Author's Note: Sorry again for taking so long to update; I update much more quickly on tf.n if any of you are interested. And I'd just like to thank everyone for your incredible kind reviews. I'm so flattered and honored. Thank you again.
Disclaimer: It's not mine.
Twenty-Two
"All three of you are looking good, Padmé," Shian said in a cheerful tone, easing the med-scanner away from Padmé's stomach and tugging the loose fabric of her comfortable two-piece gown back down over it. "It's okay if I call you Padmé?"
Padmé nodded. "Of course," she said. "Actually, I never really liked being called m'lady all the time that much anyway," she added with a conspiratorial smile.
Shian laughed. "I can see how it might get on your nerves," she said. "Frankly, if people tried calling me by any title than Healer, they'd get an earful." She took a seat in the small swivel seat across from the bunk where Padmé was sitting and started to pack her medical equipment away again. "So," she said as she worked. "How did a former Queen and Republic Senator end up married to a young Jedi Knight? If you'll forgive my asking. I thought Jedi weren't allowed to fall in love. Let alone get married." There was a wealth of bitterness in her quicksilver eyes, and her voice was heavy with it. Padmé could tell that Shian, too, had had unpleasant experiences with the Jedi prohibition against attachment.
"Anakin isn't exactly a typical Jedi," Padmé said softly, feeling a bit uneasy. She didn't know if she'd ever be comfortable talking openly about her relationship with her young husband after having hidden it for so long—telling anyone just didn't feel right, though she knew discussing it couldn't possibly alter anything now, and she trusted the Alderaanian healer. She was just so used to hiding that it left her feeling off-balance and vulnerable to talk openly about her marriage.
"There's your understatement of the day," Shian said in an amused tone. "You could see that from kilometers off. I mean, I can understand one part of the whole thing—I mean, he's adorable, isn't he? If he wasn't taken—" she gave Padmé a mischievous wink.
"Just so long as you keep your hands off him," Padmé said, only half-joking. She could feel her cheeks flush in embarrassment at her words, but she was actually glad to get a chance to finally say them, instead of keeping her thoughts to herself whenever she heard another woman wax rhapsodic over Anakin.
Shian grinned. "Don't worry; I'm not going to feel him up or anything. I'm a professional, after all. Even if that boy does ooze sex appeal just lying semi-conscious in bed."
"And I got to him first," Padmé said primly.
Shian laughed. "I'm glad you see you're protective of him. As far as I can tell, he could use some protecting." She winked again. "Your husband's safe from me. Of course, I'm not sure how you managed to keep your hands off him and your relationship secret all this time. I don't think I ever would have managed it."
Padmé could feel her flush deepen. She knew Anakin was attractive, of course—didn't she ever!—and she had accepted long ago that other women found him to be so, knowing that Anakin would never, ever stray from her, but it was not a topic of conversation she was comfortable with. Trying to distract Shian from how flustered she had become, Padmé said, "Of course, you'd rather be looking at his former Master, wouldn't you?"
It was Shian's turn to blush. "Was it that obvious?" she asked with a little laugh.
Padmé smiled. "Pretty much," she said. "And I saw the way he looks at you. I've never seen Obi-Wan look at a woman like that. I'd say the oh-so-controlled Jedi Master is quite smitten indeed."
Shian blushed deeper. "I don't know," she said. "Though I think he liked kissing me."
Padmé almost choked. "He kissed you?" she yelped. "Obi-Wan Kenobi actually kissed you?"
Shian gave a wry smile. "Well," she said. "Actually, I kissed him."
Padmé felt a smile growing across her face, the widest smile she'd felt in days. "Now that I can believe," she said. She pictured Shian dragging Obi-Wan bodily into a kiss and laughed. "Did he blush?" she asked.
"Bright red," Shian said, with a blush of her own.
Padmé laughed again. "I'm glad Obi-Wan has someone," she said. "He needed something to lighten his spirits." She caught Shian's eyes with her own. "I care for Obi-Wan very much," she said. "He is a good friend, Anakin's best friend, and a great man. Take care of him, will you? His heart is already damaged enough."
Shian nodded seriously. "I know how much the destruction of the Jedi must have hurt him," she said. "I want to help heal him, not hurt him further."
Padmé nodded, pleased with her response. "Well," she said. "Good."
She was about to say more when the ship shook violently. She nearly fell from the bunk to the floor, but Shian caught her before she could, the Healer bracing her feet on the bunk and the chair. A second later the alarm klaxons went off.
Padmé reached under the pillow of the bunk for her blaster and flicked off the safety, laying her other hand protectively over her stomach. Be safe, my children, she thought. "What was that?" she asked out loud.
