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padmeonpaper2009-05-08 06:32 pm
padme_kenobi) wrote in padmeonpaper2009-05-08 06:32 pm
Entry tags:
Fic: "To Ignite the Stars" (Star Wars, Obi-Wan/Padmé, 46/?)
Title: Moments of Peace and Remembrance
Author:padme_kenobi
Previous Chapters: Can be read here.
Characters/Pairings: Obi-Wan/Padmé
Word Count: 3,741
Rating: Light R (mentions of past torture and general ickiness connected with same)
Summary: His eyes jerked open and he did his best to suppress a small sigh. It was going to be a long three months.
Author's Notes: Okay, so, I haven't yet responded to the reviews on the last chapter, but I promise I'll get to those as soon as this post goes up. I just figured that since I promised this to you guys like ... a week ago, I might want to, you know, perhaps put it up? Maybe? Yeah. Hehehe. The good news is that since I am now officially DONE with university (yay Liz!), updates will hopefully come a LOT more frequently. I'm already halfway done with Chapter 48, and Chapter 47 is ready, but I've been putting off posting them because, asxkatie_kittenx can attest, a cliffhanger would be a VERY BAD THING right now. Heh. But the whole arc should go up relatively soon. This particular chapter is mostly fluff, though it does contain allusions to past torture, bodily harm and undignified behaviour, so be on your guard if you are in any way squicked by that kind of thing.
“That’s not the way Mommy does it,” Leia told her father imperiously.
“Oh?” Obi-Wan suppressed a sigh as he set down the shampoo bottle. “How does she do it?”
“We need cloths over our eyes, an’ she doesn’t put the shampoo in her hands first. And don’t get water in our eyes. Right, Luke?”
“Yeah!” He nodded vehemently.
“Right, just a minute,” Obi-Wan said, standing from where he’d knelt by the bathtub and grabbing two washcloths from the towel rack.
He hadn’t exactly expected this when he’d told an exhausted Padmé to go to bed early, that he would get the twins their baths and put them to bed, but he supposed he should have. Leia had already proven very strict about the water temperature, which pajamas she and her brother should wear, and that their arms and legs were to be washed first. Luke largely went along with these demands, and Obi-Wan had decided that as long as Leia was polite in voicing them, it would be pointless to impose his own will. He was tired too, after all.
The twins pressed the proffered cloths over their eyes as their father gently scrubbed the suds into their hair. This was more difficult than it sounded, as both Luke and Leia continually moved their heads around so as to keep the drips from even falling onto the cloths.
“Luke, put your head back, I’m going to rinse,” Obi-Wan directed, and his son obediently tilted his head back for water to be poured over the soap bubbles.
“Hey, how come he gets to go first?” Leia exclaimed.
This time her father did sigh. “Because you were first last time,” he guessed, and fortunately she sat back in apparent satisfaction.
Carefully he dried Luke’s hair so the water wouldn’t run down his face, and started on his daughter’s curls. He had almost finished when suddenly she howled, tugging the cloth from her eyes and scrubbing furiously.
“You got soap in my eye!” squalled the girl, glaring through sudden tears.
“I’m sorry, little one,” Obi-Wan said immediately, handing her a fresh towel. “Here, why don’t you get out, start to dry off …”
She did, but continued to glare angrily throughout and as soon as she was in her sleep clothes, Leia darted out of the room and down the hall, shouting over her shoulder, “I’m going to find my mommy!”
Obi-Wan sighed once more — it was turning out to be that sort of an evening — and turned back to his son, who was still sitting in the now-draining tub. “Well, come on then, unless you think I’ve done something wrong too?”
Luke giggled. “She’s just silly,” he grinned as he got clumsily to his feet; the bath was slippery.
“Yes, sometimes she can be,” Obi-Wan agreed, wrapping a large thick towel around the boy as he stood shivering on the bathmat. “But Leia is very opinionated. That’s not necessarily a bad thing.”
“What’s ‘opinernated’?” Luke asked, furrowing his brow.
“Opinionated,” Obi-Wan corrected absently. “It means a person who knows what they want, and speaks up in order to get it. Your sister is very much like that.”
“I guess.” The child still looked a little confused as his father handed him his pajamas. “Don’t worry, Daddy. She’ll be okay.”
Obi-Wan shook his head wonderingly at Luke’s tone of voice, which had almost sounded … adult. He knew that his son was in all probability speaking of a feeling he had got through his bond, but every so often Obi-Wan still resented that Luke should even be able to feel things like that. He had the Force, obviously, but at this young age he wouldn’t know how to use it to get an exact sense of emotions. But with a bond …
“I know,” he told Luke. “I just didn’t want her to wake your mother. Mom needs all the rest she can get at the moment.”
“She was awake already,” Luke shrugged.
Obi-Wan dried his son’s hair once again. “Is she all right?”
A test. He knew, of course — he’d be able to sense a danger to Padmé even from across the galaxy — but he was curious about Luke’s abilities.
