A/N: Right. So I think Bant actually died during the Clone Wars in canon, but since this is an AU I can really do whatever I want in that respect. And sorry it took me so long. Again. Thanksgiving's coming up, and you know what that means to professors--pile on the homework! On a different note, this story is now posted on the boards at if anyone wants to check it out there as well.
To Anakin's Girl 4eva: Sorry. I guess I'm just a mean person. ;) And thanks for Onasi back. I'm going to need him soon. The fellow in the last chapter was Onasi . . . .
To VA-Parky: Thanks! I'm so glad you're enjoying. I couldn't have Qui-Gon not make an appearance, after all. I'm thrilled my writing was able to make you feel sympathy for all the characters--that was one of my major goals, I guess you could say, to reflect the complexity inherent in this kind of situation in my writing.
To Queengoddess: (hugs back) For some reason the asterisks aren't working. Anyway, I'm really happy you felt that way, since that was pretty much what I was going for, and I wanted it to be realistic. I was trying to make Onasi almost understandable, but not quite. And keep your hopes up in the brotherly hug department. That's all I'm going to say about that. I always thought that bacta tanks would really be unpleasant, especially for someone as active and athletic as Anakin, so I tried to reflect that in my descriptions. And we all know Qui-Gon would never leave him to suffer through that on his own. Communed gives you funny visions? Ugh--we don't want that. ;) I'm so glad you enjoyed it! This last one and chapter Six have been my favorites to write so far. I'm an emotion junkie too!
To Busanda: Yeah, I didn't want to make it too easy. I didn't think it would be, and I want this story to be realistic. And thank you so much!
To Eruvyweth: Um, yeah. Die already, Onasi. Oh wait, don't--I still need you! After I'm done with you, then you can die. Hmm, you're right about a lot of that. We are approaching the "end of the middle," I suppose you'd call it. And ah--the "Writer's Code!"
To KTfanfic: It's always a compliment to hear that someone can't wait to find out what happens next! Thank you!
To Quill of Molliemon: He does, doesn't he? And Onasi does indeed have terrible timing.
To Go For It: Good excuse indeed! I use that excuse to read manga--"look, I'm practicing Japanese! I am, really!" And--wow, what a compliment. I'm honored that I've made your Star Wars universe more interesting. That was all I could hope for, really.
To NalaStormhunter: Thanks so much! And Onasi is pretty bad, isn't he? I'm thrilled you think Obi-Wan is in character. Sorry about the delay in updating. I try, I try, but so often I don't succeed. Some Jedi I make, eh?
To SuperBlonde: Hmm, about Onasi--well, just read the next chapter, eh? And yes, gotta love ghostly Qui-Gon indeed!
To : The ether thinks I'm getting better and better. What can I say?
To Alley Parker: Thanks! And I have to agree, on both counts.
To Mrs. A.Skywalker: Nice to see you on TF.N. Anakin's doing okay with Onasi on his own. ;) Thanks so much!
To Hieiko: Beware the dark side, you must. But yes, Anakin isn't as Sithy as he thinks he is, is he?
To Princess-Aiel: Poor Ani. At least in this story he's not that blistered. And still hot. Do think I could do that to Anakin?
To FuNny cIdE: Thanks! Hearing everyone in character is one of the best compliments I can receive! And I'm so glad you think it's believable.
To Bubleishish: Patience, my young Padawan. But yes, Padme is doing much better this time around. And I did introduce the person--just not in that chapter.
To Juliana: Wow, thanks! You can count on there being at least an update a week. I have made a vow.
To light-: He is awful, isn't he? I feel guilty just writing him.
Fifteen
Padmé hadn't changed out of the simple white shift of a patient, with her hair curling loose about her shoulders and down her back, yet she still managed to look as poised and elegant as if she were dressed for a formal meeting with fellow senators or an elaborate gala. She smiled when she saw me, pushing herself up on her pillows. I took a seat by the side of her bed. "Obi-Wan," she said. Her voice was still a little hoarser than normal, but the bruises Anakin's rage had left on her throat were nearly completely gone. "Shian told me that Anakin went into the bacta tank yesterday."
I nodded. "Yes, he did, in preparation for surgery." I felt a twinge of worry as I said the words. Anakin had always hated bacta treatments, but there was nothing I could do to make the necessary procedure easier on him. I looked down at my hands, rough, callused with the scars of lightsaber practice. It was these hands that had held the saber that severed Anakin's leg, these hands that—
Padmé reached out and closed her hand around mine. Her grip was white-knuckled and tense, and I looked up at her in surprise. "He—he looked awful, Obi-Wan," she said, her voice small. "I'm afraid."
