I hope everyone had a great Easter! I know I did. Enjoy the chapter!

The next morning, Ryatsi found herself being a doctor to her friends as two returned from a hangover, bruised and battered from some cantina brawl that they didn't even remember. Jifo and Ress were chatting away about a movie they had seen that they thought was pretty hilarious and fun while Moeema and Carh'la helped Jan with breakfast. Zhymmia and Shiine talked, leaving Numel sulking in the corner. Padmé aided Jan and Obi-Wan did his best to corner Anakin, who had been avoiding him since yesterday's fiasco. The captain was simply watching the numerous exchanges alongside Rowan.

"You all are quite an insane group," Capt. Mentzer commented.

Rowan laughed lightly. "You get used to it, sir,"

The captain nodded, but his expression denoted that he doubted Rowan. Shaking his head, Rowan went to the kitchen to aid his wife.

"Do you need anything, dear?" he asked.

Jan sighed, looking stressed. "A vacation,"

"Besides that," Rowan smiled.

"I could use a little help with the omelet."

Raltharen Chupa-Pau sat in his quarters staring at the comm. unit. He had some free time, so maybe he could contact his mother and tell her the situation. He reached to enter the frequency and location, but then paused. No, he probably shouldn't lay that burden on her. Force knew she would start getting stressed.

Sighing, Raltharen lied on his bed. The fleet was approaching Taris anyway; something about a 'feeling' the emperor had, whatever that meant. He supposed he would just tell her in person.

Anakin sighed as he sat on the roof of the apartment complex. It was the only place where he could get away from everyone without being found.

Watching the skyline of Taris, Anakin found himself feeling awfully empty. He hated the Imperials for what had happened, and yet… at the same time he didn't mind their behavior around him at all. Sure, it was embarrassing beyond description, but… it was somehow comforting as well. Most of them simply treated him as a close friend – only some, like Moeema, got too carried away, but even then… Moeema reminded him of his mother.

Moaning, Anakin shook his head. What was wrong with him? He was getting so many conflicting signals. He hated and loved the Imperials at the same time!

And then there was Obi-Wan and Padmé… good Force, what could he even think about them? Obi-Wan… Obi-Wan had…

Anakin shuddered as the cold winter wind suddenly turned to an unimaginable heat that enveloped him. He felt fire prick his skin and a coat of sweat began to appear on him. He choked and gagged on the taste of ash entering his mouth and lungs.

Gasping, Anakin stood abruptly to shake the image away, but then tears came unbidden. Obi-Wan had left him there… why didn't he kill Anakin? It would have been merciful! Why did Anakin even get the idea of calling him Kichita when he was amnesiac?

And as for Padmé, Force knew what she thought of him. Anakin could imagine it was nothing pleasant, and he couldn't blame her in the least. He was surprised she had been so caring for him in the beginning. She had said she still loved him… but she had also said she was still mad.

What could he do? After everything he had done, he didn't deserve Padmé. He probably had never deserved her from the start.

And what about the baby?

That thought scared Anakin constantly, making his insides churn. No matter how much he tried to hide from the Imperials, whether by physically getting away from them or by acting like he wasn't affected at all by what had occurred over the past months, no matter how much he was afraid and hurt by Obi-Wan, no matter how much he yearned for and yet avoided Padmé, he could never ever hide this thought. What had happened to his child?

Padmé and Obi-Wan hadn't mentioned a thing about it, and Anakin knew that they knew more than he did on the matter. It made him so angry that they wouldn't tell him… and it hurt.

Sighing, Anakin sat once more, tucking his knees under his chin and hugging them. He didn't even know who he was anymore. Between all the conflicting memories, emotions, and thoughts, he was losing himself… he was just too afraid to admit it to anyone.

At dinner when everyone was sitting together in the apartment at some place in the living room (since the dining table couldn't fit all of them), Rowan decided to bring up something that he thought would help calm his wife.

"Dear, isn't there a social gathering tomorrow night?" he asked conversationally.

"What do I care for social gatherings at a time like this?" she asked.

"It's the Ria Dance," Rowan prompted. "That's where we first met, remember?"

"I'd prefer for it to remain that way," Jan sighed. "I don't it want it to be where we last saw each other as well!"

"Jan, it won't be," Rowan shook his head. "But we should still go. It'll be fun. Besides, my friends have never experienced it."