Shian bit her lip and straightened up. "I'm not sure," she said, "but it can't be good. Stay here, Padmé; you're in no condition to fight. I'll go and check it out."
Padmé felt her insides twist together uncomfortably, and something cold and sickening turn over somewhere deep in the pit of her stomach, but she swallowed hard and nodded. "All right," she said. "Do you have a weapon?"
Shian nodded. "I may be a Healer, but I was in the Army of the Republic," she said grimly. "Be careful, Senator. I'll be back shortly." With that, she turned and ran out of the room.
Padmé took a deep breath and focused on centering herself. Shian was right, she was in no condition to fight, and while that certainly annoyed her, she had learned to accept it over the last few months. What was important right now was protecting herself and the babies, and she was determined to do so, not just for her own sake but for Anakin's. She knew what it would do to him if something happened to her now, after everything he had done to protect her. He had sold his soul; the least she could do was respect his sacrifice.
The ship shook again, and she tightened her grip on the blaster pistol. Master Yoda was on board, and she remembered witnessing his prowess in battle on Ilum. Surely there was no reason to be afraid.
A few minutes passed, the silence digging cold fingers of anxiety into her brain. Each moment seemed to stretch on for an eternity as Padmé strained to hear any sound that would reveal what was going on. Was that the hum of a lightsaber? But there was no hint of a blaster shot—
The door slid open and she started, her blaster trained on the entrance to the room before she had time to blink.
"Hey," came an unfamiliar voice. "There's no need for that, Senator Amidala."
Padmé lowered her blaster to look across the room. To her surprise, standing in the doorway was Master Yoda and a attractive woman with long purple-black hair, dressed in rather a rather revealing but practical outfit that made her look a bit like a bounty hunter. The first thing Padmé noticed about her, aside from the fact that she was quite attractive and looked vaguely familiar, was the starburst tattoo around her navel, perfectly visible considering her revealing clothing.
"Hello, Senator," the woman said. "It's nice to meet you. My name is Khaleen Hentz."
Anakin was heavy.
I could tell he was struggling to take his own weight, but his fingers were digging deep into my shoulder where his arm lay curled around my neck, and every few steps he would stumble and nearly fall, and the mechanical fingers of his hand would come up and clench in the fabric of my cloak for balance. I could feel his body trembling under the supporting arm I had slipped across his back, and I knew well enough that my support was the only thing keeping him from losing his balance completely each time he stumbled. The expression on his face was grim and determined, his mouth locked in a taut line of stubborn effort, his brow tight and wrinkled with concentration.
I had expected this to be difficult, but I had not expected how much the pain and concentration radiating from Anakin's presence in the Force affected me, or the way my heart turned over with concern and sympathetic pain every time he staggered and grabbed desperately at me to steady himself. I had not expected how much the sight of his steps made limping and unsteady by his unfamiliarity with the new prosthetic hurt me, too, as I remembered the usual ease of his long stride or the quick, unconscious grace that had always been present in his motions but was now replaced by a lurching, uncomfortable awkwardness. To see Anakin struggling merely to walk, wincing in pain with every jarring step, his breath coming in quick, harsh pants of exertion before we were even halfway to the hangar where Onasi's ship waited, brought home to me with harsh, brutal clarity how entirely our lives had been altered by his fall, what darkness and desperation and my own blade had done to the young man I called my brother.
Anakin sighed after catching himself from another near-fall, then stopped walking abruptly. He leaned into me and bent his head to rest his forehead against my shoulder. "Sorry," he said. His voice was ragged and breathy.
"Whatever for?" I asked in genuine surprise, taking the opportunity he'd presented to stop and catch my own breath.
"I'm too heavy," he said, turning his head sideways into the cloth of my robe and closing his eyes. "You're already tired."
It was, in all honesty, the truth, for I was tired, my muscles aching and burning from the effort of supporting his taller, broader form, but to me that didn't matter, not at that moment. If the confused emotions touching the edges of my mind were any indication, Anakin had meant not that I was too tired to steady his weight, but that he himself, his friendship and spirit, was a burden I found too heavy to bear, and that was absolutely not true.
"Not at all," I assured him.
"Thanks," he murmured softly, "but don't lie to me, Obi-Wan." He raised his head and gave me a look that mixed teasing, affection, and a tired, weary bitterness that should never have appeared on features that young or in the eyes of a twenty-two year old man about to become a father. In that moment he looked heartbreakingly like a man twice my age, one who had seen far too much for his years. "You're a terrible liar," he said, and his lips edged into a sad, crooked smile.
