Part 32: Death Holds No Dominion.
It was a solitary ride in a hovercar back to the apartment of the Senator from Naboo, and Obi-Wan was glad, for the past few hours had given him a lot to think about. Many things troubled him; the Council's ruling, Anakin's reaction, Palpatine's motives, the curse of inactivity which seemed to have settled on the Cantham House Committee.
Strangely the only battle he felt confident about was his one with General Grievous. At least in that he could predict the strategy of his enemy and choose how best to defeat it. However, it meant being parted from Padmé and Cordé again, at a time when Sidious could reveal himself, a potentially dangerous moment for all of Coruscant. He had no doubt that she could defend and protect herself and their children, there was just something troubling about his absence on an Outer Rim world - for he believed that's where Grievous would be hiding -while the main conflict was taking place within the Core. Not that he believed his presence could dictate the outcome, just that only he and Qui-Gon understood Anakin enough to possibly predict his actions, and Qui-Gon was too frail to use that knowledge where it might do some good.
Deftly he brought the hovercar to the docking entrance of the Nubian penthouse at Five Hundred Republica. Thumbing off the ignition, he raised his blue grey eyes from the countless buttons and gauges that littered the control ledge to search what he could see of the rooms laid out before him.
A smile settled over his face as he caught sight of his wife playing with their daughter, quietly helping her in practising within the Force, floating one of her plush toys, frequent gifts from their friends in the Senate, the Order and the Naberries. Cordé was spoilt rotten, but the little girl had inherited his humble character, accepting the gifts as honoured tokens, happily donating them to others less fortunate than herself whenever her mother and father came into contact with such distressed causes.
Artoo beeped contentedly beside them, no doubt recording the moment for the future. The little droid would be accompanying him when he left to fight Grievous, indeed Obi-Wan could rarely persuade Artoo to remain behind the line of any battlefield. Normally he would not have such a close relationship with a machine, but there was something eerily human about the little unit who had first made their acquaintance as they cleaned him after he saved the shielding of the Nubian Royal Cruiser.
"Daddy," Cordé cried, and the spell was broken as the plush toy dropped to the floor and Padmé slowly rose to her feet. Artoo tootled his own greeting as the little girl toddled off towards her father, who quickly climbed out of the hovercar to Force catch her in his arms as he entered the apartment.
"How are my beautiful girls?" he asked as he settled Cordé across his chest, and reached out a hand to claim one from Padmé, who leaned forward to kiss his cheek.
"About as content as we can be without you," Padmé replied, drawing back a little to better examine the look which filtered across his face. She descried his future departure along with the reason behind it, before he even uttered a word. "They're sending you to fight Grievous, aren't they?"
Obi-Wan nodded solemnly. "I can stay until word is sent regarding the location of his bolt hole." He paused, gazing at her searchingly. "Have you seen Anakin today?"
She frowned. "No, why? Has something happened?"
"You could say that." He told her about the ruling of the Jedi Council in view of Palpatine's latest directives. "Understandably, he's not happy about it. Whether he'll actually do what they asked of him is another matter entirely."
"Do you think Palpatine will suspect?" Padmé asked. She knew all too well how incapable Anakin was of deception. She remembered what the Knight spoke of the Chancellor three years ago, his admiration for the man already set so high. Such a request made by an Order whom he did not hold in same amount of regard would not sit well with him.
"Part of me worries that by doing this we're playing right into his hands," Obi-Wan confessed. "But I don't see an alternative. There's no one else in the Order whom he trusts."
Cordé's little hands played with the hairs of his neatly trimmed beard, causing her father to turn his gaze on her, a dancing smile gracing his previously solemn expression. "Daddy has to go and fight again, sweetheart. Do you promise to brave and help your mother and your future siblings while I'm away?"
"The Force will be with me, Daddy," Cordé replied, sounding all too wise for her years. Obi-Wan titled his head to brush her rosy cheek with his lips. "Always, my child."
He let her down to the ground, and she toddled back to Artoo, leaving him to take hold of his wife, who gazed up at him with concerned brown eyes. "Come with me."
