A/N: It's been a hot minute (okay several years...) since I've had the chance to visit this story! If by some miracle, you are still here or returned for this update, thank you, THANK YOU for your endless patience! If you are new here, then I hope you enjoy what's been a long time coming. The plan is to finish Revelations by summer, but we all know what happens to the best laid plans... Just know I'm working on this (and all my WIPs) as often as the creative muses and real life demands allow.
As always, comments/reviews are greatly appreciated!
Spira
Ataria Island
Hideaway Bay Resort, West Restaurant
081138
Unsurprisingly, Padmé arrived by herself. Entering through the northern alcove just after the restaurant's opening, she made a casual inspection of the breakfast buffet and an even more casual inspection of the seats still available at the long table set up in the center of the main banquet room before sliding into the chair across from Bail.
"Good morning," she greeted, weariness clinging to her like an insatiable mynock.
"Morning," Bail replied, already well into his second mug of caf. The previous night had been trying for him, and Bail suspected—with sympathy—even more so for his colleague and her soon-to-be-maybe-not-so-secret husband.
The moment she settled and smoothed her napkin across her lap, a server droid wheeled over to them, offering Padmé its tray of hot beverages first before silently inquiring if the Senator from Alderaan might be interested in thirds. Bail shook his head in the negative, watching Padmé stir a generous dollop of cream and sugar into her own mug and almost undoing her efforts when a deep voice sounded over her shoulder.
"Is this seat taken?"
Padmé looked up, surprise cleverly coating her polite smile.
"Seems like it belongs to you today, Knight Skywalker."
As if there weren't more than half a dozen seats still glaringly vacant, Anakin slumped with palpable relief in the seat next to his wife.
His wife.
As Bail watched Anakin and Padmé trade banal pleasantries, Bail blew at the rising steam off his caf to hide his knowing smile. He had to hand it to them. Designed to showcase their openly warm but otherwise professional friendship, their back-and-forth was a carefully choreographed dance that allowed them to hide in plain sight.
For one moment, Bail wished Breha could see this. His own wife would have been over Aldera to know such a precious truth about one of their closest allies, though, knowing Breha's keen eye, she'd have likely spotted the stumbles in their fabricated waltz long before Bail even remotely realized there was more to be seen.
Yet for all the strengths in Padmé's public strategy—Bail was certain her discerning intelligence had realized there was no hiding the enchantment in Anakin's eyes—, it wasn't flawless. They were convincing to be sure, but about as subtle as nesting gundarks—if only one knew where to look.
Such as the way the young Jedi Knight offered to grab a plate for the stunning Senator while on his way through the buffet and managed to return somehow loaded down with her favorite items even though she hadn't spoken one word of specific request.
Unaware of his betraying tell, Anakin tucked into his toast with gusto. "Anything?" he asked without preamble.
Evidently, the Jedi's patience for charades had worn thin.
"Minala found the card," Bail answered.
Twin forks froze in perfect unison on their way to open mouths. Padmé was the first to recover, nudging at her gaping husband with a discreet elbow. Anakin closed his mouth, his blue stare tense and unblinking.
"It was a prepaid gift card purchased on Coruscant several weeks ago…" Bail continued, wincing as Padmé deflated upon hearing of yet another dead-end. If she didn't like his first bit of information, she wasn't going to like the additional piece any better. "… by the HalcyoNet."
Padmé paled and went stock still. A prominent public figure, Padmé no doubt had made her peace long ago with the largest media conglomerate in the galaxy and its constant presence in her daily life. But to hear it mentioned in dangerous proximity to her devastating secret was a cold dread Bail understood all too well.
"But someone still had to buy it," Anakin reasoned.
Bail suppressed a patient smile. He wasn't offended by the implication to pursue the obvious, just regretful that Minala had already run that trail to the ground. Unfortunately, his assistant had only discovered a dummy account that had since closed. Gaining access to its prior history and establishment would take more time than they currently had and require more tact.
He was willing to aid the Skywalkers in any way he could but slicing into the vast information network with personal resources left the Organas uncomfortably exposed too.
