Chapter Twenty
Meetings and Partings
Early morning sunlight streamed through the tall windows of the Palace's main hall, creating ribbons of yellow light that separated the towering marble columns standing guard like faceless sentinels, silently telling Sola that she did not belong in their world. This world belonged to her sister – not to her.
"Don't allow yourself to feel intimidated. You know who you are; show everyone else that you know."
Sola heeded the reminder of Padmé's advice, spoken many years ago when the two of them had applied for positions in public service. Padmé had immediately been chosen as a Junior Representative in the Galactic Senate. Sola had been encouraged to pursue a more conventional apprenticeship. But there was never any friction between the sisters; both she and Padmé had taken the paths that their lives were meant to take, and neither of them had regretted it.
Until now.
Sola barely resisted the urge to smooth the front of her skirt for the umpteenth time as she followed a Palace servant to her scheduled meeting with the Queen. The plum and lilac fitted brocade jacket and floor-sweeping skirt had been a birthday gift from her sister two years ago. Sola had complained that while the outfit was unbelievably gorgeous, she had no reason to wear such an elegant garment. Now she wondered if it was nice enough for an audience with Naboo's ruler.
Padmé had commented that Queen Apailana was fair and even-minded, and had said with a slight smile that their few conversations led her to believe that the thirteen-year old monarch was a lot like she had been during her reign as Queen. It was obvious to Sola that Apailana held her little sister in high esteem, as she had reappointed Padmé as Naboo's Senator shortly after her own election. She only hoped that the Queen had more to offer as an explanation for Padmé's inexplicable absence from the capital.
Their footsteps drummed out a staccato rhythm that echoed ominously throughout the cavernous halls, and Sola's wide blue eyes started to roam, looking around with a muted sense of awe, though she had visited the Palace numerous times in the past. The architecture was elegantly majestic without seeming overbearing, and every room was meticulously cared for, as it was public belief that Theed Palace belonged to the people of Naboo – not to their elected rulers and dignitaries.
They passed the Royal Portrait Gallery in the East Hall – a common stop for tourists and young students in Primary – and Sola abruptly halted, staring at the portrait to the right of the doorway.
From Naboo's earliest days of established government, each king or queen had their image immortalized by the most gifted painter in the capital, rather than recording a simple holo-image. Tradition was the lifeblood of Nubian hierarchy, and there was something…special about glimpsing an oil-and-canvas representation of celebrated figureheads from ages past.
The painting that had caught Sola's eye was of a young Queen on the threshold of womanhood, garbed in flowing crimson robes embroidered with gold thread and trimmed with glossy brown fur. Upon her head was set an elaborate curved headdress, her chestnut hair smoothed into a large half-circle and glistening in the light. An enormous red gem sparkled over her white-powdered forehead, the twin dots on her cheeks and scarlet Scar of Remembrance splitting her full lower lip standing out in sharp relief on her youthful face. And her eyes, though they were only two-dimensional, hinted of intelligence and mischief in their shining dark brown irises. Her chin was tilted slightly, almost imperiously, while the barest suggestion of a smile played along the corners of her mouth.
Sola was unaware as her feet carried her towards the painting, so transfixed by the young woman residing within the framed artwork that she did not stop until she was less than a meter away. The surrounding paintings seemed to stare haughtily down at her from their lofty positions on the rounded wall, but this Queen appeared to welcome Sola with her eyes; indeed, she was half-inclined to believe that at any moment the woman would open her mouth and speak in greeting.
"It is quite striking, isn't it?"
Sola whirled, gasping in surprise. A broad, white-haired man was standing only a dozen steps to the left side, his bearded face turned not towards Sola, but to the painting on the wall. After her startled expression began to fade, recognition brightened in her wide-eyed stare and she curtseyed hastily – an automatic reaction hailing from her days of studying Naboo politics. "Governor Bibble," Sola breathed.
His light green eyes did not waver from the painted Queen. He took a step closer. "The artist finished this painting the morning of the Trade Federation invasion. He said that it was one of his most magnificent pieces." He glanced at Sola from the corner of his eye. "The resemblance between you two is obvious – for those who know to look for it." Governor Sio Bibble of Naboo turned to fully face her, a slight smile on his weathered face as he reached for her hand, shaking it warmly. "It is a distinct pleasure to see you again, Milady Naberrie."
"It is good to see you again as well, Your Honor," Sola returned, effectively masking her astonishment. She had not spoken to the Governor in over a decade, and even then it had been during a somewhat bland state dinner Padmé had invited her and Darred to attend towards the end of her second term as Queen.
Bibble's gaze drifted back to the painting, sobering considerably. "I assume that is why you are here; to appeal to Her Majesty for any information on your sister's whereabouts."
Sola withdrew her hand from his with a sigh, glancing sidelong at the portrait as well. "I'm afraid so, Your Honor. My entire family is deeply worried, as I'm sure you can understand."
"Of course, of course," he murmured in a low voice, nodding sadly. "It also seems that Senator Amidala's absence from the Senate is creating quite a tangled predicament on Coruscant. Representative Binks has his hands full, and he is ill equipped to deal with so many difficult issues. I have just come from a council meeting to determine if we should appoint a temporary envoy to Amidala's seat – one that would serve Naboo's people nearly as well as their elected delegate."
"What has happened?" Sola asked before she could consider the impertinence. She opened her mouth to apologize, but Governor Bibble began speaking.
"Emperor Palpatine has introduced a new mandate to the constitution: a Civil Service Amendment." It was clear from the barely concealed disgust in Bibble's tone that he, like many citizens of Naboo, did not agree with their former compatriot's decisions. "Any system, planet, country, city, village, home or person found to be harboring Jedi fugitives will be regarded as a criminal, and charged with high treason."
Sola's fingers flew to her mouth, stifling her shocked rush of air. High treason. Even on a tolerant planet like Naboo, the crime of high treason was punishable by immediate execution – provided that there was evidence and witnesses to confirm such an act. She doubted that the new Imperial regime would require even that before sending a suspected traitor to their death.
Bibble continued bleakly, "It is therefore the duty of all Imperial citizens to report any suspicious activity in their cities or other various dwelling places. No one is above question – 'to keep us equal', Palpatine said."
"It's all for our benefit, I'm sure." Sola's hand balled into a tight fist at her side, and she fought to keep her body from shaking with rage. "To promote the stability of our safe and secure society, no doubt." She huffed out a short puff of breath. "This cannot be allowed to continue, Governor. Someone has to act. Someone has to do something before the whole galaxy falls apart at the seams." Blue eyes shooting sparks, Sola blinked in confusion when she saw the satisfied gleam in Bibble's pale, jade-colored gaze.
Seeing her puzzlement, he merely commented, "You remind me so much of your sister. I imagine that she would have said something very similar in response to such dire news."