I sighed, both at his uncanny perceptiveness and his lack of understanding. How many times would I have to say it before he trusted me enough to believe? Had I really given him so little reason to believe in me over the years? How could he know me so well, and yet doubt that I would be there for him, that I meant what I said? "You are indeed heavy, Anakin," I told him crisply, "but you are still not too heavy for me to carry. You never will be, even when I am an old man doddering about with a walking stick and you are still a great warrior. The Force is my ally, after all."
His smile eased. "And a powerful ally, it is," he whispered, finishing one of Yoda's favorite sayings. That smile transformed into a mischievous smirk. "And you mean older than you already are, ancient one?"
I gave him a look. "I am not the one who will soon be a father, young one." I shifted my arm where it supported him around his back and clasped his shoulder. "Come now, Anakin. We must continue."
He straightened. "If I get too heavy, say something, Master," he said wearily, even though he had to know I would never do such a thing, and we continued our slow journey.
Anakin seemed to be channeling all his strength and concentration into merely remaining upright and moving forward, for even when we reached the entrance to the docking bay he merely rested his head on my shoulder for a moment and closed his eyes, seemingly content to let me key the door open. His eyelids flickered wearily upward when I coaxed him forward again, and he pulled himself up again with what looked like excruciating effort, but I could feel exhaustion emanating from his presence in the Force and was glad we had nearly reached our destination.
Onasi was waiting for us inside, leaning against the curving wall beside his ship, and he straightened and crossed the bay to meet us as we stepped through the door. Anakin stiffened, trembling under my arm as every muscle in his body tensed, and I laid my hand between his shoulder blades in a touch I hoped would be both comforting and cautionary as I loosened my hold and disengaged my arm from around his shoulders.
"I was not aware Jedi kept time differently than the rest of us mortals," Onasi said spitefully as he neared us, jerking his head toward the chrono on his wrist. "I thought you wanted to get out of here as quickly as possible?"
Anakin's eyes flashed, and I moved my hand up to squeeze his shoulder. Let me handle this, I thought to him, and I felt his grudging acquiescence.
Too tired to argue, came the wryly distinct thought, and I let out an inward sigh of relief that I kept carefully shielded from Anakin.
"As quickly as possible," I responded as mildly as I could. I could understand his impatience, though it was unfair and unworthy of him to make Anakin feel guilt over weakness he had no control over whatsoever. "Forgive me for no longer being as young and energetic as yourself, Commander."
Onasi shot a glance at Anakin, who set his jaw and stared rigidly back, but the Republic officer kept any further comments to himself, for which I was profoundly grateful. Anakin was still so tense that he was shaking with it, and the last thing we needed was for the two of them to come to blows all over again.
"Well, shall we get going?" I added in a pleasant tone. "We do not want to delay our departure any longer than we have already, surely?"
Onasi looked annoyed. "Of course," he said tightly, though he didn't move. Anakin shot an unreadable look over at me, then loosened his grasp on my shoulders and took a step forward. He stumbled, wavering, but before I could catch him Onasi had reached forward and taken hold of Anakin's arm just above his elbow.
Anakin flinched visibly at the touch. His mechanical arm lashed out more quickly than I had thought possible in his weakened state, knocking Onasi's hand away and grabbing the front of the officer's tunic. His metal fingers clenched so tightly they left little rents in the fabric.
"Touch me again and I'll rip your kriffing hand off," he growled, his voice low and dangerous and trembling with fury. His emotions spiked in the Force, raw and throbbing, a tangled mess of fear and hurt and rage that made my heart catch on something in my chest.
"Anakin," I said, and my voice was sterner, harder, than even I had meant it to be. He flinched again at the sound of it, as if I had struck him across the face. Easy. I brushed his mind with a soothing mental touch. Easy, Anakin, he is not trying to hurt you. I couldn't help the thought—at least he hadn't threatened to rip Onasi's head off.
Anakin's fingers relaxed, and he took a step back and shoved Onasi away, shaking violently now. His eyes swung around to mine, huge with desperate, confused pleading. He looked as if he were about to collapse.
I moved to his side and caught him just as his knees started to buckle. "I . . . told him not to touch me," Anakin whispered, his voice torn and painfully raw. "I told him!" And there was anger there. Too much anger.
"He was simply trying to help you," I told him in a voice too quiet for Onasi to hear. "There is no need to be so afraid, Anakin. You see treachery and danger where there is none." I let my own pain at his distrust and betrayal bleed into my voice, and he flushed and ducked his head.
I laid my hand against the back of his neck. "Just trust me, hmm?"
