Part 35: Ordæl bi fyr.
The trip to Mustafar was quiet, too quiet. Before they left Coruscant they dismissed Dormé and Typho to the Tantive, charging them with the care of Cordé until, Force willing, they arrived on Naboo. As they journeyed from the Core to the Outer Rim, sitting side by side in the cockpit of the sleek Nubian skiff with only Artoo for backup, the silence threatened to overwhelm them. Yet none of them would break it, and nor did they feel that they could. It was the calm before the storm that would face them on that fiery, volcanic planet, and an ominous calm at that.
Obi-Wan's eyes fixed on their violent surroundings the moment the ship left hyperspace. Landing, even on such a precarious planet as this was child's play when one had the Force to guide them; he did not need his sight, only his senses. The former was liable to deceive oneself, however unintentionally. Before those blue green grey pupils lay the fire that was Mustafar, and he could not help but feel that it was an appropriate setting for the trial ahead of them. He may have pleaded with Mace and Yoda to face the Emperor, but it was only a show, and he hoped they had not seen it as such. He needed to talk with Anakin, reason with him before he fell too far to come back. He may not have believed in the possibility of redemption before, but now he had to, for Anakin's sake.
He would do what he must, for all their sakes.
Padmé turned to him, her tanned flight suit emphasising every curve of her quickening, reminding him once again of the dangers for her upon this planet. But he knew that she stood a better chance of reasoning with Anakin first. Her sweet voice always managed to soothe him into serenity before his, or Qui-Gon's, or meditation ever could. Anakin would only be angry if he saw them together, a reminder to his fevered mind of something which he could never have.
Wordlessly she lay a hand on his bearded chin, the caress serving as a reminder to him of her promise. Then she rose from her seat and left the cockpit.
He turned to watch her go, before sinking into the embrace of the Force, fixing his focus on her signature, waiting for the moment that ancient being would tell him to follow. He had served the being faithfully till now, and he must continue, else betray the teachings by giving into the dangerous fear he had warned his pupil against in vain.
Outside Padmé came to a halt before the once young Knight who had run so confidently towards her, with open arms, expecting an embrace. There was nothing of the youth who strove to gain her love in him, or of the little boy who once proclaimed that he would marry her. Only a Krayt dragon, barely contained, threatening to howl.
"Ani," she uttered in a voice of such despair which brought him to a breathless halt, which seemed to speak through his body into the depths of his soul like a lance. "What have you done?"
"I have saved you," he replied, confused. "Saved you from my nightmare."
"This is my nightmare," she informed him sadly. "The death of the Republic. You killing innocents, Separatists, Jedi,..." her voice choked as she realised once more the risk to the twins she carried inside her. "Younglings."
A frown of disappointment settled upon his face. "It needed to die. And those were clones. The Jedi lied to me. They always lied to me."
"So did you to them," she countered. "From the very beginning you concealed that fear I still see inside you. That inability to loose those you claim to love."
The frown deepened. "You've been spending too much time with him. I conquered that fear. And I have become more powerful than any Jedi. Any Sith. I am strong enough to save you, to save our Empire."
Padmé couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Our Empire?"
"Yes. Let Palpatine call himself Emperor. Let him. He can do the dirty work, all the messy, brutal oppression it'll take to unite the galaxy forever, unite it against him. He'll make himself into the most hated man in history. And when the time is right, we'll throw him down. We'll be heroes. The whole galaxy will love us and we will rule. Together."
"No, Ani," Padmé shook her head, despair coating her body as it coated her sweet voice. "It was never about power. You still have so much to learn. You're doing the dirty work, the brutal oppression. He's made you his apprentice. His slave. And he will never give you what you want, for it is not his to give. Or is it yours. There is no need for you to save me, unless you kill me yourself."
He shook his head, the frown disappearing, or perhaps settling deeper inside him. "I would never do that. I love you. And with him gone you can be mine."
