The door to their quarters snapped up, a silent darkness laid out before him. He moved in without a sound, waving his hand to bring the lights up to a minimal glow. She'd gone to bed long ago and was now laid out on her side, fast asleep. He tossed his boots into a corner and stripped off his outer layers until his chest was bare. Then he slid into bed beside her and drew her in close.
"Any news?" she shifted in to him with a dozing query.
"They're still trying to sort everyone out. I'll check in later."
Basking in the contact of her body wrapped around him he encouraged her head to his shoulder.
"I'm worried," Padmé cuddled into him, trying and failing to fall back to sleep.
He twitched the fingers laying against her upper arm, now detecting her slight hiccup of breath against his breastbone.
"Why?" Anakin stroked her shoulder soothingly with his thumb. "It's a good plan and we now have a substantial force. I know we will win."
"We're both marked for death," she quietly reminded. "What if – what if they kill me before the baby is born? When it's still inside me?"
Anakin's throat closed at the horrific thought and he clutched at her arm.
"Will it die too?" she pursued.
He let her go and propped himself up on an elbow to glare menacingly down. "Don't talk like that," he ordered stiffly. "You and the baby will be fine."
"You don't know that. You had dreams, before, where I died in childbirth. Maybe that was a portent like your mother –"
He shook his head and held up his hand to calm her runaway thoughts.
"I've had other dreams since," he soothed. "You'll both be fine. I've seen it."
Padmé paused, studied him and his quiet sure features. "Really?"
"Yes." He reached out and tucked a hair behind her ear. "You were happy. You were holding the baby." He purposely put his hand down and touched their future still growing inside her. "Everyone," he stressed, "is going to be ok."
He returned to laying on his back, his preferred sleeping position, and tugged her back to him.
"Oh," Padmé didn't know what to say.
"So don't worry," he assured her. "What you should worry about, is who is going to fill the power vacuum when we are successful."
He turned his head to lift an eyebrow at her.
"No!" she read his implication and hotly protested it. "The galaxy has had enough of Naboo for this lifetime."
"Who then?" he asked. "Who would you pick?"
"Organa, perhaps."
His fingers stopped moving and she felt the chest muscles beneath her cheek slowly tense until his torso was hard stone. When he sucked in a hard breath she raised her head to gauge his mood.
"What's wrong with Bail?" she was surprised to see the look of disgust that had come across his face.
"I don't know," he couldn't quite put into words the uncomfortable feeling he had whenever he was around the Senator from Alderaan. It had worsened lately. "I feel like, if given the opportunity he would steal our future children."
"Anakin!" she vehemently protested the accusation that came from nowhere.
"That's what it feels like," he said grumpily. "I'm not saying he has, stolen people's children that is."
"He is a great champion of peace! He has not stolen people's children" she defended her good friend and closest ally.
"I can't change how I feel. Though I won't be letting him near our baby when she comes, that's for sure. Who else?"
Padmé grumbled but didn't say anything more on that odd subject, putting it down to sleepiness on both their parts.
"Senator Mothma perhaps. Though she's very young."
"Mmm, so you then," he kissed the top of her head and settled in to sleep.
"Not me," she murmured, feeling her body begin to clam as Anakin did, her mind now focused on other things. Pleasant things. "When this is all over I am going home to Naboo. I just want to be with our baby."
"Oh," Anakin smiled to himself. "You – you'd do that for the baby? Give up your Senate seat?"
"I've already given up my Senate seat."
"For the Empire. What about when we restore the Republic? Will you stop representing your people?"
"For a little while," she buried her face in his throat. "I can't wait to be with him Ani."
"Then I'll make sure it happens," Anakin paused then couldn't resist. "But it's a girl. I'll give you a boy next time."
She giggled softly and twined her legs with his, slowly drifting into unconsciousness buried in her husband's scent.
When she awoke she still had company, an utterly unfamiliar occurrence. Even more confusing was the presence of his unmoving right hand resting against her stomach, palm open, fit to the curve. It was the only place he was touching her.
His breathing wasn't deep enough to still be asleep. Without opening her eyes she asked "What is it?"
"Why isn't the baby moving anymore?" his voice was quiet and unsteady.
Padmé drew in a deep breath then yawned, reaching down to cover his still and silent hand. "It kicked all yesterday," she wasn't worried. "I appreciate the few hours rest." Then her eyes popped open and she looked at him worriedly. "Why? Is something wrong?"
His features crinkled then he slowly shook his head, not raising it from the pillow. "I haven't felt it in days. I just wanted to."
