Chapter Thirteen
Confessions
He had heard it said that a person's eyes were a gateway – a portal through which to view their soul. Obi-Wan supposed that this was the reason most people would not meet the eyes of a Jedi, for fear that the deepest, most secret parts of their lives would be laid bare – when in truth, it did not matter at all.
The Force allowed a Jedi to probe a being's surface thoughts and feelings with little or no difficulty depending on the strength of the adept's sensitivity. But when that avenue was closed, one pair of eyes could hold a lifetime's worth of emotion.
Anakin had the most expressive eyes Obi-Wan had ever seen on another human being. He had often wondered when the young man realized that his bright cerulean orbs divulged that which he kept hidden behind formidable shields within his mind; there had been many instances when he avoided Obi-Wan's gaze during the course of a conversation – particularly ones that contained any mention of Coruscant, the Senate, or what Anakin intended to do with his free time. Over the last year or so, he had learned to mimic Padmé's flat, impassive "politician" stare and, combined with his unique talent in the Force, Anakin became as unreadable as one with no emotion whatsoever. It had annoyed his former Master immensely.
However, since their rather turbulent reunion three days ago, Obi-Wan had witnessed an overwhelming multitude of feelings inside those blue eyes, feelings that had never before been permitted to emerge – at least not around him. Remorse, pain, grief, even brief flashes of anger – these were all visible to the Jedi Master at some point, and he had seen them all during the war whenever Anakin was preoccupied or lost control of his strict emotional guard. But other feelings, as they permeated the ice-blue stare that could stop an entire battalion of clone troopers in its tracks, made Obi-Wan question whether he knew Anakin at all. Tenderness, devotion, a fierce protectiveness…all with an underlying current of love seemed to shine out of the indigo irises like a beacon, transforming the face that had once been twisted by hatred into a completely different man – one that Obi-Wan would be pleased and proud to call brother.
Yet it was the wide, saltwater-strewn eyes of the penitent that consumed Anakin's ashen expression as he stumbled into the conference room. His gaze locked on Yoda, Anakin blinked once, a shower of teardrops trailing down his cheeks and clinging to his eyelashes, and then he knelt before the ancient Jedi – first one knee, and then the other. Tears flowed unrestrained from his blue eyes, and Obi-Wan literally watched the strength ebb from the young man's powerful frame, his ragged gasps filling the darkened room. Anakin sucked in a sharp, swift breath, and his lips moved with the barest sound.
"I'm so sorry."
Sobs were torn from his throat in earnest as the last word left his mouth, and he collapsed in a shivering heap on the floor, bent over double with his face pressed into his knees. Fragments of apology filled the spaces between the harsh cries and gasps for air, and Obi-Wan swallowed hard around the tight obstruction in his throat. His hands clenched into fists at his sides to keep from reaching out to Anakin; as much as he wanted to lay a palm on the young man's back in some semblance of comfort…it was inappropriate.
Instead, he hazarded a glance at Master Yoda.
The old Jedi's expression was stony and inscrutable, his eyes fixed upon the huddled form at his feet. But Obi-Wan thought he saw the hard glare flicker almost imperceptively as Anakin's remorse filled the conference room, his sobs continuing unabated for many minutes. He glanced back at his old friend, wishing that there were something he could do for him, something to alleviate his pain – and it was at that instant that he felt Yoda's stare flash in his direction. Obi-Wan turned sideways to meet the Jedi Master's scrutiny head-on, not bothering to conceal his thoughts about the broken man before them. Anakin was not gone – lost forever in the black, seductive mire of the dark side. He was alive, and he was a husband and a father…and Obi-Wan's best friend. The emerald orbs gazing at him softened, conveying what could be defined as sympathy – but then they widened, full of meaning as they pierced Obi-Wan's stare, and phrases leapt into his brain. Phrases that he knew all too well.
There is no emotion; there is peace.
Antipathy burned the edges of his mind, leaving a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. It was the first time he could recall since his initial training as a Padawan that he felt disgust for the Jedi Code. The Code that he had striven to uphold and live by for nearly the whole of his life. The Code that Anakin despised, and argued against on numerous occasions. The Code that kept the Jedi tethered, fenced in from the rest of the galaxy and cut off from everything that they were expected to protect.
Obi-Wan thrust the words from his mind – yet they returned, much more forcefully, and rang throughout his skull like a resounding gong.
There is no emotion; there is peace.
Emotion was the lifeblood of the universe – even the Jedi Council could not deny that. Obi-Wan had witnessed firsthand both the dangers and the rescuing powers of emotion. And he had also seen that peace could be found in emotion, and that was a feat that rendered the entire tenet useless. What Anakin and Padmé had together was fraught with emotion, intensely strong emotion – and yes, there was danger in submitting to that intensity. And yet, what Obi-Wan had sensed emanating from Anakin as he had entered the conference room the other day, breathless with excitement about glimpsing his children from within their mother's womb…it was peace – the kind that can only come from a release of all hardship and struggle. His young friend had fought in vain to bring about inner peace through countless Jedi exercises as long as Obi-Wan had known him, and all along, the answer was in the emotion that he possessed with such potency for those whom he loved.
An abstract sensation of acceptance carried the phrase from his thoughts, and another surfaced.
There is no ignorance; there is knowledge.
Obi-Wan was inclined to agree with the concept of this tenet more than any of the others. Ignorance, while comfortable and unassuming, breeds complacency and inactivity – and he had seen what ignorance had cost the Jedi as a whole. Ignorant of the enemy standing within the Chancellor's shell, the Jedi Order had spread itself thin, extending its Masters, Knights and Padawans into the far reaches of the Republic to wage war – when the real war was being fought in the heart and soul of one man – the man prophesized to bring balance to the Force.