"You're wrong," Padmé added. "I'm not yours. I was never yours. Or Obi-Wan's. Never anyone's. Possession is never love."
Anakin turned his head from her, a clear sign that he was tired of this conversation. "I don't want to hear any more. The Jedi turned against me. Don't you turn against me."
"I don't know you anymore," Padmé replied, slowly backing away, towards the ship. "You're going down a path I can't follow."
His eyes went from hers, staring over her shoulder, and she knew her husband had sensed her distress and was emerging from the cover of the ship to protect her from the Sith who faced her now. "Because of Obi-Wan?"
She would not flinch. She would stand her ground until he tried to take it from her. "Because of what you've done. What you plan to do."
"Liar," Anakin threw the insult harshly back at her. "You're with him. You brought him here to kill me."
"No, I brought him to talk with you," Padmé corrected. "To bring you back."
"LIAR!" His rage surged, almost beyond control.
"Padmé," her husband's beloved Coruscanti accent caressed the distance between them, calm even in the face of such deadly anger. "Move away from him. He's not who we thought he would be. He will harm you."
"I would thank you for this," Anakin remarked, every word almost spat from his mouth in spiteful, pride laced, contempt, "if it were a gift of love. Palpatine was right. Sometimes it is the closest who cannot see. I loved you too much, Padmé." Anakin's flesh hand closed into a fist, settling an invisible Force chain around her little neck. "I loved you too much to see you. To see you for what you are."
Padmé could not respond.
She had no breath left to speak.
Anakin was choking the air from her.
"Let her go, Anakin."
Anakin was deaf to her facial plea, and to the verbal one which belonged to her husband, and the one which belonged to the Light of the Force.
His grip continued to tighten.
Obi-Wan's voice dropped to match the steel blue ice of his eyes. "Let. Her. Go."
Finally, Anakin obeyed. She fell to the durasteel, gently and silently, as if her body was a petal falling from a flower. Obi-Wan watched her go, then faced her attacker. "Anakin, what have you done?"
The young apprentice was unrepentant. "You turned her against me."
Obi-Wan replied with the truth. "You have done that yourself."
Anakin let his cloak fall to the floor, his gloved hand twitching menacingly towards his lightsaber. "You will not take her from me."
Obi-Wan took off his own, letting the dark brown fall to duracete floor, unveiling the lighter shades beneath. "Your anger and your lust for power have already done that." He stepped away from the boarding ramp, keeping his eyes on Anakin, who circled past Padmé towards the skiff. "You have allowed this dark lord to twist your mind until now. Until now you have become the very thing you swore to destroy."
"Don't lecture me, Obi-Wan. I see through the lies of the Jedi. I do not fear the dark side as you do."
He turned his back, giving Obi-Wan a chance to kneel down and check on his wife. His hand went to her face, a loving caress upon the soft skin of her cheek, his finger length reaching to the pulse point below. It was thin and erratic. Quickly he dipped into the Force, and gave her some of the healing techniques he learned from those at the Temple, when Qui-Gon was first diagnosed. Her borderline sensitivity, enhanced by the twins inside her, met his own one bravely, almost defiantly in the face of the trauma visited upon her body. His hope renewed by such a sign, he rose to his feet, ready once more to visit the justice of the Force upon the Sith who cast her down.
Anakin continued with his attempt to justify his atrocity. "I have brought peace, freedom, justice and security to my new Empire."
"Your new Empire?" Obi-Wan echoed the words with incredulity. "Anakin, my allegiance is to democracy. Not the dictatorship which comes from treachery or the spending of innocent blood."
Anakin sighed in disappointment at his response. "Don't make me kill you. I'll give you a chance, for old times sake. Walk away. Go some place out of the way. Retire. Meditate. That's what you like, isn't it? You don't have to fight for peace anymore. Peace is here. My Empire is peace."
