Chapter Eight
Paradigm Shift: Prelude

A soft two-tone chime stirred Anakin from a blissfully dreamless sleep, and he blinked gritty eyes in disorientation. The chime rang again, and he slowly untangled his limbs from Padmé and clambered to his feet, tucking the quilt carefully around her. Satisfied that she did not awaken, he plodded over to the door and released the electronic lock, yawning mightily. With a barely audible hiss the door slid aside, and he squinted into the brightly lit corridor as a lively chirrup echoed through the vacant ship. "Shh," Anakin shushed, waving hastily at Artoo to quiet down as he threw an anxious look over his shoulder at the motionless figure on the bed. He stepped out into the hall, the metallic floor cold under his bare feet, and muttered to the little astromech droid, "Are we there?"

Artoo replied in a subdued series of tweets, his domed head rotating in the direction of the suite door. Anakin noticed the motion and wondered once again how someone could see a droid as nothing more than a utility, like a moisture vaporator. "She'll be fine, Artoo," he soothed, touching the blue and silver dome with his gloved hand. "Head back to the cockpit and plot a course for the settlement; tell Obi-Wan that I'll be there after he speaks to their Port Control."
Artoo whistled a short burst of notes, drawing out the last one questioningly. "Obi-Wan's not in the cockpit? Where did he go?"
Artoo beeped – the equivalent of a shrug. Anakin sighed wearily, running a hand through his disheveled hair. In all likelihood his old Master had bedded down in one of the crew quarters to get some much needed rest. The prospect of searching him out while things were so tense between them, however, was not an idea that Anakin wanted to entertain. "Okay," he said nonchalantly, as though it didn't really matter to him, "why don't you check the crew quarters for Obi-Wan and I'll plot a course to Polis Massa."

Artoo trilled in response and began rolling down the corridor, intent on his task to find Obi-Wan. Anakin stared after him, shaking his head good-naturedly, and then crept back into the master suite. He brought up the lights and sat on the edge of the mattress beside his sleeping wife. "Padmé," he murmured, stroking the back of his fingers along her cheek. Her eyes fluttered behind their lids, and he smoothed her curls away from her face. "Padmé," he called again, "we're here."
Padmé heard someone calling to her, but the desire to stay immersed in her dreams was too strong to resist. A gentle hand rubbed her shoulder, and then a warm palm caressed her neck, urging her to awaken with tentative sweetness. Her mouth bowed into a sleepy smile as she whispered throatily, "I'm awake."
Soft breath wafted across her face. "Then open your eyes," Anakin teased before giving her a brief kiss, wisps of his hair brushing against her forehead. She blinked groggily, and her husband's handsome face swam hazily into view, flashing her a reassuring grin. Padmé lingered in the peacefulness between asleep and awake until the ache in her shoulder and the drone of spacecraft engines brought her to full consciousness.
"Have we arrived?" She asked, shifting her body on the mattress and using an arm to prop herself up. A movement that she immediately regretted, as the dull ache of her injury blossomed into a searing pain that scorched her raw nerves. She gasped sharply and fell back against the pillows with a whimpering cry. Anakin leapt to his feet, hovering over her anxiously, his eyes two large azure pools burning in his white face.
"Are you all right?" He pressed his flesh hand to her cheek urgently, the fear that he had buried in the recesses of his thoughts exploding to the surface.

Padmé drew in several deep breaths, her muscles shaking in the aftereffects of the sudden pain. When she was convinced that her voice would not reflect the agony she still felt, Padmé raised her eyes and assured her worried husband, "I'm all right, Ani. I just forgot about my shoulder and it surprised me, that's all." Anakin remained silent, settling himself on the bed, his thumb endlessly stroking her cheek while his other hand curled gently around her upper arm. Encircled by Anakin's tender but somewhat troubling embrace, Padmé searched his face for telltale clues of what was rushing like a fierce gale through his thoughts. His eyes had darkened from the soft blue of an afternoon sky to the smoky cobalt of twilight. The muscles in his cheekbones flexed, and he swallowed hard, his chest rising and falling in slow, even breaths, fighting to regain his center. And all the while he touched her – tracing the elegant lines of her face and arms as if he were frightened that she might disappear – evaporate like the mist that rose from the snow-capped mountains on Naboo.
Padmé sighed quietly to herself. "The Hero With No Fear" was an apt title for Anakin Skywalker on the battlefields of the Clone Wars. The reports she had received in Senate meetings and her own personal experience in the execution arena on Geonosis four years ago testified that Anakin paid no heed to thoughts of his own safety. She did not know whether to call that fearless…or reckless.

But anything that threatened her safety or that of their unborn twins – and the fear that he successfully ignored all of his life closed over him like deep water, drowning him into submission. Ani felt every emotion so strongly, and in some ways she envied that ability.
His passion for her was so deep, so intense and pure, that she never had reason to doubt his love. Hers was no less intense than his – it was just that she let other circumstances overtake areas of her mind and heart, and she could not focus solely on her feelings for him. Padmé twisted slightly under Anakin's fervent caresses to raise a slender hand and frame his strong jaw. His eyelids quivered as they slid closed, and a ragged breath drifted across her fingers before he turned his head and his lips warmed her palm. "Anakin," she spoke in a quiet murmur, but the emotion behind her words commanded his attention. "Look at me." Reluctantly, smoldering blue eyes met her gaze, and Padmé stared intently into those familiar orbs, concentrating on the beautiful soul that she knew yet lingered within. "I'll be fine – we'll all be fine. You don't need to think about saving me…" Her fingers threaded into his golden tresses as a caring smile brightened her face. "You already have."

Padmé suddenly found herself wrapped in Anakin's arms, holding her with tender carefulness, his eyelashes brushing the smooth skin of her neck. Despite the muted throb of the blaster wound, she returned his embrace, her hands splaying his broad back. He had saved far more than her life – on numerous occasions. Anakin had saved her from a life bound to the self-sacrificial mindset that she had adopted since her appointment as Senator – a life devoid of the incomparable joy of belonging to the one she loved, and knowing that he belonged to her, no matter the obstacles or consequences. She wished so desperately to share this new life that she had been given with him – the twins had been her conduits for that wish. Perhaps when Ani saw their tiny faces and cradled them to his chest, he would finally shed the shackles of his past and welcome the future.
Anakin let his senses become consumed by Padmé as he held her close, her confident promise soothing the beast that was his fear, calming its roars to a barely audible growl. Even without the ability to submerge in her essence in the Force, he lost himself in the warmth of her body, the silky softness of her skin, and the scent of her hair. "Thank you," he whispered into her ear, laying a gentle kiss on her cheek before pulling away to see her expression. As their noses brushed together, Padmé captured his lips with her own, and the devoted sweetness of her kiss caused his heart to clench. He needed her so much…he did not know what he would do or what he would be without her. They slowly parted, and Anakin sat back on the mattress, struggling to concentrate on the present moment. "Yes, we've arrived at Polis Massa. Artoo went to find Obi-Wan so he can speak to Port Control and clear us for an unauthorized landing."