Obi-Wan recognized his own ignorance as well, because he had chosen not to act when he sensed Anakin's turmoil before his departure for Utapau. Perhaps if he had spoken to his old Padawan, or taken him on the mission to stop Grievous…things would have turned out quite differently.
But he could not place the blame entirely on his inaction – or Anakin's reaction, for that matter.
Ignorance may be a well-disguised trap, but knowledge was a rancor on a silken leash – power barely controlled. Knowledge separated the wise from the fools, the leaders from the followers, and it became a well-used tool for those who knew how to tame its tempestuous nature. Too much knowledge, however, could make one's mind snap. Anakin could appreciate that more than anyone.
The Jedi Master had no idea how much actual knowledge Palpatine had mixed in with the lies to snare Anakin, but it must have been enough to snap the leash. But knowledge was a two-sided street; the Sith Lord's lack of knowledge of Anakin's continued existence, for example, was what kept them hidden in a far-flung nook of the galaxy. And Anakin's newfound knowledge of his onetime mentor's treachery had served to ground him more firmly on the right path.
Again, the peculiar sensation fluttered across Obi-Wan's psyche, and then called upon a new phrase.
There is no passion; there is serenity.
Anakin Skywalker was a creature of passion; it was how he fought, how he lived, and how he loved.
Passion was both his greatest ally and his worst enemy, and Obi-Wan had observed the scale tilt from one to the other in the blink of an eye. Anakin drew upon his passion for many things. For clarity of thought during their madcap flight to the Invisible Hand in the space battle above Coruscant; for conscience-lashing statements about loyalty and fairness after the tension-filled Council meeting; for guidance in the midst of battlefield chaos, and stepping in at the last possible moment to save another Jedi's life. And after speaking to Padmé mere hours ago, Obi-Wan knew that Anakin gave a large measure of his passion only to her, and it was that passion that had captured her attention and ultimately her heart.
But for all of passion's obvious strengths…it had an easily exploitable weakness.
A volatile balance.
The slightest push, the smallest tug – and passion would turn dark and obsessive, filling its vessel with more primitive notions of protection and devotion – until passion became the conqueror, and the heart it dwells within its slave.
Every Jedi had passions that needed to be kept under stringent control, limited by an ingrained discipline central to every Youngling's core training. After all, a Jedi was not a lifeless drone – the Force had no need for those who could not express empathy and harmony towards the universe. Rather, a Jedi was a passionate being at the heart, but it was tempered by a deep commitment to the teachings of the Order and a seriousness of mind that could only be achieved by years of instruction.
Anakin was, of course, the exception to every rule.
By his very nature he was extremely susceptible to the lure of the dark side, for it would allow him to give his passion free rein – something that his Jedi training held severely at bay. Obi-Wan surmised that one of the main reasons Anakin behaved with such hostility towards the Code – this tenet in particular – was that he chafed under restrictions that made him deny his individuality.
"I can't change who I am."
On that point, the two friends agreed. To ask Anakin to be anything other than who he was would be to invite catastrophe…as the Jedi Council had found out, in the most horrific way imaginable.
Yet Obi-Wan had seen, despite the young man's hot-blooded, explosive temperament, he was capable of discovering the serenity his heart required to cool the fires raging within.
And that had everything to do with Padmé Amidala.
She was calm, level-headed and trustworthy, possessing a restful, centered spirit that recalled the sparkling waterfalls of her homeworld – the perfect counterbalance to Anakin's charged, impulsive persona. He was hopelessly drawn to the beautiful Senator like the polar opposites of a magnet; in her, Anakin saw the peace that he craved and the one person with whom he could be completely free, and find release from the passion engulfing his soul.
"…I thought that she would give you the balance you so desperately need."
And so she had, as Obi-Wan had hoped she would – for a while. But again, Anakin refused to let the teachings of the Jedi overshadow his personal desires. He became convinced that he could not exist without Padmé – the woman he saw as the embodiment of everything good and pure in his life – and the serenity he gained while in her presence was lost in the swirling vortex of confusion and despair.
Now their souls were rooted in one another, bolstering each other's weaknesses and sharing their strengths…and in that act, Obi-Wan witnessed the beginnings of internal balance inside his young friend's scarred, battered heart.
Passion and serenity were not contrary – they were complements of one another, for without one, the other has no standing with the soul in which it resides. The universe was full of contradictions, and it was clear to the Jedi Master that Anakin Skywalker was a living, breathing example of such a concept.
A wave of approval, like a warm breeze, wafted across his perception, and he heard Yoda's voice echo in his head, reciting the final tenet of the Jedi Code.
There is no death; there is the Force.
Comprehension raced through Obi-Wan's nerves like bolts of electricity.
Yoda was on the verge of reaching his decision in regard to Anakin's future, and that decision could very likely be the one that Obi-Wan had scarcely allowed himself to hope for. The elder Master had simply wanted Obi-Wan to grasp his reasoning and, ever the teacher, used the Jedi Code as a guideline.
The fragile bubble of hope in his chest deflated slightly when Yoda's sharp gaze flashed in his direction, carrying a silent reprimand about jumping to conclusions. Obi-Wan made a conscious effort to lean back in his seat and unclench his hands, the knuckles stiffened from holding the same position for an indeterminate amount of time.
Anakin's strangled sobs were slowly abating; his breath hitched in his throat with small, quick gasps as he fought to regain control, swiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. He felt the ancient Jedi Master's stare on his lowered head like a weight pressing down upon him, and it was with a great deal of difficulty that he managed to lift his chin just enough to peer timidly upwards through wet lashes into the stern, weathered face. He sucked in a deep, shuddering breath, forcing himself to hold Yoda's stare…and then the old Jedi spoke directly to him for the first time in nearly a week, although it felt like a lifetime ago.
"Explain everything, you will."