Padmé sighed, smiling at him in relief. "Wait there," she squeezed his hand in reassurance. "It will wake soon enough."
Silence fells and Padmé dozed off again. Anakin waited half an hour then couldn't lie still anymore. In a quiet plea to make itself known he leaned down and pressed both his hands, then his lips, to Padmé's stomach. His offspring didn't stir so he left the pair of them to their rest and strode into the fresher. When he emerged some time later Padmé was sitting up and he moved to kiss her.
"Good morning," she greeted, stroking his smooth cheek.
"Yes, good morning," he murmured back, his fingertips caressing her bare throat. "I'm going to the bridge to hear the update report when the crew do a shift change. Then I'm going to have breakfast in the mess. Join me?"
"I would love to."
He kissed her once more, twice, a third time hard on the lips then pulled away. "I'll see you shortly."
He was out the door but before it could shut his head poked back in. "See if you can get my daughter to wake up in the meantime. I'd like to feel her again."
"It's unlikely. Your son is just as stubborn as you are," Padmé countered cheekily.
Anakin smirked and disappeared.
Three minutes later he was standing silently on the bridge as the officers did a shift change. Obi-Wan appeared by his side. A frown had already settled on his master's brow and seemed to deepen with every moment that passed.
Both could feel it, a haze of doubt had come to settle over the bridge crew as they worked through the night. It was a vast change when only last evening there had been jubilation, and Anakin didn't need an update report to know the news wasn't good.
One clone in a Bridge Officer's uniform stepped forward to address the small gathering of command officers, Jedi Generals and Navy Admirals. He dove right in.
"Barring you two," he nodded towards Anakin and Obi-Wan, "no Master was rescued pre-emptively."
"Meaning?" Anakin prompted when the Captain didn't go on.
"They've all been injured, some gravely," he brought up a list on the screen before them and Anakin's eyes scanned it quickly.
Missing limbs, near fatal blast shots, concussive head trauma, it read like a medical text on life-ending injuries.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Obi-Wan's fingers reaching up to twist his short beard in thought.
"A Medical frigate, Safe Harbour, was one of those that joined us yesterday." The Captain turned back and reluctantly met the blue eyes of first one Jedi, then the other. "All adults have now been transferred to the frigate and are being treated. Those members of the Council that joined us are all in bacta and will be for some time. There were a number of children, Padawan Tahno volunteered to supervise them for now."
"All of them were that injured?" Anakin asked in disbelief.
He shared a worried look with Obi-Wan.
"You had better tell us how their teams managed to rescue them."
He met her in the mess hall half an hour later and pulled out her chair just before she could sit. He moved in close, not kissing, but close. Their eyes stayed locked until she was seated and he took the chair beside her.
She picked up her fork cautiously.
"Bail Organa left me a message over night," she conveyed in private hish.
Anakin's hand reached out and settled on her tummy. "He heard about our daughter?" he eluded to his comment last night.
His dark humour made her eyes narrow. "That's not funny," she said quietly.
In front of the half-full mess hall and thirty men Anakin put his fork down then bent below the table. "I," he enunciated "am your father." Both his hands pressed against her stomach. "Anakin Skywalker," he made clear. "In case Bail Organa steals you and tells you otherwise."
"Anakin," Padmé hissed, looking around to see how much entertainment they were providing to the crowd.
Anakin leaned forward and, dropping the act, pressed his lips to the swelling. "Love you my youngling," he whispered, and this time no one but the child could hear him. "And I will be here with you while you grow up. Death sentence or no."
He then re-emerged, sitting up to his breakfast and picking up his fork again. But he left one quite serious hand on the baby, that odd feeling in the Force lingering after she had mentioned Bail Organa, though he couldn't sense why.
"What did he want?"
"To speak more precisely about his offer of aid."
"I don't think Senator Organa's idea of aid is what we need," Anakin really did his best to be diplomatic. "Food, bandages and fluffy feelings are nice for a refugee cause, but this is a serious military operation."
"He was offering unmarked credits," Padmé rebutted him crossly.
"Oh!" Anakin perked right up. "That's more useful."
"And stealth access to the Senate building."
His chewing slowed and he looked at her.
"How can he do that? Isn't he one of your petitioners? With a bounty on his head?"
"Apparently the only one with a bounty is me," her hand came down to cover his and together they squeezed their fingers, stoic silence abounding because she still feared that she and with her the little one, would be killed. "Palpatine knows of the petition but it was never delivered. Mine is the only name assigned to it. I'm the one who was going to put the motion forward and I'm the one who had Mas Amedda add it to the Senate debate timetable two weeks ago."