"Does the Repub –'' she paused, and corrected herself awkwardly, "The Empire have a presence in this quadrant?"
Anakin shook his head. "No, this sector of the Outer Rim for the most part was unaffected by the war. And Obi-Wan claims that the administrator of the MedCenter here is an old friend of the Jedi." He had said almost all of this earlier, but his wife had been exhausted and worried about their babies…
As the thought arose, his gaze flicked to Padmé's swollen belly, and he hesitated briefly before laying a palm on her abdomen.
Padmé noticed the change in his face and followed his gaze just as she felt his hand come to rest over the twins. "Have they moved at all yet?" he asked in a hushed tone, staring fixedly at the bulge.
"I'm not sure," Padmé answered quietly. "I thought that maybe they moved while I was sleeping, but I got so used to it over the past few months that I might have imagined it."
Anakin's gaze darted to hers – a swift flash of blue – before returning to his long fingers spread over her belly, biting his lower lip.
She watched every movement, inwardly pondering these outward manifestations of his mood, and she slid her fingers over his. "Are you going to tell me what happened now?" she asked softly, keeping her voice low and gentle. She desperately wanted to know what had happened in that missing piece of her life; the slice of time that had brought destruction to the capital, given determination to Obi-Wan, tamed Anakin's rage, and stilled the little stars in her womb.
He froze, and Padmé knew that whatever had happened, he felt that he was responsible. He hated to speak of his failures – whether it was a mission or a discussion with the Council, he could not bear to seem unworthy of her love. She never gave him a reason to feel that way. It was something he did to himself.

Anakin felt his heart thundering in his chest, and he lowered his eyes, feeling the hot rush of shame wash over his skin. He had to tell her now, before the twins were born; she would have some time to think before she banned him from ever holding their precious ones in his arms after she realized what he had done. Clinging to the memory of Padmé enfolding him in her love on the rain-soaked veranda, Anakin took a deep breath and willed himself to meet her velvety gaze. "After you were hurt…I – I lost control of my power.
I was so…angry at the Force, at myself…I wanted to make it stop." His voice cracked, and Padmé was struck to the core at the forlorn remorse filling his cerulean orbs. "I let all my rage, my helplessness, and my pain turn into a weapon, and I used to – hurt the Force. All of the connections around me dissolved, and…" Anakin inhaled deeply, his battered soul pleading for him to still his tongue, but he continued doggedly. "And what I did – made ripples in the Force, making things happen all over the galaxy."
"So," Padmé said in a small voice, just above a whisper, "the clones on the veranda, the shattered windows, the speeder accidents…" He gave the barest nod. "That was you?"

"I think I – survived – because I was the cause, but I can't use the Force anymore, and neither can Obi-Wan. He must have…withdrawn from the Force somehow, so it didn't affect him as strongly."
He paused, and Padmé's trembling fingers resting over his knuckles made his eyelids sting. Her dark eyes had grown wide throughout his monologue, and her mouth opened as if she wanted to speak, but for a few moments the words refused to come.
Finally she asked haltingly, "But, Ani…" He felt a fleeting burst of hope that she could call him by that name, "I don't understand. If you…hurt the Force and it caused all those disasters, why…?"
"Why didn't it kill you?" Anakin finished bleakly. "I think it was because our twins protected you, and themselves." Padmé blinked at him, taken aback. "Both of them are very strong in the Force – I could sense it. That's why they aren't active; I think that they used all of their energy shielding you, that…that they need time to recover."
Padmé's overwhelmed mind fought to absorb all the revelations that shook her equilibrium. "Then…" She sought a means to define her thoughts with words, "Then you believe that the Force will – return to you and the twins?"
"It never left the twins; but yes, in time, the Force will grow within them." His sad gaze transformed into a flickering image of his customary lopsided grin. "They're definitely going to be a handful."
"What about you?"
Anakin lowered his head. "I don't deserve to have it back." In one fluid motion, he slid off the bed and fell to his knees, holding her hand in both of his, praying that she could see his sincerity and his regret for what he was about to confess. "Padmé…you are my soul, my reason for being, and I love you more than anything. I only want you to know that everything I have done…I did it for you."

Padmé felt an all-too-familiar chill settle in her bones, and she suppressed a shiver. Staring into her husband's repentant and sorrowful face, she came to an unexpected realization – about Anakin, but most importantly about herself.
"How long is it going to take for us to be honest with each other?"
She had lived in this universe long enough to understand that the foundation of any relationship was honesty – and trust. Anakin trusted her implicitly. He had given her his heart – so strong and yet so utterly fragile – and he opened the door to his soul little by little every day since they were married. The callous existence of a slave and the emotional vacuum of the Jedi Order had taught him to hide – to deny the inner brilliance of his passionate nature. Yes, he trusted her…but years of witnessing the harshness of the galaxy trained him to be cautious, despite the painfully beautiful innocence in the adoring blue gaze he turned to her whenever she entered a room.
They were more alike than they realized.
Padmé's extensive education at the hands of prestigious tutors on Naboo had admonished her from the beginning to not let her heart overrule her common sense. She had a wonderful mind, they told her, and there was no limit to her potential… But she would never succeed in helping her people if she allowed the heart to sway her thinking. Her experiences with the Refugee Relief on Shadda-Bi-Boran served as a physical reminder of the danger of putting one's heart wholly into an occupation – or a person.

It was not that she was incapable of love – on the contrary, she cared so deeply for her parents, her sister Sola, and her little nieces Ryoo and Pooja that sometimes she felt as if her chest would explode from the pent-up emotion burgeoning within. She resolved to keep her focus on her work in the Senate to beat back the ever-increasing sense that she was slowly dying inside. And then Anakin came back into her life.
The strong, fiery heart that she had imprisoned by duty and channeled into Senate debates was ignited by the young Padawan's attention. Whether he had done it purposefully or purely out of recognizing his own desires, Anakin's wordless whispers of what life could be roused her buried dreams, and she longed to draw closer. That night, sitting before the fireplace at the villa, her heart had begged her to say yes.
Her common sense had won that battle.
And now, here they were again – Anakin, preparing to bare his soul without knowing if she would grant him healing or more pain. And her – wondering if she had the strength to stand firm in her convictions…or submit to the dominion of her heart.

