A/N: Disclaimer and credit to Geore Lucas & Jonathan Hales: I've again incorporated a deleted scene from the movie- this time, Padmé's sit down with Dooku. But if you read the AOTC script, so much of the originally written dialogue for that conversation was cut too. The back-and-forth between Padmé and Count Dooku is a treasure, and it's ripe for character insight, so I amended the scene to put the lines back in while honoring the footage we saw.

P.S. I wrote in my last A/N that a one-shot spinoff with Beru was going to be posted prior to this chapter. I should've listened to my own words when, in the very same A/N, I joked that I didn't have another Tatooine chapter in me to give. That one-shot is still coming, but the struggle of writing when my heart needed a very real break from the Lars homestead played a huge part in causing my posting hiatus, and I eventually figured it would be best if I return to finish it when the time is right.

Thank you for reading. I've missed y'all. I hope you enjoy.

V. GEONOSIS

Chapter 34. Dooku

Two things
I'll never forget:

The way you
looked at me for
the first time

And the
last time.
- David Jones

I love democracy. I love the Republic.

I love it through its imperfections, its blemishes, its scarred trenches. Although that era had come and gone before my contemporaries and I were born, I cherish the chances a true Republic in its prime gives to those who live amongst its breeze. I see in it the possibilities, the choices, and the fundamental law it stands for— power rests with the people.

My parents were a team in encouraging public service, but it was my father who lit the path most of all. Ruwee Naberrie led by example but would openly talk to his daughters about democratic ideals. Sola often fell asleep. I was enraptured. I thought, and I still believe, that the dance of thousands of systems coming together in cooperation— given all their different wants and species and histories— was one of the most beautiful things I'd ever heard. At the age of four, I brimmed with so much excitement on my first trip to Coruscant that I cried most of the flight. My family didn't know what to make of it. But this was nothing compared to the journey home. I bawled my eyes out in my mother's lap, distraught to have left this beacon my tender mind had only just begun to understand.

The breadth of input from multiple voices is a necessity for progress and peace, not a hindrance to it. We are not weakened by our differences. We are strengthened by them. The Senate Rotunda is meant to be a cathedral of ideas, discussion, and debate— always on behalf of the greater good. It is, by design, a magnificent orchestra, wherein the Supreme Chancellor is supposed to act as a guiding conductor. The role carries prestige, but the power and sound come from the representatives all dutifully playing their part. Esteemed soloists enhance the performance in their sweet brevity without stealing from the whole. The echoing resonance is for the audience we act in service of, for they are far more important than the chamber we work from. I have spent my career in search of these harmonious events, where the results of our government labor shine and live up to the creed we've sworn to uphold. To have been a part of some of these rare moments brings me indescribable joy. Through periods of jadedness and pessimism, I remained in my role because of an underlying truth: I truly, deeply, love what I do.

I respect the irrefutable fact that to keep the fire of democratic principles alive and flourishing is to tend a constant struggle, one which demands sacrifice of its tenants. The sheer size of the Galactic Republic means an array of mechanisms must operate in good-faith— and check each other when branches fall short. This balance is precious. It involves focus, humility, bravery, and constant appreciation— perhaps even more so from its leaders than its citizens, for they know best the weight of their gravel.

You think you understand what you're getting into— out there, on the campaign trail. Delivering speeches and making promises most candidates intend to keep, at least initially. But I've spoken to many an elected official who can attest to the reality. There's a moment, a true dawn of understanding, and it only comes sometime after the winner is announced, the title bestowed, or the ceremonial robe adorned. For some, it hit them during their first tense press conference, when those flowery campaign orations filled with promises are the past and listeners now expect answers and results. For others, it happened more quietly, such as the very first time they entered their government office and saw their own name above the door. Whenever it happens, at some point, it hits you. Your actions and your words carry consequences. Influence. Power. Some politicians, tasting this potion, become drunk and addicted. No matter how much is poured, their goblets are never full enough. Greed laces their salivating lips like a tinted wine.

Others humbly perceive that their podium is but borrowed from the true owner— the populace. Other bodies sat in their stately office chair before they did just like other representatives will after, and if they want to keep their plushy, loaned furniture, they have to earn the honor. What's more, if they want to ensure the next occupant is an elected one instead of a successor seizing it by force, they had best do their part to stay vigilant over the shared flame of democracy. To idle in their guardianship is to partake in its death.

Under such a mandate, the lazy and the greedy will go from potions to poisons, corrupting the system to stay long past their turn. They'll wave and smile, even as their nails dig deeper into the sleek armrest.

The day I was sworn in as Senator of the Chommell sector, the modern-era Galactic Senate was one-thousand and thirty-two years old. It had been nearly twenty-five thousand years since the formation of the Republic itself. Time, the great tester, was always either going to reinforce our government's bark or expose the decay spreading within.

I wish, now, that I had conferred more with Master Yoda— asked what subtle signs he'd beheld; what tells the changed capital air gave him. So many questions one wants to ask only when they no longer can.

Palpatine manipulated me to his own gains when I was Queen, but do you know the sad irony? The strings he nipped with his conductor's baton serenaded truth. At my ear, he whispered of the power of the bureaucrats, of the rot taking hold in the center of our congress. For all his dark ulterior motives hidden under reptilian skin, he didn't even need to expend energy on lies.