Anakin nodded thoughtfully.
"Should you need access to Palpatine's office, he's offering it."
"Why?" Anakin asked suspiciously. "That sounds convenient. Almost like a trap."
"Don't you like springing those?"
"Yes," Anakin didn't sound convincing. "But not when your life is at stake." He shook his head, taking a drink of water and staring off into the distance, his mind occupied with scenarios. "Why is Organa, a celebrated pacifist, making this move now?"
"Because the Emperor has gone too far. Even for him. Besides, Bail has bite when he wants to. He's been involved in his own under-handed dealings in this war. The relief mission to Ryloth?" she reminded.
"Relief," Anakin restressed his point that Organa was not involved in military operations.
"Alright but running those supplies from the Toydarian homeworld without the Separatists knowing was not a pacifist mission."
"I guess," Anakin muttered. "You know, I do daring heroic things all the time."
Padmé turned away from her meal, stopped eating and stared at him. He looked right back, lifting a spoon of broth to his mouth and continue to sip at it.
"You're jealous," she was disbelieving.
"Do I need to be?"
Padmé's face suddenly lit up and it took everything she had not to laugh. "You're breakfast smells repulsive," she pushed the bowl away from him, across the table.
Confused by the apparent non sequitur he looked after the bowl then asked "Why did you do that?"
She tilted her head at his charming innocence.
"Do you know why your breakfast smells?" she prompted.
"No," he answered, straight forward enough. "Tastes fine to me. Perhaps not good enough for someone who'd rather be eating fresh fruit from Naboo orchards, but we are on a military vessel that's fast running out of supplies. Is that your point? You'd rather be eating Alderaanian delicacies than Army grub?" he was getting up a head of annoyed, passionate steam now.
"No," Padmé said simply. "I'm pregnant. Your daring, passionate heroics, your downright recklessness, makes me love you. So. Much. So now I'm pregnant and its made my senses funny."
She lifted a knowing eyebrow at him. Glanced down towards the large spans of his hands, then her own swollen chest. Looked up again pointedly.
Anakin's eyes lit with a mischievous sparkle in understanding.
"The baby is making sure that the smell of Hoi Broth makes me nauseous, but we're on the run on a military vessel that's fast running out of supplies," she mimicked him "so that's all there is." Then she leaned in close. "And I would rather be here with you, than anywhere else in the galaxy."
They both paused for a moment, gazing into one another's eyes.
"I guess he can give us credits," Anakin eventually allowed, ever so graciously, with an exaggerated sigh.
"And images of the temple," Padmé picked up her fork again and paused, waiting for him to respond.
As expected, his features darkened. "Why would you want that?"
"This is a war of propaganda," she explained quietly. "Palpatine is now trumpeting how quickly things are changing under his all-controlling Empire. But he only talks about the good." She gave him time to digest that, slipping into silence while she picked at her food.
"People have to know of the atrocities too," she revealed to him in with a soft quietness. "There have been no broadcasts, no mention of it at all. Yet Senator Chuchi sent me a personal message this morning describing the spires of smoke, the blanket of it that hangs over the entire sector. Everyone can see it but no one can speak of it. To not speak of evil is to condone its existence."
The leather in Anakin's right glove creaked.
"The slaughtered Jedi are not tools to be bartered," he warned her angrily. "Not for your propaganda campaign or anything else.
"Nor should their sacrifice be forgotten," Padmé countered. "And I don't want the remaining Jedi to follow them to death." Her gaze bore into his. "Unless you would prefer that Bail Organa raise your daughter."
His thumb twitched, still lying on his unborn offspring. "You admit it's a girl."
"Anakin!" she was exasperated. "We cannot destroy Palpatine if the public has bought into his fantasy of greater good and hidden atrocities. Destroying one man accomplishes nothing, it creates a martyr to a cause. We need the support of the people."
"Alright alright," he waved his hand, indicating that he got it. "I will take Palpatine's heart with my lightsaber." He gave her a sly, knowing grin. "You can win the rest of the galaxy's."
"You are awfully cocky this morning," even as she was saying it she realised he was incredibly arrogant for a man on the run with a small fleet fast burning through their supplies. "Did more ships join us overnight?"
Anakin looked at her with a hopefully big grin. "Seventy-two."
Her fork clattered to the plate. "What?!"