The sound of a clearing throat caused them both to look to the Gallery's arched entry. Sola flushed with embarrassment as she recognized the Palace servant who was supposed to be guiding her to her audience with Queen Apailana. Governor Bibble seemed unfazed. He took Sola's hand again, patting it lightly with the other as he remarked quietly, "I sincerely hope, for the ease of mind of your family, and for Naboo's sake, that Senator Amidala is found soon. Do not lose heart." He released her hand, backing away, and inclined his head in farewell. "Milady Naberrie."
"Your Honor." As the governor departed, Sola strode swiftly to the entryway, her cheeks feeling hot as she approached the servant. "Forgive me," she stammered, "I was…distracted by the painting of –"
"It is of no consequence, Milady Naberrie," the servant interrupted. "The Queen is not yet finished with an important conference, and has requested to meet with you in her private salon." He gestured sideways, and Sola suddenly noticed the petite, dark-haired woman standing silently at his elbow, dressed in a thin, silken indigo hooded cloak, embossed with the Royal Crest. A handmaiden, she realized. "Keialé will take you there."
"Please follow me, Milady," Keialé said in a soft, musical voice. She spun on heel and headed for the wide, sweeping staircase directly behind her, her cloak rippling like water around her slender form.
Sola trotted after the handmaiden, intent on not being left behind this time while telling herself repeatedly to not behave like a nervous twit in Apailana's presence.
She and Keialé walked in silence, turning this way and that until Sola felt thoroughly lost. She wondered fleetingly if she was supposed to find her own way out after the meeting was over; if so, she would be wandering the Palace halls for the rest of her natural life.
Finally, the young handmaiden pushed opened a large gilded door at the end of an endless hallway, motioning Sola inside. She looked around with mild curiosity – which quickly morphed into amazement. The salon was roughly oblong in shape, and one entire wall seemed to be made of nothing but highly polished transparisteel, exposing the blue-green currents of the waterfall that was directly in front of them.
Sola stared at the strange view with wide eyes; it was almost like being underwater. The bright morning sunlight was dimmed to a mellow blue glow by the flowing water, and the furniture arranged in the space by the transparisteel mimicked the aquatic feel of the room.
"Her Majesty will be with you shortly," Keialé stated, and vanished behind another gilded door, leaving Sola completely alone.
Working hard to quell the butterflies fluttering madly in her stomach, Sola made her way to one of the padded chairs and sat down on the very edge of the plush cushion. As her gaze drifted about the salon, she remembered that Apailana was from a village near the coastal city of Kaadara, residing on a small peninsula surrounded by ocean. This salon must have been redesigned after Apailana's election as Queen to emulate the familiarity of her home.
Sola was suddenly struck with the realization that this room must be the Queen's most private sanctuary inside the Palace. She did not know whether or not to take that as a good sign, but perhaps that was just her cynicism rearing its ugly head within her thoughts. Surely Apailana had some news about Padmé if she had bid a handmaiden to lead Sola to this room for their meeting.
The double doors on the far side of the salon, directly in Sola's line of sight, slowly opened, revealing a pair of handmaidens wearing the same indigo cloaks that Keialé had on. Following after them was Queen Apailana herself, with two more handmaidens trailing behind.
Sola instantly scrambled to her feet, curtseying deeply. She kept her head lowered respectfully, listening to the soft clicks as the doors were closed, the gentle swish of fabric on the carpeted floor – and then a poised, richly accented feminine voice said, "You may rise."
Sola gracefully ascended from her bow, and found herself face to face with the ruler of her planet, who was no more than thirteen standard years old.
Apailana's round face was surprisingly childlike, dominated by a pair of wide, deep brown eyes that, despite her young age, communicated a well-developed intelligence. Blue-green highlights from the waterfall view traced the contours of the Queen's composed expression, and glittered upon the trio of shimmering sapphires that hung like teardrops on her forehead. An intricate headdress that seemed to be comprised of thin chains of silver and clusters of seashells wove around her elaborately styled dark hair. The gown Apailana wore consisted of several shades of blue, from deepest cobalt to pale turquoise, with a pleated undergown that shone iridescent in the light. From the scalloped edges of the sleeves to the overall flowing appearance of the fabric, the entire ensemble gave off the distinct impression that the sea itself had clothed the Queen.
Apailana clasped her hands together, looking steadily up at Sola. Her powdered face revealed none of her thoughts as she stated, "Thank you for your patience, Milady Naberrie. I am afraid that you have come to the Palace at a rather stressful time. We have very little time before I must resume my other duties, but I hope that I can set your mind at ease. Please, sit."
As was protocol, Sola waited until the Queen was seated before sitting down – and as soon as she was settled, Apailana spoke again. "Since we are at the mercy of the clock, I think that we should dispense with pleasantries and address the heart of the issue immediately." She leaned forward just slightly, dark eyes studying Sola intently. "We both know that you are not here to speak with me about educational clauses."
Sola blinked, taken aback, though she really should not have been surprised. Recovering, she replied quietly, "No, Your Majesty, I am not. The reason behind my request for this audience is far more personal in nature." Apailana nodded once, encouraging Sola to continue. Sola's blue eyes darted to the silent figures standing guard to the left and right of the Queen, uncertainty reflected on her features.
Apailana took notice. "My handmaidens are privy to my most vital secrets, Milady; this conversation and all it pertains to will not leave this room."
They stared at one another for a moment, unmoving save for the occasional lowering of eyelids, until Sola took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. She replied carefully, considering each word before it left her mouth in a way that she had not since leaving the public service venue years ago, "My reason for meeting with you, Your Majesty, is the hope that you can tell me what has kept my entire family awake for many nights – the hope that you have any information on the disappearance of my sister."
Apailana's wide brown eyes slid sideways to the handmaiden on her immediate right. At this unspoken signal, the handmaiden turned in one fluid motion and walked towards a small table on the opposite side of the salon. Sola watched her in puzzlement, and then looked back at the Queen when she remarked, "The issue you speak of has weighed heavily on my thoughts as of late, as well. I am prepared to share with you all the information I have in regard to Senator Amidala's current whereabouts, but…" The young monarch's placid expression cracked just visibly, revealing a hint of sorrow. "I doubt whether it will be enough to grant your family a more restful night."
The handmaiden returned, and at Apailana's gesture, handed Sola a small hand-held transceiver. "What you are about to see is privileged content, Milady Naberrie. I trust that you understand the severity of the galaxy's current circumstance." She waited until Sola nodded her agreement, and then resumed explaining, "This is the last message I received from Senator Amidala. It was sent shortly after the emergency Senate session during which Palpatine instated the Empire, so it is over a week old."
She fell silent, and Sola thumbed a tiny button on the rear of the transceiver. The viewscreen flickered to life – and her sister's face appeared. A lump of emotion swelled inside the older sibling's throat. Padmé's heart-shaped, delicately featured face was pale and drawn, and her normally sparkling brown eyes were filled with profound grief. She looked positively heartbroken.
