Author's Note: A day early because we couldn't stand to wait any more. ^_^ For those of you who thought "Jabiim", we give you plushies!
Where Anakin Goes AWOL
In Anakin's colorful and interesting life as a Jedi, there was only one time he ever went completely and utterly AWOL. And this was if you included his sneaking out of the Temple as a child, the many times he made his master insane with worry when he disappeared on a mission in order to do things his way, and the horrible time he deserted Naboo with Padme to check on his mother. Even if you included all of that, there was only one time he went AWOL. And that was the day he returned from Jabiim.
It had been an utterly terrible two months on the rainy, muddy planet. And upon his return, Anakin had been summoned immediately by the Council to give his report. They were all weighed down by sorrow as he recounted how Padawan after Padawan had died along with Jedi after Jedi. When Anakin finally got to the part about his own Master, missing and presumed dead, Anakin barely noticed that even Mace's shoulders were falling under the cost of the battle. Yoda stepped down from his seat, hobbled over as if the galaxy hung on his very being, and stopped before him. On instinct of many meetings with Yoda, Anakin dropped down to his knees in an attempt to match the diminutive master's height.
Yoda looked up to him, wrinkled brows creased in compassion and understanding and sorrow. Anakin just stared at him, numb down to the very core of his being after the hell of Jabiim. A green clawed hand reached out and touched his arm and Anakin shuddered.
"Your master, did you find?"
"No, Master Yoda."
Yoda's eyes closed and his head tilted down, as even more weight seemed to be added to his tiny shoulders.
"A great loss, this is. A great loss."
"He's not dead."
It wasn't the first time Anakin had stated this. He had proclaimed it long and loud on Jabiim. He was getting tired of repeating himself. That horrible moment in the rain where the bond had suddenly flared with pain and then gone silent still haunted him.
Anakin had never been completely alone in his mind ever. Even as a child, though he could never hear her thoughts directly or even know what she was feeling, he'd always had a sense of his mother always by his side, even out on the racetrack. It was just something that was. His mother was always with him even after he'd left her on Tatooine when he went to become a Jedi.
His sense of her had faded over time, but that had been replaced by Obi-Wan. His master had eventually started working on their bond, gently caring for it and letting it slowly grow. So as his sense of his mother started to fade, his sense of his master had grown. It had even flourished beyond what either of them expected as the Clone Wars started. Up until that dreadful flash of pain, his master was a strong and steady presence in the back of his mind. The distance at which they could communicate was slowly growing. No longer would they be mere rooms apart and only have a vague sense of the other's feelings. Their first encounter with Grievous on that icy planet had proved that they could still speak, even at almost a kilometer apart.
That terrible day, Obi-Wan had been grumbling, frustrated at the rain and how pitifully the battle had started. Plans and strategies were being analyzed while another part of Obi-Wan was grieving quietly over Jedi already lost. And only after two weeks on the planet. It was just so like Obi-Wan. And it was just something that Anakin always had running in the back of his head. Something he had apparently taken for granted.
Because when there was silence, Anakin came to realize just how much he needed that background chatter. It was reassurance that Obi-Wan was there and hadn't left him as his mother had. No matter how frustrated or exasperated Obi-Wan ever was with him, he was always still there in Anakin's mind. Something that he could cling to after nightmares. Something he could reach for when confused. Things he did naturally without even thinking about it any more.
And now there was silence. And in the successive time on Jabiim, Anakin came to realize just how often he looked at that warm glow in the back of his mind. His bond with Padme was still so very new. She wasn't sensitive to the Force and he could only work on the bond when he was actually with her. And stuck on that stormy planet, for the first time in his entire life, Anakin was alone in his head.
He learned that he hated being alone.
No amount of calling and reaching for his master worked. Even now, Anakin had a thread of himself in that silent, empty bond that just lead off to nothingness, seeking to find that gentle glow. It was why he'd pushed so hard, not even breaking for eating or sleeping, to search. In the end, exhaustion had stopped him and any hope he'd had of finding a trail for his missing master.
Because Obi-Wan wasn't dead.