He nodded. "Mostly smaller ships, some masters with their Padawans. One transport of younglings participating in the gathering." She still looked stunned when he clarified "They were out searching for crystals to build their lightsabers. Only you, me and Obi-Wan got out unscathed. Many of them are recuperating or still in bacta." He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. "No one had as many troopers as you my love."
"Seventy-two," Padmé repeated in awe.
"One," he offered casually. "Was on a mission that brought them through Mandalore."
"The Duchess?" Padmé asked after her friend worriedly.
"Is in mourning," he shot an annoyed glance toward the door, as if to chastise Obi-Wan for bringing unnecessary grief down on the woman who loved him. "But the real problem is that the Separatists aren't the only ones getting too close. Three Republic Cruisers now happen to be stationed within a five hour jump of Satine's palace."
"Imperial cruisers," she mindlessly corrected, her mind already wandering. "Why Mandalore?"
"Obi-Wan," Anakin shrugged, as if it was obvious.
"Excuse me?"
"Obi-Wan. His dead body hasn't turned up. In fact the Emperor is finding himself short a few dead Jedi. Important ones. Many of the Masters are here with us – Windu, Unduli, Plo, Kenobi."
"So if the plan was to parade you all as dead traitors –"
"Then its failing," he finished her thought with a nod. "The Jedi have no attachments, no ties to draw them out beyond the other Jedi." His eyes flashed. "Except you, and me," he didn't need to say it.
"Ani," she swallowed, not sure she wanted to know the answer to this. "Does the Emperor know about us?"
Anakin looked down at his breakfast and didn't look up. "In hindsight, yes, probably. When he and I speak, you are a frequent topic."
"Why?" she asked, pained at the thought that the evil sith knew, that she was now one of Anakin's weaknesses.
"I have cared for you," he swallowed, "for a long time. It's not the Jedi way. There was no one I could talk to about how it – it ached. To think about you and feel for you and not – be with you," he stumbled. "Not be allowed to even feel. But the Chancellor didn't mind."
"Does he know about the baby?" she could barely bring herself to ask.
"No," Anakin was firm about that. "After Geonosis I had you to talk to." His resolve wavered and his brow furrowed. "At least..."
"Ani?" she prompted when he remained silent.
"He told me the story of a benevolent Sith," Anakin slowly remembered. "The last time I saw him. When I was having those dreams about your death. He offered me a solution." He turned to his wife in horrified shock. "Does he know?!"
She shook her head, indicating she had no idea either.
"You're going to kill him, remember? Besides, I'm with you, I'm safe."
"Right," his fingers squeezed against the baby again. "You're with me. Satine, on the other hand, is still very publically sitting on Mandalore. Unprotected. No army. Mourning Obi-Wan."
Padmé's features fell.
"Oh no."
"Palpatine knows about you, but he can't get to you because Rex is too smart for him and now you don't leave my sight," he promised with deathly intent. "He also knows about Satine. An attachment, a weakness. Obi-Wan's weakness."
"A pawn," Padmé quietly realised. "She won't go quietly."
"No. He's probably counting on that. Whatever he does it will be very public. To draw Obi-Wan in," he stopped trying to second guess the Emperor for a moment and drew his hand from Padmé's midsection briefly, only to draw her own hand up over his heart. He held it there, letting her feel it pounding hard with worry.
"Don't," he started to say but couldn't finish his sentence.
"I'm not going anywhere," Padmé assured him in her own quiet way, a solemn vow to stay close. To not be turned against him as a pawn, as they could see was about to happen to Obi-Wan. "Right by your side. Always."
He nodded, too overcome to speak.
"We need to go down to the planet, so I can get back to Bail."
"Com him from here," Anakin countered, already shaking his head.
"Which will have the signature of a Republic cruiser and signal to all and sundry that I am certainly not alone. In fact it will confirm that I am the leader of a Rebellion, just as the Emperor is claiming. No, I need to look like I'm on the run with no resources at all. A public terminal in Mos Espa," she decreed. "Will do the job nicely."
Obi-Wan appeared at their table, a spring in his step.
"I had a thought while I was meditating this morning. A solution to our shortage of funds."
"Oh?" Anakin looked up at the master thoughtfully.
"Bail Organa has offered what he can," Padmé relayed her earlier message.
The auburn haired Jedi master grinned. "This is more immediate. Come with me," he waved.
"Actually I have to speak to Threepio. Anakin, I will meet you in the hanger bay?"
He nodded, stood and left her to finish her breakfast, curious as to just what revelation Obi-Wan had to show him. They twisted through the many hallways of the ship until they stood at a locked door, buried deep, hidden back behind the hyperdrive engines.