“Yup. She just woke up.”
Correct, of course. “Brush your teeth and use the fresher, please. I’ll be in to say goodnight in a moment.”
“’Kay!” floated out behind him as Obi-Wan then headed down the hall.
He met a grumpy Leia on the way to his bedroom, and she complained that Padmé had barely acknowledged her before falling back asleep. He was able to deflect her concerns quickly enough, and soon both children were tucked securely in their beds.
It really is surprising, Obi-Wan thought as he cuddled his son to help him go to sleep, that children are so adaptable. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised, since he’d seen so much over the last four years as a parent, but he was nonetheless. Even with the family’s abrupt move to Chandrila, the twins had adjusted very well, being only slightly more tearful and clingy at first. They still stuck close to their parents and were unwilling to venture too far from Obi-Wan or Padmé, but otherwise they acted completely normal. Luke and Leia applied themselves to their training, they laughed and smiled, and they were becoming great friends with Lily, to the latter’s pleasure. Perhaps at least some of that had to do with the fact that Mon’s residence was similar in size to Varykino, but Obi-Wan knew it couldn’t all be that. It had come as a pleasant surprise, however.
Nevertheless, he also understood that it could not last: soon they would have to move on again, perhaps shortly after the birth of the new baby, and when they did, it would likely be to Tatooine and far more pedestrian living arrangements. Obi-Wan did not relish that prospect, not only for the memories the planet held for both himself and Padmé, but also for the challenges raising three children there would present. He was up to it, and he was sure Padmé would be as well, but the twins … they shouldn’t have to live that way. The family should still be on Naboo, and Luke and Leia should be running in the fields and learning to ride shaaks and —
“Daddy?” Luke’s fingers sought his father’s, holding them softly.
“What is it, little one?”
“Don’t center on your fears.”
Obi-Wan sighed, again amazed that the boy had managed to conjure that lesson to apply in this particular moment. Not centering on one’s fears was one of the first maxims Jedi younglings were taught, and it would continue to be important throughout the lifetime of any Knight and Master. Young as he was, Luke remembered the saying and knew enough to apply it in this instance. Remarkable.
“It’s all right, son,” Obi-Wan murmured, stroking the boy’s hair. “Don’t worry about me, or your mother. I promise you, we will both be fine.”
The corners of Luke’s mouth turned up slightly, but he wasn’t able to manage much more than a tiny smile, as tired as he was. Obi-Wan was glad, for he didn’t feel at all ready to discuss some of the feelings that were probably evident through the bond. In any case, Luke soon fell asleep, and his father eased him gently into bed, kissed him and Leia goodnight, and headed for his own bedroom.
He tried to put all thoughts of the twins and leaving Chandrila out of his mind as he undressed for bed, reasoning that as there was little he could do about it right at the moment, he ought not to dwell on it. Luke had been quite correct when he reminded his father that fears shouldn’t be centred upon.
Padmé stirred as her husband climbed into bed, and he took a brief moment to rest his hand over her abdomen before settling back. He’d never really given himself permission to think about the baby, not since Padmé had conceived. For the first few months the child’s very existence had been in such doubt that Obi-Wan could focus only on his wife; on her health and survival. But now, since it seemed that perhaps, just perhaps, matters might be all right, he allowed his thoughts to venture to his child.
What would he or she be like? Quiet like Luke, boisterous but obedient like Leia, or with a healthy combination of the two? Or a personality all his or her own? Would the baby inherit the bond? How would he or she get along with the twins? What would she look like? Would he have his father’s blue eyes? Padmé’s smile? Obi-Wan had seen how the twins could represent the best qualities of himself and Padmé — as well as some of the worst — and he wondered how those qualities would recombine in a new being. He knew that despite all the uncertainty, he had already bonded with the baby, even without his knowledge or consent, and Obi-Wan wondered what the bond would tell him about the child when he or she was born.
Padmé suddenly cried out, startling him from his imaginings, and he placed a soft hand on her shoulder. “Darling?”
“No!” she exclaimed, apparently still asleep. “No, please — please don’t, you’re hurting him — stop!”
“Padmé, it’s all right, you’re dreaming,” Obi-Wan whispered, shaking her shoulder.
But she couldn’t seem to wake up, and kept thrashing, crying, tears trickling down her cheeks as she begged the nightmare to cease. Obi-Wan was weighing the possibility of employing the Force to wake her when suddenly she jerked one last time, jerked and opened her eyes with a scream.
He held her immediately, turning her to face him, pressing her cheek against his bare chest. He could feel the moisture of her tears, and her shoulders shaking.
“Shhh,” Obi-Wan soothed. “Shhh, you’re all right. It was only a dream.” He tried to remember what she had told him years ago, what had comforted him most, when his own nightmares were far more prevalent.
“Obi-Wan, are you okay?” she finally choked out.
“Yes, of course.” He felt confused, but didn’t yet want to reach through the Force. “I’m fine, and so are the twins. Just relax.”