"Did you say that to Qui-Gon?" Obi-Wan asked him. "Did you even allow his words to be heard? To reason against the lies your new Master spoke? Or did you just cut him down, along with the rest of those in the Temple?"
"He was a clone," Anakin replied simply. "They were all clones. You lied to me."
"Yes, they were clones. Yes, I and the Council concealed that from you. We had to, because of your relationship with the Chancellor. Your new Master." Obi-Wan let go of the disgust he felt in accepting those words. "But Qui-Gon wasn't a clone. If you had acted as you should have done, you would have realised that." He glanced down at his wife. "This is between you and me, Anakin. Let her go back on to the ship. She needs medical attention."
"She stays. You don't get to take her anywhere." The words shot like blaster blots from his mouth. "You don't get to touch her. She's mine, do you understand? It's your fault, all of it. You made her betray me."
"Anakin," Obi-Wan sighed. "I am not in charge of her mind. No one is. And, as she said to you earlier, when she was still able to talk, possession is not love."
Again, truth was ignored. "If you're not with me, then you're my enemy."
"Only a Sith deals in absolutes." Obi-Wan unclipped his lightsaber and held it at the ready. His next words would not be an absolute, however they may have sounded as such, for duty within the light was always in a constant state of evaluation, in respect to the unknown of the future. Once they were spoke however the time was past for verbal negotiations. Ones of a more aggressive nature would now take their place, on the part of his former brother at least. "I will do what I must."
Contempt mixed with determination for victory in the battle ahead filled Anakin's vengeful tones. "You will try."
If Yoda had been here, there would be the usual customary reply, one given to every student who every uttered those three words. But Yoda was not here. He was on Coruscant, no doubt duelling with the Emperor by now. It was time for Obi-Wan to do the same with the Emperor's apprentice.
Even though it would break a piece of his heart.
His blue blade ignited, then Anakin's followed. He flipped over in a large Force abled leap to face him, the humming blades clashing and parrying so fast that Obi-Wan could do nothing but give ground. But that was his intention, his way. The way of a Soresu Master. Anakin knew it, for they had trained together as he acquired the ability after Naboo, while he instructed the boy in the forms of Ataro and Djem-So, Qui-Gon on hand when his health permitted him to assist in the teaching.
He took a step back, then another, and another. Until he felt the heat of the volcanic rivers behind his back, whereupon he used the clash of the blades to turn away from the edge of the platform, until Anakin thrust a kick at his chest, sending him towards the doors of the compound where the massacred bodies of the leaders of the Separatists lay.
They emerged on to narrow catwalks, a hark back to his first encounter with a Sith, if Obi-Wan cared to indulge in such horrific nostalgia. But he had no time for anything, not even to acknowledge the lesson of his master, to focus on the here and now, for the here and now was countering each thrust of the lightsaber that should be red, but was still blue, the once colour of the eyes that belonged to its owner. His friend. His brother. His apprentice. That humming blue blade was the last piece of light that remained of Anakin Skywalker. A light which would soon be extinguished.
One way or another.
Obi-Wan continued to give ground, even as they reached the conference lounge littered with the bodies of the Separatists leaders. Their blades clashed into the control panels nearby, a stream of sparks created. Fingers twitched as they gripped the blade, causing sudden movements in those belonging to the corpses, triggering the blasters within their grip, sending bolts flying towards him. He flicked back with the light of the Force, sending them into a constant ricochet across the large room.
Anakin jumped back a little. "Don't make me destroy you, Obi-Wan. You're no match for the power of the dark side."
"I've heard that before," Obi-Wan replied sadly. "But I never thought I would hear it from you."
The Sith lord in the making pressed the blades towards his former Master, the residual heat from the lasers so close as to be felt by his skin. Obi-Wan reached out with the Force and pulled the last trick he felt he had left, one which his brother never knew, one which succeeded so well with General Grievous on Utapau. Inside the black glove which coated his brother's artificial hand, the polarity of the electrodrivers was reversed.