"What is this?" Anakin asked curiously, looking for the locking mechanism to open the door. There wasn't one.
Holding out his hand, Obi-Wan quieted his mind and reached out into the force. A moment later the door slid open and the two walked inside. Anakin's eyes widened as he looked around him at stacks upon stacks of unmarked credits.
"Emergency funds," Obi-Wan explained. "Every Republic cruiser has one, though only the Jedi Council and the clones who installed it would know about this room." He watched Anakin carefully, waiting to see what his friend's reaction would be.
"This doesn't upset you?" he prodded. "That you weren't told? Trusted with this knowledge."
Anakin folded his arms across his broad chest and looked around the embarrassment of riches. "I'm alive. Most of the Jedi are dead. The council members that made it did not survive unscathed."
He lifted an eyebrow at Obi-Wan. "So they didn't tell me about a few million Republic Credits. They've done worse."
"You're very calm about this," Obi-Wan was suspicious.
"You've just told me I can feed my men and rearm our ships. Good news."
"Well we still haven't chosen a safe world to purchase from."
"We don't need a safe world." He grinned eagerly, surveying the walls lined with shining slivers of gold. "The Hutts just happen to be nearby, and they never ask questions when there is profit to be made."
Anakin was watchful, his cloak drawn so his face was hidden deep in shadow. Padmé had just swapped her medical robe for fawn coloured leggings and a tunic that cut wide over her belly, purchased from a droid three streets away. Her hair fell down her back in a single long twist of mahogany brown and Anakin couldn't help his eyes lingering over her. Their baby was utterly unhidden, on display with the way the tunic was tailored to emphasise it. She was also suddenly a lot more manoeuvrable in her knee high flat-bottomed boots. That was good, because they were already attracting attention.
She shook her head as Anakin held out a dark cloak to conceal her own identity, and abandoned the hospital robe altogether.
"I need to be recognised," she reminded. "I need word to get back to the capital, and quickly."
"I know," he still didn't have to like it.
He threw the cloak off to the side, then held out something much more practical. A thigh holster and a blaster. Not the well-designed, piece of art, delicate silver kind from Naboo but the black, power-packing serious kind from Corellia. While Padmé was choosing an outfit he'd been purchasing a pair of these, highly-illegally, on the black market.
She baulked when he held it out to her. Her fingers immediately drifted up to the rather delicate life form that would sit no more than a handspan away from that blaster, should she choose to wear it.
"Appearance is everything," he rationalised. "If you want the Senate to believe you've become an outlaw, dress like an outlaw. If you want every bounty hunter and spice runner in Mos Eisley to believe you're an easy mark, then walk around unarmed with the baby so big. I think you should look utterly ruthless, and to do that you need to be well-armed."
He held out the holster again.
She took it from him reluctantly.
"I don't like this," she registered her final protest as she bent to strap it on. It quickly became apparent that she no longer had the mobility to get her hands around her own leg.
A faint smile touched Anakin's lips and he knelt before her, running his hand up her thigh.
"I know," he confirmed. "I don't expect you to use it. It's for show. A last resort if something happens to me."
She nodded, watched as he pressed the blaster into the holster and locked the safety snap closed. Then he did the same to her other thigh.
Next he withdrew a knife.
"I don't think so!"
"It's only small!" he protested right back.
"No, Anakin," she said firmly.
"Inside your sleeve," he coaxed. "If your hands get tied for any reason, you'll be able to get free when they're not watching."
"Who is 'they'?" Padmé was having none of it.
"I don't know. Backup," he reiterated.
Her mouth flattened in an annoyed grimace. Then she lifted her left arm and held it out to him. Anakin pushed back her sleeve and took her wrist in his hand. Bending, he placed a lingering kiss to the soft skin.
She melted a little inside.
"It will be alright," he assured, looking up at her from under his lashes briefly.
Her heart fluttered and she got lost in the warmth livening those blue eyes.
"I hope so," she was still very concerned as he strapped the small knife to the inside of her wrist. Once he'd pulled her shirt sleeve back down it was not obvious that it lay there at all.
"Anything else?" she prodded.
"Just this." He stood before her, inclined his head, and kissed her softly. "Be loud, obvious, and quick," was his final advice. "I want us back with the fleet by sun down."
"I agree," she kept her voice quiet and steady. Touched his hip briefly. Then stood back.
"Come on," she emerged from the darkened doorway and into the blindingly hot, arid air.