"Your Majesty," Padmé began, an overhead light source casting a brilliant sheen on the circular, wing-like headpiece sitting atop her coiffed dark hair, "What we have all greatly feared since this war started has finally come to pass. The Republic will be reorganized into the Galactic Empire, with Palpatine as Emperor for life."
"How could this happen?" A voice, Apailana's, echoed more loudly than Padmé's.
"We let it happen, Your Majesty." Padmé looked out from the viewscreen sadly, and then a hard, mirthless half-smile tilted her mouth. "The Senators agreed. They applauded him, Your Majesty – cheering as one man single-handedly destroyed freedom in our galaxy." She paused a moment, struggling to compose herself, and continued. "Palpatine also told the Senate that the war is over; the Separatists have surrendered. Peace is now a reality." Sola could easily hear the biting derision in her sister's tone as she said those words.
"Then the GAR is to be disbanded?" Apailana asked – but from the resigned inflection of her question, she already knew the answer.
"The clones are to act as a peacekeeping force in the Empire, to protect our citizens from any outside or internal threat."
"And…the Jedi?"
Sola watched as Padmé's eyes flooded with tears. She had never seen her sister react so strongly to any news when she was in the political arena. "The Jedi have been declared enemies of the state and are to be apprehended on sight. Clone troopers have been granted the power to use lethal force if any member of the Order refuses to surrender. The Temple here on Coruscant has been burning since the early morning hours before dawn." A droplet of moisture trickled from the corner of her eye. "All the Jedi that were inside are dead, and others spread out across the galaxy have been killed as well."
Queen Apailana remarked gravely, "This is a dark day, indeed."
There was silence for a minute or so; Padmé used her forefinger to wipe away the tear from her cheek, her shoulders rising and falling with a shuddering breath. Apailana said, "Perhaps it would be best if you took a few days to recuperate, Senator Amidala; I know that you had friends among the Jedi. You have my deepest sympathies."
The pale shadow of a smile crossed Padmé's lips. "Thank you, Your Majesty…but I would like instead, with your permission, to take the leave of absence that we spoke of at our last meeting. Immediately."
"But, Senator – " Clearly, the Queen was stunned by her request. "Surely you are aware that at such a time as this, when the foundation of our system of government is so unstable, that Naboo needs a strong, wise representative like yourself in the Senate."
Padmé was quietly adamant. "I understand the gravity of the situation, Your Majesty. But I have served my people for half of my life – and now it is time for me to step aside, temporarily. Representative Binks and my staff are more than capable of seeing to Naboo's needs while you are selecting an interim delegate to serve in my absence." Her expression changed, becoming less professional, and fully displayed the sorrow and heartbreak she felt. "Please, Your Majesty…please do this for me."
Apailana sighed. "Of course, Padmé – I cannot refuse the request of a woman with your history of so diligently serving our people. I only ask that you be careful: this is a dangerous time for someone like you. Wherever it is that you are going, please, for my sake, take a few security personnel with you."
"I appreciate your concern, Your Majesty, and I will do all I can to honor it – but I have no need for more security where I am going. I swear to you: I will be perfectly safe."
"Very well," Apailana conceded, but she did not sound entirely convinced. "I suppose I cannot persuade you to reconsider some of your terms in regard to our agreement?"
Padmé smiled, a genuine smile that lit up her face, though her eyes remained dull. "I'm afraid not."
"Then… I, Queen Apailana of the Naboo, hereby release you from your office as Galactic Senator at your request, and grant you a sanctioned leave of absence," Apailana enunciated each syllable firmly, recognizing that it was a formal, binding contract between her, ruler of Naboo, and a stalwart ambassador for her people. It could not be recanted.
Padmé inclined her head. "I am deeply grateful, Your Majesty. Thank you."
"Be well, Senator Amidala."
And the screen turned black.
Sola's mind was spinning, trying to process what she had just learned. A leave of absence? For Padmé? Not in a million years would she have guessed that her obsessively devoted little sister would request a leave of absence from her position in the Senate. Padmé constantly saw herself as the balance point between reason and madness within the circles of galactic politics; what could possibly have been her motivation for putting aside the duty that had defined most of her adult life? And why would she not tell their parents that she was taking some time off? They would be thrilled to have her home. Unless…
Unless she did not want them to know.
It was true that Padmé had become more distant and secretive since the war began, but most especially in the past five or six months. When she didn't come for a visit on National Peace Day, celebrating the end of the Trade Federation occupation and the amity between humans and Gungans on Naboo, both their mother and father had reached their limit.
Jobal had transmitted a call to Padmé on Coruscant, only to be told by one of her handmaidens that she was currently "indisposed" and would return the call later. It had taken much negotiating on Padmé's part to cool their mother down after that incident. But they still did not see her except as a holo-image. It was almost like – like Padmé did not want to be seen, like she was hiding something – but Sola did not have a clue what it was. What could be so dangerous that you had to hide it from your family?
She had to learn what she could about this so-called "agreement" between Apailana and her sister. "May I ask…what agreement were you and Padmé referring to?" Sola asked hesitantly.
To her utter bemusement, Queen Apailana smiled. The expression made her look less like a queen and more like a thirteen-year old girl, and spoke of Apailana's genuine caring for Padmé. "Ah, yes…our agreement. I must say, it was one of the strangest negotiations I have had in all of my experiences in diplomacy – and it was quite interesting to see Senator Amidala put all of her skills into one conversation." She shifted a little in her seat, and sent another wordless signal – this time to the handmaiden on her left. Sola did not bother to follow the girl's movement, keeping her attention fixed on the Queen.
"In summary, your sister came to the Palace about six months ago and asked to speak with me in private. She then proceeded to inform me that she would like to have a leave of absence, with conditions to be met on both our parts to guarantee Naboo's stability and her own peace of mind. On my part, I was asked to keep the knowledge of her leave-taking classified, not assign to her a security detail of any kind, and make no inquiries into her location. On her part, she would finish several critical orders of business before her departure, give me an excellent recommendation for an interim Senator, and leave an emergency channel open through her personal astromech droid if I had need of her." Apailana shook her head in mild amazement, the sapphire drops glittering on her forehead. "I admit the whole idea was highly unusual and a bit unorthodox – but Naboo owes a debt to Padmé Amidala that can never truly be repaid. In light of this, her terms were amenable to me, even though the time she requested caused me to have a moment of considerable alarm." She pierced Sola's gaze with her own. "She wanted no less than twenty-six weeks."
"Twenty-six weeks?" Sola blurted out, unable to contain her shocked disbelief. That was over six months of time away from her chosen career, a career that she loved and took very seriously. What in the world could have possessed Padmé to ask for –?
"I decided to grant her the time she requested, as well as an additional six months," Apailana interrupted Sola's stunned train of thought, watching the other woman's reaction carefully.