Anakin knew death. Death was like an old lover, one that was well acquainted with Anakin. He'd felt his bond with his mother, withered and faded as it was, snap painfully when she'd finally died. The shock of her presence, a feeling that he was soothing after being so long without it, being there, and then not. The rip and tear in his psyche as the one person he'd loved since the day he was born no longer existed. The snapping slice of departure. One moment she was there, filled with love and life as her body failed, and then his heart broke as she was gone. He'd watched as the bond he had with her, frail with disuse as it was, disappear into nothingness.
He'd been feeling that snap almost constantly as everyone around him, clones, Jedi, Padawans, even innocent civilians, died left and right in this terrible forsaken war. Yes, death was an old friend that kept reappearing. Anakin felt it every single time someone close to him died.
He hadn't felt that snap with Obi-Wan. His bond still existed, trailing off to somewhere. And as long as that bond existed, Anakin knew that Obi-Wan was alive. He knew it with every fiber of his being.
But everyone told him it was impossible. That his master couldn't have survived the vaporized AT-AT. That he needed to accept that his master had joined the Force. That he had wasted valuable resources searching for a dead man. That if he didn't acknowledge the loss of his master soon, he'd be risking his sanity and the lives of those around him. That his troops needed him and to focus on the damn battle, Commander. That he could look for the body later, after the Separatists had been defeated. That fresh Jedi were coming in and he needed to brief them.
And not one of them listened when Anakin said that Obi-Wan was still alive.
So he just stopped saying it. Fought a losing battle.
And as the silence grew, hope at finding a lead started to dwindle in dark despair.
Anakin was just tired. And numb. And just didn't want to deal with this right now.
Yoda looked at him with such kindness and sympathy. The hand on his shoulder squeezed, and the tiny master let out a long sigh. "Dead or not, a master you will need."
"My master is Obi-Wan."
Obi-Wan and no one else.
Because Obi-Wan was still alive. He didn't need a new master.
Yoda sighed. "Rest. Rest, young Padawan. Speak further we will, in the morning."
Anakin had been numb when he left the Council chambers. But that was his constant state of being. Without Obi-Wan, things seemed so dull. So silent.
He returned to his quarters, home at last for the fist time in five months.
It just felt so wrong. Obi-Wan was supposed to be by his side, or off to Dex's to pick up a meal to celebrate their return home while Anakin unpacked and sent word to Padme that they were back.
The apartment felt cold. Empty. Dead. Only Anakin didn't like to think of the apartment as dead. Because that implied things he didn't believe or want to think about. He turned to the kitchen to get something to snack on, and half expected to see Obi-Wan pulling out pots and pans to start cooking Anakin's favorites after such a difficult mission. That was the type of thoughtful thing Obi-Wan always did for him.
His master had said that because Anakin hadn't grown up in the Temple, there were things he wouldn't know and things that Obi-Wan wouldn't know having never lived anywhere but the Temple. His master had always made a point of trying to accommodate the fact that Anakin had lived differently, but could still be just as good a Jedi as one Temple-raised. When Anakin had mentioned some of the things his mother had done for him, Obi-Wan would consider them, talk about some of the attachment behind it, lessons that he learned about Anakin's mother's wisdom, and discuss what would be a suitable substitute that would fill the need without replacing his mother.
One of those accommodations had been cooking Anakin's favorites after a particularly bad day or experience or celebration of a particularly good accomplishment. Obi-Wan had always been the better cook of the two of them (banning Anakin from the kitchen wholesale after the Stove Incident), and Anakin had enjoyed sitting at the table, doing his crèche-work and watching his master hum in the kitchen.
Appetite gone, Anakin went to Obi-Wan's room to put back the things he'd salvaged from their tiny tent on Jabiim. Obi-Wan would want them back where he could find them, after all, when he returned.
The room still smelled of his master, even after five months. The numbness in his chest seemed to spread, as Anakin looked at a small desk with an empty teacup that Obi-Wan had forgotten to take care of in their rush to get to the front lines again. Anakin shook his head.