He led her through to their bedroom and helped her to sit upon their bed, sliding down behind her. Silently he pulled her close to him, resting his head upon her shoulder.
"What is this, some sort of Jedi Lamaze class?" Padmé asked him.
"In a way," he replied. "Close your eyes and empty your mind."
She complied, the request familiar to her from the early days of their marriage, spent in Varykino, when he taught her the ways of the Force, letting all the worry and stress caused by the result of the latest Cantham House Committee flow out of her, until she was left with the single bright current which belonged to him. "I feel you," she uttered.
"Good," he praised. "Now, memorise that signature."
Padmé concentrated her mind upon his unique sense in the Force, examining every part of it until she would know it instinctively. Unlike his previous lessons to her about in the ways of Force; basic meditation and defence with a lightsaber, this was completely foreign idea which seemed to delve into the mystical legends of the Jedi, one which had she not been with child would be beyond her borderline strength.
The twins growing inside her enhanced that sense, allowing her the privilege of seeing what other Jedi saw in her husband; a bright beacon of light surrounded by the loving tendrils of the Force. The being adored this man, nurtured and protected him, in return for the unswerving devotion with which Obi-Wan served.
Padmé recalled his stance Geonosis, when he surrendered his whole self over to the Force, trusting in its wisdom to grant him the day. Not once had he failed to prevail and though the victories came with a price, the Force protected him, always. Just as those around him felt driven to protect, so did the being who granted him this gift. Infinitely humble, he knew naught of it and it was precisely why the Force adored him so. Seeing this, Padmé knew who would survive the encounter with Grievous, and it would not be the robotic despot.
"Now, follow me," he whispered, his voice warm in her ear, his presence strong in her mind. She caught the course of the current and travelled along it. She reached a point where it fragmented into separate streams. A flash of light showed her which one to take, an old path, appearing shrivelled and darkly foreboding. She travelled along the darkness until there was a patch of light, bright enough to almost blind the universe.
"That's Anakin's signature," Obi-Wan informed her.
"Does he know I can sense him?" Padmé asked.
"No, this is the old training bond," Obi-Wan explained. "Severed upon his Knighting. Now I want you to memorise this one as well."
Padmé did so, looking at every aspect until she knew it almost as well as Obi-Wan's. In contrast to her husband's, Anakin's Force presence could not be more diverse. The blinding light was a shrouded facade, behind which lurked a terrible beast, its tail rattling, its mouth hissing venom.
For as long as she had known him the Knight always felt he had something to prove, and his current in the Force was no different. Gone was the precocious child, whose compassion knew no bounds, its replacement was a suspicious man who searched for the dark self-serving motive behind everyone's agendas. A tortured hero whom the Republic venerated. Not for the first time did she wonder if Anakin's life would have been better if Qui-Gon had not taken him from Tatooine.
She considered the monster hiding behind the light, wondering if it was an omen or if Anakin had been tempted by the dark side too many times. Dare she tell Obi-Wan what she could see? She had no desire to disappoint him or add a sense of doubt to his teaching methods. Her husband already possessed an unhealthy tendency for assuming misplaced feelings of guilt, the first seeds planted by his Master, who lost his previous Padawan to the dark side.
"No need to worry," he murmured in her ear, "I know already."
"Has he turned?" She asked him quietly.
"Not yet," Obi-Wan answered, the implication clear enough. "A lot of the conflict that lies within him has to do with his inability to master his emotions. Now I'll show you one who has what Anakin should have if he is to become a Master."
He took her back up the stream until they reached the single path, whereupon he led her along another current. Though this one appeared similar to Anakin's, the cracks of darkness seemed more contained.
"That signature belongs to Mace," he revealed, before asking her to memorise it.
Once more she examined the signature before her, the darkness within controlled and managed. She remembered when Obi-Wan taught her the basic lightsaber forms, learning that Mace was a Vaapad Master, a self-invented style which embraced and channelled the darkness of an opponent and surrendered to the thrill of battle. The form was entirely unique and no one practised the style without Mace's approval, because of the risk with the dark side. One of the foremost warriors of the Council and of the Order, Mace had been chosen to apprehend the Sith Lord when his identity was finally discovered. All of the Jedi who attended the Cantham House Committee were Masters with a blade and excepting Qui-Gon, Yoda and Obi-Wan, all would aid Mace when the time came.