A lightsaber fell from that gloved hand, to be caught by Obi-Wan, who raised the two blue blades into a cross before himself, as if the weapons were a symbol of all he sought his entire life to defend. "The flaw of power is arrogance."
Anakin waited for the move which signalled his death. When it did not come as quickly as he had expected, he gloated contemptuously. "You hesitate, the flaw of compassion."
"It is not compassion, it is reverence for life," Obi-Wan revealed calmly. "Even yours. It is respect for the man you were. It is regret for the man you should have been."
Anakin forced him back against a wall. "I am so sick of your lectures."
Obi-Wan met the yellow eyes which stared back at him, as the bones inside his hands began buckle in response to the invisible choke hold of the Sith. But like his wife, he would not let his body break. He simply accepted the possibility of death, which he never feared, having mastered that natural perversity long ago, and with that let go of everything, including the blades. The weapons clattered to the floor, the inbuilt safeties within the hilts powering down the laser swords so they did not melt the floor beneath their owners. Obi-Wan called his back to him, and let Anakin's roll away to another part of the room.
It did not belong to the Sith who stood before him.
With his artificial hand Anakin captured Obi-Wan's neck, choking him. He forced him down towards the surface of the table, holding his weapon away from him with a crushing grip by his flesh hand on the wrist. Obi-Wan let him control the descent, his body bending backwards until it protested with a grunt, then sent his booted leg between the Sith's in a kick to his rear, causing Anakin to let go in order to avoid falling off the table.
Obi-Wan rolled to his feet, ready to counter.
Anakin kicked his face, the force of the blow sending them both to the table, Obi-Wan now loosing his saber. The Council Master sent a kick to his knee joint, sending the former Knight now apprentice once more toward the surface again. He called his lightsaber from the floor and brought it down towards Anakin, who caught his in time to repel the blade.
He forced Obi-Wan to give ground so he could get up and together they duelled into the space between the observation holo tables, blades clashing until Obi-Wan used his hand to force Anakin away. The apprentice countered with his own hand, the two opposing sides of the Force working like magnets, sending them to opposite sides of the conference lounge.
They hit the consoles with the same force of impact. Anakin rose first, a Force abled leap towards Obi-Wan, who rolled away in time for the blade to clash with the controls of the lava gathering devices.
The colour coded status of the cranes flashed from blue to red ominously, indicating a future malfunction.
Obi-Wan directed the blue blade away towards a threshold control, releasing the blast door he stood infront of, letting the duel continue outside, on the promenade that surrounded the entire compound. A few more clashes and parries of the blue blades, then Anakin directed another kick to his face, again causing him to back away.
They reached the thin conduit pipes which stretched over lava ridden rivers, designed for collecting the precious metals created within this vast planetary sized furnace. Obi-Wan leapt first, holding his weapon out before him as he adjusted his balance on the precarious surface. Anakin paused, letting him gain it before jumping on, and for a moment they focused on keeping themselves upright, while a droid carrying a small lava filled bucket, flew towards the conduit, caught sight of them, and scurried away in terror.
Obi-Wan jumped down to a coupling nexus of the main collection plant, Anakin quickly followed. He directed another fist swipe at Obi-Wan's face, propelling him away. Anakin reached for him, clasping his wrists, their blades forced upwards beside the volcanic flares, like shafts of blue light splintering the flame coloured doomed seas of hell. Obi-Wan turned the clasp against his opponent and flipped them round. He forced their blades down towards the platform, then his eye caught sight of the lava coating the walkway behind his opponent and he backed away on to the crossbar, Anakin following. They sought the relative shelter of separate hollow gaps within the sculpted platform as they waited for the eruption to pass.
The lava sent the crane to the river, and Obi-Wan ran towards the other end of it, away from the fiery death that now threatened their brief refuge. Anakin followed, both of them using the Force to remain upon it as their gravity shifted when the crane hit the river.