This was no good. On Jabiim he'd had one crisis after another to deal with. He'd been able to ignore the numbness. The cold. The silence. Because there was always something to do, something that needed his attention, something that required his complete focus. And though he had moments when he reached for that warm glow that was so utterly silent, he could always distract himself. Even on the transport here, he was writing his report and working on how to word things to the Council.
Now he had nothing to draw his eye. Nothing to focus on.
Nothing but the silence.
The apartment was so very silent. An eerie echo of the silence in his mind.
Too silent.
Anakin stomped to his room long enough to throw his bag to his bed, and headed for the common room to turn on the HoloNet. It didn't matter what station. A movie, the news, a sitcom, something so that there wasn't so much silence.
He didn't get very far. Set up in the common room were their meditation mats.
Meditation.
Anakin hadn't been able to sink into the Force at his master's side for so long. The Force didn't seem to flow the same without Obi-Wan's warm glow. Anakin's attempts at meditation just didn't work as well. Meditation had always been hard. And now, without Obi-Wan there to guide him, Anakin felt it was almost impossible. But he kept trying. Because Obi-Wan would not be pleased when he returned and found Anakin had been slacking.
The numbness disappeared, and suddenly Anakin was on the floor, face buried into Obi-Wan's meditation mat, sobbing, crying, howling.
Too much. It was all too much.
Even as he cried out, it was all so silent.
This was why Anakin went AWOL.
C-3PO, human-cyborg relations, was puttering around Miss Padme's apartment at 500 Republica, as he often did when his mistress wasn't home. She had been called back home to Naboo the previous week, the Queen needing her for something or other. So Threepio was left taking care of the various things left behind. Representative Binks took care of the political items, keeping in close contact with the young senator in case an important vote came up.
Threepio was left to deal with keeping the apartment clean and taking messages from the various callers and visitors who did not yet realize that his mistress was not there.
Really, Threepio wondered at the intelligence of some of these beings. Surely one would look up Senator Amidala's schedule on the HoloNet. She always made an announcement on her personal Net page on when she was home and when she was on Coruscant and such. She was ever so thoughtful that way. But no, rather than using the brain or brains given them, beings would just call and show up, expecting her to still be there and that Threepio was merely lying so she could be alone for a moment.
Really. How rude.
But he dutifully took messages for his mistress, letting all visitors and callers know that he would bring them to the young senator's attention as soon as she contacted him or arrived, whichever came first. Most would politely thank him, others would grunt and growl about it.
Those that were so utterly rude were immediately put to the bottom of the list of messages. Threepio took a tiny amount of pleasure in that.
Threepio had to admit, he was ever so grateful that Master Ani had bequeathed him to Miss Padme. Though he would always be loyal to his Maker, Threepio did not have the best of memories of his time on Tatooine. Lady Shmi, Master Cliegg and the family were all supportive of him, but he was not doing his primary function of human-cyborg relations. To say nothing of the sand that got in his joints, even after the coverings Lady Shmi was eventually able to get for him. Here, with Miss Padme, Threepio felt he was performing at his best. He could play the dedicated host to whatever dignitaries Miss Padme invited over for meetings, offer translations from his knowledge base of over six million languages, especially for Senators that could not form Basic syllables such as Wookiees, and he could inform Miss Padme of the various cultural protocols of various species that she may not be familiar with.
He'd never asked for much, and Threepio was glad that he'd finally found his niche. A place where he could function at his best and do what he was built to do.
There was a sudden soft thud out on the balcony, something that would not be audible to most human ears. Turning, Threepio put aside the dust cloth he'd been using and walked out to the common room.
"Master Ani!"
Threepio rushed forward. The marriage was supposed to be secret! What was Master Ani doing on Miss Padme's balcony in the middle of the day where anyone could see? Oh, the worry these two could place on him!
"Master Ani, inside, please, before someone sees you!"
The young Jedi looked at the protocol droid blankly before nodding and coming inside. Threepio quickly shut the blinds, despite the fact that the windows prevented anyone from seeing inside, as an extra precaution that both Miss Padme and Master Ani often did when he came over to visit.