The shadowed blue eyes wavered for an instant, like he wanted to look away, but Anakin merely blinked, his haggard expression making him seem far older than his twenty-three years, as did his hoarse, despondent voice as he replied, "I hardly know where to begin." There was the briefest pause – so fleeting that Obi-Wan almost missed the hesitation in the silence – "Master."
Yoda considered the young man impassively for one solid minute, completely motionless – and then something in his expression appeared to melt, and he gave a quiet sigh, shifting his hands atop his gimer stick. "After we spoke in the meditation chamber, is where you should begin."
Obi-Wan started just noticeably, his blue-grey eyes burning with surprise and curiosity as they flickered between Yoda and Anakin. The former ignored Obi-Wan's reaction, keeping an intent gaze locked on Anakin's face, while the latter glanced at his old Master with what could almost be interpreted as an apology before returning his attention to Yoda.
In a dull monotone, indigo eyes pleading for understanding, Anakin recited all that had transpired for him over the past four days. He recounted the tale of Darth Plagueis – how the Chancellor had insinuated that the dark side of the Force contained all of the power he needed to save Padmé from his terrifying visions. He remembered standing within a crimson-carpeted hallway, shaking with rage, the tip of his lightsaber pointing at Palpatine's throat when he realized that his mentor and friend was the enemy he had sworn to destroy. As he spoke, he felt as if he were there once again – weakened by lack of sleep, his brain humming with energy as Palpatine murmured promises of salvation for the one he loved more than his own life, and all he had to do was reach out and take it.
His voice broke with emotion while he recalled the unendurable moments sitting in the Jedi Council Chamber, knowing that four Masters were on their way to arrest and quite possibly kill his only hope for saving his wife from death. He could still see it in his mind: the brilliant red-gold gleam of the setting sun as it set the sprawling metropolis of Galactic City ablaze, the voice inside his skull whispering that all would be lost if he chose not to act…and all he could see was the distant silhouette of Five Hundred Republica, and the gentle curve of Padmé's veranda on the far side.
His world went dark after that.
He watched Yoda's eyes slide shut in agony and Obi-Wan's jaw clench as he told of Mace Windu's final battle – the dark-skinned Jedi's body flying through a broken window while his severed arm lay twitching at Anakin's feet. His tone reflected a bleak desperation while he relayed the details of his pact with Darth Sidious, agreeing to become his apprentice if he would teach him how to cheat death and spare his beloved angel. He skimmed over the nightmare that followed within the Jedi Temple, commenting only that the Sith Lord had told him that such an act would make him strong enough with the dark side to save Padmé. Then he recounted the Separatist leaders' demise by his hands on Mustafar and his return to Coruscant.
Yoda held up a finger when Anakin mentioned Obi-Wan's name, and the young man halted in mid-sentence. "The rest of the story have I received, from Master Kenobi." He studied Anakin speculatively, the tips of his long, pointed ears wiggling slightly. Abruptly, he turned sideways to fix Obi-Wan with a significant look, to which the younger Master replied with a brief nod. Yoda made a small noise in the back of his throat and, his eyes still on Obi-Wan's face, remarked mildly, "See Padmé, I would like."
Anakin paled, ice-blue eyes widening with shock, and Obi-Wan reached for a small device sitting upon the table's smooth, gleaming surface, depressing a button with his thumb. The device emitted a quiet beep, and a blinking yellow light flashed every few seconds. Struggling to ignore his old friend's dismay at involving his wife in their proceedings, Obi-Wan mentioned to Yoda, "She will arrive momentarily, Master." Unable to resist the impulse any longer, Obi-Wan looked at Anakin, and found that the young man was looking back, a dozen emotions flitting across his white face.
Light suddenly flooded the dim room, and Anakin's head snapped sideways a split second before Padmé floated into the room in a hoverchair – but a heartbeat later Obi-Wan dismissed it as his imagination, for there was no way that Anakin had known she was entering without the Force to aid him.
Yoda's unfathomable gaze followed the Senator's every move, and Obi-Wan's attention drifted from one to the other with some degree of uncertainty, but Padmé only had eyes for Anakin. He staggered to his feet as she slowed to a stop, her soft brown eyes wordlessly consoling him while she pushed herself upright and enfolded his broad shoulders in her slender arms. Anakin reacted instinctively to her familiar embrace. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he gently pressed his body against hers, burying his face in her hair.
The moment seemed so tender and private that Obi-Wan wanted to look away, but he was drawn by the intensity sparking between the young couple in the Force. What he had sensed in the birthing room was as clear as it had been that day, and that was the faint echoes of Anakin's essence filtering through Padmé. Except now, with the passage of time, the echoes had grown more pronounced, and the overall effect was intriguing. The only means of describing it was that Anakin was the wind – invisible and yet unmistakably real – and Padmé was a tree, with leaves stirring softly and giving evidence to the presence of the wind. He wondered then how Yoda perceived this odd variation in the Force, and glanced sideways at the ancient Jedi.
Yoda was watching Anakin and Padmé with narrowed eyes – not with anger or reproach, but with a mixture of fascination and contemplation. He leaned forward, steeping his clawed fingers under his round chin as Anakin drew back slightly to look into his wife's face. "The twins?" he murmured, just above a whisper.
"Sleeping. MD-02 and 05 are with them." Padmé's warm, quiet words automatically soothed Anakin, and his tense stance visibly relaxed. Yet his eyes refused to leave her face, even as she turned in his arms to greet Obi-Wan and Yoda with a graceful incline of her dark head.
The wisest being of the once-great Jedi Order smiled at her with genuine affection, and gestured to the numerous chairs situated around the conference room. "Sit down, you should, Senator."