Jan looked at her husband and then nodded. "Very well,"

"What's the Ria Dance?" Kobayashi asked, curious.

"It's the lovers' dance," Rowan explained, catching Numel's attention and making Anakin look extremely uncomfortable while Capt. Mentzer simply looked as if he were going to be ill. "It's a traditional social event. Everyone goes to it religiously every year. Mind you, if you're going we'll have to buy proper outfits for you."

"Goodness, being on the run has its merits," Carh'la laughed. "We're treated to royalty on Nihoma, we're worshipped on Enriv 3, and now we attend traditional lovers' dances on Taris."

"All in a day's work," Obi-Wan chuckled.

The next day, Rowan went with the men while Jan took the women shopping.

"So what exactly are we buying?" Shiine asked.

"The kinds of garments vary for people," Rowan said. "But certain things are constant, such as the colors and the veils.

"You see, these dances have a certain tradition to them. One is that the men and women alternate between being allowed to speak with words and being allowed to speak through body language—no, not in that way, Numel—so they can get to know each other about as well as one can in a night.

"There are two kinds of headdresses for this tradition. The first is a veil that falls to one's lips. This veil is attached to elastic which is wrapped around the head. You use this veil when you are allowed words only. Attached to the elastic on the other side is a second veil which trails down your back. You take the tips of the veil, wrap the veil around your mouth and nose, and then tie it in the back when you are not allowed to speak. Then you speak through your eyes and your movement.

"As for colors, the three traditional colors are black, white, and red. You wear red to indicate that you are available, white to indicate that you already have a soul mate, and black to indicate that you are in mourning over a lost love."

Kobayashi found himself imagining that he was wearing red robes and a veil tied around his face and then a beautiful woman would approach him. Then he remembered he couldn't speak. He wasn't going to like that part at all.

Oh, well. It's still fun.

The men all picked out their own outfits. Kobayashi spent the entire day anxiously awaiting the dance.

When the time finally came to prepare for the dance, Kobayashi immediately donned his outfit and stood waiting in the living room. Kobayashi's attire resembled his Nihoman attire in a sense and was all different shades of red. Numel naturally wore flaming red, while Jifo, Ress, and Shiine took more subtle, deeper red hues to not be so obvious while Ooke wore light red. Kerrick, Marrax, and Capt. Mentzer came out in white robes, remaining faithful to their spouses or (in the captain's case) fiancées. Obi-Wan and Anakin entered wearing black.

The women entered next. Zhymmia wore light shades of red, almost as if she were trying to ward away potential bachelors. Carh'la and Moeema wore white, while Ryatsi wore a pure rich red. Padmé, on the other hand, wore black like her husband. Kobayashi really didn't want to know; as much as he cared about Anakin, he knew better than to interfere with marital affairs.

The host couple came last, both wearing pure white. Rowan and Jan then led the Imperials to the location of the dance.

The walk to the place was long but pleasant. They passed through most of the city and then entered an alcove of sorts where they sat on the edge of the city. A beach provided soothing background noise as the ocean hugged the shore, rocking back and forth.

The group then entered the building. It was decorated with grey, letting the colors worn by the attendants speak for themselves. Lively music was playing and people were dancing in any way they pleased. The men were wearing veils over their eyes while women were wearing them over their mouths.

Rowan then faced the group. "All right, everyone, get your veils the way they should be. When you hear them blow the longhorn then you can switch."

"What longhorn?" Shiine asked.

Rowan pointed to it. "That longhorn,"

The longhorn in question was exactly that: a long horn made of wood. The instrument was enormous, going all the way to the floor and needing two wooden pegs to hold it off the ground.

"Have a good time," Rowan said with a smile, adjusting his veil properly and then taking his wife by the hand.

Padmé tied the veil around her nose and mouth as tradition dictated. She then watched the Imperials disperse, melting into the crowd. Numel immediately went to the voluptuous women in red at the other side of the room, causing Zhymmia to get irritated once more while the rest of the women rolled their eyes or giggled. Moeema and Carh'la seemed to be enjoying the traditions, trying to communicate through blinks and eye movement and laughing as they failed miserably. Ryatsi, meanwhile, went over to the nearest table to get some refreshments. Shiine simply strolled through the crowd, saying hello to people who passed him. Jifo shyly followed Ryatsi around alongside Ress, who wasn't shy, but was just awkward in the whole idea; romance wasn't exactly bred in clones. Ooke and Kobayashi wandered around, introducing themselves to everyone they saw and having a great time doing so. Marrax just started a conversation with Kerrick, while Ton Mentzer stood in a corner watching alongside Obi-Wan.