A tight knot of guilt formed in my throat, and I had to swallow hard to force my words around it. "I'm sorry, Padmé," I said quickly. "I'm sorry; I know I'm the one who hurt him. I—I didn't want to, please believe me."
She shook her head. "I don't blame you, Obi-Wan." She took a deep, shuddering breath, and laid her other hand against her stomach, as if to protect her unborn children. "It—it could have been a lot worse, I know." She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again, and a shaky smile formed on her lips. "The respirator . . . frightened me, but Shian told me that he won't have to be on it for much longer. His lungs weren't irreparably damaged, just scorched, she said." She gave me a brave, wider smile. "Ani's strong, you know. He'll be better soon."
I couldn't respond to that. Anakin was strong, physically. But emotionally I wasn't so sure. All I could hear was his voice telling me that I should have left him—but I would never tell Padmé of that conversation. "Yes," I managed finally. "Yes, he'll be . . . better soon."
She loosened her grip on my hand, but didn't let go. "I didn't want to leave him," she murmured. "I was . . . afraid he might . . . break. He—he held onto me. He didn't want to let me go . . . as if he thought I might disappear if he did. I stayed until he fell asleep again." She took another deep breath and looked back up at me. "What did Palpatine do to him, Obi-Wan? He was so afraid."
I shook my head helplessly. "I don't know, Padmé. Palpatine has been . . . working on him . . . ever since he first started at the Jedi Temple. At first I—" I could barely force myself to admit the depths of my failure, and my voice broke "—at first I encouraged him. Anakin was so lonely, and I thought that—that someone so powerful showing an interest in him would help him feel . . . more at home."
"It wasn't your fault, Obi-Wan!" Her voice was stronger this time. "You were young and inexperienced. How were you supposed to know? We were all fooled by him! Even the great Masters of the Council." Her eyes flashed, and her hand tightened around mine again. "I was fooled by him! I was so naïve—I thought he might relinquish his powers after this crisis was over. I actually thought he might reopen diplomatic relations with the Separatists." She shook her head in obvious self-disgust. "How long has he been manipulating all of us? And it was my fault he was elected in the first place! Mine!" Her voice shook, and she trailed off into silence for a moment, but before I could muster up a reply she was speaking again, her face turned back to me. "Obi-Wan," she said. "Tell me about the Sith."
"Padmé," I said helplessly, "Padmé, I don't think—"
"Tell me, Obi-Wan," she said even more firmly. "I want to know what—what my Anakin has become."
I couldn't argue with her. "The Sith broke off from the Jedi millennia ago," I started unhappily. I didn't look at her. Looking at her would remind me that this story wasn't just a history lesson, that what I described was Anakin now, and I knew I wouldn't be able to continue once that happened. "At first there were . . . many . . . but after a battle with the Jedi in which they were almost destroyed through fighting among themselves, one lord made the decree that forever after that there would only be two Sith—a master and an apprentice. Darth Sidious—Palpatine—is the current Sith master. Dooku was his apprentice, until Anakin killed him. Recently, Anakin took Dooku's place, as Darth Vader." I took a deep, shaking breath. "The goal of the Sith has always been power, and the destruction of—of—the Jedi." I could barely get out the last words, and Padmé's hand tightened on mine, concern softening her pale features, but I continued too quickly for her to speak. That wasn't something I wanted to talk about. "The Sith use the . . . dark side of the Force. They rely on their passion and their anger for their strength. The dark side is . . .a corruption. Once a person taps into it, it becomes easier and easier all the time, more and more seductive." I stared down at where her hand gripped mine so tightly. "That is why I fear Anakin is lost," I whispered.
She shifted her hand so that her fingers were entwined with mine and squeezed slightly. "I told you," she said. "Anakin is strong." She sighed. "Even though he is afraid . . . of so many things," she added. "He is afraid of losing the people he cares about. He didn't want to tell you about us because he was afraid you wouldn't be able to respect him. He didn't want you to have to choose the Council over him."
"He shouldn't have been afraid," I whispered, still not meeting her eyes. "I—I already knew."
Padmé nodded. "I understand that. But that's not the way Anakin is." She sighed. "He lost his mother. He—he was afraid of losing me, too. I'm afraid that's what . . . ." She stopped. "I know that's how Palpatine coerced him."
I stared. I was missing something here, some vital piece of the puzzle, and at the moment nothing Padmé was saying made real sense. "But why, Padmé?" I asked blankly. "Why would he be afraid of losing you? The Clone Wars didn't destroy the two of you. Why was—why is—he so afraid now?"