Padmé expected Obi-Wan to show her the signatures of those Masters who would aid the Korun, but to her surprise, he only led her to Master Yoda's, whose signature filled her with a sense of calm unlike any she had ever known. She recalled her first meeting with the revered Grand Master of the Order, her young mind wondering how a so seemingly small and frail being managed to father an order and teach so many knights to face enemies like the ones she witnessed Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan fight. She remembered when her husband told her of Yoda's duel with Dooku, his ability to save Obi-Wan and Anakin from being crushed. Lastly, she recalled when they presented him with their daughter, the lustre acquired by his eyes when he pronounced her to be the combination of everything good in her parents. Yoda was truly a remarkable being of many contrasts.
"And now for those of our children," Obi-Wan murmured, a slight catch in his voice, and his sense led her down short bright paths, showing her in turn that of Cordé, then the twins growing inside her. Padmé felt the awe in which he regarded them, unknowingly the same emotions with which the Force regarded him. Some times she worried what they would make of a world changing before their eyes, unlike the one that belonged to their parents, dark and full of suspicion, war. She worried for their survival, yet when she observed their signatures now, she found that concerned assuaged, as the Force assured them of their endurance through the dark times, into a brighter future.
"Why are you showing me all this?" Padmé asked her husband softly when he brought her out into the world once more.
"Because if any of them are in trouble while I'm away, only you will be in a position to do something to help them," Obi-Wan replied. "Such an ability might mean the difference between saving their lives and loosing what remains of the Republic."
"Do you think we really can save it?" She murmured. "So much of it has already been lost. Whatever happens, the Republic our children know will not be the one we mourn."
Obi-Wan gave no response to that, her words were too close to the truth. For all of the meetings at Cantham House, began to gather incriminating evidence to check the balance of the power and restore the good back to the Republic, nothing but delay and stopgaps had been accomplished, making the decline all the more plain to those involved. There was conflict everywhere, from the front line battlefields to the Senate, even inside the Order itself, a sign of the growing darkness, and the growing fear that it would soon conquer the light.
Conflict existed inside all of them, including himself, as he yearned both to be on Coruscant sorting matters out, wherever Grievous was hiding, and in Varykino, where he and Padmé had nothing to trouble them, save boredom from a blissfully quiet retirement. Both of them were involved in duty since their youth, experienced so much that threatened the peace they strive to save. A sense of tiredness was understandable, yet they were well aware that if they surrendered to that selfish desire now, they would deserve the guilt and more offered in reprisal. The Force had called them to these paths a long time ago, to deny their capabilities would be to deny the very existence of that being.
Yet, the Force was infinitely generous, it sensed the need for two of its servants to rest and gather strength from the comfort of each other. Which was why it sang encouragement into their auras as she turned her face to his, lips moving to touch. Mouths explored first each other, then rounded cheeks and closed eyelids, until someone summoned the presence of mind to wave the doors to the room close with his hand, granting privacy. Beyond that barrier he sensed Dormé amusing her late friend's namesake, Artoo probably still nearby. Gently he withdrew them from their bonds with their children, shielding them from the love they were too young to comprehend, a difficult skill when such affection was involved. Quietly they broke to shift positions, remove layers of Jedi and Senatorial robes until nothing but skin sufficed to separate them.
Communion such as this was a rare event between them now, the war parting them from sight, sound and touch too much for nothing but snatched conversations, and brief, chaste embraces. In a way it resembled the time of their courtship, when she was a Queen and he a young Knight, thrust into roles of leadership by conquering a Sith and defeating an occupying army of droids, when all that granted them sight of each other was holo technology.
Now as with then, the encounters never seemed enough, the hunger sated only briefly, passions put on pause. However much time seemed to slow when they held each other in their embrace, too often did they feel in the afterglow the transitory nature of life, despite knowing that when the Force was with them, death held no dominion. Even with evidence of that love growing inside her, the double beings swelling her slight statue, causing differing positioning, yet still resulting in that same ecstasy of release.