And then there was Anakin.

Padmé watched him as he wandered to a dark corner with a cup in his hand and began to sip at whatever the contents were. He seemed preoccupied, his eyes glazed as he stared at the crowd.

Padmé looked away, sighing as she smoothed her long dress. There were more traditions to the outfit than just colors and veils. The bachelors and bachelorettes could show as much as skin as was in reason, while the married or engaged were more modest. Those in mourning, however, could only show their hands and faces. Padmé had to wear a black scarf to make sure no one could see her neck, and her long black dress flowed all the way to the floor as if it were a senate gown. The material was thick, keeping her warm from the winter cold outside.

A man in white walked up to the longhorn Rowan had mentioned and took a deep breath. He then grabbed hold of the mouthpiece and blew hard into the enormous instrument, making a low rumbling sound which allowed for overtones to swim through the air. Padmé's skin tingled listening to the sound and then she vaguely remembered that it symbolized a switching of veils. She quickly untied her veil and then lowered the one below her eyes. She then looked at Anakin, who had already tied his veil properly, and decided that it was time to talk.

Padmé began to walk over to his side of the room and then her steps faltered. She simply watched him for a while as he leaned against the wall, unaware of her scrutiny. He looked so alone.

Sighing, Padmé then took a step back. She wasn't quite sure what to say or do. Nothing could ever change what had happened, but Padmé could see he was genuinely sorry and terrified that saying anything would break what little bond they still had. But what could she say? What could she do? She didn't want him to think he was suddenly forgiven; he really wasn't. She was still mad at him for turning his back on everything he had fought for, but she could see the decisions and manipulations that led to that turning point. He had done wrong, and he knew it. But it still didn't seem like enough.

Padmé shook her head. She couldn't want vengeance. But what did she want? An apology? Would a simple I'm sorry really be all she needed? Or was it more? She really didn't know. It just didn't seem right anymore. Padmé still loved him, but there was a void; she wasn't sure what would fill it, but she did know what had caused it. It ate away at her, whispering in her mind while her heart cried out for her husband, who was too scared to answer the call.

The music stopped and everyone applauded and then cleared the dance floor. Padmé then saw the musicians stand side by side, not holding any instruments except for one small chime and a wooden horn that resembled the longhorn except in a much smaller size. People were arranging themselves in a semicircle around the dance floor, holding hands and lowering their heads. Then, as if they were ghosts, those who were in mourning floated onto the dance floor… all of them. It was a traditional dance of sorts. Padmé hoped it was one she knew; it had to have been, for Anakin seemed to recognize it and he too went to the dance floor.

A tradition among the mourning was that they were not to touch anyone, so they each had two black silk handkerchiefs to dance with instead of holding hands. Padmé stepped onto the dance floor, purposely walking towards Anakin so he would be her dance partner.

There were eighteen who were in mourning, allowing for everyone to have a partner. Then the music began. It came, not from the musicians, but from everyone. The people in the crowd began to hum a mellow tune slowly. Padmé quickly recognized the tune, knowing it was a piece for those lost. She quickly fought off the images of everyone who had been killed because of the Empire and because of the Clone Wars. She watched Anakin. This was between the two of them, right here, right now.

As the crowd hummed, the mourning positioned themselves and then remained still. Then the crowd began to sing the tune on an "ah", giving the sound a somber tone. The instant they did, the mourning slowly held out their left arm to their partner. The women held the black handkerchief in one hand, and the men would take the other end and they would circle each other slowly, keeping their eyes on the ground. Then the melody was sung again on a "yeh", which was a syllable in Tarisian which was part of the word yehkizhua, which meant "remember".

When the crowd began to sing on a "yeh", the men released their grip on the handkerchiefs and stood in place. The women circled around them, but did not touch them. Padmé watched Anakin closely, neither saying a word. Padmé did a graceful and slow twirl with the rest of the women and then held out her handkerchief in an invitation once more. Anakin took it and the two floated across the dance floor before lifting it and then releasing it, watching it fall to the ground but leaving their arms where they were.

The melody then turned into a chord of different notes clashing and blending. Then many of the crowd took a new melody, singing in Tarisian. Throughout this, the mourning did not move; they stayed frozen, watching the handkerchief on the floor. It represented that they were frozen in time, stopping the flow of their lives to remember those lost.