Captain Rex had donned tight black leathers, a low slung belt with a deadly blaster hanging off either side and a low-pulled hat. He was leaning against the outside of the building, his eyes scanning the passers by.
"Scum, every one of them," he observed to Anakin with feigned disinterest, righting himself to walk at Padmé's other side.
"Bounty hunters, spice runners, some fleeing a Republic death sentence," Anakin agreed, holding the gaze of a scarred and rough looking Quarren who was missing an eye.
"And slaves," Padmé watched a child run past. Her fingers clenching to keep from brushing the underside of her belly. She couldn't afford to show weakness, compassion, any feeling at all.
She felt something else brush across her skin in a light caress and forced her features to stay perfectly relaxed. The tickling feeling passed and she briefly shifted her eyes to Anakin who wasn't even looking her way. He was watching the slave child run off and, a moment later, the Quarren went after it. Anakin's face darkened but he didn't turn to follow.
The brush beneath her clothes happened again. She knew from experience that touch was his. And it was reassuring.
Rex shuddered. "Got captured as a slave by those Zygerrians once. Put to work in a spice mine. It was not pleasant I can tell you. Now if I'd been pretty like the General," he tossed his head in Anakin's direction "I'd have been personally attending to the Queen instead. Think I could have handled that a whole lot better." The trooper was eying a scantily clad Twi'lek walking past and didn't see the startled look on Padmé's face.
"Personally attending the Queen," Padmé repeated with a perfectly calm, even tone as they walked slowly but purposefully towards the public hanger bays.
She in front of the other two, her hair twisted and ready for battle, deadly blasters strapped to her thighs. Her posture had stiffened at Rex's words and her husband's features suddenly winced as he was blasted with her invisible rage.
"Errr," Anakin tried to think of some way to intervene. "Can we discuss this another time?"
Hopefully never.
"How does one personally attend a Queen?" Padmé enquired of a distracted Rex.
"Sleep in her bedchamber, stand by her side at slave auctions," Rex's eyes drifted up to a massive beast and the three Jawas that were trying to it tame with rope. "Let her drape her half-naked self all over..."
"Rex," Anakin hissed, frantically trying to shut his companion up and cease the reminisce.
"Half-naked," Padmé repeated calmly. "In her bedchamber. I've not heard anything of this particular adventure."
Anakin didn't like the way she said adventure. With bitter distaste. He was in so much trouble.
"It's not what you think," he tried to warn her off, though he couldn't dedicate enough of his brain power to it because he was already stretched beyond his capacity, feeling for danger on this adventure.
"Oh no?" Her own hand reached down, fingering a trigger on one of the blasters that swung with her luscious hips.
"Don't get upset," he changed his tactic. "It's bad for the baby," he was quite pleased with himself for that diversion. One she absolutely could not rebut.
"What, this baby?" she brushed her stomach briefly. Then turned her head and shot him a murderous glare. "Or one you left with the Zygerrian Queen?"
His jaw clamped shut in tight rage and glared back at her.
"Perhaps this is where the fear over Organa comes from," Padmé was sauntering now, which was never a good sign. She turned at the roughest looking bar and pressed open the saloon doors without another glance back. "Perhaps he has already adopted one of your bastard children?"
He took a hard step towards her and she let the retracting half-door go. The swinging door copped him hard in the chest, so hard he made a brief "oof" sound and had to plant his feet to keep from falling back. The moment he regained his footing he thrust his hand out and whacked the frustrating door open, storming after her.
Rex sighed, not liking where this was going. He glanced to a stall where Boyle was decked out in Mandalorian death squad armour and investigating the purchase of desperately needed hyperspace coils. Then he nodded subtly to Commander Cody, concealed in a space pirate's flight suit across the way. They had all the backup they could afford to conceal, there was nothing more he could do but follow the two bickering parents into the cool darkened din of the Cantina.
Padmé had already made serious headway on Anakin and was standing at the bar, her shoulders thrown back and a pissed-off look on her already tense features.
The scantily clad club dancer, on her break, had spotted Anakin and somehow sidled up to him despite the fact that he had barely made it through the door. And his eyes were staring lasers into the bar full of bounty hunters with eyes dragging over her body. Not the dancer who was barely concealed. Padmé.
As he compared the two side-by-side he had the sudden realisation of how different she looked. Not from a dancer, but from her usual self.
Her clothes on Coruscant had done a very good job of making her look unchanged, the same as always. Not pregnant. Since they'd been reunited onboard the Saviour she had only worn a medical gown, the single garment to hand on a ship full of troopers that would adequately cover her ultra fertile feminine form. He hadn't really noticed how she looked different, changed.