“I can’t — can’t —” She gasped and broke into fresh shudders. “You — you and she — I saw —”
She? Obi-Wan blinked, puzzled. “Shhh, you don’t have to talk about it. Rest.”
“Ventress!” Padmé burst out, and he could taste her terror now; the Force was pungent with it in the small room. “What she did — I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be talking about it, I don’t want to hurt you —”
“Don’t worry about it, please.” He sent soothing waves of calm towards her, wrapped around her much as his arms were. “If you need to talk about the dream, talk. You never stopped me before, did you?”
That at least got a small laugh. “No, but — Obi-Wan, you were tortured …”
“Much of which I do not remember,” he cut in smoothly. “Darling, my recollection includes only the battle of Jabiim, the explosion, and then waking up in the Halls of Healing with you beside my bed.” (This was an exaggeration, naturally, but he needed her to calm herself.) “And even if I did recall the other events, we could still talk about it. We’ve talked about what happened with Anakin, and Qui-Gon.”
Padmé drew a shaky breath. “I know. I know, but — this is different, I saw — I don’t know how —”
“What did you see?”
“What Ventress did …” She pressed, if possible, even closer. “The mask … you were screaming … and the burns, the iron, the insects — I just had no idea … and then when Ani found you …”
Dim flashes assailed him, half-forgotten sensations and images and memory. Lying prone on the floor, curled up to protect as much of his body as he could … the humiliating moment when she ordered him to strip, to stand naked in front of her … the whippings, sometimes morning to night, until he all but drowned in his own blood. He’d screamed for Padmé, for Anakin, for anyone, and when none of them appeared to help him he resorted to reaching for Padmé, for his memory of her, through the bond.
Even when Ventress placed the Sith mask over his face, the mask that would sever his connection to the Force, he imagined that Padmé was with him. It had been the only way he got through some of the days. His cell was dark, damp and cold, the food often moldy and riddled with insects and rodent droppings — if indeed he received any nourishment at all — and there were no hygiene facilities. Obi-Wan had tried at first to designate a specific corner of the cell as a latrine for himself and the clone Alpha, with whom he’d been captured. But as the torture began to escalate and Alpha was separated from his general, Obi-Wan cared less about maintaining cleanliness and decency and much more about simple, day-to-day survival. Eventually he was so wounded that he could not bear to move about, and simply lay on the freezing floor hour after hour, trying to recover.
Ventress’s next trick was to chain him to the wall, manacles on his ankles and wrists, during the times when she was not actively “working” with him (as she called it). He stood for hours on end, the chains cutting into his arms whenever he sagged in relaxation. He no longer cared about how he looked, how his own blood and dirt were caked on his wounds and how those wounds became infected, how there was no refuge from fatigue, not even in the Force. Yet Ventress punished him more for any physical weakness he demonstrated in front of her. For each scream, she would whip him twenty times, and twenty more if he yelled again at any point during this “punishment.” When he let go in front of her one day, she insisted that the guard take the waste and rub it into the open sores, so as to allow for complete humiliation of the Jedi. That was when she had force-fed him the insects, too, telling him that since he had dared to soil himself in her presence, the insects would sanitize him. Of course, they did this by slowly devouring his internal organs, but this, to Ventress, was an acceptable way to advance her aims. He had writhed in his chains for hours after, until she finally provided the remedy. She had stopped short of the point at which any permanent damage would be done, but oh, he had wanted to die. Had wanted to die to spare himself further anguish, which was bound to be forthcoming.
And in the end, understanding that no one would come for him, he used his last remaining shreds of power to mind-trick the guard, escaping the cell and stumbling about the jungle, Alpha at his side, until a familiar voice had shouted from the trees …
Yes, Obi-Wan remembered rather a lot.
“I’m sorry,” Padmé whispered.
He realized that he was now clutching her tightly, momentarily lost in the cascade of memories. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.
“You do remember, don’t you,” she murmured.
“A bit.” He didn’t want to let on just how much. “But it wasn’t even the physical discomfort or the loss of the Force, which was awful but not the worst. The worst was waking in the Temple and realizing that I hardly knew myself anymore, that I could barely recall conventions of behaviour … speaking, enjoying a meal, relating to others, everything that divides the civilized from those who are not.”
“But you learned again,” Padmé reminded him. “I helped you, Anakin helped you, and that’s what’s important.”
He nodded. “I’m just sorry you had to dream about it.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know why I did, and I don’t know why I reacted like that. Just seeing you that way, I suppose … it was troubling.”
“Of course,” Obi-Wan said.
“But we don’t have to talk about it.” Her hand came up to caress his face. “I’m fine and you’re fine. Right?”
“Are you sure you’re all right?” He pressed a kiss into her hair.
“I am now,” Padmé replied. “I just needed to be near to you, that’s all. I think — ouch!”
“What is it?” Obi-Wan was instantly alert.