"It's the middle of the day!" Threepio started to scold, knowing how careful the young couple had been to keep their marriage a secret. "Why are you-"
"Is Padme here?" Master Ani asked, just standing in the middle of the room and looking at the floor.
Threepio did not feel irritation at the young Jedi that he did to the other callers who came and didn't know that his mistress had gone, despite her posting it on the HoloNet. After all, one need only watch the news to see how a Jedi could be completely cut off in battle and not know what was going on. The protocol droid barely needed a twentieth of a second to realize that Master Ani had likely only just arrived on planet and had not had time to check anything.
"I'm afraid not. She was called back to Naboo last week over an urgent matter."
Master Ani stayed quiet for a long time, just standing there in the middle of the room.
Threepio was worried. It was unlike Master Ani to show up in the middle of the day without some sort of advance warning. Indeed, despite the lovely weather, the young Jedi looked quite chilled.
"Shall I get you something?"
His maker merely stood there.
"Well, as you look rather cold, I think I'll get you something warm to drink."
Still no answer.
This worried Threepio as he hurried to the kitchen, bustling with a kettle and heading to a cupboard with a type of tea that Miss Padme always liked to have when she was cold. Master Ani was only ever this quiet when he was meditating and from what Threepio had seen, Master Ani was certainly not meditating by just staring at the floor.
Setting the tray, Threepio brought it to the common room and set it on the coffee table. "Some tea, Master Ani?"
"Tea?" The young Jedi looked up enough to look at the kettle and cup. And then, to Threepio's horror, Master Ani's face crumpled into tears and he just turned, heading to his bedroom.
"Oh dear," the protocol droid murmured. His Maker was deeply upset and troubled by something that much was clear. He followed Master Ani and watched as the young Jedi collapsed into bed, hugging a pillow close. Threepio observed for a few minutes, uncertain what to do. Despite his vast programming of protocols and languages and understanding of human behavior, all of that coding was primarily for protocol, what to do in polite situations, how to translate difficult slang, what was proper to do. Very little of that coding had to do with emotional duress, since a protocol droid would never need to be there if a being was in need of such aide.
Clearly, Threepio's programmers hadn't really thought enough about the human aspect of human-cyborg relations. It was saddening for Threepio to realize that he had no idea what to do with Master Ani so distraught.
Thankfully, Threepio did know how to reach Miss Padme. Perhaps she would know what to do with her husband and could advise him.
He quietly closed the door and went to the comm' unit.
Padme sat back, laughing as her sister Sola regaled their family with an interesting tale of one of her daughters day that was overdone and horribly exaggerated, but incredibly humorous. Really, Padme hadn't been able to laugh like this without the stresses and worries of the Senate or the war for months, and it was nice to have this one evening with her family while she was back on Naboo. Granted, this was the only night that could be scheduled in, and Padme regretted that it was only one night, but she enjoyed it while she could. She paid close attention to Sola's stories, hoping she could share them with Anakin whenever he got home. He always did enjoy the tales of both of her niece's various misadventures.
Her father was starting to launch into an embarrassing tale of her own childhood, something no doubt similar to Pooja's tale, when Padme's comm' beeped.
"Sweetie, it's the dinner table," her mother admonished.
Padme ducked her head. "Sorry, Mom. I thought I'd turned it off." That and everyone she'd spoken with today new better than to interrupt her on this night. Looking at her comm' she was surprised at who it was. "Threepio? Why are you calling me?"
"Oh, Miss Padme! I'm so glad I could reach you!" came the droid's ever-worried voice. "I know I was not to bother you, but something quite dire has come up and I don't know what to do. I thought that I simply must call you-"
"Threepio!" she interrupted. "Calm down." Really, that droid could worry over the simplest things sometimes. "I'm sure it's not as serious as you think."
"Aunt Padme will fix it!" Ryoo said, clambering onto her lap with all the enthusiasm of a six-year-old. "Aunt Padme fixes everything!"
