Disclaimer: Not mine. STAR WARS is the property of Disney.
A/N: While I've tried to keep my Shatterpoint plot bunnies to one-shots, this one required completion and is four chapters and an epilogue. Any lines that are recognizable are taken directly from Revenge of the Sith. Enjoy!
Revenge Derailed
Padmé awakes.
She is alone in the bed, and Anakin's space beside her is cold. Dread fills the apartment, thick and stifling, like breathing through a heavy quilt. She rises, and finds her husband staring out at the darkened skyline.
"What is it?" Her feet are noiseless, but he doesn't startle, as he never will. He always knows when she is near.
"It was a dream."
"Bad?"
"Like the ones I used to have about my mother. Just before she died."
"And?"
"And it was about you."
Padmé stares at her husband, swallowing fear. "Tell me."
"It was only a dream," he says, but she doesn't need the Force to hear the pain lacing his voice. She waits him out, and eventually he offers: "You die in childbirth."
Blistering terror shoots through her, painful in its intensity, for all that it is not herself she's worried about. "And the baby?" she breathes.
Anguish marks his expression as he turns to face her fully. "I don't know."
"It was only a dream," she repeats, trying to choke off her mounting dread. And his.
It doesn't work. Her husband's changeable blue eyes darken, flashes of stormy grey like Naboo's seas becoming iron in his gaze. "I won't let this one become real."
The words have the finality of a death knell, and Padmé doesn't know if she's imagining the sudden cold that sweeps their apartment. She shivers, and Anakin pulls her to him, engulfing her in his embrace.
"Do you think…" she hesitates. Anakin loves his former master, she knows, loves him as something between a brother and a father, but there are also so many secrets between them. Their marriage chief amongst them. But now…
…now her husband is fragile in a way he's never been before. He returned from the Outer Rim Sieges to successfully rescue the chancellor, a hero to the Republic on every news feed, but she sees how worn he is, feels how pared to the bone, knows how little he's sleeping.
He's already lost Ahsoka, and the grief of his former Padawan's self-imposed exile is yet to truly fade. Before retiring to bed only a few hours ago, he'd eagerly told Padmé about seeing Ahsoka briefly prior to being recalled to Coruscant. There had been more spark in his eyes during that conversation than she'd seen in months' worth of holocalls.
Nor is he the only one who has changed over the course of the war. Obi-Wan has. The whole of the Order and the Senate have. Padmé herself feels at times like a stranger to the girl she'd been, the woman she'd hoped to become, the dreams she'd had when Queen Jamilla had asked her to run for the Senate, who she had started out to be, wanting to bring about greater justice in the galaxy.
"The Republic has become unrecognizable," Bail Organa had said not a week ago in a highly private meeting with her, Mon Mothma and Bel Iblis of Corellia. Bail seems to be one of the few who is still precisely who he is, even in wartime. "It happened over time and none of us can claim complete innocence…but this is no longer a democracy, my friends. It has been sliced away, piece by piece, and now we are staring down the barrel of a dictatorship, enforced by those we have denied rights as sentients."
The same is true of the Jedi Order. Padmé fiercely defends them in the Senate every time it is necessary, and she is disturbed by how often it is becoming necessary. Nor is she blind to the anti-Senate, anti-Jedi propaganda that smears the walls of the lower levels of Coruscant and the poorer districts of thousands of Republic worlds.
"Do you think Obi-Wan might be able to help us?" she finally asks her original question, fisting her hands in her husband's night robe as she hugs him tightly.
His hold on her loosens, and he lifts his chin from where it rests on top of her head. "We don't need his help," he says finally.
Padmé looks up at her husband as he finds a smile, small, weary, but genuine. "Our baby is a blessing." He presses a kiss to her forehead, and she knows that for him the conversation is finished.
But something in her gut tells her not to let this go. This is the singular most important conversation in the entirety of their marriage, and she can feel the dread ignited with his dream spreading freezing fingers up to her heart. She cannot let him put this off, or she will regret it every day for the rest of their lives.