Padmé glanced at her husband, and in that swift look there passed a moment of wordless communication that transcended the unending scope of the Force. As if they had planned each move, Anakin helped his wife settle into the hoverchair and stepped aside as she maneuvered to a spot directly across from Yoda, forming a loose semicircle. While she was in motion, Anakin snagged the chair beside Obi-Wan and pushed it into place next to Padmé and across from his old Master. Once he was seated, they simultaneously reached for each other – Anakin placing his large hand on Padmé's lap as she threaded her slim fingers through his and laid her other palm atop his knuckles. Her gaze had not shifted at all from Yoda's thoughtful expression. The politician had reawakened inside of Padmé, and she fully intended to use every bit of her diplomatic training to find a solution that would free Anakin from his backbreaking remorse. She put aside the feelings of a wife and mother – though the skin on the back of Anakin's hand felt chilled under her fingertips – and quieted her mind, focusing on the pair of Jedi Masters watching her with those maddeningly blank faces.
So it was to her intense surprise that Master Yoda's wise emerald eyes, surrounded by eight hundred years' worth of wrinkles, brightened as a tiny smile lifted the corners of his mouth and said, "Offer my congratulations I do, on the birth of your younglings. A welcome gift they are, in times such as these."
It caught her off guard. Obi-Wan saw the porcelain façade of Senator Amidala slip from Padmé's lovely face as she absorbed Yoda's words. Her dark eyes lost their icy flatness, and a faint blush rose on the apples of her cheeks. "Th-thank you," she stammered, visibly flustered – a highly unlikely response for someone accustomed to public speaking.
"Yes, yes…a welcome gift, indeed." Yoda's eyes grew strangely unfocused and he spoke quietly to himself, "An unusual occurrence, this is. For you both, a rescue it has become…in many, many ways."
Three pairs of eyes studied the hunched figure as he trailed off, seemingly lost in thought. Blue-grey orbs filled momentarily with bewilderment before turning pensively inward. Wide chestnut eyes blinked twice in utter bemusement. And bright cerulean irises sparked with immediate comprehension while faint traces of uncertainty lingered behind the ebony pupils.
Suddenly, the ancient Jedi's stare sharpened, piercing the now-steady blue gaze set in Anakin's face. He asked, "What happened, do you think, young Skywalker?"
Anakin needed no clarification as to what Yoda referred, and he sensed a muted flush of optimism warm his cold flesh when the Jedi Master said his name. Throwing a brief, worried glance at the small woman beside him, Anakin replied in a low, even tone, "I don't know if I can give you any answers, Master. All I can tell you is what I remember – and it isn't much." He stared at his lap as he continued. "My daughter had just been born, and Padmé asked me to name her." His lips twitched into a tiny smile, which quickly faded. "Then, she couldn't breathe, and I felt… I felt like all the oxygen had left the room. Administrator Tuun came up to me, and told me that Padmé had lost a lot of blood. They didn't have the supply in storage to replenish her system. But if she didn't receive a transfusion soon…she would die." His voice broke on the last word, and Padmé squeezed his hand tenderly, watching his expression as she relived those harrowing moments through his eyes – moments that she did not remember at all.
"I couldn't let that happen. I couldn't let my children grow up without their mother. I tried to touch the Force, and the strain almost killed me. But then, all of a sudden, it was like I knew what to do. I had to be willing to sacrifice myself in order to spare her. And not just my life – my beliefs, my ambitions – all that I was…just like she has done for me." He glanced sideways for the barest second and offered Padmé a soft grin. "So I went inside the void, where the Force used to be, and I asked – for forgiveness."
He paused when he heard Obi-Wan's slight intake of breath, and drew strength from the two slender hands wrapped around his own before resuming. "I asked the Force to save her…to take me instead of her…and there was an explosion. White light was everywhere, and flames were all around me. And I saw her. I wrapped myself around her, trying to protect her from the fire…then I let it take me."
Anakin was quiet for some time, and Padmé thought that he had reached the end of his story – when his deep, husky voice opened up the tense silence. "I woke up in the birthing room, next to Padmé, and she was fine. The Administrator thought it was a miracle, but I knew. I knew that whatever had happened within that white light had saved her…and allowed me to sense her again."
Only Yoda appeared unsurprised over this statement. Padmé gripped Anakin's hand tightly, hovering on the edge of shock while Obi-Wan's incredulous voice loudly interrupted the stillness. "The Force has returned to you? How is that possible?"
"No, it's not the Force," Anakin shook his head, starlight glinting a pale gold on his tousled hair. "It's…deeper than that, more – certain than anything I've sensed from her in the past. I feel everything that she feels, almost like it's my own, and we…communicate on a level that seems like instinct. It's like nothing I've ever felt before." As he finished, he turned to look at his wife, a whisper of apology wafting across his features – yet his eyes glowed with conviction, trusting in everything he had just said.
Padmé's full lips were parted slightly, staring at him in awe. A flash of intuition, like lightning across a storm-darkened sky, illuminated the rational side of her brain. When Obi-Wan had come to visit her earlier – she had experienced such a fierce, white-hot rush of fury – a response that was a direct opposite of her nature, and she had thought to herself that it was exactly how Anakin would have reacted had he been in her place. If Anakin was right, then how could she trust her emotions? How could she know if what she was feeling came from her own heart – or Anakin's? She wondered then how much of what she felt now emanated from him.
Oddly enough, she was not distressed by the idea of sharing emotions with the man she loved, or struggling with the notion that she was no longer alone within her own mind. In fact, she was comforted by the possibility. It just seemed so implausible – even in a world of Jedi and Chosen Ones and unexplained powers – that this…bond was even feasible.
He must have felt the whirlwind of emotions swirling within her being, for he reached over with his free hand and brushed his knuckles along her cheek. "I'm sorry that I didn't tell you before. I wasn't sure if you would believe me." He let out a short chuckle. "I'm not even sure if I believe me."