Afterwards they emerged from the room in simple attire, capturing Cordé's attention, content to provide their firstborn with the unusual opportunity to spend time with both her parents at once. Her happy, contented nature seemed to be a calm eye in a storm of political chaos which those in the Order now found themselves too deeply involved in.
Geonosis thrust the Jedi into a combative situation which most would have eagerly chosen to isolate the Order from, protesting that it was a Republic matter and below the moral level of their service to the Force and democracy. In hindsight perhaps those naysayers were the wiser, for the action would have saved the lives of many Masters and Knights. But would the Republic be any better off than it was now? No one could be certain in answering that.
If the Order chose that course, Obi-Wan would have found himself torn, for by then he was committed not just to the Jedi but to Padmé as well. He was not the only Jedi married, but he was the only one married to a Senator, and not just a Senator but the leader of the Opposition, the foremost check on the Supreme Chancellor's constant grab for power. His loyalties would have been in conflict, doubtless forcing him to choose one or the other. It would not have been hard, yet he knew which side he would sacrifice, selfish though his choice may be, for it was moments like this with Padmé and Cordé that he remembered what he was fighting for, and found the strength to continue such a battle.
Dawn brought the moment to a close, rousing them from their bed as his hand emerged from the sheets to grab the comlink which always lay close beside him and bring the device to his mouth.
"Yes?" He answered, freeing another hand to wipe the sleep from his face, before resuming hold of the one he spent most of the night touching in some form or other.
"We are calling the Council into a special session," Mace Windu replied, "We've located General Grievous."
"Thank you, Master Windu," he acknowledged, even as the hand which held his gripped even tighter, causing slight pain. "I'm on my way."
He thumbed the device off and returned it to its resting place, before rolling round to face her, silently taking in the worried gaze. Solemnly he allowed a hand to grace the smooth line of her jaw, his fingers softly stroking the skin he found there. Blue grey eyes searched brown ones before moving forward for a brief joining of lips, the former eloquently assuring the latter that all would be well.
Quietly they moved from the bed, parting to dress, she in light robes more suited to the time of day, he in all the trappings of Jedi regalia. Finished before he, she watched him as he added the brown robe to his layer of cream tunics, clipping the lightsaber to his belt, running a hand through his hair to quell the last remains of sleep. His mind was already fully alert to what he would face in the next few hours; a meeting of the Council, travel to wherever it was Grievous had been found.
She was concerned by the speed in such a finding, another confirmation that whoever caused the war was deeply embedded in the inner workings of the Republic and through it the Order itself. Provenance of the source however was not something to worry about right now, quenching Grievous was the first part in a larger conspiracy to force the Sith out from the shadows.
Obi-Wan turned from the mirror to catch her eyes, rousing Padmé from her thoughts. She rose from her seat to follow him into the room which housed their baby girl, still sound asleep in her tiny bed. Careful not to disturb her, he cautiously approached the piece of furniture, and learned over to brush her rosy cheek with a farewell kiss. A part of him was thankful that she was still too young to be aware of all the horrors her parents faced, while another wondered what burdens she would be forced to bear as she grew older.
Padmé accompanied him to the landing dock, her thick robe sheltering her body from the morning mist and cold, while hiding her quickening from the hungry curious eyes that belonged to the early avian members of the press who were doubtless watching. Obi-Wan turned to wrap her into his arms, pressing his face against the curls of her long unbound dark brown hair, inhaling the unique scent which belonged to her. Closing his eyes his mind brushed the signatures of the twins inside her, another farewell which his heart struggled to perform.
A series of beeps roused them from the momentary sadness, as Artoo trundled out from the apartment to join his Master, having decided to accompany Obi-Wan on this mission as he had every mission ever since the Jedi married his Mistress.
"Keep him safe, Artoo," Padmé requested of the droid, before turning to her husband as he drew back from their embrace. "And you do the same. May the Force be with you, Master Kenobi."
"And with you, milady," he returned.
A final look of unspoken yet utterly acknowledged love passed between them, before he mounted the seat of the hover car and rode away.