The Queen was able to tell the moment her last words finally sank in. Sola blinked at her, baffled. "You gave her an entire year off? And she took it?" Staring at Apailana open-mouthed, she did not notice when the handmaiden returned carrying a silver tray laden with a glass carafe of plum wine and two goblets.
"She was quite glad when I made the offer," Apailana replied with a nod, "and accepted immediately." The handmaiden handed her a goblet half-full of the rich wine, and she took a dainty sip. "I understand your astonishment; I myself was surprised by the Senator's consent to remove herself from the political arena for such a lengthy period. Although, I am a little concerned by your reaction; surely she told you and your parents that she was taking a leave of absence from the Senate?"
"No…" Sola shook her head, gazing blankly at the space above the Queen's shoulder. "No, she didn't tell us anything."
Apailana's powdered forehead crinkled just visibly, her dark eyes troubled. "Hmm…" She sipped at the goblet cradled elegantly in her small hands, and her facial expression smoothed back out into the cool, aloof porcelain mask associated with a Nubian Queen's persona. "Perhaps the Senator meant to surprise you and your family with the news of her break from the Senate," she suggested.
"Perhaps." Sola accepted a goblet from the handmaiden but did not drink, only gazed into the deep violet-colored liquid, studying her reflection on its dark surface. "Do you believe it is possible," Sola began slowly, speaking aloud more for her own benefit than for the Queen's, "that in light of all the stipulations Padmé required for your agreement…that she has simply vanished to escape the problems on Coruscant?" She looked up, her blue eyes pleading and morose. "Do you believe that she has since departed on her leave of absence and is unaware of the Emperor's accusation against Master Kenobi? Or, did the Jedi abduct her en-route and demanded that she take him with her for his own safety?"
Apailana peered at Sola over the rim of her goblet, scrutinizing the older woman, debating over her reply. A few seconds ticked by – then Apailana set down her goblet on a small table beside her chair, and folded her hands together upon her lap. "The real question that you should ask, Milady Naberrie, is whose word do I trust more: Palpatine's, or Padmé's?" In the pause that followed, the Queen heard the Senator's sister inhale a sharp, quiet breath – along with two of her handmaidens. Apailana was conscious of the fact that such a bold statement could very well have her deposed from the throne, but it was a chance she was willing to take. Fear may keep the general populace of the galaxy in check, but change could be set in motion by one person who did not let fear control their actions.
"There are two plausible scenarios in my mind," she went on quietly, her tone deliberate and thoughtful. "One, that Senator Amidala left the capital in the utmost secrecy so as not to give away her location while she enjoys her leave of absence, and is therefore unaware or unable to receive current news feeds. And two: that Master Kenobi did indeed contact her, asking for safe passage – and as a friend, Padmé agreed to let him accompany her."
"The Jedi would not have taken her as a captive," Sola agreed rapidly, the words erupting from her mouth as she leaned forward eagerly. "My mother and I agree on that point."
"As do I," Apailana concurred. "Though at this critical time, it is prudent for us all that we carefully guard our opinions from the watchful eyes of those who do not share our beliefs." Sola nodded in understanding; basically, the Queen was warning her, as Darred had two days ago at her parent's home, to not speak out against the Empire or its fanatical leader. "In regard to your sister – I think it best that you and your family remain patient. When Senator Amidala is ready, or deems it safe to open communications, she will contact you. She always said that family was the only justifiable reason she could find for someone to lay aside their causes in order to preserve something that is irreplaceable."
A soft chord issued from somewhere to the right, and one of the handmaidens reached into the folds of her cloak, extracting a tiny comlink. She thumbed it on, listening for a moment, and then she leaned over Apailana, whispering in her ear. The exchange was lost on Sola; she was mulling over the Queen's last words, words that Padmé had spoken about the importance of family. For some reason that she could not name, the phrase buried itself inside Sola's mind –sparking a curious sensation at the edge of thought, like there was some connection between it and her sister's recent behavior…
She jerked slightly when Apailana moved to stand. Sola scrambled upright, nearly upsetting her goblet in the process. The Queen appeared not to notice as she announced, "I regret that we must close our discussion; I have a most urgent appointment that cannot wait." With an unusual display of camaraderie for a royal representative, Queen Apailana approached Sola and took her hands, gazing up at her with a small smile. "I sincerely hope that your fears have been alleviated, Milady Naberrie. I pray that you will hear from your sister very soon."
"Thank you, Your Majesty," Sola replied, "for your kindness and your time." She slid her hands from the Queen's and bowed once more.
"Keialé will escort you to the Main Hall. Be well, Milady Naberrie." There was a swish of fabric as Apailana spun around gracefully and glided towards the door, handmaidens silently following – all but one.
Keialé stood motionless while the Queen departed the salon, waiting until the door was closed before addressing Sola. "Shall we go, Milady?" she asked softly.
Sola followed the young handmaiden to the same door from which she had entered, and kept the girl's dark-cloaked form in sight as they traveled through the long Palace halls. Her thoughts were swirling like a whirlpool within her skull. She honestly did not know what to expect when she had requested to speak with the Queen – but clearly it had not been this. While she now had more questions than answers, and no other hints about her sister's disappearance, Sola knew that there were people in positions of leadership – on her own homeworld and around the galaxy – that were not sitting idly by and allowing the Empire to extinguish one thousand years of democracy. And that gave her hope.
But she also realized, from the steady, throbbing ache in her chest, that she desperately wanted to talk to Padmé. She missed her little sister terribly – they all did. Sola only hoped that Padmé would find a way to send a message in time for Pooja's birthday; her youngest child would be absolutely crushed if her beloved Aunt Padmé forgot to wish her a happy birthday. You have three days, Padmé, she mentally cautioned. Please don't forget. Please find a way to contact us.
She glanced to the side as she and Keialé passed by the Portrait Gallery, but did not stop, though her eyes immediately found the painting of her sister on the far wall until it vanished from view.
She could still feel Padmé's painted, mysteriously soulful eyes on her, assuring her that everything would be all right and to not lose hope, all the way to the Palace's main gate.
--
Unbeknownst to Sola, another pair of eyes watched her depart the Palace – eyes that were very much alive and vigilant. From the far-reaching shadows of one colossal marble pillar, this pair of eyes flashed a steely-grey, like a lightning bolt illuminating a stormy sky as they observed the woman's exit.
He knew that he was risking much by sneaking around this part of the Palace; his safety was at stake, as was the safety of his companions, the Queen of Naboo and her staff, and the people of Naboo… But he had wanted to see her. One of the others had heard that she was the older sister of Naboo's Senator, and that had been enough to ignite his curiosity.
A flicker of insight skittered across his mind; it was time. He backed slowly away, into deeper shadows, and followed the path from which he had come, lost in thought.
--
It was an ear-splitting shriek of utter agony.