Somehow they continued to clash blades during their ascent towards the top, as Obi-Wan caught sight of the waterfall of lava they were heading for. He looked about him for an alternative, and saw a cable, strong enough to bear his weight and he grabbed it, swinging away from the crane.
Anakin caught one too, and they swung towards each other for another clash and parry of blades, the Force directing the swing. Obi-Wan swung away, and caught sight of a small floating repulsorlift platform. He let go of the cable and fell in a Force abled fall towards it.
He turned in time to see the structure they were previously standing on begin to be consumed by the lava. But he did not bow his head in a silent farewell to his old friend. For his senses could still detect Anakin's signature, and he knew that he was walking through the fire towards him to continue this duel.
He saw the blade before he saw the owner, a beam of light piercing the lava, as Anakin landed on a repulsorlift droid, his mind overriding the controls.
Obi-Wan met the blade with his and they clashed and parried again. Drained of energy as they both were, for this fight was sapping everything within them, they paused mid-combat, and he spoke, his words an apology. "I have failed you, Anakin. Qui-Gon has failed you. Just as you have failed yourself, and those who loved you."
Anakin ignored the truth behind such a sentiment. "I should have known the Jedi were plotting to take over."
Despite all, the Uncle's manipulation had conquered the teaching of his brother. Yet still Obi-Wan tried for redemption. "Anakin, Chancellor Palpatine is evil."
"From my point of view the Jedi are evil."
And as usual there was no try. "Well then you are lost."
They were parted briefly by another floating repulsorlift platform, this one carrying droids and machinery on its way to the cremation recycling plant. The droids had not the abilities to realise the consequences of their fateful journey, let alone the consequences which awaited whoever emerged from this duel, if any one ever did, for they were shrouded in mystery, like the rest of the future.
"This is the end for you, my master," Anakin pronounced as he leapt on to the repulsorlift, almost falling if not for the iron grip of his boots upon the edge. They clashed and parried blue blades until Obi-Wan leapt away to the rocky banks.
"It's over, Anakin," he gestured around him, "I have the high ground."
"You underestimate my power," Anakin returned petulantly.
"Don't try it," Obi-Wan pleaded.
Don't make me do this.
But he did.
He was never one to refuse a challenge.
Anakin leapt, and Obi-Wan did what he must. In one swift move he severed the three remaining limbs of his former brother, first one leg, then the other, and then the arm, sending him clattering down the ash ridden beach that led into the lava river.
Obi-Wan turned off his saber and clipped it to his belt. Then he met the accusatory red rimmed yellow eyes of his former brother. "You were the Chosen one! It was said that you would destroy the Sith, not join them! Bring balance to the Force, not leave it in darkness." He turned round and climbed up the beach, collecting Anakin's saber from where it had fallen when he used his.
Behind him a voice continued to defy the death which awaited him. "I hate you."
Obi-Wan glanced back towards the body, feeling nothing but sadness at the remains of his sibling before him. "You were my brother, Anakin. I loved you, but I could not save you."
Flames caught the cauterised joint of Anakin's knee. Slowly they spread to the other limbs, consuming every part of his body.
Obi-Wan watched until he could stand the sight no more, then turned and left.
He found Artoo in the conference lounge, the quiet beeps explaining to him that in an effort to preserve her safety, the droid had dragged his mistress inside the ship.
"Thank you, Artoo," Obi-Wan replied, his voice a whisper of the clipped Coruscanti accent, his strength almost spent.
Wordlessly he followed the faithful attendant, the one who had been witness to so many encounters between Obi-Wan Kenobi and Padmé Amidala, up the boarding ramp of the skiff and into the confines of the small medical bay.