The wisp of thought floated across her mind with uncanny clarity.
No matter the cost, Anakin was willing to risk losing her – all for the sake of honesty. Was she not willing to do the same? Padmé wanted to believe that she was always honest with her husband, but the taste of the lie burned bitterly on her tongue. She had not trusted him to tell him about the twins after their argument – and she had never told him how much it had grieved her when he left her standing on the veranda, the smoke coiling around the distant spires of the Jedi Temple. Anakin was ready to admit to all of the sins that Obi-Wan had heaped upon him during their guarded exchange yesterday, and although her mind yearned for justification – Padmé decided to listen to her heart.

Anakin gazed intently at his wife's small hands clasped within his own, savoring each precious second that he was allowed to touch her before his words damned him. Mustering the scraps of determination he still carried in his splintered heart, Anakin's chin rose as he forced himself to look into Padmé's liquid brown eyes. The words scalded his throat as they hovered there, unspoken, and his courage wilted momentarily. Internally, he reminded himself that she deserved his honesty – and he vowed that he would not let her blame herself for his fall into darkness. He opened his mouth…
…And closed it a heartbeat later as Padmé's finger laid against his lips. Knowing compassion softened her expression, and she shook her head slightly. "No, Ani," she murmured tenderly, her eyes glowing with an ethereal light, "You don't have to tell me anything. Whatever you have done…it doesn't matter anymore." Her finger left his lips and traced the line of his jaw to brush the burnished gold locks from his forehead. "That's not who you are. This," She laid her palm over his heart, and he automatically covered it with his own, looking at her with the eyes of one who is afraid to hope for salvation. "This is who you are," Padmé quietly affirmed. "Anakin Skywalker – my husband and the father of my children. You're a good person, Anakin, and I trust you to take care of us. Knowing what you did will not change the fact that I love you." His blue eyes glistened with unshed tears, his hand trembling as he lifted hers to his mouth and kissed her knuckles, his intense gaze never wavering from her face.

"I love you," he whispered fervently. Padmé smiled at him with unabashed affection, just as the door chimed. Anakin gruffly cleared his throat, seeking to regain his emotional control. "It must be Artoo. He's probably wondering why I didn't plot a course to the settlement yet." He started for the door, his fingers sliding through Padmé's grasp with a gentle caress – when her grip tightened abruptly.
He glanced quickly at her. "What?"
Padmé's expression was as dazzling as the sunrise and twice as magnificent. Her gaze slowly drifted downwards, and then flew up to his puzzled stare, exclaiming joyfully, "They moved!"

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Obi-Wan was startled awake by an insistent buzzing that filled his ears like a swarm of crazed insects. He sat upright in the darkness, tangled in a thin blanket, as he struggled to separate dreams from reality. Bracing himself, Obi-Wan slapped the illumination controls beside his bunk and the cabin lights slowly flared to life. He rubbed his eyes groggily and took a deep breath, squinting in the bright light.
The remnants of the visions he had received as he slept faded in and out of his memory; like droplets of dew on a cobweb, he knew what he had seen – but the images floated just out of reach.
Except for the eyes. It was the one thing the Jedi Master recalled vividly – a child with Anakin's eyes.
It was only a dream, Obi-Wan told himself, throwing his legs over the side of the bunk. In all likelihood his subconscious had concocted the dream in response to his brief touch with the Force and one of the unborn Skywalker twins. Naturally there was the chance that one of the children would inherit their father's crystalline blue eyes…and yet Obi-Wan's feelings whispered of significance in those sapphire orbs – of something else that was passed on to the heirs of the Chosen One…

The buzzing suddenly seemed to rise in volume, and Obi-Wan sighed heavily, his weary body protesting as he climbed to his feet. Stumbling to the doorway, he pressed a button on the control panel and the door slid aside, accompanied by a flurry of high-pitched whistles and tweets. Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut in agony as the noise sent a throb of pain into his head. "Artoo?"
The little blue and white astromech droid chirped in reply while Obi-Wan inhaled slowly, concentrating on driving away the sensation that his skull was being cleaved in two. "What are you doing here?" he asked.
The warbling melody was punctuated by loud beeps and clicks, and the Jedi Master followed enough of the droid's language to understand that the ship had entered the Polis Massa system. "All right," Obi-Wan said, his voice hoarse from sleeping, and grabbed his tunic from a nearby chair. "I'll contact Port Control and get us clearance to land, but Anakin will have to pilot the ship in; I have no exp-" Artoo interrupted with a sharp trill, his domed head rotating to look down the corridor. Obi-Wan straightened his tunic and followed Artoo's gaze, commenting mildly, "Anakin said that he would plot a course but he hasn't left the suite yet? We can't just drift in space – Padmé needs to see a doctor. Besides, if their subspace scanners detect us floating here they might think we are a threat, and that would not go well at all."
With that said, Obi-Wan yanked on his boots and marched down the hall towards the master suite, Artoo rolling behind with a soft "ooh" of worry. Obi-Wan touched the announcer button and waited, glancing sidelong at the little droid. "Go plot the course, Artoo. Anakin and I will be there shortly."

Artoo whistled in agreement and trundled slowly around the corner, heading for the cockpit. Obi-Wan heard snatches of muffled conversation coming from within the suite, but he decided to be patient and resisted the urge to press the announcer again. He felt the ship's engines shudder as power increased, and a delighted squeal filtered through the door, followed by Anakin's unmistakable cackle. Obi-Wan felt a stab of annoyance that cancelled out any sense of embarrassment. They did not have time for this.
He pressed the button again, keeping it down with his thumb for a few seconds longer than necessary.

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Anakin stared at his wife in amazement, drinking in the sight of her flushed cheeks and dancing brown eyes. Quick as a flash, he was beside her on the bed, and she guided his flesh hand to the spot on her rounded belly where she had felt the movement. They sat there in gleeful anticipation, until the small thump made them both jump in surprise. Their eyes met, and Padmé let out a squeal of pure delight as all of her pent-up anxiety fled from their shared joy. Anakin laughed boisterously at his wife's reaction and with glad relief. He could have sat there for hours enjoying Padmé's closeness and the movements of their little hopes – but apparently Artoo had other plans. The door chimed again, ringing continually for a few seconds. Anakin sighed in exasperation, but Padmé nudged him to his feet, saying practically, "I still need to get checked out. Go see what Artoo wants."
He reluctantly stood and headed for the door, flashing her a lopsided grin that made him look like an overeager little boy before he pressed the door release, ready to scold Artoo for his impatience –
Except that Artoo was not at the door.