"Tell him," she commands firmly. Now he does take a full step back, arms falling as his smile fades and he starts to frown. "Our baby is a blessing, Anakin, and one that deserves to be shared. He is your family. Obi-Wan will be happy for us."
"Even if I get expelled from the Order?" Anakin rejoins dryly.
"Even then. And I think he'll fight for you to stay."
"No." He hunches in on himself. "He expects me to be like him. To be able to just…walk away. He'll only be disappointed that I'm not a perfect Jedi."
Padmé crosses her arms. It is her turn to frown. "Anakin. Obi-Wan is no longer the master who was constantly telling you to slow down and be mindful. You're fighting a war together. He loves you. He trusts you. He's proud of you. You've grown up. And so has he. Tell him. Ask him for help." Her husband sighs, but looks thoughtful.
"What if I tell Ahsoka?"
She opens her mouth to insist on Obi-Wan (he is so much closer, and as much as she loves Ahsoka, it is the wisdom Obi-Wan has cultivated that her beloved needs now), thinks about it, presses her lips together. "We can tell Ahsoka first," she allows. Ahsoka, after all, is hardly likely to be scandalized. Especially now.
"I'll call Snips in the morning," he says decisively, holding out his flesh hand to her. "Now, my lady, I think we should return to the bedroom."
"Yes. We should get some sleep tonight," she agrees, yawning.
"Who said anything about sleep?" he cocks a playful eyebrow at her and she wants to throw a pillow at him, but she laughs and falls asleep with a smile on her face.
There are no more nightmares that night.
888
"So. Actually married, huh?" Ahsoka's blue holoform doesn't exactly look shocked.
"You're not even a little surprised?" Anakin blinks at her.
"Skyguy, you two are not remotely subtle. I could have been blind and deaf and still figured it out. The whole 501st knows. The whole 212th knows. I wouldn't lay any bets that the Wolfpack doesn't know. I'm pretty sure even some of the younglings have figured it out."
Watching Anakin sputter at the deft hand of his former Padawan is always a treat, and Padmé doesn't bother smothering her laughter. "The council hasn't said anything," Anakin counters, as if they are the only ones who matter.
"There's a war on. You're a highly successful general and one of the few Jedi in the galaxy who's popular with the masses. What are they going to do? Explain to the entire Senate that they've expelled one of their most experienced leaders over where he sleeps at night?"
"You're taking this amazingly well."
"I told you I understood why you'd want to leave the Order," she shrugs.
"Well, in that case, since you're so well-informed," Anakin is grinning broadly and Padmé is so, so glad she talked him into this, "I guess you already know you're about to be an aunt."
At this, Ahsoka finally loses her smug, teasing-my-big-brother-smile and looks genuinely dumbfounded. After a long moment of Anakin beaming at her, her own blinding grin breaks forth.
"No way. A mini Skyguy? I can't wait to meet them! Boy or girl?"
"We don't know yet," Padmé joins the conversation, Anakin and Ahsoka's joy streaming almost tangibly into her, making her feel lighter, the galaxy less bleak.
"Oh, it's definitely a girl. Who will be just as beautifully terrifying as her mother," Anakin teases.
"We don't know yet," Padmé insists, dignified even in her nightgown.
"I'm going to teach them all of your bad habits, Anakin."
"Do you have to?" he makes a show of sighing, but his blue eyes glitter joyfully.
"Auntie's privilege," she shoots back, smirking.
Their lighthearted banter is cut off by blaster fire in the background. Ahsoka winces, glances over her shoulder, and when she turns back, the eager little sister is gone. A battle-hardened warrior stands in her place, and Padmé quietly mourns the difference. Ahsoka is not yet eighteen.
"I've gotta go, Skyguy, Padmé. But we are definitely catching up when I bring this shabuir in to the Temple." She winks out, and Padmé and Anakin look at one another.
Striving not to think of the fight they know she is diving into even as they stand there, Padmé says: "Well, that went well."