Padmé lay upon one of the beds, her slight form wrapped in the embrace of a Force healing trance. Her pulse was stronger than before, but he could tell that she needed more than what his slight medical talents could provide before she fully recovered. Obi-Wan reached out and pressed a hand to her cheek, the back of his finger tracing a loving caress, as he tried to suppress the memory of what his former apprentice had done to them.
ferooo-wheep pero, Artoo uttered, causing him to turn from his wife and follow the droid into the cockpit. A loud beeping from the proximity control was the reason for Artoo's concerned utterance.
Another ship had just entered orbit.
Obi-Wan did not need the aid of the Force to guess who was on board. Quickly he secured and readied the skiff for departure, escaping the atmosphere just as the Emperor's shuttle made planetfall.
Punching the coordinates in for the alien medical base of Polis Massa, the skiff made hyperspace seconds later.
For Padmé the journey was a Force induced blur, likely to be forgotten in the wake of the future yet to come. She had no knowledge of the speed her husband pushed the skiff to use, or how soon they arrived at the asteroid based medial station, the closest one to Mustafar. She did not hear his frantic comcalls to Master Yoda and Senator Organa, asking them to meet him at Polis Massa, and why, nor the tender worry with which he lifted her from the makeshift medical bay and carried her out of the skiff, into the shocked sighting of Bail, who ushered them quickly to the nearest examination room.
She was blind also to the sight of her husband's pacing as he, Bail and Yoda waited for the med-droid to finish his exam and present them with his diagnosis. Deaf to the judgement that labour must be induced, else she might die if she carried the twins to full term.
"But Ani -Vader injured her neck," Obi-Wan pointed out. "How it is possible that she could loose her life if we wait?"
"The injury caused undue stress upon the twins, Master Kenobi," the droid replied. "If we wait, you risk loosing not just your wife, but your children as well."
"Isn't there equal risk in her giving birth now?" Obi-Wan all but yelled back, causing Bail and Yoda to look at him in shock.
"Yes, increased by the injury upon the skeletal structure of her neck," the droid confirmed. "But we cannot repair that until she gives birth, and in comparison to waiting, this is the safest option."
Obi-Wan glanced over the med-droid's shoulder, through the tranparisteel plane of glass into the surgical delivery room where his wife lay sedated. "I need to ask her."
"I would advise that your wife remains uniformed of this decision," the med-droid remarked. "Such knowledge would only increase her stress levels."
"You don't understand," Obi-Wan protested, his voice raised, all care for Jedi serenity gone from his mind. "I need to speak to her. She's strong woman, she can survive this. She needs to know. She will not like decisions concerning herself to be made without her input."
"I would advise against it, Master Kenobi."
Obi-Wan took a step forward, intending perhaps to further emphasise his point, but he was prevented by the sharp tap of a gimmer stick to his knee. He turned to Master Yoda, who looked at him with sympathetic rebuke.
"Forget yourself, Obi-Wan," he said. "Wish to join your apprentice, do you?"
Obi-Wan sighed, and took a deep breath, releasing his emotions into the Force. Then he turned to the med-droid. "Do what you think best."
"Yes sir," the med-droid replied before returning to the surgical bay.
Obi-Wan's gaze drifted to the transparisteel once more, his hand coming up to his beard as he tried to remain calm, summoning strength for the next ordeal he and Padmé had to endure.
When Padmé woke, she found herself upon a surgical bed, a large metallic vent encasing the lower half of her body, a med-droid fussing around that end of the room, and her husband's form leaning over and gazing at her anxiously.
"Obi-Wan," she managed to utter, her voice hoarse as if from overuse, "what's happening?"
"You need to have the twins, my love," he replied, his hands caressing her cheek.
"No," she objected, shaking her head as emphatically as she could. "It's too soon."
"We don't have a choice, dearest," he replied. "An..." his voice choked on the name, "Vader," he corrected himself, "left us little choice."
She turned from him towards the metallic rings which encased her, trying not to worry about the math which whirred through her brain regarding the children. Closing her eyes, she tried to use what Obi-Wan taught her only days ago; the ability to sense the signatures of her children.