She laughed. “Nothing. The baby’s kicking, that’s all.”
“He wants us to talk about nicer things,” nodded her husband. “Don’t you, little one,” Obi-Wan addressed her belly.
“Maybe he just thinks I should get up so he can keep using my bladder as a bouncing platform.” Padmé rolled her eyes, repositioning herself in the bed. “And he is a she, by the way. I’m sure of it.”
“Oh? Did the Force bestow its powers upon you when I wasn’t looking?”
“Hardly. I’m just a mother. I know.” Inch by inch she raised herself to a sitting position. “Besides, I guessed right with the twins.”
He slid out of bed and circled around to her side, understanding what was now required without needing to ask. “Only with Luke. Anakin did the rest. Here, you want the refresher?”
“Yeah.” She extended her hands and Obi-Wan helped her to slide to the side of the bed, putting both his hands under her arms.
“Right — one, two, three.” And he hauled her to her feet, his arms winding around her for a moment as she steadied.
“Goddesses, I’ll be glad when this is done,” Padmé sighed. “I feel like a bantha, and I probably smell like one, too. It’s hard to fit in the shower.”
“I think you look lovely.” Obi-Wan brushed her curls back from her face and kissed her softly. “You always have.”
“Flatterer.” But she responded, nuzzling him lightly and guiding his palm down to feel where a small foot was outlined in her abdomen.
He traced it. “She wants out.”
“She certainly does.” Padmé yawned and disengaged herself, walking to the fresher. “She’ll have to wait just a little longer, though.”
Obi-Wan settled himself back in bed and was nearly asleep when he felt a hand on his back, coming around to the front and tracing a long scar on his stomach, heading further down, following the thin line of hair …
He stilled the motion. “No, Padmé.”
“Drat.” Obi-Wan could practically hear his wife rolling her eyes. “It was worth a try, anyway.”
“I suppose, but we need to wait another few months,” he told her.
“By which time she’ll have arrived, and I won’t be interested.” Padmé sounded disgusted. “I remember after the twins, it was months and months before I even healed.” She exhaled a gusty sigh.
He turned to face her. “Darling, listen to me. I want it as much as you do. You know that. And I love you no matter how you look. But I just couldn’t hurt the baby, or you, again. I want both her and you to be safe.”
“I know.” She tucked her head under his chin, cuddling closer. “I’m tired, and I want this to be over. I want you to stop feeling guilty about the pregnancy, because it’s not your fault. And it’s going to be okay. I’m healthy and she’s healthy.”
“I know, but …” Obi-Wan shook his head, attempting to rid himself of the image of his wife lying in their bed at Varykino, pale as a sheet and terrified that at any moment she might lose their child. He could still remember it, even though the past number of months had been nothing but peaceful.
“But nothing,” Padmé echoed that thought. “Focus on the moment, okay, Master Jedi? Isn’t that what your Code teaches?”
He was about to reply when suddenly she stiffened, rolling abruptly away from him and clenching her teeth. “Goddesses —”
“What is it? What’s wrong?” For the second time in a few minutes he sat bolt upright, alarmed.
“She’s just —” Padmé closed her eyes tightly “— stretching.” She tried to suck in a breath, gasping a little.
“Shhh, it’s all right.” Obi-Wan moved over her, placing his hands firmly on her belly, and sank into the Force with barely a ripple. He could sense the child, feel the baby’s thoughts, and see the tiny form, extended to fully length. Carefully Obi-Wan entered the baby’s mind, touching it softly, smoothly.
Padmé relaxed at last, drawing in several deep breaths. “Thank you. What did you do?”
“I merely convinced her that it would be in her best interest to allow her mother to breathe,” Obi-Wan quipped. “Though I will say this for her: she has a very strong mind already.”
“I’m sure she does.” Padmé turned back over, one hand clasped protectively around her husband’s. “I wish you’d been around to do that when I was expecting the twins.”
He felt another pang of guilt, sharp and cutting. “Did they hurt you? Does she, now?”
Padmé considered for a moment. “Not … exactly,” she said finally. “I mean, it’s uncomfortable when they get so big, though not painful. Babies just like to move around a lot, and as they grow, that gets harder. She squirms more than kicks nowadays, at least when she’s a little less active. But sometimes it felt like Luke and Leia were competing to see who could kick me hardest. At least with this baby … well, there’s only one of her.”
Thank the Force, Obi-Wan thought with a shudder. “Are you all right now? No more stretching?”
She laughed. “No, no more stretching. I think she may have gone back to sleep.”
“Well, let’s do the same, then,” Obi-Wan suggested. His wife nodded and closed her eyes, relaxing and breathing deeply again. He squeezed her hand and took a slow, meditative breath. In, out. In, out. Fatigue was beginning to steal over his body … his eyes were closing … he was running with the twins through a Nubian field …
“Obi-Wan?”
Padmé was calling to him … he turned to beckon her over …
“Obi-Wan?”
“Mmm, darling?”