Padmé took a deep breath. "He—he had nightmares. I dismissed them. I tried to get him to forget them, but I should have known better. They were like the ones he had about his mother, he said, and they were about me. He was convinced that I would die in childbirth. He was convinced that he had to save me." She stared down at her lap, smoothing one hand over her rounded stomach. "I think Palpatine promised him a way to stop me from dying," she whispered.
Horror washed over me as I looked at her, and I knew all at once that she was telling the truth. "You are not going to die in childbirth, Padmé," I told her firmly.
She looked up at me and smiled. "I know. I think that danger's passed. I think that vision of the future has changed. For a moment there, on my ship, when I thought Anakin wasn't going to come back—when I felt such agony from him—I thought I was going to die. It felt—it felt like my heart was breaking, and I didn't want to live anymore, not without Anakin. But then I felt you saving him, holding him, I don't know how—and then you were there, and you told me that he was with us, and I knew I was going to live."
"Padmé," I said, feeling helpless. "Anakin isn't saved yet. Not completely."
She shook her head. "Hope is all I need, Obi-Wan. Hope, and faith in him. I told you. He is afraid—so afraid—but he is strong, too. He survived on Tatooine. He is a great Jedi. A hero. He survived Jabiim, when he thought he'd lost you. He'll survive this." She reached up and touched my cheek, giving me a warm smile. "Don't worry so much."
I stared at her for a moment, hardly able to believe her courage, her faith. It struck me how fortunate Anakin was that he had someone who loved him so, who believed in him like that.
And I felt empty. Empty and hollow and alone, bleeding to death inside where once there had been certainty and the steadying presence of the other Jedi. To my horror, I could see my hands start to shake. "Obi-Wan," Padmé said quickly. "Obi-Wan, what's wrong?"
I couldn't answer her. I couldn't do this; I had to be strong. My personal losses didn't matter, only Anakin and Padmé and Master Yoda, the fate of the galaxy and the fledgling rebellion centered around this out-of-the-way medical center.
But the hollow feeling grew and grew inside of me, until I couldn't fight it any longer and my entire being seemed to be consumed by the pain of feeling all those presences like lights in the Force brutally snuffed out, ripped away from me, leaving me reeling and drowning and lost in the darkness. My life had been shattered in those few agonizing minutes, my heart torn out of my chest and tossed away.
I only slowly realized that I was crying. "Oh, Obi-Wan," Padmé said softly, her thumb moving over my cheek, wiping away my tears.
Her gentle touch and sympathetic words broke something inside of me, and I collapsed forward, sobs tearing themselves from my lips. "They—they're all gone," I whispered haltingly. "All of them. I—I—I can't feel anyone—th-they're all gone. I'm all a-alone." I barely felt it as she reached forward and wrapped her arms around me, supporting me against her shoulder, holding me up, her hand stroking through my hair. I was lost, somewhere inside myself where I was empty and lost and everything was gone, where the darkness was dizzying and infinite and went on forever. "N-not even the younglings survived—n-not even th-the Healers. I—I—I—"
My voice stuttered to a stop. I simply couldn't speak anymore as the images replayed in my mind—Cin Drallig, my first lightsaber master after Yoda, lying dead at my feet, a lightsaber burn through his chest. He had always believed in me, even when I'd thought I'd never be chosen as a Padawan. Jocasta Nu—she wasn't even on field duty anymore, but there she had lain, her crumpled body across the door of the library she had so zealously guarded in life. The children. The bodies of Healers, one old man, crusty and gruff, who had been one of the gentlest Healers in the Temple. I hadn't wanted to go into the Healing Ward, I was too afraid of what I'd find, but I'd had to. It was my duty. I'd hardly recognized her at first—Bant, my gentle friend. She wasn't supposed to die like that—she was supposed to be safe at the temple. She had thrown herself across a child in a medical bed in what I knew had been an effort to save him. They had lain there together in death, her silver eyes closed forever, her lightsaber, unused, a few feet from her body. At least her only wounds were blaster burns—that crime, at least, was none of Anakin's.
The sobs wrenched out of me so hard my chest hurt. My throat was sore, and yet the tears kept coming, my hands clenching in the cloth at Padmé's shoulders. I wasn't even aware she was there anymore, just that someone was holding me, that I wasn't alone, that there was the warmth of a comforting body beneath me and a gentle hand stroking through my hair, a voice murmuring softly to me.
"They're all gone," I repeated blankly. "I c-can't f-feel them anymore. L-Luminara, Kit, K-Ki-Adi M-Mundi—M-master Windu. Gone."
"Obi-Wan," she whispered. "I'm so sorry. You've lost so much. I'm so sorry."
I bit my lip, struggling to get myself under control, to stop the tears, to regain my calm. I tried to straighten up and pull away—but she caught my shoulders, pulling me back. "No," she said. "No. You need this. You need to cry. Let it out."