"I'm so sorry to disturb you," Threepio continued. "Really, I would not have felt it necessary if it weren't for the fact that this goes well beyond my programming. It has to do with my Maker."
Padme's smiles completely disappeared. "Give me a minute, Threepio," she said, putting it on mute before the droid could complain. She turned to her family. "I'm sorry, I need to take this."
"Really Padme," her father shook his head. "Business at the table?"
"Actually, no," she replied, gently putting Ryoo down next to her sister. "Excuse me."
"Make it fast, sweetie," her mother sighed.
Sola just looked at her and raised an eyebrow. Padme didn't say anything more, rushing up to her room for some privacy. She should have known. Threepio really did know better than to call her unless it was an emergency. And the reference to his maker was code for her husband, since nobody outside of the Lars, herself, and her husband, knew that Anakin had built Threepio. Padme could only hope that whatever Threepio considered "dire" was an exaggeration.
"Go ahead, Threepio. What happened to Ani?"
"I don't know, Miss Padme!" Threepio sounded as frantic as when they were heading to Geonosis, completely out of his element. "He arrived here in the middle of the day looking rather chilled and when I offered him some tea, he just started crying. Even now, he's sobbing in your bedroom. Please, Milady, I am not programmed for any such protocol on such tumultuous emotions, tell me what I must do."
Padme paled, worry blossoming and engulfing that happy feeling that she'd been nursing just moments before. Plans were already firing round in her brain, excuses she could use to explain her early departure, diversions, distractions, so that she could get back to Anakin and help him through whatever was troubling him so devastatingly. Because her husband did not just break down to tears at a cup of tea.
Already, she was repacking her clothes. "I'm on my way back, Threepio. But I'll be a few days." Because transport took so much longer during war with checkpoints and security sweeps. "In the meantime, contact Master Kenobi at the Temple, he can help until I arrive. Be discreet."
"Of course, Miss Padme. Is there anything I can do for Master Ani in the more immediate future? He's starting to get quite loud."
Indeed he was, she could hear his sobs over her communicator. "The apartment's soundproofed, so it shouldn't be a problem. Just make sure nobody sees him."
"As you wish. Oh I wish I could do something more."
"I know. So do I."
"Very well. I'll see you in a few days, Milady."
"Bye," she disconnected and immediately started to contact others to arrange her transport.
There was a quiet knock on the door and Padme turned, still talking to Typho, to open the door.
"I know, Captain. But I don't want anyone to know I'm heading back to Coruscant. If anyone does, I'll be called back to the Senate ... Yes, I know, Dorme will take over for me here so no one knows ... I can take care of my self once in a while, but I thank you for the concern ... Just have the ship ready. I'll be there within the hour."
Sola sat on Padme's bed, looking at the already packed suitcase as she put down the comm'.
"You're leaving?"
Padme let out a sigh, sitting down next to her sister. "Yes. A friend of mine back on Coruscant was hospitalized." And it stung to lie like that to her sister. But it was a cover-story that was at least partially true, because if Anakin was hurting enough to cry at the mention of tea, then he was hurting enough to be hospitalized. Only not for his body, but for his heart.
"And the secrecy?"
Padme shrugged. "Once anyone finds out I'm back, I'll be pulled back into politics immediately. Threepio already has a long list of things that people have apparently been coming to see me about and I want at least a few days to visit uninterrupted and without having to worry about how things are in the Senate."
Sola reached forward, grabbing Padme's hands. "My precious little sister. This friend of yours. He wouldn't happen to be someone you're interested in, would he?"
"Sola!" Padme couldn't deal with this right now. She knew her sister's heart was in the right place, but she couldn't discuss this now. Not with the heavy weight that her marriage to Anakin was a secret, even to her family. Not with the frightening knowledge that something was wrong with Anakin and had disturbed him so much that he'd gone to her apartment in the middle of the day. She didn't want to lie about this, but she just couldn't deal with her sister's well-meanings right now. "No, she isn't. It's just..." Tears were coming to Padme's eyes. "It's serious, Sola."
And that was true at least.
