which she could feel through his tunic. "Everytime I'm parted from you now, I fear another Ventress will take you, and nobody will be able to come to your aid. Those months when there were whispers of your death..." she shivered, even as he tightened his embrace around her, knowing there was nothing he could do or say to assuage these concerns, for they were a by-product of being married to a Jedi, however unnatural or negative such emotions were.

"Do you want me to talk to the Council, ask for some leave?" he inquired, only for her to shake her head in a surprisingly resounding refusal.

"No, I will not have you give up your duties just to ease my worries," she added. "You are too good a Jedi for the Republic to lose right now."

He said nothing in response to the praise, but then he never required his ego to be massaged by her or anyone, which was precisely why he was so good a Jedi. Instead he bent his head to catch her lips with his, as they at last let themselves savour the pleasure of their reunion.

Later that night, while they slept, a beeping disturbed the silence of their bedroom, causing Padmé to rise from the sheets and wander into the living room. Carefully she navigated through the relative darkness that had settled upon the apartment, and sat down before the holo-emitter, her hand reaching out to press the receive icon.

"Anakin," she greeted as soon as the caller became visible. "Welcome home. Do you need to speak with Obi-Wan?"

"No, it's you I wanted to see," Anakin replied. "Are you alright?"

Padmé frowned at the inquiry, surveying his face and manner, deducing that he had not spent a restful night's sleep. "I'm fine, why, what's wrong?"

"I had a dream," he murmured. "It was like the ones I used to have about my Mom, before she... died." He paused, raising his eyes to level with her own. "It was about you."

"Oh," Padmé uttered, unsure what to say. The very idea of Anakin dreaming about her after his confession on Geonosis was unsettling, let alone the theme.

"You die in childbirth," he continued, the words forced from his mouth, as if he didn't want to warn her, let alone fear the imagination of such an event.

She held back from sighing, knowing he would not take kindly to her scoffing at his prophecy. This fear was only natural for him, coming from Tatooine, where medical facilities were available only to those who had money, rendering death in childbirth common amongst the slavering community. "Ani, nothing will happen. I have regular checks at the Healers' Ward in the Temple, and a top flight personal medical droid is at my beck and call." Not to mention that Obi-Wan would know if something was wrong, and surely she would too, for the children would convey it through the only language currently open to them; the Force.

He seemed to shrink in his seat, the mechanical hand clenching so tightly that she could not help experiencing a flicker of fear. "You are pregnant then," he murmured, his voice full of dread, mixed with an unhealthy amount of anger.

Padmé held herself back from experiencing the same emotion, telling herself that he was still suffering from the effects of the dream, that he did not realise what he implying, or who he was angry at. "Yes, Ani, and I am perfectly well."

If the statement reassured him, there was no way to know, for a masked expression threw itself across his face as he replied. "Oh, well, congratulations. I guess I should go, let you get some sleep."

"Ani," she began to say, but the scene went blank, signalling the end of the call. Sighing, she moved to switch the device off, but then the machine admitted another beep, before filling with lines of coded Aurabesh, appearing to those who did not possess the decrypt as the endless repeat of three letters, grouped into three.

But Padmé knew full well what this message meant, and who was the probable sender. Her hand reached out to the touch screen and pressed the hard copy button, transferring the coded message to the datapad she used for the Cantham House Committee. The inbuilt decrypt automatically translated the seemingly endless gobbledegook into legislative phrasing, revealing itself to be the latest executive orders from the Office of Supreme Chancellor, regarding the Sector Governance Decree and the Security Act Amendment; Jedi Jurisdiction. The headings alone were enough to trouble her; as she read further into the message, her concern only deepened.

Rising from the chair, she returned to the bedroom, and found Obi-Wan sitting up, the lights a soft glow, highlighting his handsome features, adding another aspect to the blue grey eyes which were wordlessly observing her.

"Who was it?" he asked.

Carefully she climbed on to the bed, and he took her into his warm embrace before she replied. "Ani, and a message from Bail." she handed him the pad.
Being the husband of a Senator for over three years now helped Obi-Wan to become adept in reading political briefs, as much as he claimed to loath the concept and those who used it as their living. Since the beginning of the Clone Wars, even before, there were a few politicians who were the exception to his professed disgust, and not just the woman in his arms who sat patiently waiting for his opinion on the report before them.

"There it is," he murmured when he reached the end of the message, his tone one of resignation and regret. "In two acts of law he has effectively put an end to the jurisdiction of the Senate and of the Order."

"What do you think he will do next?" Padmé asked, trying to force aside the image of a offworlder arriving on her homeworld with a brigade of clone troopers in tow. The similarity to the blockade thirteen years ago was all too evident.

"My guess is he will put someone he can trust on the Council," Obi-Wan replied grimly, "which brings us back to our first caller. What did Anakin want?"

"Did he ever tell you that he suffered from nightmares regarding his mother?" she asked him.

"Yes, when we were assigned to protect you, and just before. I wish I had listened to them," Obi-Wan confessed. "Perhaps we could have saved her. From what I found out since, she was captured by the Tuskens when we took the mission to Ansion."

Padmé bowed her head, the possibility of the dream containing some truth within it occurring to her for the first time. "He had a dream about me dying in childbirth."

Instinctively Obi-Wan tightened his embrace, one of his hands slipping to feel the swell of her belly through the silk she wore. "It won't happen."

Despite voicing such defiance to Anakin earlier, Padmé found herself adding support to the Knight's nightmare. "But what if he's right?"

Obi-Wan shook his head. "The Force would not be so cruel." He raised his hand from her waist to her chin, turning her to face him. "It is just his anxieties, my darling. Everyone is putting a lot of pressure upon him to end this war, including himself. Anakin carries the burden of all our expectations. I honestly don't know how he deals with it, and I don't think he does either. He is fiercely loyal to all of those he counts as friends, and we are all pulling him in different directions, unconsciously demanding him to follow us. He's about to lose Qui-Gon, and he also is still learning to face the fact that you and I are married. Remember how he dealt with news of Cordé."

Padmé nodded, sighing as she released her temporary concern. Anakin was the first to learn of their news when they returned from Naboo nearly three years ago. He had been so concerned about her and so angry at Obi-Wan that for a while he refused to see or speak to either of them. Only through their combined patience together with the counsel of Qui-Gon did he at last make amends. But since then relations were always cautious and tentative, and the couple had taken care not to be too affectionate in his presence.

Her husband leaned forward to catch her lips in his, and she forgot the troubles which disturbed them from their rest. She turned herself round in his arms, her hands exploring the toned planes of his chest as he slid the straps of her gown down her arms, his mind stretching out within the Force to lower the light of the lamps until nothing but the lights of Coruscant's night sky played shadows across their sensuously moving forms, seeking the contentment reached by their unity.

Neither of them had seen each other since the night the twins inside her now were conceived, in a second honeymoon on Naboo. Tenderly, passionately, they took their time to acquaint themselves with each other's bodies, Obi-Wan sweeping a long, loving glance back and forth as he lowered the nightgown to reveal her flesh, his mouth dropping to take her nipples into his mouth one by one, sucking and licking while she pressed her hands into his red blond hair, keeping him there, until her need called his mouth back to her own, and their bodies came together in the ancient dance, instilling within themselves a heaven from the chaos which surrounded their worlds, a light within the darkness that was slowly sinking what was left of the Republic.