Padmé laughed as well, and even though a small part of her agreed with him that what he was suggesting was completely ridiculous and improbable…she also knew that he was right. It was not something that she could hope to put into words, and yet she trusted it, in the same way that she trusted gravity or that the sun would rise each morning. She just knew.
Obi-Wan was rapidly sinking in an ocean of perplexity. The entire concept was absurd – he had never even heard of such a thing in all his years of study as a Jedi. He had to admit that Anakin's explanation had some bearing in what he had sensed from the observation window that day, but he could not wrap his mind around the assumption. The Force was an energy field created by all life – it could not grant forgiveness, it did not have a will – at least not like the will of a sentient being. Or did it?
"The Force is a mystery that no Jedi can hope to solve in his lifetime, Obi-Wan. How can you distinguish between the will of Force and your own?"
Obi-Wan's lips wordlessly mouthed along with the memory of his Master's voice: "By examining the motivations of your heart."
Qui-Gon had retained a more unorthodox view of the Force, and he had passed many of his personal theories to his Padawan – which Obi-Wan, in turn, had passed on to Anakin. If he were still alive, Obi-Wan had no doubt that his old Master would concur with Anakin's statement; after all, he had immediately accepted the validity of a centuries-old prophecy mere hours after meeting a nine year-old slave boy on Tatooine. Yet if anyone could confirm or deny Anakin's claim with the support of nearly eight hundred years of knowledge…it would be Yoda.
Obi-Wan turned aside at once, murmuring, "Master, is that type of connection even possible?"
The wizened Master did not acknowledge Obi-Wan's question, though his pointed ears swiveled just noticeably in the younger Jedi's direction. Yoda's deep green eyes had narrowed to slits, and he sat completely motionless. The impression Obi-Wan sensed from him within the Force was like that of a bottomless pool filled with iridescent water, its surface glass-smooth as various colors undulated in its depths. Obi-Wan's eyes flicked up to the other two occupants of the conference room – but they were still so immersed in one another that they seemed to have forgotten the two Jedi Masters completely.
"Hmm…" Yoda's distinctive, croaky voice fell upon his attuned ears, and Obi-Wan spun to face him in his seat, eyes alight with expectation. "Difficult to comprehend, this bond is. But exists, it does. Similar it is, to the bond formed between Master and Padawan. And Jedi from ages past – experienced a related connection, they did, with love as the foundation. Yet form so quickly and be so strong…remarkable, such a bond is." He lifted one clawed finger from the knob atop his gimer stick to point at the young couple. "Unusual, for the bond to exist at all, when cut off from the Force, they are." Pressing that finger to his mouth, Yoda thought for a full minute, studying Anakin's glittering blue eyes as he spoke softly to his wife and Padmé's glowing, affectionate smile. "A puzzle, this is," he said so quietly that Obi-Wan scarcely caught the phrase. Then, abruptly, the eldest Jedi straightened and gazed sidelong at his companion. "Meditate on this, I will."
Obi-Wan understood that the subject was now closed, and fought to quench the burning blaze of curiosity in his heart. He had the vague inclination that Yoda had already placed some of the pieces of the puzzle together in his head, but he was not yet ready to share his findings.
Three things happened simultaneously at that point.
Yoda's head whipped towards the doorway, eyes wide with an indefinable emotion as he looked beyond Obi-Wan's shoulder. Obi-Wan felt a presence brush against the farthest corner of his perception – like sensing the sudden warmth of the rising sun on his back as it broke over of the horizon. And the instantly recognizable sounds of a fretting newborn drew everyone's attention to the silver med droid floating over the threshold of the conference room.
"Forgive the intrusion, Master Jedi," MD-02 announced in its soft, feminine voice, "but the Senator requested that her children be brought to her when they awaken."
Obi-Wan gave MD-02 a conceding nod when Yoda did not respond. The ancient Jedi's seamed face was alight with a brilliant, almost fierce kind of joy, gazing at the squirming bundle in the med droid's arms with unblinking eyes. His fixation caused a sudden flare of protectiveness to ignite inside Padmé's soul, and she clambered to her feet, hands sliding out of Anakin's reluctant grasp as she approached MD-02.
"Thank you, MD-02. I'll take him," Padmé said quietly. Obi-Wan craned his neck as the infant was passed to his mother, and he glimpsed a tiny head sprinkled with fine blond hairs before Padmé tucked the blanket securely around her son. The little one's cries were faint, but slowly increasing in volume and urgency as Padmé rocked from side to side, trying to soothe him. "Shh…it's all right…it's all right," she chanted over and over in a gentle, sweet tone, but to no avail. Luke's small face nuzzled towards her chest and she sighed, finally understanding the source of his discomfort. Looking up from his precious form, Padmé's gaze flitted briefly over the two Jedi Masters and then rested on her husband's anxious face. "I'm afraid that I must request a recess from these proceedings while I attend to my son," she said formally.
She pivoted with one leg, striding in the direction of the doorway – and halted in mid-step when Yoda called out, "Wait, Milady. Not hungry, the boy is."
Padmé peered at the old Jedi over her shoulder, her dark curls partially obscuring her expression – but there was no mistaking the raised brow and the skeptical gleam in her eyes. Yoda was completely unaffected by her reaction; his face reflected perfect sincerity as he instructed, "Bring him to his father, you should."
With the doubtful look in her brown gaze growing more pronounced, Padmé nevertheless turned back towards the center of the room and headed to her hoverchair, Luke still whimpering in her embrace.
She paused in front of her husband, seeing the same confusion she felt in his blue eyes, and looked once more at Yoda, brows arched questioningly. He nodded in encouragement, gesturing for her to sit.
Shrugging minutely to herself, Padmé settled into the hoverchair, shifting her tiny son into the crook of her elbow. Anakin immediately leaned closer…
There was silence.