Sola let go of Padme's hands and pulled her into a hug. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "There I go again, teasing you like I always do, wishing you'd settle down when you're honestly concerned about someone you hold dear. My timing stinks."
Padme gave a soft chuckle. "It's okay, sis." She squeezed Sola back before getting up and going back to packing things. She wiped her eyes. "Next time I'm home, I'll just sit and take your bad jokes for an hour without fighting back and we'll call it even."
Her sister raised an eyebrow. "Make it three hours. After all, it's not often I get the opportunity to best you in verbal combat."
"An hour and a half, because if I can ever get more than an hour home, it's a miracle."
"Two and a half hours and we can break up the time, I don't mind."
"Two hours and that's my final offer."
"Deal."
Padme chuckled, realizing it would probably be the last laugh she'd have for a while.
Threepio was getting concerned. It had been three days since he'd called Miss Padme and there was something strange going on. Aside from the fact that Master Ani hadn't said a word since his arrival and did not leave the bedroom unless biological functions called, and would at random intervals be either deep in meditation or crying hysterically just as someone came to call on Miss Padme, for some odd reason, Threepio simply could not reach Master Kenobi.
He'd tried the personal communication line that his mistress had with the Kenobi/Skywalker apartment in the Temple and received no answer. Granted, Threepio was trying to be polite about when he called as most beings didn't like being called during a meal or when sleeping, but one would think that just one of the multiple calls he'd made would have been answered. He had even, in a fit of fried circuitry, tried to call in the middle of the night and let the comm' keep ringing for an hour, but there had been absolutely no response.
Failing in that, Threepio had contacted the Temple directory, claiming a Senator would like to communicate with Master Kenobi, but he was told that Master Kenobi was still on assignment on Jabiim and unreachable. This simply wasn't true as far as Threepio was concerned, because Master Ani was back. And while Threepio did not always understand humans, he did know that Master Ani would not have come back without Master Kenobi and that Jedi were honest. Therefore the Jedi he had been speaking to hadn't been told any new information.
It was all very worrisome. Master Ani clearly needed someone and Threepio could not reach anyone. Miss Padme was in hyperspace on her way back, and Master Kenobi seemed to be impossible to find. Any attempt the protocol droid made to get an answer from Master Ani would send the young Padawan either into deafening silence, deep meditation that lasted for hours, or crying.
Goodness, Master Ani hadn't even had anything to eat! Threepio was so very concerned. Something was so very wrong and he felt so helpless.
All he could do was keep trying to discreetly reach Master Kenobi while awaiting Miss Padme.
Padme was on an air-taxi when she heard. They were passing by a large billboard tuned to the HoloNet when she demanded the droid to stop the taxi as she sat back and just listened.
"That's right ladies and gentlebeings. You heard that right. Obi-Wan Kenobi, renowned as the Negotiator has rejoined the Force. He was one of many losses on Jabiim, where Republic forces-"
Padme sat back, her jaw dropped somewhere down on her lap as it just washed over her. Oh. Oh. No wonder Anakin was upset. Oh Obi-Wan. Her face started to crunch into itself as she grieved the gentle caring master of her husband. Oh, Anakin must have been devastated. And he was probably there when it had happened. This was just wrong. This was why diplomacy was the answer, so that people didn't have to lose the ones they cared about.
"Of course, the Republic's thoughts are with General Kenobi's young Padawan, Anakin Skywalker, the Hero With No Fear. We understand that there isn't even a body for the funeral pyre, but a small ceremony will be held within the Temple in a few days. The Jedi, as you know, are very private with their rituals and ceremonies, but we understand that Chancellor Palpatine has offered a public service so that we might mourn the loss of-"
Padme turned to the cabbie droid. "Get moving. Hurry!"
In keeping with Padme not wanting anyone to know she was back on Coruscant, the taxi dropped her off several streets away from 500 Republica. She pulled up the hood of her cloak and hurried down the sidewalks, only the goal of her husband in mind. Once inside the building, since most Senators were already in session, she raced through the halls and cursed the turbolifts for being so slow.
C-3PO all but pounced on her when she arrived.