Instead, the stern, bearded face of Obi-Wan Kenobi appeared in the doorway, and Anakin actually took a step back in surprise – and perhaps a twinge of awkward guilt. Obi-Wan could still make him feel like a disobedient child with just one look. Anakin stifled the feeling with indignance. He was not breaking any rules – not anymore. "Yes?" he said, a bit too abrasively.
Obi-Wan's eyebrow quirked slightly, regarding the younger man in silence before remarking in a serene tone, "Your presence is requested in the cockpit." He peered over Anakin's shoulder and saw Padmé staring incredulously at her husband's back from her place on the edge of the bed. Deftly, the Jedi Master sidestepped his former apprentice and entered the suite. "How are you feeling?" he asked her gently.
Padmé beamed, and the expression lit up her exhausted face. "We felt them move, just a minute ago," she breathed cheerfully, a hand resting on her middle.
He returned her smile, happy that the worry had left her slim frame, but he experienced a muted sense of hesitation. Should he tell Padmé and Anakin that he had known their children were all right because he had sensed them with the Force? He glanced back at Anakin and saw the stormcloud of emotions gathering on his face and decided that now was not the time for this particular discussion.

Obi-Wan turned back to Padmé and replied kindly, "That's wonderful news, Padmé. Now, I'm afraid Anakin and I are needed in the cockpit so we can bring this ship in for a landing."
"Of course," Padmé nodded, but a flicker of indecision passed across her dark eyes as her gaze moved from the Jedi Master to her husband. Obi-Wan timidly stretched out with his limited perception and tried to discern the source of Padmé's reservations. He secretly rejoiced when he brushed her mind in the Force, and although it was much like viewing the universe through one tiny window – he did gain some understanding. She did not want to send Anakin off with him while he was fighting so obviously with his self-imposed defiance. She worried that even the smallest miscalculation would send her husband careening backwards into the shadows.
Obi-Wan inclined his head towards her, silently conceding to her unspoken argument. "I'll give you a few minutes to prepare. Anakin," he fixed the younger man with a firm blue-grey stare, "join me in the cockpit when you are ready." Anakin's glare flashed blue fire, but he nodded curtly as he caught his wife's concerned face out of the corner of his eye. The Jedi Master exited the suite, and Anakin shut the door as soon as Obi-Wan crossed the threshold. He leaned against the doorframe, head bent, his back to Padmé as the lingering tentacles of dark side energies provoked his emotions.

Padmé saw the tension in his broad shoulders, and called softly, "Ani." He slowly spun to face her, conflict written on his pained expression. She opened her arms in silent invitation, beckoning him to her. Anakin strode forward and knelt, folding his arms over her knees and resting his head on her lap. The crown of his head touched the swell of her abdomen, and he sensed a flicker of movement as Padmé began to tenderly stroke his hair. Anakin's eyes slid closed as her soothing ministrations calmed his stirring temper. He knew that he had lashed out at Obi-Wan because anger was his natural reaction to fear. He was afraid for his wife. The arrival of their twins was fast approaching – even though Padmé had assured him that she had a few weeks to go, there was something about this place that jittered a warning in the back of his brain. As if he had been here before…
He sighed gratefully as Padmé's fingertips threaded through his tousled locks, brushing the curl of his ear. The sharp needles of helplessness burying themselves into his muscles were dulled by her caresses, and Anakin moved closer, pressing himself against her legs. "I don't know what I'd do without you." The throaty whisper left his mouth, his face buried in his arms, and Padmé's hand paused fractionally.

Her slender fingers cupped his chin and gently forced him to look at her. "We've been through this. I trust you to protect us, Anakin," she said with quiet firmness. "You have to let go of your fear."
"But I can't use the Force, Padmé." The anguish in his blue eyes broke her heart. "I can't protect you from something that I can't fight." His hand wrapped around hers, pressing her palm to his cheek.
"I can't lose you. I can't lose any of you."
So it was back to the nightmare again. Padmé closed her eyes, feeling defeated. Anakin was convinced that the Force sought to take away everything he loved. It had taken his mother after he had been tormented by visions of her pain for weeks, and now he believed that every nightmare he had was a premonition of the future. Padmé refused to accept that. She could not believe that a person's life is determined solely by predestination – it went against everything she had experienced in her lifetime.
She swallowed back an emotional retort and thought hard. Anakin needed her cool logic to ease his fear.
And then she had it – the key to the constricting chains Anakin had wrapped himself in by listening to false counsel and his terror of failing her.

"You told me once that the future is difficult to see because it is always in motion. So how can you be so certain that your nightmares will come true? I'm not talking about what happened to your mother," she cut him off as he opened his mouth to speak, "I'm talking about what's happening right now. You just finished explaining to me how you and Obi-Wan were cut off from the Force, and that it created ripples throughout the universe." Her dark eyes sparkled with triumph. "Isn't there the possibility that those ripples have changed the future as well?"
Anakin blinked. He had never thought of it that way. Yoda had told him numerous times to be careful when sensing the future, but Anakin had always assumed that he grasped a clearer picture than other Jedi because of his exceptional strength in the Force, and his dreams. He had heard stories within the Temple of Jedi who had glimpsed the future and tried to change it – and ended up either causing the event that they wanted desperately to avoid, or made it worse.
If Padmé was right, then the future was not a fixed moment in time, and every second leading to it influenced its outcome. And if the legends in the Jedi Order were true, and Anakin continued to act upon his visions of a clouded future…he could end up causing his beloved Padmé's death.
Anakin shivered, and nuzzled his face into her palm. No, that would never happen. Her reasoning still had one major flaw.