The special session of the Council was remarkably short, yet about ten times as frustrating. Obi-Wan emerged from the chamber more troubled than when he went in, and with a desire to dodge another conversation with his former apprentice. Quickening his pace, he sought a turbolift to take him to the domain of the Healer's ward, his mind seeking the calming embrace of the Force, and wisdom which only that being, his wife and his former Master seemed to be able to provide.
As usual Anakin had arrived fresh from the Supreme Chancellor's office, with a holo projector of Utapau, where Senate Intelligence had located General Grievous. Previously neutral, the sinkhole planet was located just where they predicted, in the Outer Rim. It was disturbing, just as Anakin's new position now provided him with a valid excuse to frequently visit the Chancellor, not to mention learning that Senate Intelligence, along with direct command of the Galactic army were now both under the jurisdiction of that Office.
Naturally that office's representative had volunteered to lead the army which would face Grievous, and just as naturally the Council objected, voting to enforce what had already been agreed privately. Obi-Wan hadn't been surprised by Anakin's desire to leave the Core where his entire being was in turmoil to face an enemy that was in contrast easier to destroy, nor had he been surprised when Anakin objected to him going alone. The last time the Council split up the team brought the wrath of Ventress upon him. Also, he could not forget that fighting Dooku had rendered him unconscious, not while the man who defeated the Sith was there to remind him and the Council.
Unanimous vote to send him was the result, Anakin's silence taken for compliance, albeit forced as most of the Masters present were well aware. Obi-Wan sympathised with his frustration, but there was little he could do to convince his former apprentice of the logic behind sending one Master to Utapau, not without confiding in him the real motive in the Council's decision.
Reaching Qui-Gon's room, Obi-Wan paused, observing his former Master from the view point of the door. Seated in a chair, Qui-Gon's eyes were closed, his mind in quiet communion with the Living Force. With the light from the orbital mirrors dancing off his now pale skin, there was an added frailty to his former Master, one which over the years since the encounter with the Sith on Naboo Obi-Wan had seen steadily increase. That Qui-Gon had not long in this world was certain, but it seemed more apparent now, leaving him with a foreboding sense that this would be their last chance for conversation of any kind.
He crossed the threshold, causing Qui-Gon to turn and open his eyes. "How are you, Master?"
"Better than you, it appears," Qui-Gon studied him, peering through the facade of Jedi serenity into the turmoil lying beneath. "When was the last time you meditated, Padawan mine?"
"I'll have time during hyperspace to Utapau," Obi-Wan replied, moving across the room towards where he sat.
"So that's where Grievous sank himself," Qui-Gon quipped. "And the Council are sending you- a good choice. But I sense that is not what troubles you."
Obi-Wan lowered himself into the chair across from his Master. "Anakin."
"It is natural for you to worry, Obi-Wan, perhaps even doubt. But he is the Chosen One. He will bring balance."
"There are those who believe that prophecy may have been misread," Obi-Wan revealed, avoiding his Master's gaze.
"There are those who viewed my methods in teaching you as unsound," Qui-Gon countered, causing him to look at his Master with surprise. "Even unwise, trying to balance a sense of the Living Force in one so strong in the Unifying. Who said that my failure with Xanatos would affect our relationship. And in some ways they were right. But no one could deny that it was the will of the Force which brought us together." Qui-Gon smiled. "I regret that I caused you to be unsure of yourself, Obi-Wan, but I have never regretted training you. In many ways you are far more than a Padawan to me. Just as Anakin is to you. We can instruct as much as we like, but in the end it is up to them what path they follow. Whatever the future bodes, good or ill, it is his choice, no one else's. His fault or his triumph, no reflection on our teaching methods."
Obi-Wan nodded, all too aware why Qui-Gon chose to say this now. "I still have a bad feeling about all of this."
"Have you done all you can to prepare?" Qui-Gon asked.
"Short of meditation, yes."
"Then you must trust in the Force." Qui-Gon smiled. "Now, I must ask of you one thing before you go."
"Anything, Master."
Qui-Gon's eyes shone with as yet unshed tears. "Careful, Padawan mine. You may not like it."