888
After Ahsoka's easy acceptance, Anakin mulls over Obi-Wan on his way to the Temple. He hadn't had the chance to ask Ahsoka, but… "The whole 212th knows." So his old master must know. Cody would never, in a thousand-thousand lifetimes, keep such a secret from Obi-Wan.
He has to ask. He'd felt how much lighter he and Padmé both felt, how much lighter the Force itself felt, after speaking with Ahsoka. He can feel how much telling Obi-Wan matters to Padmé. If for no other reason, he owes it to his amazing wife to come clean to his master. Dooku is dead. Grievous is on the run. The Separatist fleet was hammered over Coruscant and only just managed to get half their ships clear of the battle.
The end of the war is within their grasp. Even if his marriage ultimately spells his expulsion from the Order…now is surely the time for the conversation he's been putting off since the First Battle of Geonosis.
888
"Anakin!" Obi-Wan is waiting for him as he strides into the Temple.
"Obi-Wan. Let's have some tea."
The older Jedi blinks at him, nonplussed. "You hate tea."
"Alright. You'll drink tea, and I'll drink caf. You still have some of that Kenari honey, right?"
Obi-Wan chuckles, and Anakin can feel warmth-love-brother running down their never-severed training bond. "I have rarely seen you so excited for mere conversation. But I am afraid it will have to wait. We're due to brief the Council and our fellow generals on the Outer Rim Sieges." He gives Anakin a brief side-eye. "I was a little worried I'd have to come get you."
"As you can see, I'm here. On schedule." Right. Anakin had completely forgotten about the briefing in the just-over-twenty-four-hours since they'd crash landed the Invisible Hand. "Briefing first, beverages second. Let's go."
The briefing passes quickly. Anakin is grateful that he's developed a reputation for not being much of a "reports" man. Obi-Wan does most of the talking, only asking for a few details here and there, leaving Anakin to daydream about setting up the nursery on Naboo. They'll live at Varykino, of course, assuming Padmé's parents forgive them their three years of secrecy. While all slave bindings are kept secret as a matter of safety, Padmé dryly assured him some years ago that their marriage had been quite out of the ordinary for her people, and that they would be required to do some elaborate groveling when they finally told her family. But her parents will surely be delighted by another beautiful grandchild, so their apologies will be accepted. The senior Naberries will pour all the love he can wish for over their child and he cannot imagine a more beautiful setting to grow up in–
"Anakin?"
"Knight Skywalker."
He snaps to himself at the sound of Master Windu's voice. The room is empty save for the three of them, the briefing clearly over. The Haruun Kal Jedi looks him over, his thoughtful frown on his face. "Are you all right?"
Anakin is better than all right, but Tatooine will freeze over before he spills his guts to Mace Windu. The man's been suspicious of him since he arrived at the age of nine. In thirteen years, they've never overcome their mutual mistrust.
"Fine, Master," he manages calmly.
"Hmm. The chancellor has asked to see you in his office. Any idea why?"
Anakin blinks. "He has? I hadn't been told." Eagerness rushes through him at the thought of seeing the older man. Palpatine deserves to know. The chancellor will rejoice in their good news. He has mentored both Anakin and Padmé, and he doesn't have the same reservations about permanent relationships as the Jedi. With the war winding down, he's probably looking forward to his well-deserved retirement. Anakin can only imagine that he'll be delighted to act as adopted grandfather to their little one.
"Please let us know any relevant details when you speak to him."
"Of course," Anakin assents without thinking as Windu makes his way up the stairs, leaving him with Obi-Wan. "Tea?" he asks his master brightly.
"What has gotten into you?" Obi-Wan laughs fondly. "All right. Tea."
"Knight Skywalker," Master Windu calls down the stairs, interrupting them. "The chancellor's office is awaiting your arrival." Now, goes unspoken but the pulsed command echoes in the Force.
"That sounds important. We'll get tea when you get back," Obi-Wan assures him with a smile.
"Just…don't get yourself assigned to a mission before I finish this meeting," Anakin teases.