"Thank the Maker! Oh, Miss Padme I've been so very worried; he has yet to eat anything, nor sleep I might add, and that has made him unbearably rude. He's yet to even talk to me and I've been more than polite in inquiring-"
"Enough, Threepio," Padma said, raising her hand to forestall more exposition. "I'll take it from here."
"Well!" Threepio scoffed, "Really, I was only trying to be thorough..." He continued to mutter and grumble but Padme was already walking past him, through her spacious common room, the cream-colored sofas, past the adjoining open-air balcony, and down the hall to the bedroom.
Anakin was in a state. The blinds to her wall-to-wall window half shut, black lines draped over the entire room. Anakin sat in the center of the bed, his robes in disarray. Mud and scuff marks and holes and grime littered his tunic and outer layers. His boots were missing, one visible by the closet leading to the veranda, the other disappeared to who knew where. His hair was matted and oily, stringy; his braid dangling just in front of his chest. His face was pale even in the late morning light, there were dark circles under his eyes, and Padme more than suspected that they would be lined with red if he opened them. Sweat and tears assaulted her nose and it crinkled in spite of herself.
He was deep in meditation.
"... Anakin?" she asked softly.
His eyes snapped open, bright and fevered and pained.
"Padme," he said, his voice cracking. "I can't find him... I've been trying ever since... and I can't... He's not in my head anymore!"
That's right! Padme suddenly realized that death for a Jedi was even more painful because they shared a bond, a link between two minds. The pain of it all swept over her again and she all but jumped onto the bed, wrapping her thin arms around his strong shoulders. His large hands sought purchase on her back, his mechanical one gripping her so tightly it was almost painful and he buried his head into the crook of her neck. His shoulders were shaking as he took deep shuddering breaths.
She rocked him back and forth, cooing and making soft noises: "It's okay, Ani, oh, my poor baby, it's okay. It'll be okay. We'll get through this. We'll find a way."
Anakin moaned into her breastbone. "How?" He pulled up slightly, pinning her eyes with his own tortured ones. "The Council wants to give me a new master. That's impossible! Obi-Wan's my only master!"
Padme reached up and cupped his cheek in her hand. "It'll be okay," she said again, trying to soothe the hot pain her beloved husband. "You're right. Nothing will replace Obi-Wan, nothing."
Anakin reached up, holding her hand long enough to place a kiss in her palm. "... Thank you," he whispered. He kissed it again. "Thank you..."
"Threepio says you haven't eaten. Is there anything I can get you?"
Anakin shook his head. "I'm not hungry. Even if I did I couldn't keep it down. Every time I see a teacup..."
Padme quickly nodded, seeing a new well of tears pooling in his eyes. "I understand. Okay. Let's at least get you out of these clothes. A shower might help you feel better. Do you think you can drink just water?"
"I... maybe."
"Good," she said, "I'll see to it. You clean up."
He nodded and got up slowly. Padme stayed long enough to gather up the filthy clothes. Once he was stripped down she saw how thin he was. How long had he not been eating? Since Obi-Wan's death?
She shook her head. One thing at a time.
Once Ani was in the 'fresher she pulled the clothes and walked back to the common room. "Threepio," she said softly, and the golden droid appeared quickly. "Get these cleaned as quickly and quietly as possible. Do we have any soup?"
"Yes, Miss Padme. Do you know what happened to Master Ani?"
She nodded, half listening. "Threepio, I don't want anyone to know that I'm back yet. If any callers come for the next few days keep them in the lobby before shooing them out."
"I understand my lady. Is there anything else?"
"No." Nodding, the golden protocol droid shuffled off quickly to get Anakin's robes cleaned for when he finished his shower. Padme stole herself to the kitchen. The glass of water was quickly dispensed with, and she poured her focus on digging up the thinnest, most water-based soup she could find before heating up the cook unit.
An hour later Anakin was cleaner, looking a little more alive if no less hopeless, and sipping at the soup slowly.
"I won't take another master," he said with an air of utter finality.
Padme blinked. "What?"
"I won't take another master."