"I saw my mother suffering, Padmé. I dreamt about it for weeks – and when I went to save her, she died in my arms." The memory of watching that bright, lively spark leave Shmi Skywalker's brown eyes had created a gaping hole in Anakin's heart. "How can you say that my nightmares about you won't come true?"
Padmé knew that what she was about to relay would hurt him deeply, but he needed to understand. "Did you see your mother's death in your nightmares?" He shook his head, looking away. "You only saw her pain, and of course, you wanted to save her because you loved her. But Ani…" She steeled herself and continued, "If you had not gone to Tatooine…would she still have died? The neighboring moisture farms had sent out search parties – they may have found the camp and rescued her."
"They were torturing her, Padmé!" Anakin cried out, voice breaking. "She was barely alive when I found her!" He did not want to acknowledge that her words rang of truth, for that would mean his worst fears had been realized.
"She was holding on for you, Anakin – she wanted to see you again." Tears stood in Padmé's large dark eyes. "And when she saw you in that tent, alive and well and on the threshold of your dreams…she gave up."

Seeing the sadness in his wife's gaze destroyed Anakin's ire over her words, and all he felt was overwhelming grief. "You think that…if I hadn't gone to her…if I had waited – my mother would still be alive." The last word was nearly lost in a choked sob, and he pulled away from her, walking to the far corner of the suite. He was trembling violently, his arms crossed tightly across his chest.
Padmé's voice shook, and she tasted salt on her lips as she said, "I don't know what would have happened, Ani. I don't pretend to understand the Force or why you have these dreams. I just want you to see that our future is not decided. We – you and I – have the power to change it. Together."
Wincing as hot jabs of pain knifed into her body, Padmé pushed herself to her feet and walked over to her young husband. He jerked when she enfolded him in her arms, but to her relief he did not push her away.
"You are so used to carrying the weight of the galaxy on your shoulders – you've forgotten that you're only human." She looked up at him, studying his profile and the stiff line of his jaw, and added softly, "You don't have to do this on your own."

Anakin felt the thick armor of his pride crack, and he returned Padmé's embrace – his face finding its habitual spot above her collarbone. Once more, he marveled at the twist of fate that had allowed this angel to fall in love with him, and mold her love around the pieces of his fractured soul. He knew that she was right – even without the Force; he sensed the truth of her words deep within his being. His hands pressed against the small of her back, urging her body closer until the curve of her stomach pushed into his ribcage. Her wisdom humbled him, and shamed the combined insight of the venerated Jedi Council.
In a collection of sentences, Padmé had unraveled a great mystery, and helped him recognize facets of his character. What he had told her earlier was genuine: he did not know what he would do without her.
Anakin slowly raised his head and gazed down into his wife's beautiful face, resting his hands on her waist and smiled. It was a smile that Padmé had never seen on his handsome face. His expression radiated such…peace, and his eyes captured her with a smoky stare that she remembered well. Before she willingly fell into the blueness, Padmé reminded, "Obi-Wan is waiting for you."
Instead of an irritated frown, Anakin merely sighed in resignation, his smile fading into a half-hearted smirk, as he made no effort to move. Padmé chuckled under her breath, placing her palms on his chest as she rose on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. "Go on, now," she ordered affably, giving him a gentle shove. Rolling his eyes, Anakin marched over to a small bureau built into the suite's wall and opened the bottom drawer. Digging through a compartment that for all intents and purposes contained an assortment of silk wraps and fur stoles, he uncovered a neatly folded dark brown tunic and pants. Since he could rarely predict when and where he might see his wife away from the prying stares of the galaxy, Padmé had agreed to stash Jedi uniforms at several locations – including this skiff and the Lake Country villa on Naboo.

He quickly shed the ruined nightrobe and donned the outfit he had worn continually for over three years – the uniform of a Jedi Knight. He slowed as he straightened the folds of his tunic. He was no longer a Jedi – not after what he had done at the Temple. He was not sure what he was anymore. But at least the clothes were dry, and were not marred by blaster scorch marks or flecks of blood. Anakin tugged on his boots and stood to see Padmé waiting in his immediate line of sight, holding a utility belt in her hands.
He took it from her with a wordless nod of thanks and buckled it around his waist. "Better?" he asked, a teasing glint in his cerulean eyes.
Pursing her lips mock-seriously, Padmé ambled closer and smoothed out his tunic, pinching the fabric here and there. "Perfect," she declared, fluffing the burnished blond tresses on his forehead.
In response, Anakin lifted her heavy curls and arranged them around her shoulders, framing smooth cheeks that had lost their pallor and were now tinted with a vivacious rosy hue.
"Perfect." His deep voice sent a shiver racing down her spine, and his fingers curled lightly around the nape of her neck, bringing his head down for a kiss.
Tilting her chin, Padmé waited until she could feel his breath on her lips and then grinned impishly, "Go see Obi-Wan." Anakin groaned in exasperation, glaring at her with half-lidded eyes.
"You love doing that, don't you?"
Her brows rose in a picture of childlike innocence. "It's not every day I get to see you squirm."

Anakin's blue eyes flashed with a roguish gleam, and caught her in his arms, kissing her passionately. When Padmé felt as if she had melted into a puddle on the suite floor, he pulled away, resting his forehead against hers as he murmured huskily, "We can fix that." She wriggled in his firm embrace, struggling to catch her breath as she blushed over his statement. Anakin loosened his hold and she scurried back a few steps, her gaze silently rebuking him for his boldness, but he knew that she had teased him purposefully.
The skiff suddenly yawed to the side, and Padmé fell into Anakin's broad chest with a gasp. He snickered and shook his head in amazement. "And he calls me impatient."
Anakin caressed Padmé's upper arms and softly promised, "I'll be back." Then he swung around and headed out into the corridor, his long strides carrying him swiftly to the cockpit. He tried to hold onto the sense of carefree happiness his time with Padmé had given him as he neared. He would not permit Obi-Wan to bury him with guilt anymore. He took care of that on his own.

------------

Artoo wailed as the skiff's momentum sent him rolling to the opposite side of the cockpit.
Obi-Wan stabilized the craft with practiced ease, and the little astromech wheeled back towards the main console, buzzing a reprimand at the Jedi Master. He ignored the droid, wondering instead over the lack of emotional control he exhibited in causing the ship to lurch. While it was sure to get Anakin's attention, it was an action that Obi-Wan would not have even considered before – in fact, it was exactly the kind of thing Anakin himself would do.
With that disquieting thought tumbling in his head, Obi-Wan set the skiff back on autopilot as he heard pounding footfalls echoing from the corridor. Artoo's dome swiveled around and whistled a greeting as Anakin breezed into the cockpit, garbed in a fresh Jedi uniform that was tailored in his distinctive style.
So he has learned to plan ahead, Obi-Wan remarked to himself. Of course, preserving the secrecy of a forbidden marriage would no doubt stretch anyone's contingency tactics to the limit.