The tiny body enveloped by the protective circle of his arms flinched in response, and he felt the sudden urge to take action – do something, anything, that would take away the pain from that piercing wail filling his eardrums.
But Anakin remained rooted in place, watching with wide, anguished blue eyes as the needle swiftly extracted a vial full of crimson blood, its tip thrust into the soft ivory skin, now marred by its sharp, glittering barb. His arms tightened once more around the precious treasure tucked into his chest, wishing again for the hundredth time that he could spare them from this torture, that he had the power to shield them from the pain.
The needle withdrew, but the wails continued unabated, coating the tense atmosphere of the room with dense layers of anger, betrayal, and pain. A low whimper issued from the small form he carried, and Anakin attempted to avert another disaster by gently rocking back and forth on his heels as a means of comfort. Judging from the way that the little limbs trapped in wrapped blankets began to thrash about, he was not having much success.
Then, a new voice entered the disharmony of the shrieking. It was soft, calm, and soothing. Like a warm breeze on a summer evening, the fragrance of wildflowers in a sunlit meadow – the voice sang out love and reassurance in a melody that wove around each of them with gentle warmth.
The writhing motion against his arms slowly ceased, as did the endless screeching. The voice faded, its song drawing to a close, and Anakin released a huge gust of air from his previously constricted lungs.
Padmé glanced up at him from her place beside the exam table, wearing that smile he had since dubbed the "Mom Smile." All she had to do was turn that soft, open expression on either of the twins and they became instantly calm and pliant, studying her with their incredibly perceptive eyes.
Luke and Leia were having their final check-up at the Polis Massa MedCenter before they departed for Naboo, and it was definitely a traumatic experience – for the twins, and for their father. Padmé had assured Anakin at the beginning of the exam that it was a necessary step in the twins' development, and that it had to continue no matter how much either of them screamed. Padmé had been able to keep their son relatively quiet throughout his examination, but Leia was another story. Anakin would swear that based on this event alone, it was obvious that their daughter had inherited his dislike of medical instruments, especially the ones that were sharp and pointy.
"You may pick her up now, Milady," MD-02 said in its customary, unruffled feminine tone. Carrying the vial of Leia's blood, the med droid floated over to a small alcove in the left corner of the exam room, sliding the vial into a receptacle on the computer console.
Padmé immediately swept Leia into her arms, cooing softly at the red-faced, grumbling infant. "There's my little girl…my brave little princess," she crooned, brushing the tears from their daughter's flushed cheeks. She cradled Leia against her shoulder so that the familiar, steady rhythm of her heartbeat would calm the distraught newborn. In a matter of moments, the youngest Skywalker had completely quieted, resting securely in her mother's embrace.
Watching the two women in his life from his spot against the opposite wall, Anakin deemed that it was safe to approach and crept forward cautiously, glancing down every so often at his son. Luke merely stared up at his father with large crystalline blue eyes, hardly even moving within the warm confines of his blankets.
The new parents had determined only a day after the twins' birth that the Force, while it flowed powerfully in each child, it also had forged a strong connection between the twins – a connection that had grown even as they grew together within Padmé's womb. When Luke was restless, fretting in the crib or in Padmé's arms across the room, Leia became so as well. When Leia grew upset, even before she opened her tiny mouth to use her highly developed vocal chords, her brother seemed to sense it – and both infants would begin wailing almost simultaneously. Anakin and Padmé would have to check each twin for whatever had caused them to cry, and usually only one of them had a legitimate reason for demanding attention.
Distance seemed to be the only factor that could weaken the link between Luke and Leia, but Anakin was convinced that it would not work forever. As the twins matured, their strength in the Force would increase exponentially, thus enhancing their emotional connection.
He slowly circled around the exam table to stand beside his wife. As he neared, Leia's small body twitched as she struggled to lift her head from Padmé's shoulder. Her mother shifted sideways so that she could see the male members of their family. "See? There's Luke and Daddy," Padmé murmured to the infant, pressing her lips lightly on the feather-soft brown locks. Leia settled back into the curve of her shoulder, apparently satisfied, and Padmé looked up at Anakin with sparkling dark eyes, a faint smile playing along the edges of her mouth. Besides having to physically accommodate the needs of two newborn babies, she was also experiencing a crash course in dealing with Force Sensitive children. She had expected that any offspring she and Anakin produced would have the potential to use the Force – but expectation and actuality were two very different circumstances.
At least she had Ani to help. Even though he could no longer tap into the limitless power generated by all life, Anakin was able to interpret the outward signs when Luke or Leia were using their innate talent. It also helped immensely to have another pair of hands whenever both twins decided to make their needs known as loudly as possible.
Yet more than anything else, he was there for the twins because he wanted to be a part of their lives – to form a place in their hearts that could never be occupied by anyone other than him.
"The blood analysis is complete," MD-02 announced from the alcove. Padmé turned and walked over, absently stroking Leia's back as the little girl babbled nonsensically into her shoulder. Anakin followed in silence, his eyes alert for the slightest change in his wife's gait. She had not been checked out yet by the med droids – and though she insisted to him, her fiery stare burning into his, that she was perfectly fine – Anakin refused to let his guard down until she was declared healthy. He stopped beside her, and she instinctively leaned into his muscular frame though her gaze was fixed on the console's viewscreen.
Shifting Luke's tiny body into a firm, one-handed grip, Anakin wrapped his arm around her waist, his fingers gently caressing her side. With the one-week deadline to his departure looming on the horizon like a stalking beast, Anakin would not let any opportunity to touch his wife fall by the wayside.
He quickly banished the thought from his mind before Padmé could pick up on the mournful currents flowing through the deep places in his heart. He had to tell her, and soon…but he did not want the news of his absence to ruin their time together on Naboo. He wanted to remember those few precious days with his new family with unfettered joy – to recall them in his loneliest moments and study them like unearthed gems, twinkling in a rainbow of brilliant colors.
Two days, he told himself fervently. I'll tell her two days after we land on Naboo. Then he returned his attention to the med droid as MD-02 studied the readout on the viewscreen and stated, "The analysis indicates that Leia is a very healthy newborn baby. There are no visible genetic markers that point to any future potential diseases or developmental problems, all of her counts are in the normal range, same as her twin, and reflex and growth tests all indicate that she is progressing nicely."
Padmé's chest rose and fell in a quiet sigh of relief. While she truthfully had no doubts about Luke or Leia's health, it was a great comfort to see tangible confirmation that their little stars were well and safe.
Glancing over the chart projected upon the viewscreen, she noticed one column that MD-02 had not addressed during its explanation. "What about this readout?" she asked, pointing at the screen.
"That is the midichlorian test count."