He nodded, his eyes fixed on the ground, and I was reminded unpleasantly of how he'd been when I'd first begun training him, how whenever I was harsh with him he'd stare at the ground and his shoulders would tense up as if he were simply waiting for the blow he knew was coming to fall.
"Anakin," I said. "I am on your side. Always."
"I know," he said. "Sorry."
I shook my head at him. "It is all right. No lasting harm done. But no more apologies, please."
He swallowed. "Okay," he said. "I—I'm sor—okay."
Onasi's blue eyes raked icily over Anakin as we turned back toward him, and the scorn in them was piercingly clear. "Do you think you scare me, traitor boy?" he spat.
Anakin took a deep, shuddering breath. I could see his eyes flash at the term of address, but he said nothing. "I hope I do," he said, and his voice was trembling again. "I . . . scare myself."
Onasi's eyes narrowed. "Then what right do you have—"
"Stop," I said tightly. That dull look was back in Anakin's eyes, and it was like a lightsaber through my heart to see it there just when I'd coaxed some light back into them. "Just stop it. Enough, Commander. Where does this get us? Aside from an Imperial detention cell if we remain here longer than is absolutely necessary—must I remind you that we are currently fugitives from the military government? Or would you stand here and bring up a point that is quite literally dead to further torment a man you have sworn to serve and protect? Argue later if we must; this is no longer the time for words."
Onasi turned to me and opened his mouth, and Anakin turned to Onasi and his hand brushed his belt as if searching for a lightsaber he no longer wore, but before anyone could say anything the door to the hangar bay slid open with a woosh behind us, and I spun around at the sudden surge of danger in the Force, one hand going to the weapon at my belt and the other to bar Anakin from moving forward. I stepped in front of him as the new arrivals progressed further into the hangar bay.
My mouth was dry and my mind running through a thousand different scenarios at once. Clones. Blast. Is it the Empire or just the local planetary forces—
"Commander," I said, "is the ship ready for take-off?"
"Nearly," came the instant reply. "I started the warm-up cycle while—"
"Go and prepare for our departure."
"But—" he said.
"Go now, Commander!" I bit out.
He went. "Anakin," I said. "I—"
"No, Master," he broke in quietly.
I sent him a frustrated look and a sudden hot wave of emotions surged up within me. He was wavering on his feet, curling tendrils of hair plastered to his forehead and neck with sweat, and his face was as pale as an Ilum winter. "Anakin," I said and shoved my will at him with the Force.
"Master," he replied, and his eyes, hollow with the echoes of still-bleeding wounds to his soul, reproached me for trying something like that. I gritted my teeth together in irritated desperation.
The man leading the clones came to a stop in front of us before I could continue. He was tall, with blond hair and a square-jawed, military sort of face beginning to go a little slack around the edges, as was his midsection. He smiled, and the oily expression made my stomach hurt. "General Kenobi," he said. "How nice to finally meet you in person. Healer Risto has told me a lot about you." His smile widened, and I realized I wanted to punch him in the jaw more than I had wanted to punch anyone since the day Siri had died. It was uncouth and uncivilized, but I wanted to feel my knuckles crack against his jawbone. "I am Supervisor Grenned," he continued, "the superintendent of this facility. Clone Commander 11-38 here tells me there have been some interesting new developments on Coruscant concerning the Kenobi and Skywalker team."
My hand was around my lightsaber, the metal grooves cool and reassuring beneath my fingers, when I felt Anakin's hand settle on my shoulder. "Easy, Master," he said. His voice was soft and impossibly calm. "I'll handle this."
I stared in shock as he walked forward, suddenly square-shouldered and tall, without a trace of a limp in his long, proud stride. I could feel him drawing recklessly on the Force, feel it swirling within him, but to anyone else it would look as if he'd never been injured in his life. He raised his head and stared down at Grenned and the clones like as if he were surprised that they dared to speak in his presence. "Do you know who I am?" he asked, his voice gone deep and imposing.
"Anakin Skywalker, the Hero With No—urgh—" Grenned's words trailed off into nothingness as Anakin raised his hand slightly.
"Wrong," Anakin said. His sense in the Force was swirling with anguish and disgust, but there was no trace of those feelings in his voice. "Guess again."
Grenned gasped and his gloved hands rose to his neck as his throat muscles worked without producing a sound.
"I'm sorry, I suppose you can't," Anakin said with dark amusement. His sense in the Force felt sick and coiled tightly in on itself with self-loathing. "I am Darth Vader, Emperor Palpatine's new apprentice. And his second-in-command." His fingers tightened slightly, and Grenned's eyes bulged. "Obi-Wan Kenobi saved me from a Jedi ambush that would have killed me. I have shown him the error of his beliefs, and now he is my . . . loyal friend."