Blue met blue, and Anakin's entire countenance lit up like a supernova as he peered down at his son. Luke stared back with cloudy yet inquisitive eyes, nearly motionless in the warm circle of his mother's arms. Padmé looked from one to the other, her jaw dropping in shock as Luke's entire focus centered on Anakin, cooing happily when his father slid a finger into his small fist.
Obi-Wan was in a similar state. Watching the young family in astonishment, he studied Anakin's son within the Force. The boy's untamed potential was as vast as it had been on the day that he was born, and he radiated absolute contentment, basking in the nearness of his parents. His eyes narrowed. There was something else, something he could not identify as he observed the little one's brilliant essence.
Faint tendrils of energy wafted out from the edges of the boy's perception, and they seemed to latch onto the dim yet steady glow emanating from Padmé, bonding with her essence like beads of water gathering on a windowpane. But that was not the most disturbing vision Obi-Wan witnessed.
He saw translucent wisps of Force energy drift towards Anakin, and instead of being repelled because of his old friend's separation from the Force as he thought – the energy permeated that empty place in his perception, concentrating into a single focal point, a tiny globe of light…and then it faded.
Obi-Wan suppressed a shudder. What he had just seen – he could only compare it to the enigma of a black hole, and how it absorbs all light around it without giving any off itself. The nature of a black hole was not malicious, and neither was what was happening between Anakin and his son, as near as he could tell.
But the mystery, the dark shadows of the unknown that surrounded them…made Obi-Wan's skin prickle and pinched the tiny hairs on the back of his neck. He watched Anakin's expression bloom into a wide, lopsided grin, and heard the boy's answering chime of laughter, and wondered once again at the significance of his vision.
Padmé felt her heart sprout wings and soar as she quietly viewed the familial interaction between father and son. Anakin had been positively transformed by the arrival of the twins – and every bright smile that sparkled upon his handsome face was like a rare jewel to her, and she treasured each one deep inside her heart. This was the family that she had only dared to dream of, and she would fight for it with every ounce of strength within her being.
Her gaze rose slowly to meet the unwavering emerald-green eyes. Yoda's awareness had not strayed from their son since he entered the room, and it made her uneasy. She realized that both Luke and Leia had the same incredible potential in the Force as their father, yet it was not something that she would have chosen for them. She had made up her mind on this matter in the same hour that she knew she was pregnant: her children would not become Jedi. She would never push them into that life while they were too young to understand all that they must give up. She had witnessed firsthand the strain that had placed on her Ani – and she refused to do that to her children.
She had given her husband to the galaxy. She would not give up her little stars, too.
The skin around her eyes tightened, and her stare hardened with determination as it bored into Yoda's. In that wordless, eternal moment, she used the glacial, unyielding eyes of Senator Amidala to communicate to the ancient Master that the Jedi Order may have taken her Anakin – first to the war, and perhaps now to his punishment – but it would not take her children.
Anakin sensed a flame, white-hot and fueled by tenacity, sputter inside the part of his soul that belonged to Padmé, and the smile melted from his lips. Eyes flickering to his wife, he noticed the icy cast of her beautiful features and the tensed muscles in her slender throat as she looked unblinking at Master Yoda.
Then Yoda did something that neither of them expected.
His wizened expression softened infinitesimally, and he lowered his eyes, bowing his head in an unmistakable sign of concession and respect.
Padmé leaned backwards, blinking in surprise as warmth returned to her large, dark eyes. Anakin waited until the last vestiges of hardness thawed from her body, and then looked down at their son, deciding to pretend that he had not seen what had transpired.
A piercing wail stabbed into the atmosphere of the conference room.
Obi-Wan jerked, visibly startled as Padmé's eyes slid shut in embarrassment, and Luke froze, head slightly tilted as if listening to some unknown noise while Anakin's head snapped up with a huge smirk. Only Yoda remained undisturbed by this latest interruption, though his eyes darted sideways to glimpse the newcomer.
Arms and legs flailed wildly against the med droid's metallic shell as it entered the room, and Obi-Wan caught sight of a round red face topped by a thick cap of dark hair, a tiny mouth opened wide and emitting shrieks that seemed far too loud for one infant. Anakin rose to his feet, and with two long strides was instantly in front of MD-02, gathering his distraught daughter in his arms. The noise dimmed somewhat, but Leia continued to thrash against her father's broad chest even as he sat down beside Padmé and Luke. Anakin chuckled quietly, for in her tantrum, Leia failed to realize that she was with her family. "Are you done yet?" he teased affectionately.
Padmé moved in her seat, maneuvering a wide-eyed Luke to a closer proximity with his twin and leaned over Leia's squalling face, murmuring in a soft voice barely audible above the wailing, "Hey, you."
Leia's brown eyes snapped open, angry tears glistening on her lashes, and her hazy eyesight appeared to take in the dark, blurred shapes of her parents and brother. Anakin felt her tiny body relax in his embrace and breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Shifting their youngest child to a firm one-handed grip, he used gentle fingertips to brush the lingering traces of saltwater from her soft cheeks. "There now…all better."
He raised humor-filled eyes to Padmé, and the two of them shared in a bout of silent laughter over the antics of their overly dramatic daughter.
So the Skywalker family was oblivious of the intense scrutiny its two newest members were attaining from a pair of multifaceted, exceptionally wise green eyes.
