Author's Note: Just wanted to make sure everyone knew this is an AU.

FYI: For the month of November I will be busy with National Novel Writing Month. So there will not be many updates for awhile. I'm trying to write as many chapters BEFORE the 1st as I can.

I will be unable to reply to any questions in reviews and such (most likely; by some miracle I may find the time to do so).

Not seeing many reviews lately. Hmm...

Anyway, here is Chapter Twenty-Four! It is quite short.

Disclaimer: The Star Wars Universe was created and is owned by George Lucas, this is just my imagination at work, based on the universe he has created. If this story is similar to another, it's pure coincidence.

Note: Thoughts are in italics.

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The conflict within her suddenly vanished; Lady Vader didn't seem like such an awful title. It's not like I'm furthering the Imperial cause. I'm just married to a man who is furthering the cause.

Weeks passed by as Padmé and Anakin enjoyed marriage together; the Naberrie's not speaking to them. Sola would call every once in awhile, but she was busy herself with four children. Darred seemed weary when he would speak, probably afraid of Vader.

They had been married for six weeks and four days now, and Padmé found herself once again searching for something to do all day. Anakin said he would be late, which troubled her even more. She missed him deeply.

As she lay on the sofa, watching the holoscreen, a nauseated feeling came over her. Running into the bathroom, she vomited all over the floor. Padmé knew what this meant, but was afraid to even think about it.

I am totally not ready for this.

- - - -

"Mom, she wasn't trying to hurt us! I've talked to her; he forced her into marriage!"

Sola pleaded with her mother, trying to get Jobal to talk to her youngest daughter. Sirté lay in her arms, sleeping soundly. Pooja ran around the couch as Ryoo colored at the table.

"I'm sorry, I just can't," Jobal replied stubbornly. She crossed her arms, her manner childish.

"Job, come on," Ruwee called out from the den. "Give her a chance."

"I can't; I won't."

Sighing, Sola handed Sirté to Jobal as she ran after her comlink on the table.

"Sola Naberrie," she answered.

"Sola! It's Padmé. I need some advice."

"Hi, Padmé. What do you need?" Sola emphasized her sister's name as she looked at her mother.

"When you thought you were pregnant, what made you think that? What are the signs?"

"Pregnant?"

"Great, now we've got the spawn of Vader running around," Jobal scoffed. Sola shot her a look as she answered Padmé's questions.

- - - -

Anakin came home and changed out of his armor, then sitting on the bed next to her. "Hey," he smiled as he kissed her.

"Anakin," Padmé began carefully, not even greeting him.

"Yes?"

"Can you take me to the doctor tomorrow?"

He hesitated, placing his hand on her knee. "Why?" Anakin asked nervously.

It seemed like an eternity before she answered.

"How do you feel about a baby?"

"A b-baby?!" His voice quivered as he cooly ran his fingers through his hair. Swallowing, Anakin then ran his fingers through her curls. "W-why do y-you a-ask?"

"Anakin, I think I-I may be pregnant."

"Padmé, you can't be pregnant. You just can't!"

"It's very possible," she giggled, trying to soothe his nervousness. "I know it's very soon, but we can't stop it from happening; If it is happening."

Sighing, he fell back on the bed. "This can't be happening."

"We don't know if it is for sure yet," she whispered, cuddling up to him. "But it's possible. We could be having our own little Skywalker!"

Ignoring her comment, he turned over so that his back faced her. "I can't believe this," he mumbled to himself.

"Anakin, I know it's a big thing, but you have to get over it. Cool down, we don't even know for sure!"

"It's not a 'big thing', Padmé!" Anakin began as Padmé looked hurt. "It's a huge thing."

Grabbing his hand, she placed it on her belly. "Our baby could be right there, Anakin! Why can't you be happy?"

"Who said anything about not being happy?" he yelled, jumping to his feet. "I never said I wasn't happy; I'm just not ready!" Walking out of the room, he went into his office and slammed the door.

Padmé never imagined something so possibly joyful being so sullen.