As the melody was sung over and over again, the notes in the chord began to conform and then join the melody. Finally, everyone began to sing the same note and overtones sang through the room, making Padmé lose her breath. As the overtones continued to fill the room, the mourning slowly lowered their arms and picked up the handkerchiefs, stuffing them away and then facing the exit. One of the musicians tapped the chime, and with each chime another of the mourning left.

When Padmé began to leave, following Anakin, she noticed that there were even more people humming and singing overtones outside of the building, waiting for the mourning to leave.

The mourners marched in silence towards the city, the sound of the wind and the waves the only thing heard. Eventually, Anakin broke away from the silent procession, walking towards the beach but not stepping into the sand. Padmé paused, watching him grieve, and then made her decision. She walked over to him silently and walked in front of him. His deep blue eyes watched her every movement, pleading with her.

Padmé slowly lifted her arms and untied his veil and then raised her own. She then leaned in and the two shared a very tender kiss before it blossomed and grew, and no words were needed.

Zhymmia watched those who were in mourning as they did their somber dance. She was enraptured not only with the music and the solemnity with which the dancers carried themselves, but one couple in particular. Her heart fluttered when she looked into Vader's blue eyes, but they were gazing intently at Padmé Amidala.

Sighing, Zhymmia shook her head and turned away. What was wrong with her, anyway? Ever since she had started getting to really know Vader when he was running amok as Little One she had started… feeling oddly around him. She didn't like it. What was worse was that it hurt to see him with Amidala and she didn't know why.

Thankfully, the song ended and the couples left. Apparently they wouldn't stay for the rest of the party.

After they left, the overtones vanished bit by bit until everyone stood in silence. Then suddenly, one of the musicians shouted in Tarisian. "Yehkizhua!"

Everyone in the crowd repeated him somberly with their heads bowed, and then the musician clapped his hands twice. He clapped them twice again, accompanied by the rest of the musicians. The he yelled, "Dela hehkmiala foomas!"

"Dela!" the crowd shouted back with a cheer.

"Dela hehkmiala foomas!"

"Dela!"

The musicians all clapped their hands twice once more and then started drumming a beat in a ceramic pot with wooden sticks before adding more instruments to it. Everyone began to dance and cheer, doing whatever they wished, and an enormous crowd entered from outside, having been standing out there until the mourners left.

Zhymmia watched everyone dancing and genuinely enjoying themselves and she slowly, timidly, but surely, began to join them, hopping to the beat lightly and beginning to laugh as she twirled around.

Unfortunately, her twirling led her right into Numel.

Her smile fading, Zhymmia waited for a snide remark from him when she suddenly remembered that the men were to be silent. She laughed again. "Not so tough when you can't flirt, are you?"

Numel looked at her intensely, and for some reason, it made her feel uneasy. She slinked away, trying to shake off the odd feeling.

Zhymmia danced for a while longer, enjoying the music and the liveliness of it all, and then she walked to the side to get refreshments.

The lighthearted atmosphere of the room was contagious and Zhymmia soon found herself dancing with almost every man in the room, for once not feeling uncomfortable with the concept since it was just plain fun.

After a while the dancing grew to exhaust her and Zhymmia stepped outside to get some cool air on her sweaty face.

The Star Destroyers hovering in the sky was not what she had expected to see.

Blessed release and bliss was all he felt – it was the amazing sensation of being lost in someone else and being so intimate with them that one couldn't be distinguished from the other. It was an act of love, but also of trust.

Anakin kissed Padmé tenderly on the neck as the two held each other, calm after separating from the bliss. Padmé in turn snuggled into his embrace. Anakin wanted to say so much, but he couldn't find the words for it. So instead he just held her.

Padmé seemed reluctant to start conversation as well. Anakin knew that was the case because normally she was the one to talk first, but she didn't say a word. He knew part of it was simply because there were no words to be said after what they had done – it had spoken for itself. But part of it was because she, just like Anakin, didn't know what to say.

So this time Anakin took the initiative. He stroked his hand through her sweaty hair and kissed her tenderly. "Padmé… you're too good for me."

Padmé chuckled and returned his kiss. "What makes you say that? I'm as flawed as you are."

Anakin let out a disbelieving laugh at that remark. "Please, what could you possibly have done to make you even nearly as flawed as me?"