{There is no civility, only politics. The Republic is not what it once was. The Senate is full of greedy, squabbling delegates. There is no interest in the common good.}

I watched his ominous warning become true when I made my plea to the Senate. With incredulous eyes, I bore witness as my outreach for help was smothered within seconds by a corporation given all the standing of a populated sector. My call for assistance fell on deaf ears. Then, it was suggested a committee be formed to determine if I had come to the galaxy's beacon of liberty with false charges against their bribers!

It became clear to me then that the Republic no longer functioned the way I'd been brought up to believe. I hadn't much time to mourn the death of the dream, not when my Naboo were starving and dying far away from the glimmering and clogged up capitol.

But just like how Anakin never gave up on a broken droid, I couldn't let go of the idea of what the Republic could be again. My husband's tools were his deft hands; mine were my words. His sacred workshop was a quiet garage; mine was— by requirement— a return to the neon lights of Coruscant. I dedicated my life to helping to bring the Republic back to its true self in any way I could. Whether in the orchestral cauldron of the Rotunda or behind closed-door meetings, I never forgot a crucial element of my role... when I opened my mouth as Amidala, a voice speaking for billions flowed through my throat.

Bail Antilles. Mon Mothma. Myself. Did we— the most mindful pallbearers to the Republic's coffin— take that long-standing institution for granted? We knew it was broken. I suppose, naively, we still thought something which had lasted so long couldn't possibly sunset in our own lifetime. Up until those final weeks, I think we believed we were striving to solve another generation's crisis.

Some may choose to see me only for the love story I shared with Anakin. They aren't inherently wrong to do so. But in this, they overlook that my life is also a love letter to democratic ideals— ideals that are eternal in a way my and Ani's short lives, and even our legacies, could never be. Democracy, at its core, is kind. Republics and autocracies come and go, but the beliefs I fought for live in every person who has ever looked to their government for a helping hand instead of a fist.

When I was a little girl, I dreamed of being someone who would contribute to the galaxy in some meaningful, significant way.

I unknowingly left a few blanks open as to how that might come to be. The Force filled in the rest.

"From what I've heard about where we're going, you might actually miss Tatooine."

I scanned Anakin's grim expression from my seat in the co-pilot's chair. Behind the outline of his tan nose and chin, bleached dots of distant stars sped indistinguishably by. "What have you heard about Geonosis?"

He shrugged in that cavalier way only a teenager can. "Mostly bits from when I was a kid. It's close enough to Tatooine that it would come up in conversation with space pilots and traders. I'd hound them for any information I could about life beyond our hellhole." He peeked at me out of the corner of his eye. Discreet. Quick. But I saw it.

Privately, I wondered if these space pilots were the ones who educated him on the moons of Iego.

"What did they tell you?"

"Rock planet. Insectoids. Endless wars. But they produce some of the best tech to come out of the Arkanis sector."

I nodded, confirming all of his descriptions. "The Republic has lucrative trade deals with them for the exportation of droids. And for their advanced technology." I sighed and sat back against my seat. "What they have must be worthwhile if we're seeking it all the way out here."

"And it must be what the Separatists want from them, too."

"And that."

"And…"

I tilted my head at him, the twisted coils of my hair brushing against the headrest. "And?"

The autopilot immediately took control of the ship as Anakin crossed his arms over his chest. He threw me an unhappy look. "I hear they're big fans of public executions."

"Oh my!" Both of our heads swiveled to stare between our chairs at Threepio. He'd managed to go more than three minutes without speaking, possibly a new record for him. I'd momentarily forgotten he was seated behind me. "How barbaric!"

My eyes found the young man's once more. "Obi-Wan is an officer of the Republic, Ani. The Geonosians wouldn't dare." I hoped my voice carried more confidence than I felt. Obi-Wan would've had to survive the droidekas before the courts of Geonosis became his concern.

Anakin centered in his chair and avoided my eye. He picked at a corner of the chrome steering wheel, nails trying to find grooves that weren't there. His voice was soft, plaintive. "You heard the transmission. They're making a droid army for the Separatists. That should tell you something about their allegiances."

I folded my hands in my lap in order to keep myself from putting a hand on his shoulder. Even now, I was amazed how the desire to touch him never truly left me. "I admit, it doesn't sound likely, but the Geonosians may be trying to stay a neutral party if war breaks out— do business with both sides. They know what message it would send to kill a Jedi. I can't imagine they'd want to sour their relationship with the Republic any further and risk losing those trade contracts."

Blue eyes rolled high in their sockets. "Politics saving his skin. Obi-Wan will love that." He suddenly looked at me. "If. You said 'if'." His stare became more scrutinizing. "You still think war is avoidable? Even after hearing the Separatists are taking delivery of an army?"

I pursed my lips, feeling vexation for certain Coruscant colleagues rising to the surface. "I've spent a year warning that if the Republic even discussed creating a military force, the Separatist Alliance would sooner or later prepare themselves with one of their own. They may have ordered the army, but our rhetoric surely drove them to it."