"Without you?" Obi-Wan mock gasps, "I would never." He sobers suddenly, reaching out to grasp the younger man's shoulder. "Be…careful with the chancellor, Anakin. I know he's been a friend and mentor to you, but something about this situation makes me uneasy."
He just doesn't want to share you, whispered at the back of Anakin's mind, and resentment began to foment–
–and he remembered the brilliant smile that shattered across Ahsoka's face when he'd told her and he can't wait to see Obi-Wan react the same way.
"Don't worry about me, old man. I'll be back as soon as I see what the chancellor wants."
888
They do not have tea that afternoon. Nor does he tell the chancellor about Padmé's pregnancy.
The chancellor has appointed Anakin to the Jedi High Council, which the Council resentfully accepts while denying him the rank of master.
Anger surges, the bitter taste of injustice thick in his mouth as he stands shamed before them. He has had his eye on a Council seat since Ahsoka's expulsion, his conviction that the Order needs new leadership and direction blossoming with that farce and further entrenched by serving on the frontlines of a war where the Jedi and the Republic are increasingly out of touch with the real citizens of the galaxy.
Now it is more critical than ever. He can already feel the strength of his growing child in the Force. The Order must adapt so that his child, and those like them, can be accepted as Jedi.
On the Council, but not as an elected master. This is a mockery of what he wanted. Trusted by none. Respected by none. Distantly, he recognizes that the chancellor's actions play some part in his crushed hopes and expectations, but he is struggling to parse that from his outrage.
He can feel Obi-Wan's reassurance running in thick streams along their bond. You are trusted, bright one. And cared for.
He draws a deep breath, and then another, and then a third. There are furious words waiting to bound from his tongue, but he grips the glowing comfort of his connection to his former master, the far-away but no-less-loving thread that binds him to his one-time Padawan, the nascent ties he already has to his child, and lets those words go.
There is much he finds wrong with the Council as it is. After Ahsoka, after Krell, after the disastrous Rako Hardeen deception…he has as little respect for them as many of them have for him.
"Take a seat, Knight Skywalker," Master Windu bids him, and Anakin can hear the somewhat grudging respect for his self-control in his tone.
Barely remembering not to roll his eyes at the rule-bound master, Anakin takes a seat.
888
"Quickly, and decisively, we should proceed." Even on holo cam, Yoda's hope bleeds through, lightening the ever-Darkening atmosphere that suffuses Coruscant. The hope of a real end to this conflict, for the chance to lay it to rest, to return to what the Jedi were meant to be, infuses his fellow Councilors, and Anakin is surprised to realize anew just how much the Jedi hate this war, how much each recognises what has been taken from them, what they've lost in being forced to step into their roles as generals and troop commanders.
"I would be worried about the collective wisdom of the Council if they didn't select you for this assignment." The chancellor's voice murmurs in his memory.
"The chancellor has requested…that I lead the campaign," he says hesitantly. Now that he's sitting here, feeling the hope-finished-peace swirling around them, he's not sure why the leader of the Republic felt so strongly about it. There are several other generals that match his high success rates. Plo Koon and Obi-Wan amongst them.
"The Council will make up its own mind who is to go," Master Windu predictably cuts firmly across that suggestion, "Not the chancellor."
"A master is needed with more experience," Yoda puts in calmly.
"I concur," Master Mundi's hologram agrees swiftly. "Master Kenobi should go."
It is the work of a moment for the Council to vote, Anakin's "Aye" barely escaping his mouth as his thoughts tumble. His own pride is wounded, true, but he cannot deny that with his nightmares, he is glad for the excuse not to leave Coruscant and his wife…but Obi-Wan…
It was a standing joke from his apprentice days, Obi-Wan's oft-repeated "I have a bad feeling about this." But the younger Jedi does have a bad feeling about this. He cannot see shatterpoints like Master Windu, but the Force feels taut around them, like a trap. A warning.
If Obi-Wan goes to Utapau without him, Anakin is never going to see him again.