He dropped his hand, and Grenned gasped desperately for air.
"Do you understand friendship, Supervisor?" Anakin asked softly.
The man nodded so quickly it looked as if his head were a bouncing ball-creature on a string. "But—" he said in a hoarse, terrified croak, "Chancellor Palpatine's orders—"
"I am countermanding them," Anakin said. "He gave me free reign on my missions to the Outer Rim." His voice turned deadly. "Do you have a problem with that, Supervisor?"
The man shook his head. He looked utterly terrified. "Come," he ordered the clones. "We have work to do."
They followed him obediently, all except the leader, who stood silently before us for one moment more. "Good luck, sir," he said. "General." He saluted with his blaster rifle, and followed his troops away.
Anakin turned on his heel and strode into the ship.
I followed him at a slightly slower pace, making sure that no one remained in the docking bay—until I was up the ship's ramp, and then I broke into a run.
I found Anakin collapsed against the closest bulkhead, his legs in the process of sliding out from under him, and I barely caught him before he fell. "I'm sorry, Obi-Wan," he moaned as I sank to my knees and steadied him against my shoulder. His hands clenched into fists at my back, grabbing huge handfuls of my tunic and twisting them into tight knots. He buried his face in my shoulder and shook. "I'm sorry."
"Stop apologizing," I told him, reaching out with the Force to probe his physical condition. Oh, Anakin, always so reckless—what have you done to yourself this time? "Just stop apologizing."
"I didn't choke him," he murmured. "I just immobilized his vocal cords. I—I didn't—"
"I know." I stroked one hand through his hair, and it came away dripping with sweat. "It is all right, Anakin."
"I had to d-distract them—useless in a f-fight—"
"Anakin," I said gently. "Shut up. Take a deep breath. I am not angry with you."
He took a deep breath.
I put my hands under his elbows and reached out to the Force to help him clamber to his feet as the same time I straightened up, wincing slightly as my knees cracked and popped and the muscles in my back seized.
Anakin nearly fell all over again. I tightened my grasp on his arms. "We're going to the cockpit," I said. "Stay with me just a little longer."
I could feel him catch at his slippery awareness through the Force, and I bolstered him with my own Force strength as well as I could. "This way," I said, and gave him a little push in the right direction.
He made it to the cockpit with me almost carrying him. Onasi was already flipping switches and the engines roared beneath us, making the floor thrum with energy, as we entered the cockpit. Three chairs, I noticed. Thank the Force. I led Anakin toward the one farthest back from the control panel and practically poured him into it. "Take off," I ordered Onasi, barely sparing him a glance as I bent over Anakin and began to fasten his safety straps.
Onasi obeyed without complaint. I lurched forward and nearly flattened Anakin as the ship lifted off, but I used the Force and managed to steady myself before I landed on top of him.
Anakin's eyes were sliding shut, lashes fluttering against his cheeks. " 'm tired," he whispered.
"I know," I said. I could feel him drifting into unconsciousness through the Force, the black waves of weariness lapping at him with coolness that had to be enticing against the warmth of his fever. "You can sleep. Rest now, Anakin."
He shook his head sleepily. "Can't," he said hoarsely. "I'll dream."
"No, you won't," I told him. My voice sounded husky and thick with emotion, I realized, and I wondered where my control had gone. I brushed my hand against his cheek--he was still too warm, and his skin was damp with exertion. Padmé should be here, I thought suddenly. He needs her. She should be the one comforting him, the one to hold him when he needs it so that the nightmares cannot get through. But she wasn't there, she was far away for her own safety, and I was all that was left. "I will keep the dreams away."
Anakin smiled and relaxed. His eyes slipped closed. "Always . . . taking care of me," he whispered, and then he was asleep.
He was still radiating feverish heat, but as soon as he dropped off he began to shiver. I sighed and shrugged out of my cloak, draping it over him, then sat down in the co-pilot's seat and began to fasten my own safety straps.
"What happened back there?" Onasi asked without taking his eyes off the controls.
"Complications," I answered shortly.
Onasi looked over at me, then back at Anakin. His mouth thinned. "He has bad dreams?" he asked, and his tone was odd and tight.
I hesitated, and flicked one of the readout screens in front of me to on. "Yes," I said, scanning the readings.
I could see Onasi's hands tighten on the controls. "Dana used to have bad dreams," he said.
"Dana was—?" I prompted softly.
"My brother." Onasi's voice was strangled. "You're all strapped in?"
"Yes."
"Well," he said. "You were right. We've wasted enough time on this backwater excuse for a planet. It's time to go."
I could not have agreed more.