"'If you offer the Separatists violence, they can only show violence in return.'" Surprised, my eyebrows peaked, and I blinked at Ani. The corners of his lips tugged up. I hadn't seen those muscles move in that exquisite upward direction in too long. "I watched your speech. Not live. Later. After you gave it. Which, well, yeah." The visible cheek was turning pink. Bemused, I wondered why this was such a flustering thing for him to get out. "Obi-Wan and I were on our transport from the Temple to your apartment building. I watched the HoloNet recap on the way to our reunion."

There was something about the hallowed way he'd said "our reunion" that uncorked a warm flood in my chest.

"And?"

He stilled. Then he gave me a single, graceful nod. "You're a very captivating speaker, milady."

Blue eyes twinkled at mine like they had once in a meadow... and across an elegant table in a sunset veranda.

"You know, I am fluent in over six million forms of communication, including Geonosian." Threepio's cheery voice called out from over our shoulders. I didn't realize how softly Anakin and I had been talking until the volume of the droid filled the cockpit. "The language consists of click consonants, possible through the dual mandibles of Geonosians—one moving vertically, and a second, internal set moving horizontally."

A silence hung in the air as the orator waited for a laudatory response.

"Fascinating," Anakin deadpanned.

"Thank you, Threepio," I gently replied, turning slightly in my chair to meet his artificial eyes with my human ones. "I can understand their language, too, but, um." I shyly stole a look at Ani. Geonosian was not a… poetic dialect by any human standards. And it had been years since I'd practiced it aloud. "I'll leave the speaking of it to you."

"Indeed, it would be my pleasure, Senator." He bent forward at his waist hinges in a courteous bow.

"Here we go."

My attention returned to the largest bay window as I followed the pilot's focused stare. A red globe bruised with patchwork swirls of orange loomed ahead. Vast rings of rock and orbital asteroids encircled it like a protracted skirt, moving with deceptive slowness. Anakin easily navigated the ship upwards, avoiding the natural debris field. Iced boulders the size of the Palace of Theed winked at us as we sailed high above their catastrophic playground.

On my bottom right, I pulled up a grid of the solar system, morbid curiosity driving my fingers to fly and change the view parameters. The requested data quickly appeared on the screen, satisfying my urge to know just as an internal warning advised that perhaps I shouldn't have checked.

We were forty-three thousand light-years away from the core of the galaxy. If more Jedi were on their way, I dearly hoped they'd gotten a quick start.

"How are you holding up?"

My eyebrows bent inwards with confusion at Anakin's question. He was regarding me with unmasked concern. "With what?"

"With the news that Gunray is behind the attacks. You haven't said anything about it."

The planet before us grew larger. As details from the surface began to become visible, my eyes darted towards an illuminated map on the console. It was initiating a scan of the terrain below. I watched the analytics with absorbed interest.

"Padmé?"

I lifted a shoulder, continuing to pretend to study the incoming visuals. "I can't say I'm surprised." Almost on its own, my jaw clenched. "But his days of harming my people are over. I'll die before Nute Gunray spills another drop of Naboo blood."

Jagged canyons and steep mountains— so different from the ones surrounding our Lake Country— cut into and out of the burnt landscape. Everything about Geonosis looked uninviting. But Obi-Wan Kenobi was down there somewhere. There was never a question of turning back, and it certainly wasn't going to happen now.

Anakin led the ship expertly through the atmosphere. Lower and lower he flew, in what I imagine was an attempt to avoid radar detection. Multiple times, though, he came so close to the serrated ridges that I steeled myself and prayed for the hull of the yacht.

Spires of sand and rock populated the surface, stretching out above Geonosis like bony fingers released from massive graves. "Oh dear," I heard Threepio moan. "More sediment to get into my gears." Artoo beeped a sarcastic quip, one that only bothered the gray droid even more.

Given my heightened awareness of his bold flying, it was with anxiety that I noted Ani's gaze kept switching over to me.

Finally, I pressed, "What?"

"You said to Dormé, back on the speeder bus… If worse came to worst, I'd have to prove how good I am. I knew you were teasing. But, I admit… I wanted the chance to show off."

Regret drenched his tone like thick syrup. I peered at him from my side of the cockpit, noticing how his fists had clenched around both ends of the steering lever. He'd paused in his address, his face clouding while he organized whatever he wanted to say. Is he doubting our rescue mission again? Even now, as we search for a suitable place to land?

Fortunately, I was able to distract him when I saw a trio of thick clouds billowing out from a low mesa. "See those columns of steam straight ahead? They're exhaust vents of some type."

"That'll do." The ship turned sharply as he positioned it above the foreboding kettle of mist. We saw one last glimpse of reddish sky before plumes swallowed us. Threepio let out another woeful groan.

I leaned away and busied myself with landing operations, hoping against hope that Anakin would drop whatever conversation he'd begun.

Instead, he picked up as if I'd never interrupted him. "But, Padmé, not like this." I could see him shake his head emphatically in my peripheral vision. "Not by taking you to a hostile planet, without backup, with nothing but loose faith that the bugs in these hives don't want to lose their Republic contracts."

I swiveled in my chair to face him. Regardless of what had transpired on Tatooine, the last thing we needed now was for Anakin to have a crisis of confidence. I, too, didn't know what we were heading into. Thanks to the vent steam around us hiding everything, we were literally going into this rescue blind.