His old friend looked every bit like the dashing Jedi Knight whose face was splashed daily over the HoloNet. A face that was oddly expressionless as Anakin settled into the pilot's seat and flipped off the autopilot. Obi-Wan studied him surreptitiously. He had expected another outburst similar to the younger man's behavior towards him in the master suite – but, as always, Anakin remained impossible to predict. The Jedi Master sent out the tiniest tendril of Force energy that he could muster, testing a theory that he had been mulling over in his mind.
His theory was correct.
The Force told him that Anakin just wasn't there; nothing was sitting in that chair but empty space.
Obi-Wan did not even sense the faintest hint of his essence at all. It was not like Anakin had died…no, it was like Anakin had disappeared altogether.
Chilled, Obi-Wan withdrew his perception and continued to scrutinize his former Padawan's face. His gaze was intent on the star-strewn blackness of space outside the viewport as he guided the skiff past slow-moving asteroids towards the colony. Other than that, Anakin's entire countenance was opaque to the Jedi Master, with no visible display of what he was feeling or thinking – Padmé's political coaching, he assumed.

"You keep staring and your eyeballs are going to freeze open," Anakin said offhandedly.
Obi-Wan blinked, his brow wrinkling in annoyance. "I was not staring." He realized how childish that sounded after the fact, and added gruffly, "And who told you that ridiculous notion about eyeballs freezing open?"
"You."
Anakin bit the inside of his cheek to keep back a grin as Obi-Wan huffed and rotated his chair, pointedly showing his back to him. He watched a chunk of rock roughly the size of a Trade Federation control ship lazily spin past the viewport and caught sight of several bubble-shaped buildings grouped together on the surface on an enormous asteroid in the distance. The proximity sensors hummed, and Anakin slowed the skiff's approach, glancing sideways. "We've been detected."

Obi-Wan activated the comm and spoke in an authoritative tone, "Polis Massa Port Control, this is Naboo Star Skiff. Do you copy?"
The comm speaker crackled, and a polite voice replied, "We copy, Star Skiff. Do you require assistance?"
Obi-Wan smiled humorlessly. "Indeed we do, Port Control. All humanoids on board could use medical attention, and we are in sore need of a place to rest."
"We will accommodate your requests to the best of our ability. If you will please transmit your ship's identification code, we will direct you to the hangar bay."
Now came the hard part. "I regret that I am unable to provide you with our ID code – you see, this skiff could very well be an escapee of the Empire." Obi-Wan put in the right amount of earnest appeal in his words to gain the controller's sympathy. He could only hope that it was working.
There was a short pause, and then the voice came through hesitantly, "I am afraid that we cannot –"
Obi-Wan fluidly interrupted, "If you would permit me to speak to Administrator Tuun, I am sure that he would sanction our presence here."
Again, the hesitation was evident by the silence on the comm. "One moment."

Obi-Wan thumbed the mute button and looked over his shoulder at Anakin, who was watching the exchange with guarded eyes, his whole body tensed. "After I speak to the Administrator, they will let us land in the private hangar on the southern side of the colony," he assured the younger man. "We shall have limited contact with other workers and the Empire will stay ignorant of our movements." A trace of skepticism flickered in Anakin's hooded blue gaze, but it vanished as the comm hissed and he sucked in a sharp breath.
"This is Administrator Maneeli Tuun." This voice was considerably more mature than the controller's, and more confident. "I understand that you wanted to speak with me."
Obi-Wan took a deep breath, releasing his fear to the Force, and turned off the mute. "Administrator, this is Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. I am in need of your help."
A soft noise issued from the comm – almost like a sigh. "What can I do for you, Master Kenobi?"
Anakin slumped in utter relief in his chair, but Obi-Wan was still cautious, even though Tuun's answer freed a massive burden from his spirit. "There are three humans on board, myself included, that require medical aid and a temporary haven from the Empire's fleet. We will not stay long; I do not wish to prolong the time that this outpost may be in danger – but our female passenger is six months pregnant and we cannot risk the journey to another MedCenter."

Tuun replied without reluctance. "The Polis Massans are honored to be counted as friends of the Jedi. Pilot your skiff to the coordinates that are being transmitted to you now and land in the hangar. My finest team of physicians and med droids will meet you there."
"Thank you, Administrator," Obi-Wan said with heartfelt gratitude, and signed off. He leaned back in his seat and rolled his shoulders, easing the tension from his muscles. An indicator light blinked on the console, and he punched the receive button. "Coordinates are locked," he stated. His eyes met Anakin's for a fleeting second, and then Anakin averted his gaze as he pointed the skiff's curved nose toward the colony, stars glittering in its wake.

------------

Aboard the Star Destroyer Subjugator, Bridge Commander ARC-5219 – also known as Kaph – looked out at the twinkling sphere of Coruscant, isolated from the frenzied activity around officers worked frantically to contact HQ on the planet while navigators scanned hundreds of star charts, attempting to pinpoint the location of their "ghost ship."
That was what Kaph had heard one of the raw recruits tell another after the vessel had blasted out from under them and slipped into hyperspace. Like a ghost, it had appeared and disappeared before most of his crew could blink. Superstition aside, Kaph was ordered to report any and all craft entering or departing the capital, although a more accurate description of the ship would lend greater credibility to his information.

So Kaph stood motionless before the main viewport, studying the far-off stars and placing himself outside of the situation as his ARC training had taught. He reviewed the facts over and over in his head and began to reach a valid hypothesis. The Ghost, as it was labeled on the trajectory board, had drifted into the Subjugator's shadow on minimum power. Thus, the pilot had known of the limited sensoring capabilities on a Star Destroyer's underbelly, and that meant military experience.
Secondly, the same pilot had coordinated a jump to lightspeed at a breakneck pace – a feat that was extremely risky, because performing a calculated jump without confirmation from a navicomputer could send a ship on a one-way trip through a gas giant. Therefore, this pilot had to rely on other senses – senses that exceeded the ordinary, and that meant only one thing.
Jedi.

Kaph spun on heel and strode towards the communications blister, pondering his conclusion.
It made sense – only a Jedi would have had the knowledge and skill to execute such a maneuver with success. So now the question was: Where would this Jedi be going?
He analyzed the trajectory board as his navigators worked nervously around him. From the Ghost's last known coordinates, the ship could be bound for any number of worlds, some of which were known to have significance to the Order. Determining the ship's design would have been useful in identifying its destination, but the sensors were lucky to have picked up the vessel at all. The thought processes of the Jedi eluded Bridge Commander Kaph – their decisions flip-flopped between logical and absurd at random, and they were based entirely on the mysterious "Force." There were no patterns, no standardized procedures – a fleet could chase one Jedi around all four corners of the galaxy and never find what they were looking for.