I couldn't help it. I wasn't strong enough. I gave a hiccoughing moan of acceptance and collapsed against her again as the storm of weeping continued to sweep through me. She kept holding me, her hand wiping the tears away from my face even as my beard grew damp and soggy with them, her other hand stroking through my hair and rubbing my shivering shoulders. Eventually the tears slowed and then came to a stop. I simply didn't have anything left, not even tears. Somehow, though, the sharp pain in my heart had dulled to a low, far-away ache, not gone, not healed, but . . . better.
"How's that?" Padmé whispered after a long moment, and I realized with a start that my head was still pillowed on her shoulder, my hands clenched in her shift. I dropped it at once and sat back, humiliation coursing through me. I could feel a hot flush creeping up my neck.
"I—I'm sorry," I stammered. "That was inappropriate of me."
She smiled. "Oh, Obi-Wan," she said again. "It's not inappropriate to hold a friend who needs to cry."
I took a deep breath and willed the blush to dissipate. "You're Anakin's wife," I mumbled.
I could see her trying not to giggle. "Really," she said. "It's okay."
The door-chime rang, and I leapt at the chance to regain my equilibrium. "I'll get it," I said needlessly, since Padmé was confined to her bed at the moment, and started for the door.
It slid aside to reveal Shian. She gave me a quick, penetrating look that I had no doubt took in everything from my mussed hair to my reddened eyes, tear-stained cheeks, and dampened beard. She reached up to squeeze my shoulder wordlessly before she started into the room. "Feeling all right today, m'lady?" she asked as she crossed to look at the screens that monitored both Padmé's health and that of the babies, giving me time to collect myself and rub the sleeve of my tunic across my face.
"I'm feeling fine, Shian," Padmé responded. "How's Anakin?"
Shian looked up from the monitor she was examining. "He's all right," she said. "Better than all right, actually, the last time I checked. But I—I need to talk to you about something. General Kenobi?"
I looked up, feeling a chill of foreboding settle in the pit of my stomach. It was the first time I had heard her say anything so hesitantly. "Yes, Healer Risto?"
She took a deep breath. "I was checking over the medical droid records for General Skywalker's room and I found a visit from Commander Onasi recorded that I had no knowledge of. The medical droid sounded no alarm because Commander Onasi is down on its list of authorized visitors. This visit was directly prior to the incident in which General Skywalker fell off his bed and re-injured his back. During this visit Anakin's vital signs spiked, both heart and breath rates, but they were inside of the acceptable range so the medical droid again sounded no alarm." She gave me a wry, twisted grin. "Looks like we know what upset Anakin so badly, eh?"
Padmé reacted first. "What?" she demanded in what I privately thought of as her "Senator" voice. "You think Commander Onasi—"
"Anakin was terrified that you were dying when I went to check on him, after you felt his . . . agitation," I told her dully. "I had no idea what had set him off like that. His fear seemed irrational." I gave Shian a grim glance. "I suppose we know the cause now."
Padmé took a deep, shaking breath. "He told Anakin that I was dying?" she whispered, her hands clenching in the blanket that covered her to her waist. "Oh, Ani—"
I felt detached, far-away, as if I had been cut off from my body, but at the same time hot rage was boiling through my veins. I could hear my blood rushing in my ears, pounding in my head. My palms were slick with cold sweat when I clenched my hands into fists, then unclenched them. I heard myself say, "I'm going to kill him," as if from a very long way away, and I barely recognized my own voice.
"Obi-Wan?" I wasn't sure if that uncertain voice belonged to Padmé or Shian, but at that moment I didn't care.
I had warned him. I had told him to stay away from Anakin. At that moment it didn't even matter to me that I had only given him that warning after this incident had already taken place. All I could see was Anakin's desperate, tear-damp face, his crumpled body lying curled on the floor, shaking with convulsive sobs. "I'm going to kill him," I ground out. Force, I couldn't even imagine what that had done to Anakin. What had he been thinking? How could he have been so cruel?
I turned away and took a deep breath, clenching and unclenching my fists as I struggled to regain command of myself. I closed my eyes for a moment and blew my breath out slowly.
"Obi-Wan?" It was Shian; this time I recognized her voice.
"We can't let him get away with this," I said, and this time I sounded like my normal self. I opened my eyes and turned back around.
"You're right, Obi-Wan," Shian said, her voice low and serious. "We can't."
Padmé nodded. Her face was tight and set. "Whatever he's doing, we have to stop him." At that moment, I would rather have faced General Grievous all over again than to be on her bad side. "He's not going to hurt Anakin like that again."
7