Padmé's eyes flew to Anakin's, widened by surprise. He gazed down at her with an indefinable expression, though she detected the barest hint of curiosity flickering in his bright blue irises. Her gaze flitted back to the med droid when MD-02 remarked, "Masters Yoda and Kenobi requested that the midichlorian count be permanently deleted from each infant's health chart as a precaution, should our data become compromised by a security breach." Anakin nodded in understanding; if the information was never entered into the system, then even the most skilled computer slicer in the galaxy could not trace any previously deleted data back to its original point of entry. "If you would like, Milady," MD-02 suggested, "I can verbally relay to you each twin's count for your personal records."
Padmé shrugged her shoulder, the one pressed against his chest, and glanced up at him questioningly. He shrugged as well – Luke and Leia's midichlorian count did not really matter to him, he already knew that it would be incredibly high since they were his children. But he had to admit, even if it was just to himself, he was a bit curious to see just how high those counts were.
"It's up to you," he told Padmé softly, his low voice reverberating with sincerity. If she truly wished to know, then it was fine with him. If she did not – that was all right, too.
One shaped eyebrow arched slightly over a dark eye as she studied his face, and a faint grin curved her lips. She knew that he was interested in those counts, whether he would own up to it or not, and the slight smirk on her face informed him that she saw right through his feigned indifference. Still watching him with her unwavering stare, Padmé said, "I would like to hear their midichlorian counts, please."
"One moment." MD-02 processed the information on the screen and then replied, "The midichlorian count for Leia Skywalker: twenty-thousand, fifty-two per cell."
Anakin jerked, his expression awash in shocked disbelief. A count that high was extraordinary, unbelievable. Maybe he had just heard MD-02 wrong. He leaned forward, squinting slightly at the viewscreen, peering at the numbers displayed on the bottom of the chart. He blinked, and blinked again, almost certain that he was seeing things. 20,052 – it was there, plain as day. Their three-day old daughter had a midichlorian count that exceeded any Jedi's, even Master Yoda's. Of course, Anakin's own count had blasted off the cap of the Jedi Temple's records when he was accepted for training fifteen years ago. The concentration of the microscopic life forms residing in his cells was so dense that the medical equipment had only given an estimation, which was approximately twenty-two to twenty-five thousand per cell.
Obi-Wan's jaw had nearly hit the floor as he stood beside his ten-year old Padawan in the Temple's MedCenter, his eyes so large that they looked like blue-grey saucers, his stare darting from Anakin to the med droid and back again.
As MD-02 typed on the console's keypad, calling up Luke's health chart, Anakin glanced over at Padmé. His wife seemed perfectly at ease as she shifted their daughter to her other shoulder, humming a little when Leia groaned at being moved from her comfortable position. She did not act surprised at all over their youngest child's absurdly high midichlorian count – but perhaps she was keeping it inside so as not to alarm him or affect the twins.
Focusing inwardly, Anakin touched the bond linking his soul to Padmé, traveling along the threads to catch a telltale flash of emotion that would hint at her true disposition. Strangely, all he could sense was a mixture of amusement and pride radiating like the gentle heat of a morning sunrise from her psyche. He was about to ask her – but the med droid stilled his tongue as it pronounced, "The midichlorian count for Luke Skywalker: twenty thousand, one hundred and twelve."
Anakin looked at the screen, checking the numbers exactly as he had done with Leia – and as with her, it was there on the chart – 20,112. Technically, because there was a difference of 60 between their counts, Luke was the stronger of the twins as far as Force Sensitivity. But the counts meant nothing in the long run, and the new father decided then and there that neither he or Padmé would tell the twins about their midichlorian counts; he did not want it to become a source of competition for Luke and Leia, and ultimately, how many midichlorians lived in their cells had no standing in what kind of Force user each of them would grow up to be.
But it was clear to Anakin that with such skyrocketing counts, his children would need some instruction in the proper use of their powers – it would be too dangerous to leave such incredible strength untamed.
"Satisfied?" Padmé nudged him with her hip, smirking teasingly.
Anakin withdrew from his musing about the future and glared mock-seriously at his wife. "You're the one who asked for the numbers; it didn't matter to me."
She snorted. "I know you better than that, Ani. And I know that you know that I know you better than that. You just didn't want to admit that you were curious about their counts."
He ignored her, but she noticed the small grin he had failed to conceal as he brushed past her to stand directly behind MD-02, observing as the med droid skillfully deleted all traces of the twins' test results from the Polis Massa database after copying the information to a portable datapad for them to take to Naboo.
"Here you are, Jedi Skywalker," MD-02 handed Anakin the datapad containing Luke and Leia's health charts and birth records. "When you take the twins to their next exam, this datapad will have the necessary information required by another MedCenter's medical personnel." Then, the med droid turned towards Padmé. "It is your turn now, Milady. Administrator Tuun is on his way to conduct your examination; your husband requested him as your physician earlier today."
Anakin bit his lower lip, barely resisting the urge to backhand the med droid as Padmé fixed him with a stern, admonishing glare. He managed to smile at her sheepishly, but when she just continued to glare, he quickly strode over to the floating bassinet that was used to transport the twins around the MedCenter and placed Luke inside. He kissed his son's forehead, whispering lovingly, "Good job, little Jedi." As he straightened, the exam room's door slid open, and Administrator Tuun entered.
"How are you feeling today, Milady?" he inquired congenially.
Padmé turned towards the approaching Polis Massan, smiling as she replied, "I'm very well." Her gaze flicked sidelong to her husband, and she added pointedly, "Thank you for asking."
"I am pleased to hear that. If you would lay down on the exam table, we can get started." As Tuun began activating the body scan from the console, Padmé handed Leia over to Anakin and climbed onto the table, stretching out on her back. Anakin laid their daughter in the bassinet beside her brother, depositing a soft kiss on her forehead as well just as the lights dimmed within the room. Beams of blue light traced the contours of Padmé's body, creating a grid-like pattern from the crown of her head to the soles of her bare feet. The console beeped loudly and the grid vanished, the overhead lights flaring to full capacity. "Very good," Administrator Tuun said, typing swiftly on the keypad. "You may sit up now, Milady."
Padmé pushed herself upright, wincing just a little as the muscles in her abdomen flexed painfully, but it was nowhere near as agonizing as it had been a few days ago. Anakin vacated his place next to the twins and was at her side in three strides of his powerful legs, his blue eyes locked on the Administrator as he took Padmé's hand, lacing their fingers together.
Tuun analyzed the scan results on the viewscreen in silence, the minutes passing, while Anakin fidgeted restlessly from foot to foot as he stood beside the exam table. Finally, the Administrator spun around, walking over to the young couple. "You are in excellent health, Milady." Anakin let out a noisy exhale of utter relief. Padmé threw an exasperated glance at him, but there was no real force of emotion behind the gesture. Maybe now he would stop worrying incessantly about her well-being. "Your body is recovering well from the exertion of labor," Tuun continued, "and the injury to your shoulder is completely healed. The bandage can be taken off by you or your husband whenever you choose." He slowly reached out and placed the pads of his long fingers on Padmé's diaphragm, massaging the area expertly. "The soreness in your muscles will continue to dissipate, and should vanish altogether in a few weeks." He withdrew his hands, black eyes glittering like shards of polished onyx. "My advice to you is to not do anything physically strenuous for several weeks, make sure that you consume foods that are part of a vitamin-rich diet, and have a physical examination in one month."