“I — I’m sorry but — I need to use the fresher again.”
His eyes jerked open and he did his best to suppress a small sigh.
It was going to be a long three months.
Author:
padme_kenobiPrevious Chapters: Can be read here.
Characters/Pairings: Obi-Wan/Padmé
Word Count: 3,741
Rating: Light R (mentions of past torture and general ickiness connected with same)
Summary: His eyes jerked open and he did his best to suppress a small sigh. It was going to be a long three months.
Author's Notes: Okay, so, I haven't yet responded to the reviews on the last chapter, but I promise I'll get to those as soon as this post goes up. I just figured that since I promised this to you guys like ... a week ago, I might want to, you know, perhaps put it up? Maybe? Yeah. Hehehe. The good news is that since I am now officially DONE with university (yay Liz!), updates will hopefully come a LOT more frequently. I'm already halfway done with Chapter 48, and Chapter 47 is ready, but I've been putting off posting them because, as
xkatie_kittenx can attest, a cliffhanger would be a VERY BAD THING right now. Heh. But the whole arc should go up relatively soon. This particular chapter is mostly fluff, though it does contain allusions to past torture, bodily harm and undignified behaviour, so be on your guard if you are in any way squicked by that kind of thing. “That’s not the way Mommy does it,” Leia told her father imperiously.
“Oh?” Obi-Wan suppressed a sigh as he set down the shampoo bottle. “How does she do it?”
“We need cloths over our eyes, an’ she doesn’t put the shampoo in her hands first. And don’t get water in our eyes. Right, Luke?”
“Yeah!” He nodded vehemently.
“Right, just a minute,” Obi-Wan said, standing from where he’d knelt by the bathtub and grabbing two washcloths from the towel rack.
He hadn’t exactly expected this when he’d told an exhausted Padmé to go to bed early, that he would get the twins their baths and put them to bed, but he supposed he should have. Leia had already proven very strict about the water temperature, which pajamas she and her brother should wear, and that their arms and legs were to be washed first. Luke largely went along with these demands, and Obi-Wan had decided that as long as Leia was polite in voicing them, it would be pointless to impose his own will. He was tired too, after all.
The twins pressed the proffered cloths over their eyes as their father gently scrubbed the suds into their hair. This was more difficult than it sounded, as both Luke and Leia continually moved their heads around so as to keep the drips from even falling onto the cloths.
“Luke, put your head back, I’m going to rinse,” Obi-Wan directed, and his son obediently tilted his head back for water to be poured over the soap bubbles.
“Hey, how come he gets to go first?” Leia exclaimed.
This time her father did sigh. “Because you were first last time,” he guessed, and fortunately she sat back in apparent satisfaction.
Carefully he dried Luke’s hair so the water wouldn’t run down his face, and started on his daughter’s curls. He had almost finished when suddenly she howled, tugging the cloth from her eyes and scrubbing furiously.
“You got soap in my eye!” squalled the girl, glaring through sudden tears.
“I’m sorry, little one,” Obi-Wan said immediately, handing her a fresh towel. “Here, why don’t you get out, start to dry off …”
She did, but continued to glare angrily throughout and as soon as she was in her sleep clothes, Leia darted out of the room and down the hall, shouting over her shoulder, “I’m going to find my mommy!”
Obi-Wan sighed once more — it was turning out to be that sort of an evening — and turned back to his son, who was still sitting in the now-draining tub. “Well, come on then, unless you think I’ve done something wrong too?”
Luke giggled. “She’s just silly,” he grinned as he got clumsily to his feet; the bath was slippery.
“Yes, sometimes she can be,” Obi-Wan agreed, wrapping a large thick towel around the boy as he stood shivering on the bathmat. “But Leia is very opinionated. That’s not necessarily a bad thing.”
“What’s ‘opinernated’?” Luke asked, furrowing his brow.
“Opinionated,” Obi-Wan corrected absently. “It means a person who knows what they want, and speaks up in order to get it. Your sister is very much like that.”
“I guess.” The child still looked a little confused as his father handed him his pajamas. “Don’t worry, Daddy. She’ll be okay.”
Obi-Wan shook his head wonderingly at Luke’s tone of voice, which had almost sounded … adult. He knew that his son was in all probability speaking of a feeling he had got through his bond, but every so often Obi-Wan still resented that Luke should even be able to feel things like that. He had the Force, obviously, but at this young age he wouldn’t know how to use it to get an exact sense of emotions. But with a bond …
“I know,” he told Luke. “I just didn’t want her to wake your mother. Mom needs all the rest she can get at the moment.”
“She was awake already,” Luke shrugged.
Obi-Wan dried his son’s hair once again. “Is she all right?”
A test. He knew, of course — he’d be able to sense a danger to Padmé even from across the galaxy — but he was curious about Luke’s abilities.
“Yup. She just woke up.”
Correct, of course. “Brush your teeth and use the fresher, please. I’ll be in to say goodnight in a moment.”