I needed him at his best and most focused. "Anakin." His hands dropped into his lap, but he looked up and met my eyes. I tried to offer a reassuring smile that conveyed my confidence in him— assurance that I felt safe. I knew that would be half the job of getting him to feel it as well. Following emotion more than reason, I reached across the middle console and put a hand on his forearm. "We stick together in there. It will be alright."

You would think that, by now, I would've learned not to stare too deeply into Anakin's eyes. Such encounters rarely came with a smooth exit ramp.

But our pools locked in that fatal circuit, and the air between us changed. We may as well have gone back to that intimate setting by Varykino's fire. Part of me felt like we'd never left it. Even with worry presently carving lines into his face, Anakin stole my breath with his haunting beauty. Slowly, I retracted my hand, but no where else did I move. Around us, our ship continued its gradual descent into the steam while the navigation system guided the way. We had a few, final moments of privacy before we met whatever stakes awaited us. Moments when all we could really do was stare at each other and wait to land.

It suddenly dawned on me that, even if our mission were successful and we collected the Jedi Master with ease, these fleeting seconds might very well be the last of my secluded time with Anakin. Obi-Wan's investigation was over. His Padawan's assignment would soon be over too.

This was it.

My lips felt achingly lonely. In a movement so instinctual and rushed that I didn't even have time to consciously decide to do it, my eyes stole a glance down at his full offerings. Discreet. Quick. But Anakin saw.

He had been verbally silent on his wishes and respectful of mine ever since that night when I rejected his advances, though his eyes had continued to bleed speeches. I watched the same vulnerable courage gather in his face the way he had summoned it on the lakeside sofa.

"Back on the farm." His Adam's apple dropped and rose as he swallowed. His voice was low and serious. "In the bed. You kissed my throat."

Even the droids froze. For a few moments, neither of us breathed. Then he shifted in his chair, inching closer to me. The white, curved console remained an obstinate barrier between us. The chaperon we needed but didn't want.

"Padmé. Before we walk out there…" All shyness melted away as the ship auto-landed. The eyes of a passionate man who didn't give a damn about Jedi codes bore into mine. They searched desperately for confirmation. "Is there anything you want to revisit?"

My lips parted as I inhaled a pained woman's breath.

Tell him. Tell him. For Gods' sake, just tell him.

I dug my nails into the skin of my palm.

It will only hurt us both more when we have to separate.

Embarrassed and flushed at my lack of self-control, I shut down my yearnings with the weight of blast doors. "Nothing has changed, Ani." I barely hid my own cringe at how reproachful my voice sounded. I switched off the controls on my side and spun away from him, rising from my seat, but not without seeing his emerging frown first. My blunt return into Senatorial mode had instantly annoyed him.

Good. An annoyed Anakin was better than one trying to funnel love out of my eyes.

My flustered state made it difficult to take the sharpness from my tone. "Look, whatever happens out there, follow my lead." His gaze was still hot on my face. We were standing within arm's reach of each other. I felt exposed. I reached for my more conservative wrap, partly to more regally complete my attire for whatever was to come, but more so just to put additional fabric between Anakin and me. "I'm not interested in getting into a war here. As a member of the Senate, maybe I can find a diplomatic solution to this mess."

He offered me a plainly forced smile, and I proceeded towards the exit ramp. Frosted blues seared a winter's trail down my spine, and despite the arid heat, I shivered.

"Don't worry." I heard him pick up something— likely his Jedi robe. "I've given up trying to argue with you."

The hurt and angry defeat in his voice startled me for a moment, but I kept my march through the narrow passageways of the ship. Though I hurried, I waited for him at the bottom of the ramp. I wasn't foolish enough to venture out into the fog without my Jedi protector beside me. Luckily, when he promptly joined me at my side, I could see with a quick glance that his face was all business.

I realized I was more conscious of my weight than I'd been on the ship. "The gravity is lighter here," I announced, voicing what he'd likely already felt himself. It wasn't lighter by much— but there was a perceptible difference. The air, too, felt uncomfortable to breathe.

He nodded once in agreement. "I feel it too. And I feel like I'm one lung short." He inhaled deeply like he was seeking extra oxygen. "You're right. Let's hope we don't face a fight."

We proceeded together across the landing rail, my eyes barely perceiving structures ten feet in front of us through the mist. I could faintly make out large pillars of rock on either side. Wherever we were, we were deep underground. Sweat stuck to the back of my neck by the time we'd arrived at the entry door. Wearily, I took in its imposing height.

Anakin extended his left palm casually, as if he was merely stretching it to catch water. But in short answer, the colossal door lurched open without protest. Seeing him move an art décor ball in my apartment, unfasten the lightweight door of a hut, or dance fruit through the air at the dinner table was one thing. Opening a two-ton locked gate was another. I looked at him in impressed awe, but he was already ducking to face whatever unknown awaited us on the other side. I followed in step.

We paused briefly as the heavy door shut behind us. Faint illumination provided a dim course forward. We moved stealthily, eyes watchful. The texture of the curved ceiling kept arresting my attention. It was reflective and textured in an unnatural way. And almost... pulsating. Under his breath, Anakin commanded, "Stay by my side."

I nodded, not wanting to disturb the air with further sound. Somewhere in my primal instincts, I already knew something was wrong.