As Bail shared the frustrating news, Padmé shoved her fruit plate away, sighing heavily. Anakin stole a glance around the room before leaning close, his voice pitched low enough even Bail couldn't hear his soothing reassurances. Whatever he said strengthened her resolve because she nodded, the faintest color returning to her cheeks.
Tense as it was, the silence around surrounding them picked the perfect time to smother their conversation. Politely nodding on her way by, Mon Mothma caught the general unease spreading among their solemn trio.
"Don't fret, my dear," she said, squeezing Padmé's shoulder. "We're only trying to bait them."
"I know," Padmé replied quickly, her light-hearted tone not quite reaching her eyes.
"That's what I've been trying to tell her all morning," Bail added, grateful that Mon only shot him a sympathetic smile before retreating to small group gathering at the other end of the table. From his seat near Senator Eekway, Obi-Wan glanced questioningly down the way, but Anakin shook him off with a warning dart of his eyes in Padmé's direction. Nodding his understanding, Obi-Wan went back to his breakfast.
Satisfied that no eyes lingered, Anakin shifted in his seat. Angled away from their colleagues, his eyes bright despite the dark lurking in the blue depths.
"What if I could get you a face?" he whispered. "Could you trace that?"
"If we could get that lucky, yes," Bail replied. "Faces have multiple markers that uniquely correlate to one individual and thus can significantly improve our chances of finding a match."
Try as she might, Padmé could not hide the way hope bloomed across her face then fell almost as quickly. "But the sheer time it would take to search one hundred quadrillion beings…" She shook her head, defeated, though Anakin wasn't so easily deterred.
"Not one hundred quadrillion human males though," he said with a lopsided grin aimed at his wife. "Add that plus height filters and we narrow the pool even more." Anakin turned away from her skeptical gaze. "So, you need a face."
Anakin's enthusiasm was contagious, and Bail found himself nodding in agreement even if he didn't understand where the Jedi was leading him just yet.
"I think I know where I can get one."
Despite the positive turn of events, Padmé scowled, her displeased stare sliding Bail's way as he rose to Anakin's bait.
"How?"
Grin widening, Anakin scarfed down the last bites of his breakfast and pushed back from the table. "The security cams."
At his sudden movement, Padmé glanced anxiously around the restaurant. When no one remotely looked their way, she rounded on Anakin with a threatening hiss, clearly practiced at reading her husband's indecipherable intent.
"You can't just leave, Anakin. We have a meeting in less than an hour!"
"Then I'll just have to hurry."
"And what am I supposed to tell Obi-Wan when he asks after you?"
"That I did something impetuous…" Anakin smirked, leaning towards her, self-proclaimed impetuosity on full display. "…and you couldn't stop me."
Padmé glared but didn't object as Anakin collected their plates and casually strolled out of the dining room.
"Do you know what he's going to do?" Bail asked, desperate to remain in the know.
Eyes closed, elbows planted on the table, Padmé rubbed harsh circles at her temples.
"Senator Organa," she sighed. "I've learned it's better not to ask."
Once he was out of sight, Anakin took off at a dead sprint. His break-neck pace and boots thudding against the sandstones likely would have drawn unwanted attention had he not already known the least-traveled paths back to the main tower. Memorizing the grounds of the resort had not just been standard mission prep; it was an essential task to ensuring Padmé's safety if, galaxy forbid, the cease-fire negotiations went sideways.
Even with the tactical advantage, he'd still have to be quick if he stood any chance of making it back before his absence was noted. Speeding past grottos and sun pools glowing golden in the morning light, Anakin surged along the winding trail, the time crunch as much as his anger propelling him forward.
It was so obvious to him now—how to unmask the coward who dared to threaten their secret while lurking in the shadows himself. As unhelpful as he had been, Oz had practically told him where to look.
Didn't you place a gift basket order this afternoon?
Yes, the man sent one of our protocol droids to deliver it. He was a human, about 1.7 meters tall, brown hair, light skinned."
Whoever this poodoo was, he'd been bold enough—or stupid enough now that Anakin thought about it—to stroll right into one of the galaxy's most luxurious hotel lobbies and let every one of its numerous security cameras see his sleemo dust-ball face.