“’Kay!” floated out behind him as Obi-Wan then headed down the hall.
He met a grumpy Leia on the way to his bedroom, and she complained that Padmé had barely acknowledged her before falling back asleep. He was able to deflect her concerns quickly enough, and soon both children were tucked securely in their beds.
It really is surprising, Obi-Wan thought as he cuddled his son to help him go to sleep, that children are so adaptable. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised, since he’d seen so much over the last four years as a parent, but he was nonetheless. Even with the family’s abrupt move to Chandrila, the twins had adjusted very well, being only slightly more tearful and clingy at first. They still stuck close to their parents and were unwilling to venture too far from Obi-Wan or Padmé, but otherwise they acted completely normal. Luke and Leia applied themselves to their training, they laughed and smiled, and they were becoming great friends with Lily, to the latter’s pleasure. Perhaps at least some of that had to do with the fact that Mon’s residence was similar in size to Varykino, but Obi-Wan knew it couldn’t all be that. It had come as a pleasant surprise, however.
Nevertheless, he also understood that it could not last: soon they would have to move on again, perhaps shortly after the birth of the new baby, and when they did, it would likely be to Tatooine and far more pedestrian living arrangements. Obi-Wan did not relish that prospect, not only for the memories the planet held for both himself and Padmé, but also for the challenges raising three children there would present. He was up to it, and he was sure Padmé would be as well, but the twins … they shouldn’t have to live that way. The family should still be on Naboo, and Luke and Leia should be running in the fields and learning to ride shaaks and —
“Daddy?” Luke’s fingers sought his father’s, holding them softly.
“What is it, little one?”
“Don’t center on your fears.”
Obi-Wan sighed, again amazed that the boy had managed to conjure that lesson to apply in this particular moment. Not centering on one’s fears was one of the first maxims Jedi younglings were taught, and it would continue to be important throughout the lifetime of any Knight and Master. Young as he was, Luke remembered the saying and knew enough to apply it in this instance. Remarkable.
“It’s all right, son,” Obi-Wan murmured, stroking the boy’s hair. “Don’t worry about me, or your mother. I promise you, we will both be fine.”
The corners of Luke’s mouth turned up slightly, but he wasn’t able to manage much more than a tiny smile, as tired as he was. Obi-Wan was glad, for he didn’t feel at all ready to discuss some of the feelings that were probably evident through the bond. In any case, Luke soon fell asleep, and his father eased him gently into bed, kissed him and Leia goodnight, and headed for his own bedroom.
He tried to put all thoughts of the twins and leaving Chandrila out of his mind as he undressed for bed, reasoning that as there was little he could do about it right at the moment, he ought not to dwell on it. Luke had been quite correct when he reminded his father that fears shouldn’t be centred upon.
Padmé stirred as her husband climbed into bed, and he took a brief moment to rest his hand over her abdomen before settling back. He’d never really given himself permission to think about the baby, not since Padmé had conceived. For the first few months the child’s very existence had been in such doubt that Obi-Wan could focus only on his wife; on her health and survival. But now, since it seemed that perhaps, just perhaps, matters might be all right, he allowed his thoughts to venture to his child.
What would he or she be like? Quiet like Luke, boisterous but obedient like Leia, or with a healthy combination of the two? Or a personality all his or her own? Would the baby inherit the bond? How would he or she get along with the twins? What would she look like? Would he have his father’s blue eyes? Padmé’s smile? Obi-Wan had seen how the twins could represent the best qualities of himself and Padmé — as well as some of the worst — and he wondered how those qualities would recombine in a new being. He knew that despite all the uncertainty, he had already bonded with the baby, even without his knowledge or consent, and Obi-Wan wondered what the bond would tell him about the child when he or she was born.
Padmé suddenly cried out, startling him from his imaginings, and he placed a soft hand on her shoulder. “Darling?”
“No!” she exclaimed, apparently still asleep. “No, please — please don’t, you’re hurting him — stop!”
“Padmé, it’s all right, you’re dreaming,” Obi-Wan whispered, shaking her shoulder.
But she couldn’t seem to wake up, and kept thrashing, crying, tears trickling down her cheeks as she begged the nightmare to cease. Obi-Wan was weighing the possibility of employing the Force to wake her when suddenly she jerked one last time, jerked and opened her eyes with a scream.
He held her immediately, turning her to face him, pressing her cheek against his bare chest. He could feel the moisture of her tears, and her shoulders shaking.
“Shhh,” Obi-Wan soothed. “Shhh, you’re all right. It was only a dream.” He tried to remember what she had told him years ago, what had comforted him most, when his own nightmares were far more prevalent.
“Obi-Wan, are you okay?” she finally choked out.
“Yes, of course.” He felt confused, but didn’t yet want to reach through the Force. “I’m fine, and so are the twins. Just relax.”