Anakin nodded vigorously. "I'll make sure of it," he declared with his usual single-minded fervor, even as Padmé started to voice her own agreement. He felt her bristle in agitation, and she squeezed his hand so hard that he swore he heard his bones creak under the pressure emanating from her deceptively small and fragile-looking hand.
"I also must regretfully inform you both…" Tuun began, and Anakin's heart suddenly lurched upward, clogging his throat. Padmé's hand froze inside his, and she took in a deep breath, holding it in her lungs. "Due to the complications during the second twin's birth, there has been irreparable damage inflicted on your reproductive system. I am deeply sorry, Milady – but you will no longer be able to bear children."
Padmé slowly let out the breath she had been holding, expecting to feel the sharp pang of disappointment…but all she experienced was the calm upwelling of acceptance. She already had more than she could want in Anakin, and in Luke and Leia; her life was complete. However, since the early days of their marriage, Anakin had often told her that once the war was over and they no longer had to love one another in secret, he wanted a houseful of children – at least half a dozen, 'so no one will be left out', was his reasoning. Padmé had always assumed that, because his own childhood and lack of family life among the Order had bleached color and vibrancy from his life, he wanted their life together to be so explosive with emotion that it would cancel out those memories.
She felt his eyes on her face, wordlessly begging her to look at him – but she could not bring herself to meet his gaze and see the keen disappointment that she was certain was there. She would not be able to bear it. Instead, she asked the Administrator, "Is the damage more internal or external?"
"Only internal, Milady. Your body is incapable of supporting a fetus to full term as a result of tearing and a build-up of scar tissue on the uteral wall. Your monthly courses will continue, but at a significantly lower rate. While you were unconscious, GH-7 repaired the tearing and performed an operation so that you have no future risk of becoming pregnant. Normally, we would have asked for your consent before such a procedure, but GH-7 felt that it was a necessary treatment."
"I understand." Padmé's brown eyes drifted from Tuun's blank, oval face to the bassinet that held her little stars. They were so precious, and she loved them so fiercely with a love that rivaled the sheer potency of her love for Anakin – it just was translated in a different manner.
The shadow of his tall, broad-shouldered frame loomed closer, shielding one side of her face from the harsh white glare of the exam room's glow panels, and she could feel the steady warmth of his body so near her own. Chiding herself for being such a coward, Padmé nevertheless addressed another query to Administrator Tuun without once looking at her husband. "Will there be any risk of injury when Anakin and I are together – sexually?" she clarified, speaking as clinically as possible in the hopes of not blushing like an immature adolescent.
"None," Tuun responded, and whether he was embarrassed – or was incapable of feeling that way – she could not tell. "Now, if you will excuse me, I must see to the other patients. Should you have further concerns or questions, please do not hesitate to inform me."
"Thank you, Administrator," Padmé said sincerely, watching as the Polis Massan exited the room, the door closing behind him. She started to get down from the exam table – when two large hands suddenly grasped her upper arms, holding her in place, and the towering figure of her husband stood in front of her, blocking any chance of escape as solidly as a durasteel wall.
"Padmé, look at me," his low, throaty voice commanded. "Please."
She carefully wiped all traces of her conflicting emotions from her expression and then raised her eyes. Anakin's handsome face was only inches from her own, his cerulean gaze burning with earnest intensity, and the ever-present gleam of undying devotion. "Padmé…" he said her name again, smiling at her sadly, and one of his palms came up to frame her cheek. "It doesn't matter to me that we can't have more children." She blinked, lips parting slightly in surprise. His smile tilted at her reaction. "You forget just how much I can sense what you're thinking through our bond. And I'm telling you right now, in no uncertain terms, that I do not care that Luke and Leia are our only children."
"But you said –"
He gently covered her mouth with his hand, silencing her protest. "I was only dreaming out loud. All that has ever mattered to me is that there was a place for me in your life. That was all I ever wanted. I always thought that we would have children some day, but I guess that I never really expected it to happen." Anakin held her face in his hands, bending down so that he could meet her eyes, and murmured passionately, "I love Luke and Leia more than I ever thought possible, but you are my life. Even if we never were able to have a family, it wouldn't matter, so long as I had you."
His heartfelt speech was an unexpected but welcome balm on Padmé's frayed nerves, and she leaned in for a kiss. Anakin obliged, his senses tingling deliciously as she melted into him, wrapping her slender arms around his neck. He lifted her off of the exam table without breaking their kiss, and set her on her feet.
She shivered and pulled away, looking at him with a sullen expression. "My feet are cold."
He laughed, allowing her to slide from his embrace and slip on a pair of white hospital scuffs, and his boisterous chuckles caused one of the twins to let out a high-pitched squeal. Padmé shuffled over to the bassinet, trying to determine which twin had made the noise. "Oh, so you're laughing at me too, huh?" she growled, a wide grin lighting up her face. Stretching out her fingers, she tickled each infant's stomach, laughing with them when their chiming giggles burst out of their tiny mouths. Eventually, she straightened, placing her hands on the rim of the bassinet and guiding it towards the doorway. "Let's get back to our room; I think it's about time for dinner."
Anakin preceded her and the twins, holding the door open so that they could pass, and the little family headed down the hall. Padmé could feel Anakin's hand resting lightly on the small of her back, and she was comforted by the familiar touch.
Quite abruptly, without any preamble whatsoever, he asked, "Why weren't you surprised by the twins' midichlorian counts?"
"What?" she said around a handful of giggles.
"Even I was surprised at how high their numbers were, but it didn't seem to faze you at all."
She tossed him a coy smile. "That's because I know who their father is," she remarked blithely.
He shot her a withering glance. "Smarty pants," he teased, and smacked her on the behind.
When she only laughed at his antics, Anakin decided that his curiosity was not about to be deterred. "I'm serious, Padmé – I want to know why you weren't surprised. I tried to figure it out by sensing your emotions…but all I felt was this strange impression of pride, like you were glad that their counts were so uncommonly high."
She stopped, her cheeks flushing. Anakin skidded to a halt beside her, waiting for a reply.
Padmé angled her body sideways so that she could see his face, his blue eyes lighting up with interest as he took in the blush staining her creamy skin. "I was proud that their counts were so high," she said softly, "because those numbers were just one more indisputable piece of evidence that you and I created these children with our love, and we no longer have to hide that fact anymore."
Anakin simply stared at her, time and MedCenter personnel passing by unnoticed. Thinking of only one way to respond to such a meaningful, honest answer, he pulled her flush against him, without a care for their surroundings or propriety, and kissed her soundly.