After we'd traveled a few meters, the very gate we'd entered through opened with an echoing thunder. The sound had been loud on the other side— on the ship's side— but in the tunnel, it was magnified to an ear-splitting degree. Anakin and I whipped around to see Threepio and Artoo stumble and roll into the passageway. We shushed them quickly, our eyes scanning for the imminent threats.

When eerie silence met us, we turned back to our route and proceeded once more.

A door became visible on the other end of the long walkway, and my hopes rose. But our tandem step slowed as my companion dragged back on our pace. I turned to look at Ani and saw agitation tightening his features.

Then I heard the sounds. They reminded me of the insects we'd listened to while moving through the trees on the way back from Cordé's funeral, trekking through the brush to get to the water speeder. But these sounds were more abundant. Less melodic. They foreshadowed things... bigger.

"Wait."

I am a brave woman.

I have looked death in the eye and kept my cool numerous times.

And yes, I was just giving Anakin a lecture on using my Senatorial designation to broker a peaceful prisoner handover.

But I challenge anyone to stand in a dark tunnel, see walls begin to move, and then realize insectoid creatures taller than yourself are spilling into the space around you— and not run.

Bright blue shrieked into menacing being as Anakin's lightsaber awoke. I didn't stand around long enough to see him put it to use. Even as cardinal fear of the instectoids behind us propelled my speed, I tried not to think of the last time that particular saber ignited.

I slammed the side of my body into the control panel by the end gate, hoping my arm might land on the button which would raise the door. Within seconds, Anakin was directly behind me, defending us at the rear as I now pushed the thin markers individually but with manic haste. Miraculously, the barrier lifted, and survival instinct pushed me forwards before I took a full appreciation of what lay on the over side.

I took a few steps out on to the short walkway, but I was too caught by the activity around me to even notice or care that we'd reached a perilous dead end.

It was a factory. A massive, functional, army-producing factory. Walls glowed red and yellow as mammoth machines constructed smaller machines. Trade Federation battle droids I'd seen in ten years of nightmares stood on rivers of assembly line tracks. Conveyor belts moved everywhere, transporting pieces of deadly equipment. All of it purposed to challenge and defeat the Republic. The vapid industrialization and complete lack of organic life made Coruscant look like the luscious jungles of Naboo. If someone had curated my own personal version of hell, this might have been it.

I heard Anakin come to a closer stand behind me, but all my senses diverted as the floor under our feet suddenly jerked backwards. The stunted walkway was retracting. Anakin's faster reflexes found a grip in the center of the door with one hand and searched urgently for mine with the other. I reached out to him in my frenetic struggle to balance myself. But my fingers were trapped in cloth. In twisted irony, the thick fabric of my shawl forbade our touch— just as I'd wanted it to when I put it on as makeshift blockade between us on the ship. I bent backwards in vain before tumbling through the air with a cry.

Anakin yelled my name as I came down with a hard thud on the nearest conveyor belt. I struggled briefly with the difference in gravity as I straightened myself. The belt was moving fast, and we were some distance apart by the time we anxiously locked eyes.

I was about to shout up at him that I was alright, but he was already jumping to my level, saber ignited. Suddenly, a LOUD clamping noise from ahead caught my immediate attention. I spun my focus forward.

And then my stomach flipped over on itself and shriveled up into a squished ball.

There was no time to worry about Anakin. Or the winged insectoids buzzing above us. Or the Republic.

There was only surviving the next dozen seconds.

I was inescapably speeding closer to a row of stampers. Such was their force, each would flatten a Hutt with the first slam. My survival was about to come down to how well I could time the machines I could not plead, negotiate, or barter with.

Complicating matters were the sweeping arms on either side, ready to trip me should I take a single step out of place. This wasn't even taking into account the molten squares on either side of my path to continued life. If I fell onto any of them, pain from the burns would surely debilitate long enough for the clobbering smasher to finish me off.

Rush, rush, rush.

Even the sixth-sense voice in my head was more enthusiastic than ever.

Wait, wait, wait!

A half-second delay between the first and second stamper.

A distance perhaps shoulder-stance wide where the tripping-arms don't swing.

Do not step outside of that space.

Wait.

Wait.

In the last split-second, I heard the sound of a lightsaber slashing through metal.

Anakin.

GO!

I darted under the short, temporary ceiling like thrusters had been installed in my boots. But my momentum was difficult to stop on the track, and I struggled to recede without falling before I was almost sent through the second stamper. By sheer luck, my right foot crossed far to the left just as the industrialized arm lifted, saving me from a fatal slip.

Wait!

Think, Padmé, think. Count. Time it.

GO!

A yell for existence erupted from me as I flew myself towards death's embrace. When I came out the other side, I turned rapidly in hopes of catching sight of a blue blur or blond hair. Not finding either in time, I whirled again to challenge the third and final stamper.

You can do this. You're doing it. You've got this.

I held my breath and rushed forward.

This is not how I am going to die.

I cleared the final clobber, but immediately found a haphazard obstacle course of arms and molten trappings thwarting my path. I sprung into action, leaping and ducking to avoid more certain death. Melding sparks assaulted my face with their heat and brilliant light. On and on it went, seconds that felt like hours as I dodged one apathetic assailant after another. Every thought that wasn't saved for instinctual reflexives kept reminding me to breathe, to keep fighting for my life.