“I can’t — can’t —” She gasped and broke into fresh shudders. “You — you and she — I saw —”
She? Obi-Wan blinked, puzzled. “Shhh, you don’t have to talk about it. Rest.”
“Ventress!” Padmé burst out, and he could taste her terror now; the Force was pungent with it in the small room. “What she did — I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be talking about it, I don’t want to hurt you —”
“Don’t worry about it, please.” He sent soothing waves of calm towards her, wrapped around her much as his arms were. “If you need to talk about the dream, talk. You never stopped me before, did you?”
That at least got a small laugh. “No, but — Obi-Wan, you were tortured …”
“Much of which I do not remember,” he cut in smoothly. “Darling, my recollection includes only the battle of Jabiim, the explosion, and then waking up in the Halls of Healing with you beside my bed.” (This was an exaggeration, naturally, but he needed her to calm herself.) “And even if I did recall the other events, we could still talk about it. We’ve talked about what happened with Anakin, and Qui-Gon.”
Padmé drew a shaky breath. “I know. I know, but — this is different, I saw — I don’t know how —”
“What did you see?”
“What Ventress did …” She pressed, if possible, even closer. “The mask … you were screaming … and the burns, the iron, the insects — I just had no idea … and then when Ani found you …”
Dim flashes assailed him, half-forgotten sensations and images and memory. Lying prone on the floor, curled up to protect as much of his body as he could … the humiliating moment when she ordered him to strip, to stand naked in front of her … the whippings, sometimes morning to night, until he all but drowned in his own blood. He’d screamed for Padmé, for Anakin, for anyone, and when none of them appeared to help him he resorted to reaching for Padmé, for his memory of her, through the bond.
Even when Ventress placed the Sith mask over his face, the mask that would sever his connection to the Force, he imagined that Padmé was with him. It had been the only way he got through some of the days. His cell was dark, damp and cold, the food often moldy and riddled with insects and rodent droppings — if indeed he received any nourishment at all — and there were no hygiene facilities. Obi-Wan had tried at first to designate a specific corner of the cell as a latrine for himself and the clone Alpha, with whom he’d been captured. But as the torture began to escalate and Alpha was separated from his general, Obi-Wan cared less about maintaining cleanliness and decency and much more about simple, day-to-day survival. Eventually he was so wounded that he could not bear to move about, and simply lay on the freezing floor hour after hour, trying to recover.
Ventress’s next trick was to chain him to the wall, manacles on his ankles and wrists, during the times when she was not actively “working” with him (as she called it). He stood for hours on end, the chains cutting into his arms whenever he sagged in relaxation. He no longer cared about how he looked, how his own blood and dirt were caked on his wounds and how those wounds became infected, how there was no refuge from fatigue, not even in the Force. Yet Ventress punished him more for any physical weakness he demonstrated in front of her. For each scream, she would whip him twenty times, and twenty more if he yelled again at any point during this “punishment.” When he let go in front of her one day, she insisted that the guard take the waste and rub it into the open sores, so as to allow for complete humiliation of the Jedi. That was when she had force-fed him the insects, too, telling him that since he had dared to soil himself in her presence, the insects would sanitize him. Of course, they did this by slowly devouring his internal organs, but this, to Ventress, was an acceptable way to advance her aims. He had writhed in his chains for hours after, until she finally provided the remedy. She had stopped short of the point at which any permanent damage would be done, but oh, he had wanted to die. Had wanted to die to spare himself further anguish, which was bound to be forthcoming.
And in the end, understanding that no one would come for him, he used his last remaining shreds of power to mind-trick the guard, escaping the cell and stumbling about the jungle, Alpha at his side, until a familiar voice had shouted from the trees …
Yes, Obi-Wan remembered rather a lot.
“I’m sorry,” Padmé whispered.
He realized that he was now clutching her tightly, momentarily lost in the cascade of memories. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.
“You do remember, don’t you,” she murmured.
“A bit.” He didn’t want to let on just how much. “But it wasn’t even the physical discomfort or the loss of the Force, which was awful but not the worst. The worst was waking in the Temple and realizing that I hardly knew myself anymore, that I could barely recall conventions of behaviour … speaking, enjoying a meal, relating to others, everything that divides the civilized from those who are not.”
“But you learned again,” Padmé reminded him. “I helped you, Anakin helped you, and that’s what’s important.”
He nodded. “I’m just sorry you had to dream about it.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know why I did, and I don’t know why I reacted like that. Just seeing you that way, I suppose … it was troubling.”
“Of course,” Obi-Wan said.
“But we don’t have to talk about it.” Her hand came up to caress his face. “I’m fine and you’re fine. Right?”
“Are you sure you’re all right?” He pressed a kiss into her hair.
“I am now,” Padmé replied. “I just needed to be near to you, that’s all. I think — ouch!”
“What is it?” Obi-Wan was instantly alert.
She laughed. “Nothing. The baby’s kicking, that’s all.”
“He wants us to talk about nicer things,” nodded her husband. “Don’t you, little one,” Obi-Wan addressed her belly.