This tailored flight suit didn't hide her tummy. It emphasised the soft fullness that was rounding out her breasts, showing no skin but inviting everyone to imagine. It was one thing to have them bare in his mouth or cupped heavy in his palms while they were intimate. Quite another to witness thirty pairs of eyes covetously tracking her and feel their desire slam into him through the Force.
"I'm going to kill someone," he seethed to Rex as the trooper sidled past to take Padmé's back.
Rex faithfully tracked Padmé while Anakin had to use a mind trick to disentangle the exotic dancer. He ensured his hood was still pulled low then followed to the bar.
"Make that two," he appeared behind her and doubled the food order she'd just placed.
She didn't say anything but offered over credits to pay, silently complacent.
Padmé didn't look at him as she made her way to the back and an unused com station. The food would take some time to cook and in the meantime she could fulfil her purpose here.
Anakin stood behind her, their bodies back to back as Padmé faced the com station and he faced the deadly intentions of everyone else in the Cantina. His head was bent low to keep his face concealed but allow him enough vision to carefully study the scum warily keeping an eye on them. He didn't expect them to be able to stay long before trouble started.
"Hurry," he hissed under his breath as she waited for Bail to appear.
"Why, is there a Zygerrian Queen waiting for you to grace her bed?" Padmé wasn't nearly so quiet or low-key with her angry snap.
He'd had enough of this now and put an end to it. "No, there's an ex-Senator with a bounty on her head. She's the only one whose bed I have ever graced."
Padmé's heart melted at those words and she turned away from the holo projector to look around at him. "Ani –" she was just beginning to give him that soft private smile when Bail appeared before her with a startled "Senator Amidala?"
She reluctantly turned back to her friend and conjured up a thin polite smile for him.
"Senator Organa," she greeted with a politic head nod, knowing with absolutely certainty that their communication would be intercepted.
"Padmé are you alright?" Bail rushed quickly to informalities. "We feared the worst."
"For now," she used Anakin's tactic of not quite answering.
"Where are you?" Bail demanded. "Are you safe? Palpatine has declared you a traitor to the Republic. I'm trying to move a motion to have it overturned but now that he's emperor there is no chance to introduce it to the floor."
"Draft the motion but don't present it," was her calm advice. "The day is coming but we're not quite there yet."
"We?" Bail asked inquisitively, looking over her shoulder though he was on the other side of the galaxy.
Anakin tuned in to the conversation and briefly left his post as protector to Rex. He turned and stepped closer to Padmé, soon he was in the vision field of the recording.
"I have my Jedi protector with me," Padmé said simply, Anakin nodding a brief "Senator," in acknowledgement to the projection.
His fingers curled with the urge to touch his unborn child, reassure himself it was still there as he spared Organa a brief glance then turned his attention back to the room at large.
"Anakin Skywalker?" Bail gasped, stunned into momentary silence. "But – but, you were killed. The Emperor reported all members of the Jedi Council had been executed as traitors, and all remaining Jedi were to be hunted down. He specifically mentioned your name."
"Reports of my demise are – premature," Anakin chose the word carefully, tasting it bitterly on his tongue.
He suddenly spun and his saber was lit in an instant as a blaster shot straight for Padmé's back. Barely a heartbeat later she was crouching behind the holo table instead of sitting in front of it. A blaster was off her thigh and fit to the curve of her hand without thinking and she began visually assessing potential attackers in the darkened corners.
Anakin had caught that bolt and the five that followed, deflecting them into the sandy floor as he picked out their attacker. He spotted them, a pair of Rodians. His hand flew out and without thinking he had lifted one of the outlaws off her feet. From four metres away he tossed the still firing scum at a pillar and didn't need to watch for the satisfaction of hearing a crunch. The shots in Padmé's direction ceased. When he went to reach for the other, the male had already disappeared.
The Cantina had silenced and no one else moved. He turned slowly, seeking the other attacker's presence and finding none. He completed a revolution and was just turning back in Padmé's direction when he caught a hint of movement. His eyes widened and his heart seized as he watched eyes that were filled with the light of a thousand stars appear over her shoulder. A blaster raising to her head.
"No!" he cried.
He was too late. The Rodian was grinning evilly, the black barrel pressed to her temple. "Don't move Jedi," he threatened. The other hand appeared with a knife pointed directly at her middle.
He didn't think, didn't remember even moving, just that suddenly the creature had dropped both its weapons, was ten centimetres off the floor and clawing at its throat.