Yoda's intent, yet strangely calm gaze floated at random from one infant to the other, and paused fleetingly upon Anakin, and then Padmé. The jade-colored skin on his brow crinkled as he studied the contact – both seen and unseen to the naked eye – among this unique family. A puzzle this is, indeed, he remarked inwardly. Centuries of Jedi lore were locked inside his mind, and he sifted through each as one might glance through reference material in a library, searching for some mention, any hint of what he saw unfolding in front of him. A few of the pieces had clicked into place, but many were still missing, or hidden from his vision. He could not shake the feeling of…danger, a hazard lurking just out of sight – and it had nothing to do with Sidious, his Empire, or the Jedi. The sensation stemmed from the mysterious bond linking Anakin to Padmé. Yoda had no foreseeable reason to suspect the connection of posing a threat to either person – and yet the feeling remained, tugging on the fringe of his consciousness, continually calling attention to itself though he tried to cast it aside. He surmised then that if or when he discovered the source of the danger, the puzzle would almost certainly become clearer to him.
Some of his deduction must have shown on his face, for he felt Obi-Wan's eyes on him, as well as the scorching flame of curiosity and the need for knowledge that the younger Master had managed to squelch into glowing embers at the back of his psyche. Yoda experienced a measure of pride in Obi-Wan's self-control; truly, he had come a long way from the headstrong, impatient young Padawan that Qui-Gon had taken under his wing decades ago. Despite his maturity, however, the old Jedi saw the question stinging Obi-Wan's tongue – but now was not the time for such answers. Just as Obi-Wan opened his mouth, Yoda touched his mind with a tendril of perception, planting the sensation of laying his hand on the young Jedi's shoulder – a subtle gesture to remain silent.
Obi-Wan closed his mouth, the question dying on his lips as the slight pressure retreated from his perception. Yoda looked over at him for a moment, a twinkle of amusement lighting his glance, and motioned with his head towards Anakin. Obi-Wan understood what the elder Master meant for him to address and shifted forward in his chair, resting a forearm on his knee. Clearing his throat discreetly, he inquired, "So, Anakin, what are your plans concerning your family for the immediate future?"
Anakin's thoughts stumbled out of his pleasant reverie with his loved ones and took a few minutes to restart, processing just exactly what Obi-Wan was asking him. If they were asking for his input, did that mean they did not intend to send him into exile? He did not permit himself to hope – not yet – it was a far too fragile emotion to indulge in so recklessly. He feigned nonchalance with a one-shouldered shrug, glad for once that he had stayed awake last night plotting his next course of action in keeping his family safe, and replied, "I know that we can only stay safely here for maybe two days at most. Then I plan to head to a nearby spaceport, obtain a new ship, and take my family to a remote system outside of the Empire."
Obi-Wan inclined his head in an all-too-familiar motion of agreement. "A well-rounded plan."
The corner of Anakin's mouth lifted into its customary smirk. "I feel a 'but' coming on."
A resigned smile curved his former mentor's lips, and Anakin felt a tiny glimmer of brotherhood and all that he had once shared with this man buoy his spirit. "But…it's not going to be easy."
"Since when has anything we do been easy, Master?" The title slipped out on its own – his mouth had formed the word so easily and naturally as he spoke the friendly tease. Obi-Wan's smile died and sorrow darkened his eyes to lead. Anakin looked aside, biting his lower lip, and he didn't quite meet the Jedi Master's gaze as he mouthed silently: I'm sorry.
Obi-Wan continued as if nothing had happened, although he was keenly aware of Padmé's compassionate stare, "True, but I believe that our latest problem may stretch the limit of even your talents." He reached behind him and grasped a small datapad. Typing in a sequence of keys, Obi-Wan connected to a live HoloNet feed and the screen lit up, a tinny voice issuing from the datapad. He handed it to Anakin, remarking blandly, "Our situation has unfortunately become much more complicated."
Anakin studied Obi-Wan suspiciously for a second, and then sat back in his seat, Padmé's dark head touching his as they leaned over the tiny viewscreen. Leia's pudgy fingers made a grab for the datapad, which Anakin neatly avoided, while Luke contented himself with tugging on his mother's curls and putting the strands in his mouth as an attractive female human newscaster appeared onscreen.
"We have received breaking news on the Jedi riots on Coruscant: Emperor Palpatine had just issued an arrest warrant for Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, who is suspected in the kidnapping of Senator Padmé Amidala of Naboo."
Padmé's gasp of horror suffused Anakin with dread, and both twins let out startled cries upon sensing their mother's fear. Her widened eyes darted to Obi-Wan, who only nodded sadly in response to the appalled expression on her face. He glanced at Anakin. The young man's features looked as if they had been carved from stone – the cords of muscle in his jaw line and neck stood out in sharp relief, and with an audible crack, the plasteel casing on the datapad broke and thin fissures spider-webbed from underneath his right thumb.
Padmé swiftly retrieved it from her husband's vise grip and forced herself to focus on the newscaster's words. The screen now showed footage of Obi-Wan and Anakin landing at the Senatorial offices after "rescuing" Palpatine from General Grievous.
"…known as the Negotiator, Master Kenobi and The Hero With No Fear had worked together on multiple missions during the war, most recently averting the disastrous attempt by the Separatists to capture the Emperor. Anyone with information regarding Obi-Wan Kenobi must contact Imperial law enforcement immediately."
The picture cut to images of Padmé, in full Senatorial regalia, at various times during her political career. "In a statement issued by the Emperor, he pleads for Master Kenobi's surrender of Senator Amidala, calling her 'a shining light of reason and decency in the Senate' and 'the voice of morality – a true democrat and a noble representative of the people of Naboo and the Empire as a whole.' It is not known why Obi-Wan Kenobi singled out Senator Amidala as a target, but the Emperor assured our correspondents at a press conference this morning…"
And the distorted, grisly face filled the screen, shadowed by a thick cowl of purple velour.
Padmé involuntarily pressed her firstborn tightly against her body, as if to protect him from the image, and Anakin wrapped an arm around her shoulders. His cerulean eyes were ablaze under a lowered brow. "Senator Amidala was a well-recognized face to the Jedi – that was why she was taken. She is not a collaborator with the uprising and will not be accused of any misconduct." The yellow eyes seemed to burn through her skin and she shivered. Anakin's large hand rubbed soothingly along her upper arm. "It is my sincerest wish that she is returned to Coruscant and continues to serve her people and the Empire as a beacon of hope for a peaceful future."