"But... Ani... How will you get Knighted without a master?"
Anakin, in turn, blinked. "Obi-Wan," he answered, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
That only made her more confused. "Ani," she said slowly, "How can he... if he's..."
She watched his expression as she floundered around asking how a dead man could get him Knighted. His conviction had turned to confusion, but now it turned to momentary shock before shifting out outright anger. Padme had seen Anakin angry before; seen him shout and pace and curse at things that he didn't like. She saw him frustrated, irritated, annoyed at any number of things or people. She had even, once, seen him throw a mechanical item across a garage in Tatooine, just after his mother died. This, however, was completely different.
She found herself picturing what Ani might have looked like when his mother died, when he said he was so angry he couldn't see straight. The room rattled, his face morphed into some kind of twisted effigy of catastrophe and he launched himself to his feet.
"HE'S NOT DEAD!"
Padme stumbled to her feet, backing up as she dimly realized this was the first time in her memory that Anakin was angry at her.
He paced about the room, legs pumping and arms moving erratically. "Everybody says that he's dead but he's not! I didn't feel the snap; there was no rip like I felt with my mother, like with the Padawan pack, like with all the other Jedi on that stupid poodoo eating mudball Jabiim. I felt every single one of them die but I didn't feel Obi-Wan!" He pumped a fist into the air and growled, deep in his throat so low his tenor voice sounded almost baritone.
He spun on a heel and ran his fingers through his hair. "Why? Why? Why would he do this to me? He saw everything in our meditations, he knows how much I hate this; so why did he leave me alone? Stupid old man! I know he hates that fact that he was saddled with me; kirffing poodoo eating womp rat sucking bantha-fucking piece of-"
"Anakin!" Padme cried out, shocked. "This is Obi-Wan we're talking about!"
"I KNOW!"
Padme backed up again, her face white.
"Force!" he cursed again, the energy suddenly seeping out of him. His long strides shrank to a wobbled shuffle, and a hand lifted to his face, his shoulders hunched together. "Force," he said again, softer this time. His legs could no longer hold him, and he sank to his knees. Padme, whatever fear she felt earlier, was by his side in an instant. "It's not you," he whispered, rocking back and forth. "It's not you. It's not you. I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I'm sorry..."
And Padme was again rocking her desolate husband back and forth, weathering the storm with him. Her own grief washed over her, and she, too, cried with him.
It was hours later, when both were spent emotionally, that they numbly went to bed. They held each other all night, not quite sleeping, but just looking for solace in each other's presence. Even the next morning, they were just shells of themselves; going through the motions of having breakfast - a thin salt-water soup for Anakin - and finally just sitting on a couch together on the veranda, watching the fountain. Padme looked up to her husband to see his eyes closed, deep in meditation. Leaning against his chest, she listened to his husband's heartbeat, waiting for him to finish.
"I keep trying," he sighed at last, a hand coming up to rub his face. "I follow the bond as far as I can, but it just fizzles off to nothing; I don't know where he is."
"But he really is alive?" Padme asked softly.
"I'm sure of it."
"But how?"
"... I don't know," he admitted. They separated long enough for him to learn forward, and Padme pressed her head into his shoulder, stroking his arm. "They say that he was on or in an AT-AT. It blew up. I was... I felt so much pain and then... nothing. Padme, I've been feeling people die left and right since this stupid war started, and I didn't feel it with Obi-Wan."
She saw his face. She heard his conviction. She was convinced.
She only hoped he wasn't wrong.
Author's Note: Hmmm, what to say. Well, hopefully, if we did our jobs right, you were crying or teared up at some point during this chapter. You may have noticed that the rating for this story has been bumped up to M because some of the topics covered (torture) will be addressed. And, no matter how tastefully we try, it is mature material to cover. So we're being safe.
Hopefully this feels true to the original source material. We don't really know the EU aside from whatever we can dig up at wookiepedia so we're trying to hold true to the source material while tweaking so much of what's going on.
Honestly, we're not sure what to say. Other than we're really looking forward to reader reaction with the next few chapters. ^_^