Padmé made a quick exit from her hostage-taker and smartly moved to the side, keeping Anakin between herself and the room.
"Who sent you?" Anakin demanded, twitching his thumb and using the force to press even close on its windpipe.
"N-no one," came the struggling gasp.
The female was getting to her feet and took a step towards Anakin's whose back was to her. Padmé saw, raised her blaster to protect her husband's back while he was otherwise occupied, and silently warned the woman to stay down. It worked.
Padmé didn't let her attention move from the room at large while Anakin demanded a furious "Who sent you?!"
"There's a bounty," the words were mere gasps. "On. Her. Senator."
"How do you know she's a Senator?" Anakin continued to interrogate.
"Holo," gasp, "transmission. Loyalist. Leader. Recognised."
"Anakin," Padmé warned quietly.
Anakin let him go and the man dropped to the ground, gasping for his life to take in air.
"She'd get mad if I killed you," he reasoned, leaning in close to the collapsed form with a quietly spoken, deadly threat. "Disappear. Before I change my mind."
The female came over and together they disappeared, sparing a single glance back. Anakin deactivated his lightsaber and Padmé resumed her place at the com station with her husband protecting her back.
Bail's mouth was open in horrified shock, the connection having remained open through the scene. He'd missed vital clues though, as soon as Padmé had moved he hadn't seen, only heard the ordeal. "Where are you?" he demanded. "You must get out of there!"
"And go where?" Padmé queried. "To a civilised Republic planet where I'll be arrested for treason or shot on sight?"
"Surely there must be –?"
"There is nowhere, Bail," she said firmly.
"But you're acting like an outlaw."
"I am an Outlaw."
Anakin's hand appeared on her shoulder with a meaningful squeeze. The silent signal was enough to have her turn her head. Her hair and its long braid moved over one shoulder as she studied the increasingly interested parties whose eyes were turning their way.
Mission accomplished. They were noticed.
Bail's eyes were suddenly seeing more. He might not have seen her pregnant stomach but he saw the way Anakin touched her. The intimate familiarity in that single gesture couldn't be denied, it bespoke years of deep seeded trust and more. He opened his mouth to comment on it but Padmé gave a single shake of her head.
"I haven't much time. I need you to start talking about the ways Palpatine can legally be removed from government."
"Padmé, he can't," Bail said quietly.
"Yes, he can," she said firmly. "Treason. He can be arrested and removed from his position."
Bail was already shaking his head. "There is no one left who does not answer directly to him. I've already been looking into it. The checks and balances in the Republic's legislation relied on the Jedi – "
He cut himself off and raised his head again.
"I just happen to have one or two of those close at hand," Padmé grinned at him slyly, her hand reaching to her shoulder to touch Anakin's fingers. "You don't have to talk about it publically. Just start musing to other senators about the legality of it. In the dining hall, at a function, those sorts of things. I want the government to be thinking about it. So they're not surprised when the time comes."
"You're going to have the Jedi arrest him?" Bail had caught on and was looking up at Anakin now with deep suspicion.
"Yes, when the time comes." She repeated, then looked over her shoulder. "I must go."
He complied, aware of her dire situation.
"Stay safe, Padmé," he worried.
"You too." Padmé ended the com call and stood.
Anakin was at her side, his hands calmly folded into his sleeves as he escorted her. With his voice low he asked "You know every word of that conversation is going to get back to the Emperor? He'll have his slicers working on it right now."
"I know," she said calmly, crossing the floor at a reasonably slow pace so that everyone got a good look at her.
If the blow up earlier had failed to catch the attention of a few customers, then her fecund form laden with weaponry drew the last of them in. A Jedi strolling by her side added to the tableau. Every set of eyes was on them, and this would be getting back to the Emperor by the time they left the Cantina, let alone nightfall.
Padmé slid into a corner booth, keeping her back to the wall. It was on purpose, so Anakin would have one less angle of attack to worry about and for that he was grateful. "I'm counting on it. I want all his Emperor attention focused on legal intricacies and minutiae."
"Oh?" Anakin asked as a serving droid placed two mixed plates of steaming vegetables before them, the smells heavenly after mess hall rations for six straight days.
"Yes," Padmé too looked down to her food eagerly. She picked up her fork and scooped the loose rice. "He'll forget about what really matters while he's doing that."
"Which is?" Anakin prompted as he paused to watch her face light up at the first mouthful.
She paused, then smiled slyly at him.
"The hearts and minds of the people of the Republic."