“Maybe he just thinks I should get up so he can keep using my bladder as a bouncing platform.” Padmé rolled her eyes, repositioning herself in the bed. “And he is a she, by the way. I’m sure of it.”
“Oh? Did the Force bestow its powers upon you when I wasn’t looking?”
“Hardly. I’m just a mother. I know.” Inch by inch she raised herself to a sitting position. “Besides, I guessed right with the twins.”
He slid out of bed and circled around to her side, understanding what was now required without needing to ask. “Only with Luke. Anakin did the rest. Here, you want the refresher?”
“Yeah.” She extended her hands and Obi-Wan helped her to slide to the side of the bed, putting both his hands under her arms.
“Right — one, two, three.” And he hauled her to her feet, his arms winding around her for a moment as she steadied.
“Goddesses, I’ll be glad when this is done,” Padmé sighed. “I feel like a bantha, and I probably smell like one, too. It’s hard to fit in the shower.”
“I think you look lovely.” Obi-Wan brushed her curls back from her face and kissed her softly. “You always have.”
“Flatterer.” But she responded, nuzzling him lightly and guiding his palm down to feel where a small foot was outlined in her abdomen.
He traced it. “She wants out.”
“She certainly does.” Padmé yawned and disengaged herself, walking to the fresher. “She’ll have to wait just a little longer, though.”
Obi-Wan settled himself back in bed and was nearly asleep when he felt a hand on his back, coming around to the front and tracing a long scar on his stomach, heading further down, following the thin line of hair …
He stilled the motion. “No, Padmé.”
“Drat.” Obi-Wan could practically hear his wife rolling her eyes. “It was worth a try, anyway.”
“I suppose, but we need to wait another few months,” he told her.
“By which time she’ll have arrived, and I won’t be interested.” Padmé sounded disgusted. “I remember after the twins, it was months and months before I even healed.” She exhaled a gusty sigh.
He turned to face her. “Darling, listen to me. I want it as much as you do. You know that. And I love you no matter how you look. But I just couldn’t hurt the baby, or you, again. I want both her and you to be safe.”
“I know.” She tucked her head under his chin, cuddling closer. “I’m tired, and I want this to be over. I want you to stop feeling guilty about the pregnancy, because it’s not your fault. And it’s going to be okay. I’m healthy and she’s healthy.”
“I know, but …” Obi-Wan shook his head, attempting to rid himself of the image of his wife lying in their bed at Varykino, pale as a sheet and terrified that at any moment she might lose their child. He could still remember it, even though the past number of months had been nothing but peaceful.
“But nothing,” Padmé echoed that thought. “Focus on the moment, okay, Master Jedi? Isn’t that what your Code teaches?”
He was about to reply when suddenly she stiffened, rolling abruptly away from him and clenching her teeth. “Goddesses —”
“What is it? What’s wrong?” For the second time in a few minutes he sat bolt upright, alarmed.
“She’s just —” Padmé closed her eyes tightly “— stretching.” She tried to suck in a breath, gasping a little.
“Shhh, it’s all right.” Obi-Wan moved over her, placing his hands firmly on her belly, and sank into the Force with barely a ripple. He could sense the child, feel the baby’s thoughts, and see the tiny form, extended to fully length. Carefully Obi-Wan entered the baby’s mind, touching it softly, smoothly.
Padmé relaxed at last, drawing in several deep breaths. “Thank you. What did you do?”
“I merely convinced her that it would be in her best interest to allow her mother to breathe,” Obi-Wan quipped. “Though I will say this for her: she has a very strong mind already.”
“I’m sure she does.” Padmé turned back over, one hand clasped protectively around her husband’s. “I wish you’d been around to do that when I was expecting the twins.”
He felt another pang of guilt, sharp and cutting. “Did they hurt you? Does she, now?”
Padmé considered for a moment. “Not … exactly,” she said finally. “I mean, it’s uncomfortable when they get so big, though not painful. Babies just like to move around a lot, and as they grow, that gets harder. She squirms more than kicks nowadays, at least when she’s a little less active. But sometimes it felt like Luke and Leia were competing to see who could kick me hardest. At least with this baby … well, there’s only one of her.”
Thank the Force, Obi-Wan thought with a shudder. “Are you all right now? No more stretching?”
She laughed. “No, no more stretching. I think she may have gone back to sleep.”
“Well, let’s do the same, then,” Obi-Wan suggested. His wife nodded and closed her eyes, relaxing and breathing deeply again. He squeezed her hand and took a slow, meditative breath. In, out. In, out. Fatigue was beginning to steal over his body … his eyes were closing … he was running with the twins through a Nubian field …
“Obi-Wan?”
Padmé was calling to him … he turned to beckon her over …
“Obi-Wan?”
“Mmm, darling?”
“I — I’m sorry but — I need to use the fresher again.”
His eyes jerked open and he did his best to suppress a small sigh.
It was going to be a long three months.