Had Anakin not been in such a panicked rage after seeing that heinous recording, he might have thought to check the hotel's own surveillance records.
A gentle breeze lilted its way soothingly through his emotional maelstrom, and Anakin slowed to a walk, the tension in his overwrought shoulders uncoiling at the echo of Padmé's soft inquiry. He's too far away to hear her exact words, but the concern in her ethereal ask was unmistakable, no doubt triggered by his anger stampeding abrasively down their bewildering wide-open bond.
Reining in his cacophonous emotions, Anakin unclenched his jaw and poured calm into every fiber of his being before sending back a silent reply.
I'm fine, my love. I'll be back in ten.
For a moment, the invisible link trembled but ultimately fell still as if Padmé had accepted his response with begrudging reluctance. Anakin lingered, just in case she changed her mind, only tuning his senses towards the security room in front of him when sure she had nothing more to add.
Stretching out with the Force, Anakin grinned at the sole moldable mind currently occupying the security command center.
"Here goes nothing," he breathed, his knuckles rapping loudly on the sealed durasteel.
A startled string of curse words erupted from inside that would have any other being, but Anakin commanded clones and their colorful language was far worse.
"Who the kriff are you?" came the vexed demand once the door slid aside, and Anakin rolled his eyes.
Far worse and far more creative.
"That is none of your concern," Anakin said, his deep timbre imbued with the weight of the Force.
The security guard—Jax from his name tag—continued to scrutinize Anakin up and down though his gray eyes turned foggier with every suspicious pass.
"That is none of my concern," Jax repeated in a daze.
"You should get some fresh air. A walk along the beach will do you good. "Fully in the thralls of Anakin's mind trick, Jax nodded, his feet already carrying him into the hallway. "I should get some fresh air. A walk along the beach will do me good."
Gallantly sweeping a hand in front of him, Anakin stepped aside as the stupefied guard staggered past.
"Oh, and one more thing," Anakin added, working hard to conceal his amusement as Jax obediently halted and waited for his final command. "If anyone asks, you won't remember me or what happened this morning."
Without turning, Jax signaled a thumbs-up over his head, droning in monotone, "If anyone asks, I won't remember you or…"
Jax and his recitation disappeared around the corner, completely oblivious to the waving Jedi Knight that had forced him to abandon his post.
"I would say that went quite well, Master Skywalker," Anakin congratulated himself. But the victorious moment was short-lived. "Now let's get to work."
Hideaway Bay's security center was laid out like so many command stations across the galaxy. Rows and rows of holoprojections lined the longest wall, their stationary and moving images casting a blue glow over the eternal night throughout the room. A large control panel and various communication portals spanned the lowest level of projections like a giant curving underline. Three chairs sat vacant, and Anakin made quick note of the normally expected staffing number.
Catching Jax alone had been a fortunate break, but chances were that gift wouldn't be Anakin's to enjoy for very long.
Thankfully, Anakin wasn't searching for a speck of dust in a comet tail.
One swipe of his hand over the keys sent the footage of the front desk into rewind, each frame cycling faster and faster before Anakin's concentrated stare. In the blink of an eye, day shifted to night then shifted back to day with only minimal staff traffic through the open-air atrium. Tapping the display, Anakin sat forward as the playback slowed to a crawl, remembering yesterday afternoon.
When a lone human male sauntered towards the counter, he slammed pause so hard the glowing button shattered, but the sharp edges of splintered plastoid barely registered beneath fingers protected by thick black leather. If any shards had the audacity to pierce his glove, Anakin wouldn't have noticed anyway.
Loathing in his eyes and a vendetta boiling in his veins, he studied every detail of the man's face, build, and movement, cementing his target into his brain as clearly as the datachip he jammed into the port was downloading every frame. Impatiently, he drummed his fingers on the control board.
The sooner he got these screen captures to Bail, the sooner Bail's assistant could identify their target.
In the quiet of the command station, the datachip's confirmatory beep barely sounded before Anakin yanked it from its port and bolted for the door.