Finally, I stood, alive and panting, on a belt clear of any more construction. The torsos of battle droids lay in neat double rows up and down the strip. Adrenaline still coursing through my veins, my eyes again took in the foundry, questing both for a sight of Anakin and reconnaissance details of our environment. Soldier droids. Everywhere. Thousands. Hundreds of thousands. Maybe millions.

I at last perceived the unmistakable hum of a saber, and eagerly sought the source of the sound. There! Ani, standing and fighting, halving through Geonsosian and machine arms alike. He was jumping and ducking with such fast fluidity, one would've thought the whole place was his practice ground for Jedi training. So caught up was I in my relief of locating him that I didn't see my own attacker coming until it was too late.

I heard the buzz of its wings before I saw it. I put up my arms to defend myself, and it attached its grip below my wrists with skeletal claws. Sinewy arms violently rocked me from side to side, and while I would like to think I would've normally stood a chance, the unfamiliar gravity of Geonosis was still working against my favor. I saw the kick coming but couldn't shift my body weight in time to absorb it. A thin leg undercut my own, and I plunged backwards, the faces of my loved ones flashing before my eyes as I fell through the air.

I'd only gotten to my mother's face when the breath was forcefully knocked out of my lungs. My descent to death had been deterred by a massive and empty cauldron. I felt relief that I was still alive for only a second, before the awareness of the purpose of my salvation cup scrambled me to my feet. I placed both palms on the vat— and immediately drew them back. The rough cage around me was not just warm, it was blistering to the touch. I rubbed my hands tenderly as if I could coax the rush of pain out of them. This heated pot I was standing in was heading back to its source. I was suddenly in the worst of all conveyor lines.

I stared up at the towering wall in front of me. It was just porous enough that there might be small footholds I could use to climb out, but I wouldn't get far if my hands couldn't hold on long enough to do their part.

The height of the vat walls blocked any air current, and the temperature radiating from my feet up had me sweating within seconds. If I didn't climb, and risked staying down here too long, hoping for the best, I might pass out from the heat.

Thankfully, giving up isn't an exercise I'm familiar with.

I summoned every ounce of strength in my thighs and every iota of nimbleness in my fingers. I buried the pads of my digits into the hot crust of the cylinder until whimpers of pain accompanied my retreat. Then I went again. But as the imposing pail noticeably shifted from moving swiftly through the air to a stop-and-go rhythm of turn-taking, my already stark situation grew more dire. In a panic, I wildly asked myself what I was supposed to do if I even reached the top rim of the vat. I'd witnessed them in their line from my briefly peaceful stint on the last belt. I was in a bucket hundreds of meters above the factory floor. Any success in climbing these walls would quickly be met with a different kind of fate.

It doesn't matter! If I'm going to die today, I'm going to go out clawing for my life if I have to. I won't stop trying until my last breath is taken from me!

I didn't even realize I'd exclaimed his name until the echo circled the inside of the vat and reverberated in my eardrums. More consciously, I yelled it again. I listened for any kind of reply— a distant saber swing, a passionate shout. Any hint that would tell me he was still out there fighting. Maybe if he wasn't in a scenario like mine, he could still get out of this hellish factory alive.

I kept searching for scrapes in the wall, all while my loved ones faces began to filter through my mind's eye again. Every other one was Anakin.

Let me see him again. Please, please, let me see him again. I love him, I love him, I love him.

My body will never forget the feeling which occurred when the vat was released.

I'd already fallen twice in the previous minutes— off a walkway at the door, pushed off the conveyor belt by the Geonosian warrior. But it was something entirely foreign when the vat shook and was suddenly free of its lock. It fell through the air, and I went with it.

Wisdom Captains Panaka and Typho would've been proud of screamed at me to make my body go as limp as possible as quickly as possible. I sunk into a near crouch, as purposely relaxed as I could make myself with the exception of my hands, which were wrapped around the base of my neck. That was as high as I could get them before the pail landed with a monumental crash against the pavilion. Still limp, I rolled out of the pail and onto warm, greasy floor. I did a rapid-fire check of my bodily status. Stunned as I was, I knew I was luckily that every bone in my body hadn't shattered on impact.

Geonosians began to flood the area before I'd even caught my breath. Breath which, even with sinister guns pointed at me, I was beyond grateful to still have. More and more creatures surrounded me. Well. After Anakin had killed several of their brethren and we'd disrupted or destroyed ample parts of their assembly line, it was time to… get diplomatic?

I decided to forgo any attempt at impressing them with my Geonosian.

"I'm Senator Amidala of Naboo, a member of the Galactic Senate." This race sneering at me with black eyes draped by heavy, rust-colored lids was birthed and beholden to a hive queen. Behind my straight spine and dignified exterior, I prayed that my monarch's tone would once again break through species and language barriers as I decreed, "I demand you take me to whoever is in charge!"

An excessive number of guards led me through shadowed hallways. They hadn't put me in any restraints, which wasn't shocking. Where would I have run? What weapon besides my small, blistered hands did I have to fight with?

My ears strained to listen beyond our combined footsteps— barely perceptible boot treads from me, but loud clicks from a small army of Geonosian feet— for any sound of another group. Another prisoner escort.

Anakin. Where are you?