"Sir!" A sergeant ran up to him. "Sir, we've reestablished communications with the planet."
Kaph bypassed the sergeant without a word and marched over to the console. The officer stationed at the terminal flipped a sequence of switches, then nodded and gave the commander a thumbs-up.
"This is Bridge Commander Kaph of the Imperial Star Destroyer Subjugator. I have a Priority One message for Commander Cody of High Command."

------------

The sleek silver skiff entered the vacant hangar bay and settled effortlessly on its landing struts.
Obi-Wan peered curiously out of the viewport at the small cluster of individuals waiting at the far end. "Our welcoming committee," he announced to no one in particular. He lowered the boarding ramp as Anakin scrambled out of the pilot's chair and jogged down the corridor, yelling something about Padmé. Obi-Wan leaned his head back to stare at the ceiling with a deep sigh, suppressing his irritability of the younger man's impetuous nature. He should be used to it by now.
The Jedi Master began shutting down all systems, and then spoke in a low murmur to the astromech unit at his elbow. "Artoo, before you shut down main power, delete our course from the navicomputer and activate all security programs." The little droid beeped an affirmative and got to work. Patting Artoo on his domed head – another silly gesture he had picked up from Anakin – Obi-Wan exited the cockpit, moving in the general direction of the skiff's ramp.

As he rounded a corner he came upon his former Padawan, who was trying to placate an overly excited golden protocol droid. "Threepio, it's fine," Anakin was saying soothingly. "I know you were just following your programming, but we're among friends now."
"But Master Anakin, their species is not entered in my databank! Surely you can understand how distressed I became!" Threepio sounded like he was on the verge of hysterics. "Perhaps if you had updated my recognition memory I would not have proceeded to initiate my defense procedures!"
Anakin replied softly, yet his eyes were hard, "I said it's fine, Threepio, don't worry. Now, go inform Padmé that we have guests and pack up some of her personal items as she instructs."
Threepio waddled off to carry out his appointed duty, and Anakin watched him go, his flesh hand rubbing the back of his neck in a long-suffering motion. He saw Obi-Wan out of the corner of his eye and his mouth quirked into a funny half-smile. "I guess I made him a little too cautious."
"Among other things," Obi-Wan retorted mildly. He gestured at Threepio's retreating form, asking, "What was that about?"
Anakin raked his hand through his tousled blonde hair. "Well…Threepio was walking through here when the boarding ramp lowered, and when he didn't recognize the Polis Massans he overreacted and pressed the emergency lock button."
Obi-Wan's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. "So he effectively shut the door in their faces." Anakin nodded sheepishly. "I'll talk to them," Obi-Wan said wearily, "I'm certain they will understand our restlessness in light of our current situation." Anakin pressed the release mechanism on the wall and the ramp hissed as it opened, depressurizing the corridor. Obi-Wan took a few steps down the ramp, arms held out wide in a universal gesture of friendship and called out, "Administrator Tuun, it's good to see you."

Anakin stared, his jaw dropping. He snapped it closed quickly, but his blue eyes were wide as he glimpsed the Polis Massans. Administrator Tuun was about the height of an average human, bipedal, and with two arms – but that was where the similarities ended. They had mottled green, vaguely reptilian skin, long fingers with overlarge, rounded tips, and appeared to be wearing various types of environment suits.
But what disconcerted Anakin the most was that their faces were blank – literally.
White, oval-shaped faces with a pair of small black eyes looked up at him inquisitively, and he resisted the bizarre urge to disappear into the skiff and hide from those strangely empty faces. Obi-Wan seemed unaffected by the Polis Massans' unusual features, and he walked right up to the Administrator, clasping his hand warmly. Tuun wore a tan-colored hood around his head and neck, and a faintly metallic-sounding voice filtered to Anakin's ears.
"I am greatly relieved that you escaped the tragedy at the Jedi Temple, Master Kenobi. Tell me, do you know if Master Yoda is safe as well?"
Anakin perked up, feeling a mixture of happiness and incredulity. Of course Yoda was alive – he had to be. Like Obi-Wan, Yoda was too smart and too accomplished to fall victim to Order 66. A flicker of confusion wrinkled his forehead. Not two days ago, Anakin had played a part in the extermination of the Jedi…and now he was glad that the most powerful Master in the Order was still alive?
Perhaps you don't know yourself as well as you think you do.

He ignored the small voice in the back of his head as Obi-Wan answered quietly, "I…believe so. We have not been in contact with each other for fear of being discovered."
Tuun rested a large hand on the Jedi Master's shoulder. "Rest easy, my friend. You will be safe here."
Anakin heard movement behind him and turned to see Padmé standing beside Threepio, her slim fingers gripping the droid's stiff arm for support. "Padmé," he rushed forward and wrapped an arm around her waist. "You shouldn't be up."
She leaned heavily against him, but her brown eyes sparked as she replied, "I'm not helpless, Ani."
He gave her a small lopsided grin. "I know better than to argue with you."
The young couple shared a secretive smile, and were reminded that they had an audience as a floating med droid zoomed up the ramp, guiding a silvery hoverchair. "Please sit down, madam," the droid said in a pleasant feminine voice. Padmé settled into the chair with Anakin's help, sighing in relief as the weight was removed from her aching legs. She glided down the ramp, Anakin and the med droid on either side of her as Threepio shuffled behind, calling for Artoo to hurry up.

Obi-Wan and Administrator Tuun met them at the bottom, and Anakin watched his wife's reaction to the Polis Massans. Her diplomatic training smoothed her features into a polite smile, but he caught the brief flash of shock in her gaze at the Administrator's approach. Obi-Wan started the introductions. "Administrator Maneeli Tuun, this is Senator Padmé Amidala of Naboo."
Padmé extended her hand and Tuun took it in both of his. His long fingers completely covered her hand, but his grasp was surprisingly gentle. "It is indeed an honor to meet you, Milady. Stories of your integrity and compassion are well known in the Outer Rim. And I offer my congratulations for your offspring."
"Thank you, Administrator – for your welcome and your kind words." Padmé seemed slightly surprised that news of her deeds traveled throughout the galaxy, yet she offered Tuun a warm smile.
Anakin flushed with pride. Padmé had become an angel to many beings in the Republic during the war, but she would always be his angel.
"And this," Obi-Wan continued, "is Anakin Skywalker." Anakin glanced sharply at the older man, but Obi-Wan was composed as he gestured in his direction. He had purposefully left the title "Jedi Knight" out of Anakin's introduction and it stung. The sensation was immediately followed by resigned sorrow.
Obi-Wan had not taken that identity away from him – he had thoughtlessly cast it aside by swearing an oath to Darth Sidious. He felt Padmé's eyes on him, so he tried to emulate her tactful behavior as Tuun reached for his hand.