"Anakin, everyone makes mistakes,"

Anakin pulled away from her to look at her directly. "Mistakes? That was some mistake I made, Padmé. The whole galaxy has had to suffer for it."

"You're not the center of attention, Ani," Padmé rolled her eyes jokingly. "A lot of things led up to this. You were a big part of it, no doubts there, but you weren't the main cause of it. This was inevitable by the end of the war – Palpatine had the senate in the palm of his hand. Even I was blind to it."

Anakin watched her for a while before leaning on her and kissing her again, letting her words linger in the air. Then he pulled away again and made sure he could read her expression for his next question. "What happened to the baby?"

Padmé looked uncomfortable.

"Padmé, please," Anakin said, holding her close to him. He felt her breath tickle his bare shoulder. "Tell me what happened to our baby."

"I was right, you know," Padmé softly and then she seemed to gain some confidence as she laughed and pinched Anakin. "I was right. We have a son."

Anakin jumped. "What? We—a son?"

Padmé nodded. "But you were right too,"

"I—I was?" Anakin stuttered, not understanding. "I thought it was a girl."

"We have a daughter too," Padmé explained.

"But—you just said—"

Padmé laughed and kissed Anakin to silence him. Then she said, "Honestly, Anakin, haven't you ever heard of twins?"

"You gave birth to twins?" Anakin gaped at his wife. "But where are they?"

"They're safe," Padmé replied. "They're in hiding. I went into a coma, Anakin, and you were… well…"

Anakin crumpled on the bed, his chest constricted. "They… they've grown up… without…"

Padmé kissed him reassuringly. "We're getting them back, Anakin, but not now; we can't reunite with them like this. We're on the run from the Empire."

Anakin looked at her, shocked at her words. "What do you mean we're not getting them now? They'd be five – they're probably wondering who their parents are! Or… do they not know about us?"

"Ani, they know about us," Padmé nodded. "Sort of,"

"Sort of?"

"Well, they know they're adopted, at least," Padmé modified her previous statement.

Anakin felt horrible. "Padmé, we can't leave them like that – I know what it's like to grow up without having a father or knowing who he is or what a father's like."

"Anakin, you should also know what it's like to be living in a bad situation," Padmé told him sternly. "We can't let our children share that same fate."

"As long as I had my mother I never cared how bad it got," Anakin retorted.

"You can't justify it, Anakin," Padmé said. "I know how much that life scarred you."

Padmé traced her hand up his back, running her fingers along a scar from a whipping he had received when he was four that never fully healed. Then she rested her palm over his heart. "And not just physically,"

Anakin sighed and held her tightly, shivering, and Padmé gave him another reassuring kiss on his neck.

"So…" Anakin whispered into her hair. "Their names… Luke and Leia? Like we had decided?"

Padmé nodded. "I always told you it would be a boy. He has your eyes, you know. I remember them."

Anakin felt tears slowly trace down his cheeks before slipping into Padmé's hair. "What about Leia?"

"I think she inherited my looks," Padmé smirked.

"Humph, that means I'll have to fight off all the boys as she gets older," Anakin snorted. "Force, they're five…"

Shaking his head, Anakin said, "I'm a horrible father."

Padmé stroked his face. "Anakin, you… it's true you made mistakes and a very wrong choice, but we'll correct it. We'll correct all of it."

Anakin looked at her earnestly as if her words would bring miracles and the two kissed, becoming one again.

Their reverie was interrupted when Anakin felt danger spike through the Force and he abruptly pulled away.

"What's wrong?" Padmé asked.

Anakin didn't say anything. He couldn't. The presence he sensed struck him dumb with fear. He couldn't even breathe. Sitting up, he looked out the windows as if he could see the presence right in front of him.

"Anakin? Anakin!"

Anakin shook his head, finding his voice. "He's coming…"

"Who? Who's coming?" Padmé asked urgently, trying to pull him to her in order to both reassure him and get his attention. "Anakin, what's wrong?"

"Kichita…" Anakin moaned, calling to Obi-Wan through the Force.

Please review. :-)

Oh, and here's a piece that has overtones for those of you who are curious/clueless as to what overtones are - they sound amazing, believe me! Just listen to the end of the piece - or the whole thing - it's all great, anyways.

http(colon, backslash X2) .com(backslash)watch?v=ooNvbg4dKNM