I first heard his metallic heels meeting the ground before I saw him. He was immediately out of place against the background of hive walls. Almost every inch of his imposing frame was covered in Mandalorian armor. Baskar templates. A jet pack was strapped to his back.

His helmet hid his face, but I knew he was looking at me as we came round our respective ends of the curved passageway. Just like I intuitively knew this was the bounty hunter Anakin had told me about— the one who terminated the droid operator on Coruscant. The one who sent the Kouhuns. The one who'd arranged for the cruiser explosion.

The blood of seven of my countrymen was on this man's hands.

I'm from a pacifist planet, and I'm a politician who carries herself with composed dignity. I'm not given to violent outbursts. It's not who I am. But for a moment, the Geonosians almost made a mistake in not putting me in restraints.

He waved his arm horizontally and dipped his helmet at me in a mock display of gallantry. Next, however, I forgot about the murderer completely when I saw the equally towering figure— my human skyscraper— come into view behind him.

"Ani!"

I knew my high-pitched voice had given me away in the curved hall. Too emotional. Too relieved to see him. I didn't waste time wondering if my expression revealed me as well— my whole body was uncoiling from elation at seeing him alive and apparently unharmed. At seeing me, Anakin tensed and rushed his steps forward. The previously gallant arm of the bounty hunter slammed into his tunic chest, forcefully stopping his advance. I watched as the air was pushed out of Ani's lungs from the horizontal blow.

I slammed my mask down again like our lives depended on it.

"Senator Amidala herself," the helmeted figure greeted me, dropping his arm and slowing his gait. Our two prisoner parties came to a halt opposite each other.

"Are you alright?!" Even through a still-recovering gasp, Anakin's worried eyes scanned me head to toe, lingering on my face.

I nodded, this time keeping my poise. "I'm fine. It is our captors who should be concerned."

An unexpected chuckle came from behind the masked man. "Is that so?" He laughed again. "I've heard a lot about you. Seems you've been a quite a problem for my employers." He tsked, lightly. "All this trouble coming out of one little lady."

Anakin growled at him and bared teeth. "You'll speak to her with respect."

"Or else what?" Two thumbs pushed up on the bottom of the Mandalorian helmet. As it was fully removed, a deeply tan, scarred face came into view. Black eyes scrutinized Anakin under a short mash of sweat-oiled black hair. Confusingly, he was both younger and yet older than I what expected. "You gonna swing at me with your lightsaber, Jedi boy?"

The resentful, dark expression on Anakin's face clued me that something more was going on here than them having simply taken his cherished weapon.

"You know, your older buddy did alright fighting me without his fancy blade. And that was in the rain."

Anakin's face dropped. "Obi-Wan? Where is he?!"

"Enough!"

The graveled, male voice bellowed down the hall. Everyone, even the bounty hunter, stood straighter in alert.

Fainter, but no less commanding, the same voice continued, "Bring her to me."

Putting his helmet in the crook of his arm, the bounty hunter led our jointed group down a nearby and much shorter passage. It ended in a pointed cove, and I could just make out a rounded table enhanced by its own light through the open doorway. With a fast series of lengthy steps, Anakin maneuvered himself beside me, ignoring the cross look from our baskar-plated guide. I took a deep breath, inhaling his presence.

With all the plea, trust, and authority I could pour into the request, I met Anakin's eye and said, "Let me do all the talking."

Then I stepped forward and came face-to-face with Count Dooku.

He was sitting in chair on the other side of the circular room. Most of the guards waited outside as Anakin and I entered the space. The bounty hunter threw a black cover over his chest and languidly carried himself to stand by his employer.

On the surface, the Count was every inch a nobleman. It was clear in the defined cut of his silver beard, the neat grooming of his attire, but most of all in the way he sat on the chair— as if the furniture supporting his weight was honored by the elite responsibility.

I settled into my own seat and prepared myself for one of the most important meetings of my life. A living, breathing reminder of the high stakes came to a stand on my right. I slipped into my practiced, professional voice of ten years. "You are holding a Jedi Knight— Obi-Wan Kenobi. I am formally requesting you hand him over to me, now."

Controlled. Formal. Strong.

"We don't recognize the Republic here, Senator." He countered my poise with a masterclass display of his own. "But if Naboo were to join our alliance, I could easily hear your plea for clemency."

I'd sooner die.

Anakin's death, on the other hand, gave me pause.

"And if I don't join your rebellion?"

Eyes narrowed at me from across the table. "The Republic cannot be fixed, my lady. It is time to start over."

What an insultingly simple answer to give to a woman of my experience.

"I know of your treaties with the Trade Federation, the Commerce Guilds, and the others, Count." A life proudly dedicated to the institutions of democracy awoke every cell in my body. "I will not forsake all I have honored and worked for and betray the Republic."

He waved away my passion like he was clearing a fly from the table air. "Without your cooperation, I've done all I can for you."

I believe Dooku expected me to balk and break at this sudden pronouncement. Instead, I was smoothly turning in my seat to rise. I'd not even stood from my chair when he tried again. "Wait." When we met eyes, he gestured his hand elegantly, beckoning me to return to my prior sit. My face gave away nothing as I settled back into the chair.

He studied me for several moments. Anakin shifted his weight uncomfortably at my side, but I remained outwardly and inwardly relaxed.

The fact that we were still at the table meant this game wasn't over. An active game meant no titled winners... or losers.