"Jedi Skywalker – yes, tales of your adventures have thrilled our colony many times. I must confess that some of your exploits become more…sensational with each telling. Tell me – did you really land half of a Separatist Star Cruiser in the middle of Galactic City?"
Anakin looked straight into Tuun's blank white face and tacked on his famous lopsided smile. "Yes, I did." He shook Tuun's hand briskly. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Administrator. And thank you for allowing us to land."
The Administrator waved away his gratitude. "It is the least we can do for the Jedi." He motioned for a pair of med droids to come forward. "MD-02 and 05 will escort you to the Maternity ward, Milady. They will take very good care of you." The droids bobbed in the air as they flanked Padmé's hoverchair and began steering her towards the door. She threw an anxious look over her shoulder at Anakin and he sprang forward – only to be stopped by Obi-Wan's outstretched arm.
"She will be all right, Anakin. You need to see to your own injuries first." Obi-Wan said all of this calmly, and for the first time since he had discovered their relationship, the Jedi Master felt a twinge of sympathy for the younger man. He stared after his wife until the door slid shut behind her, wearing a forlorn expression – as if something very precious had been wrested away from him. Anakin's cobalt gaze shifted to his former mentor, and Obi-Wan read the faint accusation in his eyes. He thought that Obi-Wan was punishing him in subtle, underhanded ways. First with his introduction to the Administrator, and now in separating him from his family.
His eyes sharpened, becoming shards of blue glass that could cut through bone.

Obi-Wan met his glare unflinchingly, but inside his mind he realized that he may have made a grave mistake. While he could not pretend that there was a small part of him that thirsted for vengeance, it had not been his reason in holding Anakin back from joining Padmé. Both of them needed time for treatment and healing – time alone. Or so he had thought.
Obi-Wan understood now that in seceding from the Force, Anakin had lost his psychological anchor.
Like an uprooted tree in a windstorm, the young man had tumbled madly, thrown this way and that, until his awareness latched onto the second most important thing in his life – perhaps the one thing that prevailed over his relationship to the Force.
The Jedi Master knew that he must rectify his actions at once or endanger the Chosen One's sanity.
"Administrator Tuun," he began in his poised manner, "Is there perhaps a way for Anakin and I to see a med droid at the earliest convenience?"
Obi-Wan could not tell if Tuun was contemplating Anakin's abrupt mood swing – his inky-black eyes gave nothing away, and Obi-Wan did not know enough about the Polis Massans to interpret their emotions. "Of course. I shall personally see you to an exam room immediately." He gestured for Obi-Wan to walk beside him and watched the Jedi Master hobble forward with the critical eye of a physician. "Would you like a hoverchair, Master Kenobi?"
"No, thank you," Obi-Wan grunted and straightened his posture, drawing upon the Force as much as he could to ease the pain in his leg. "I'll be quite all right." He glanced over his shoulder and saw Anakin stalking along behind them, a fierce scowl on his face. Obi-Wan returned his attention to their host as the trio made their way into the facility.

The MedCenter was sterile and silent, except for the padded footsteps of a passing Polis Massan or the whirring servomotors of med droids. But instead of stoic white corridors, as was the case in the cloning chambers of Kamino, these halls seemed almost organic, reflecting muted lights of blues and greens. Occasionally, the bare walls were broken by rectangular viewports that displayed the everlasting dance of the asteroids. Obi-Wan had to admit that the overall ambiance was restful…in an alien sort of way.
"We have the minimum amount of employees in this wing of our MedCenter," Tuun said quietly. "Few of my people will see you, or even become aware of your presence. The majority of your care will be handled by med droids – their memories are far easier to wipe."
Obi-Wan nodded in agreement, gaining more respect for the Administrator. "I agree. There are some other precautions that I feel we must take before we leave. If I could speak to you later about this…?"
Tuun inclined his head, stopping by a door that was nearly indistinguishable from the wall except for the small control panel built into it. The Administrator touched the panel and the door retracted into the ceiling, opening a small exam room with a white cot and a large computer panel on the opposite wall.
"MD-01 will treat your injuries and then escort you to my private offices." The med droid floated inside and Obi-Wan slowly followed, hearing Tuun say, "Now, if you will please follow me, Jedi Skywalker."
Then the door closed.

------------

Once Obi-Wan was tucked away in an exam room, Anakin trailed behind the Administrator, scanning the corridors feverishly. The desire to demand that Tuun take him to Padmé ran strong, but Anakin knew that to reveal their relationship at this time would not be wise. He might have to eventually, if the med droids would not let him visit his wife's room – especially if she went into labor.
Thinking about the impending birth made fragments of his nightmare burst across his vision…but it was not as vivid as before. Parts of the images were hazy, like looking through fogged glass, and the heart-wrenching sound of her screams were muffled and distorted. But the fear had reawakened, and the need to see Padmé overcame his discretion as he asked, "Where's Pad– Senator Amidala?"

Tuun's hooded head turned slightly. "In the Maternity ward three corridors east of here."
He paused beside another doorway, and before touching the panel, he regarded Anakin for a moment. "You need not worry for her, Jedi Skywalker," he said finally. "I assure you – she is receiving the very best care."
"I know," Anakin hastily acquiesced, "It's just that…we're old friends, and I feel like I should look after her." Falling back into old habits of denial was hard, but if it would help him get to Padmé, Anakin would suffer through anything.
Tuun slowly nodded, and the door opened to reveal a duplicate exam room. "MD-03 will take you to see the Senator after treatment." Without another word, the Administrator headed back down the hall as the silver med droid zipped into the room, asking that Anakin come inside and have a seat.
He obeyed, the door closing as soon as he cleared the threshold, and hoisted himself onto the cot.
The droid instructed him to lie back and remain motionless as the tissue scanner assessed his injuries, and Anakin complied, wishing it would be over soon so he could make sure that his angel was all right.