He had no idea how long they stood there, locked in a physical demonstration of their love for each other – and a small part of his brain wondered how many Polis Massans and med droids were traveling through this hallway, casual observers to their display. He realized that the thought caused a frisson of glee to ignite every cell in his body. For over four years he had pretended that Padmé was only a friend, that he did not love her with all that he was, and that he had not pledged himself to her as her husband. But here, now, he was free to declare to everyone on this entire asteroid that she was his wife, that they loved one another with a passion that took his breath away – and he wanted to take full advantage of the situation.
The quiet, unmistakable sound of a clearing throat filtered to his ears, accompanied by a barely stifled snicker that was distinctly feminine. Anakin reluctantly broke away from Padmé, laying a brief kiss on the tip of her nose before loosening his arms, and his heartbeat skittered when she whispered, "I love you," as she put a more publicly acceptable distance between them.
Their audience was a middle-aged man clad in freshly laundered Jedi robes, one eyebrow raised dubiously as he studied the young couple with twinkling blue-grey orbs – and a dark-haired woman with wide, almond-shaped eyes and a wickedly mischievous grin curving her full lips.
"I guess the honeymoon's not over after all," Sabé commented, placing her hands on her hips.
Padmé's eyes widened in horror, the expression on her face a combination of embarrassment and fury. Seeming to sense that she was about to get a severe tongue-lashing, Sabé gestured towards her friend with a hand, remarking nonchalantly, "I see that you ditched the hoverchair."
"Finally," Padmé concurred, rolling her brown eyes dramatically. "If I never have to sit in one of those ridiculous things again, it will still be too soon."
Sabé cupped a hand around the side of her mouth and leaned towards Padmé, muttering to her conspiratorially, "We could take one up in the Aiwha, dump it out the airlock, and you can shoot it with the turbolaser turret."
Obi-Wan disguised a chuckle by coughing loudly. Anakin merely shook his head, grinning as he watched the playful interaction between his wife and her old friend. Padmé tilted her head to the side, pretending to think it over. At length, she replied, "Tempting…but I think I'll pass. I would not want to waste perfectly good energy beams on the disposal of such a diabolical piece of equipment."
Sabé snickered at this, and then Padmé asked, "Ani and I were about to have something to eat. Would you care to join us?"
"We just finished our meal in the dining commons," Sabé answered, throwing an impish grin over her shoulder. "I learned that Obi-Wan has a strong aversion to hoi broth."
"Probably due to the fact that he is deathly allergic to it," Anakin stated, glancing at his former Master as well.
Obi-Wan was glaring sternly at Padmé's decoy, but there was humor lingering deep inside his storm-colored eyes. "Having a bowl of that ghastly substance thrust into my face is not an experience I would care to repeat. I felt ill just from the smell alone."
"But Obi-Wan –" Sabé arranged her lovely features into a wide-eyed expression of childlike innocence. "I wouldn't let you die from a food allergy. We're in a MedCenter, after all."
The four adults exploded with laughter, the merry sound echoing through the hallway, and both twins reacted by adding their own squeals to the tumult. Calming somewhat, but with a wide smile still decorating her face, Sabé said, "Before you eat, Padmé – do you think you could spare Anakin for a few minutes? I'd like to take him down to the hangar bay and show him how to take very good care of my ship." Her gaze shifted from one Skywalker to the other as she spoke, and fixed her sharp brown eyes on Anakin expectantly.
He met her stare, unperturbed, and shrugged slightly. "It's all right with me," he replied, and then glanced over at his wife.
She nodded at him with a small smile. "Go ahead. I'll wait for you."
His blue eyes softened, holding her gaze with quiet adoration. Despite the fact that they had spectators – and one of them was a Jedi Master – Anakin lowered his tousled blond head and gave his wife a brief, tender kiss, pulling away before Obi-Wan became exasperated or Sabé flung out another clever jibe.
"I'll walk with you," the Jedi Master volunteered to Padmé, stepping over to the far side of the twin's bassinet. Then he turned and bowed politely, addressing Sabé with his usual formal demeanor. "Thank you for your time and company, Sabé; it was very gracious of you to share your personal experiences with me."
She smiled, and it was a smile he had not seen before on her now-familiar face. Her full lips were bowed into a perfect curve, with the barest shadow of dimples showing on each cheek, and her almond-shaped eyes glittered with genuine affection. The feeling was intensified by her essence in the Force; Obi-Wan sensed warmth and companionship as he brushed against her signature – which he found odd, since they were scarcely more than acquaintances.
Though he had sought to fortify his Jedi-trained emotional control all throughout the meal he had shared with Sabé, the remnant of whatever had overwhelmed him during that brief instant in the conference room began to tug at his heart – reeling him in, wordlessly urging him to release his unyielding grasp on self-control.
Obi-Wan spun away abruptly, his perception curling inward defensively. Whatever this strange sensation was, whatever was causing it – he had to ignore it at all costs. He could not afford to lose his mental grounding at this critical junction in time. If that meant that he had to avoid prolonged contact with Sabé, who was swiftly becoming a friend, then so be it. A Jedi's life is sacrifice, he recited silently.
He offered a faint smile to Padmé, inquiring as he motioned down the hallway, "Shall we?"
"Of course," she agreed cordially, but the brief, puzzled look she gave Anakin as she began pushing the bassinet ahead of her was not lost on the Jedi Master. Obi-Wan fell into step beside Padmé, wondering if – or more appropriately, when – she would mention the incident…and what he was going to say in terms of a response.
Anakin watched their progress down the hallway for a moment, all the while struggling to interpret his best friend's odd behavior towards Sabé, when it seemed like they were getting along quite well. In those few seconds after thanking Sabé, over a dozen expressions had flitted over Obi-Wan's face, altering as swiftly as a breeze changing direction on a mountaintop.
Padmé had looked at him for an explanation as she walked away, but he did not have one to give.
He chanced a quick glance at the woman standing nearby, thinking that perhaps she had some idea about what appeared to be affecting Obi-Wan so strongly. But Sabé had donned that maddening facial expression that Anakin absolutely despised to see on his wife's face – that impassively polite, aloof politician look.
She must have felt his eyes on her, for she turned her head to peer at him with mild interest, and the mask morphed into a lopsided grin. Then, without further ado, she pirouetted on one heel and marched purposefully down the adjacent hallway, calling out, "Let's go, Hero."
Anakin stood there for a heartbeat, dumbfounded. He looked down the corridor at Padmé and Obi-Wan, and she glanced at him as they rounded the corner at the far end. He waved at her, slightly bewildered, and then jogged off after Sabé, considering in his mind whether to feel admiring of the decoy's assertive mannerisms, or offended that she presumed to order him around like a government flunky.
Either way, he would get to fly that ship.
It was a win-win situation.