"Aren't you fed up with the corruption, the bureaucrats, the hypocrisy of it all?" Dooku's voice noticeably changed. A new tactic was at play. "Aren't you?" He smiled at me in a grandfatherly fashion, like a mentor trying to reorient a wayward student. "Be honest, Senator." He placed his left hand on the table, palm up. "I don't wish to make you to join our cause against your will, but you are a rational, honest representative of your people, and I assume you want to do what's in their best interest."

His adjusted strategy became comically clear. A young woman had sat down across the table from him. As the peace-loving Senator from Naboo, I would be a coveted prize were he to sway me to the Separatists' side. He'd initially tried to scare me with a quick dismissal of our fates. When that hadn't worked, he was now trying to appeal to my apparent exhaustion from upholding my oaths.

I sat as straight as the pillars on which I'd built my beliefs. Although it was Anakin who stood at my shoulder, for a moment, I felt the tangible presence of my parents at my sides.

"The ideals are still alive, Count, even if the institution is failing."

His smooth facade cracked. "You believe in the same ideals we believe in! The same ideals we are striving to make prominent."

"If what you say is true, you should stay in the Republic and help Chancellor Palpatine put things right."

{The day we stop believing democracy can work, is the day we lose it.}

From Jamillia's red and white painted lips to Dooku's pale ears.

Dooku smiled and his head tilted. Amusement crept into his eyes. "The Chancellor means well, milady. But he is incompetent. He has promised to cut the bureaucracy, but the bureaucrats are stronger than ever, no? The democratic process in the Republic is a sham, a shell game played on the voters. It will not be long before the cult of greed, called the Republic, will lose even the pretext of democracy and freedom."

I felt like I was experiencing a mirrored moment from an afternoon ten years before. I was Queen then. I was sitting on a couch on Coruscant. I was being told by another gray-haired man that democracy was dead.

This time, however, I used my words to fight back.

"I cannot believe that. And what is happening here?" I pointedly looked around the room before fixing my glare on the Count. "This not government that has been bought out by business. It's business becoming government!"

Instead of answering my heated charge, he struck a blow to my heart. "Are you willing to betray your Jedi friends? Without your cooperation I can do nothing to stop their execution."

"And mine?"

I wasn't sparing a thought for my own neck. The worst fate would be to live while Anakin and Obi-Wan died. But I could only help them if I was outside of the death box— flexing my diplomatic skills to their mightiest to postpone any executions long enough for reinforcements to arrive— rather than standing in the arena beside them.

Another slow smile tugged the corners of Dooku's lips back. "There are individuals who have a strong interest in your demise, milady. It has nothing to do with politics, I'm afraid. It's purely personal, and they have already paid great sums to have you assassinated." He paused, skillfully giving time to let the weight of his words sink in. "I'm sure they will push hard to have you included in the executions. I'm sorry, but if you are not going to cooperate, I must turn you over to the Geonosians for justice."

I, a woman all of twenty-four years, stared down the former pupil of Yoda; fallen Jedi Master, and leader of the Separatist movement like I'd lived thrice his lifespan. "If this is what stands for justice in your new government, I will warn you, Count." I came to a graceful stand. "You will have a rebellion on your own hands soon enough."

He chuckled at my glare, reducing its merit to matronly disapproval. "Perhaps. But that is an issue for a time you will not live to see, Senator. As I've said, I've done all I can for you."

This time, a Geonosian warrior appeared on my left and wrapped its claw around my upper arm. It yanked me crudely to the side, away from my chair.

"Let her go!" Anakin grabbed the instectoid at its skinny shoulder, pushing it roughly up against the nearby wall with shocking speed. He pinned his forearm on the neck, using pressure along with his strength and height to lift the creature off the ground. It kicked its clawed feet with sickening animation.

A low "Hmm" traveled across the table. Dooku was watching my protector with calmly interested eyes. "You may cause a few injuries, my young Jedi. But you will not escape."

For a moment, time stood still as my focus swept the room. I saw the gleam in the Count's eyes. The boredom in the bounty hunter's. There'd never been a chance for negotiation. Dooku had been toying with me. Anyone aware of my reputation, as he surely was, knew I never would've caved to his offer.

{You know, milady, Count Dooku was once a Jedi. He couldn't assassinate anyone. It's not in his character.}

I knew for sure now that I had a much better understanding of his character than Master Windu. But that knowledge wasn't going to make it off Geonosis.

Obi-Wan wasn't going to be rescued. In my rush to action, I'd brought Anakin and I here to die. He could've been sitting at the Lars table right now, learning and healing with his newfound family.

The Galactic Republic— twenty-five thousand years old.

The Galactic Senate— one-thousand and thirty-six years old.

The ethereal man I loved, who'd barely tasted life beyond a slave's embedded chip— not yet twenty.

Our time together— a combined total of weeks.

The realization of my love for him— measurable by hours.

And he didn't even know.

He didn't even know.

It wasn't fair.

"Ani," I pleaded, falling into the heartfelt tenor of Padmé… the woman who loved him, but who couldn't and wouldn't suppress who she was for him.

Blue met my brown. We exchanged that wordless communication I was going to miss even in death.

The released Geonosian slid down the wall. He scrambled to his feet and left our sight.