A feeling of panic arose when she discovered she didn't even have the strength for that mental process.
"They're fine," Obi-Wan assured her, knowing what she was feeling, as soon as she had opened her eyes widely, seeking his assurance.
Padmé took comfort in the knowledge that he was still unharmed from whatever occurred after Ani...- Vader, she corrected herself -tried to Force choke her. The smoke stains and saber rents upon his cream tunic did not escape her notice, and neither did the sadness in his blue grey eyes, but now was not the time for what would be an undoubtedly hard conversation for the both of them. She needed to save her energy for the task ahead of her.
"Don't worry, my love. You need to save your energy," Obi-Wan spoke aloud then, echoing her resolve. A contraction swept through her body, and she realised that he must have fused his ability in the Force with what little she had herself, as well as the children's in an effort to help her. For she felt only half the pain she was expecting to come from induced pre-term labour, even with the all the advances of the medical technology. She remembered how quickly Cordé had come into the world, at her time and as naturally as the Temple Healer's ward allowed.
The birth of the twins was a stark contrast.
It seemed a long time had passed to her mind when the med-droid emerged from the tent encircling her legs with a small and quiet bundle in her arms, but it could not have been more than minutes, drawn out by the status of her troubled mind. Not a sound emerged as the med-droid cleaned and checked the babe, but Padmé was not unsettled by the lack of crying, her firstborn had been exactly the same. The Temple Healers had told her it was to do with the Force bond that Obi-Wan nurtured within Cordé from the moment he first sensed her, acquainting her with the world so when she emerged from her mother it would not seem so strange and terrifying.
"A boy," the droid declared, handing the babe to Obi-Wan, whom took his son with the same wondrous awe he felt the first time he had been in this position.
"Hello, little one," he murmured, brushing his forehead with a kiss, before bending down to let Padmé touch his cheek with her finger.
"Luke," she whispered softly, her fingers feather-like against his soft skin. Her eyes met Obi-Wan's who nodded in silent approval. The name had come up during their first dinner in the Coruscant Naboo residence after his leave from the front line of the Clone Wars. Due to the conclusion to that bitter series of battles, they had no time to begin another such debate for the twins.
A smaller digit reached out from the blanket for hers, briefly reaching his intended goal. Obi-Wan gently pulled away and rose to his full height as he sensed the onset of another contraction. "Patience, little one, your mother still has to bring your sister into this world."
Padmé closed her eyes, waiting for the pain to pass before she opened them to frown at him. "Sister? I thought I told you not to use the Force in divining the sex of the children."
Her husband smiled as he received a response indicative of her full strength returning. "Sorry, my love. Now you have to live, so you can rebuke me properly when you are ready."
She frowned as she caught the serenity upon his face and within his voice. "It was really that uncertain?"
"If you carried the twins to term, yes," he replied, remembering the somewhat frantic conversation with the physicians before labour was induced. Bail had been quite shocked to see his friend so close to loosing his almost vaunted self control, a timely reminder of who he was from Yoda the only preventive. A part of him still didn't know how he had managed to survive the events of this day without loosing his mind. He hadn't even a moment to pause and reflect.
He wasn't sure he wanted to.
"A girl," the med-droid announced, this time to the surprise of no one.
"Leia," Obi-Wan heard Padmé murmur as the physician brought the babe towards them. She glanced at their daughter, then breathed a sigh before closing her eyes.
Half a dozen alarms abruptly went off, and he could only watch, as his mind acknowledged the fearful allusion to his vision playing out before his eyes, before the med- droid handed him his daughter and forcibly ushered him out of the room.
END OF EPISODE III.
Author's Note: Yes, a cliffhanger, my apologies, blame my muse. ;) Just remember, before you yell at me for appearing to do something, everything is not as it seems. Thank you for all your responses, you'll see the first part of Episode IV next week, which will completely step into the realms of AU, only a slight resemblance to the dark end of ROTS.