Padmé could not listen anymore. Her fingers trembled as she deactivated the datapad and tossed the small device lightly onto the floor beside her hoverchair. Noiseless anxiety permeated the oblong area, and the twins began fidgeting in their blankets, sensing the tension in the air but unable to comprehend it with their undeveloped minds. Padmé stared into space bleakly, lowering her head to rest on her husband's shoulder, collecting strength from his solid, familiar warmth. Anakin continued to trace tiny circles along Padmé's arm from her elbow to the hollow beneath her ear, and rested his chin on the crown of her head. He was gazing in the direction of the far wall, its transparisteel view showcasing the asteroid field backlit by the yellow-orange glare of Polis Massa's sun.
Obi-Wan examined the young man's profile, choosing his next words carefully. Despite the gentle touch Anakin was using to comfort his wife and the natural ease with which he cradled their daughter to his chest – the planes of his face were chiseled at the edges, razor-sharp with anger, and his blue eyes mirrored the fiery gleam of the sun in their depths. Obi-Wan deliberated for a handful of seconds, and then said in a dull monotone, "There are clone troopers combing the galaxy for us as we speak. Their search will be completely random, but they will come upon us sooner or later – the Emperor is not one to forfeit."
"You see what he's doing," Padmé looked at the Jedi Master, dark eyes aflame, her voice slicing the air like a sharpened blade. "He's making me into a symbol – the most recognizable face in the galaxy, just as he had done with Anakin. Ordinary citizens throughout known space will be able to identify me. He will have the most comprehensive search party in the universe; he knows that I would not risk my child's safety on an uninhabited planet."
Obi-Wan caught the singular pronoun in her logical tirade, and one sand-colored eyebrow arched furtively. "Palpatine does not know that there are two of them," he remarked thoughtfully, almost to himself, and his eyes drifted to Anakin's for confirmation. His former apprentice acceded with the barest nod, his attention still distracted by some far-off sight.
"Obsessed with finding you, Darth Sidious is," Yoda stated grimly, fixing Padmé with his serious gaze. "In locating you – seizes control of Anakin's child, he does."
"His only alternative to secure an apprentice that would one day become as strong as me."
Anakin spoke for the first time after hearing the HoloNet report. The anger had drained out of him, and all that was left was desolation. He felt…empty – hollowed out like a dry husk. He pressed his face into Padmé's hair and inhaled the light fragrance while splinters of ice filled his stomach. His "well-rounded plan" had been rendered useless; Sidious was always one step ahead of him – lining up his pieces on the board to trap Anakin before he could even contemplate a single move. Even if he carried out his strategy of switching vessels and heading for a system beyond the Empire's borders, the possibility that Padmé would be spotted was too severe for him to consider. Then he would spend the rest of his children's lives moving them from one planet to another…fugitives from a malevolent creature who would not rest until they were found. He wanted so much more for Luke and Leia.
And he had made a promise to his angel: "You, and I, and the twins – are going to be a family. And whatever I have to do to atone for my crimes…I will do it, so that we will all be together. I promise."
Anakin stole a covert glance at Obi-Wan and Yoda from the corner of his eye. For all intents and purposes, he had the Jedi's cooperation – for now – and only at the expense of his children's protection. In that, their goals were compatible. He laid a soft kiss on the top of Padmé's head, pondering his next course of action. He was terrified of submitting once more to the authority and judgment of the two Masters; he wanted to remain in the safe, comforting bubble of limbo – blissfully ignorant of consequences and where his sole motivation was displaying the love that consumed him for the three beautiful souls nestled in his arms.
He started to open his mouth, the words on his tongue preparing to shatter the dream and bring reality crashing down upon him – when Padmé suddenly grew too still in his embrace. Her slender frame was completely motionless as a statue, save for the inaudible breathing that slowly lifted her breast.
Then something changed inside of her frozen thoughts.
Anakin sensed a swirling vortex gather within their bond, and like the swiftly rising waters of a flood, the tide of her thoughts pressed against his mind. He pulled away slightly, bending his face down to hers to see her expression. Padmé's eyes were unfocused, watching some anonymous event take place in her mind's eye, and an idea blossomed. He knew when her concentration returned to him, for although she kept her features smooth and impassive, the velvety brown irises of her eyes smoldered.
"What is it?" he whispered. The ghost of a sly grin crept across her rose-hued lips, and instead of answering, she straightened her posture and turned towards Yoda and Obi-Wan.
"We find ourselves in a grave situation. The Emperor has clones scouring the galaxy for Obi-Wan, every sentient being in the Empire will know my face before the day is done and feel that it is their patriotic duty to bring me home, and Palpatine intends to steal my child and turn him into a Sith. Is that correct?"
Obi-Wan nodded in confusion, but Yoda's brow quirked shrewdly. "My question is this: suppose Senator Amidala were to return to the capital, released by the elusive Master Kenobi to continue her work in the Senate. Would the search lessen?"
"No."
Padmé looked at Anakin with a wide, innocent stare as he hissed through clenched teeth, "If you think that I am going to let you go back to that place alone –"
"No, Ani…" She cupped his tense jaw in her palm, softly clarifying, "You misunderstood me. I have no intention of returning to Coruscant." Anakin's head tilted to the side, his forehead wrinkling as he struggled to interpret the inflection behind her placating reply. Keeping her hand upon her husband's cheek, Padmé peered over her shoulder at the Jedi…and in that instant Obi-Wan saw the young, blazing face of a child Queen, determined to single-handedly liberate her planet from invasion.
"I have an idea."