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padmeonpaper2009-05-08 06:21 pm
padme_kenobi) wrote in padmeonpaper2009-05-08 06:21 pm
Entry tags:
Fic: "To Ignite the Stars" (Star Wars, Obi-Wan/Padmé, 43/?)
Title: The Threat
Author:padme_kenobi
Previous Chapters: Can be read here.
Characters/Pairings: Obi-Wan/Padmé, others
Word Count: 4,801
Rating: PG
Summary: It was difficult sometimes not to simply throw up his arms and, as Anakin had once done, exclaim that life simply wasn’t fair.
Author's Notes: Expect to be absolutely deluged with TIS chapters over the next few days, as Katie and I have finally finished our marathon editing session and I now have a total of 17,063 words to post. *facepalm* I seem to have developed a bad habit where I let chapters build up and build up until there's a huge backlog to put up, but I'll try and break it now I have marginally more time on my hands. About two chapters will be posted per day/night so as not to kill your f-lists. This one ends on another cliffie, for which I apologize, but at least you'll have another one to read right after it? And remember: always in motion is the future ...
Fly under the radar.
Well, thought Mon Mothma, I’m not sure how much more under the radar I could get. This place is the middle of sodding nowhere.
“We’re almost there, Mom,” said Lily from the navigation seat. “I’ve got the coordinates locked in.”
She turned to face her ten-year-old daughter, shooting Lily a grateful smile. “Thanks, dearest. Our instructions are to just set down in the middle of that field, and then hike to the resort house.”
“Should we bring the med droids?” Lily asked.
Mon considered. “As much as I’d like to, it would be a bit too cumbersome. I know Master Kenobi said the situation was dire, but we’ve also got to get them off this rock. I’d say that’s pretty dire too. You can alert the doctor though and ask her if she’d like to come.”
Lily nodded once, and Mon re-focused her attention on the pilot’s console to prepare for landing. She had come to take her daughter’s level of maturity and good sense almost for granted, but there was no denying that the girl was growing up, and growing up fast. It seemed only yesterday that she’d refused to eat green food rations and had been frightened by the idea of a Separatist attack on her home planet, and now she was almost a teenager, keen to assist her mother as much as she could in whatever endeavours Mon undertook. She’d make a fine warrior someday. And perhaps, a fine rebel.
“We’re going to take small arms, just in case,” Mon instructed. “Remember what I taught you, and keep behind me. Don’t fire unless you are directly under threat, is that understood?”
“Of course,” Lily replied. “Do you think we’ll encounter any resistance?”
“Doubtful, but it never hurts to be prepared.”
They met Dr. Ti-Lek at the bottom of the boarding ramp and, after exchanging several pleasantries, proceeded across the field, following the directions they had been given. It was a short hike and the weather was pleasant, so they gained Varykino without any difficulty.
“Senator!”
She jerked her head up and aimed her gun; the cry had come from an upper balcony and she couldn’t immediately tell who had spoken.
“Mon, don’t shoot!”
“It’s Master Kenobi!” Lily exclaimed, tugging at her mother’s sleeve.
Mon could see that now, but if the girl hadn’t pointed him out she didn’t think she’d have recognized the Jedi. He looked exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes, hair pointing in all directions and rumpled clothing. Far from the polished, official image she was used to seeing from Master Kenobi.
They climbed the steps to the veranda and were met at the door by the Jedi, a young boy clinging to one of his legs. The corners of Master Kenobi’s lips were twitching and he seemed to be trying to smile, but couldn’t quite manage it.
“Master,” Mon greeted him. “I hear you’re in need of a lift?”
“I’m sorry, Senator, I don’t have time for pleasantries,” the Jedi said brusquely. “You’ve brought Healers, medical professionals?”
“Yes, of course,” Mon replied as she stepped inside, gesturing to Dr. Ti-Lek. “This is Dr. Ti-Lek. She’s a doctor who also specializes in treating pregnant women. She was my physician when I was expecting Lily. And the ship has a fully-equipped medical bay.”
“Good, good.” They were hurrying up the stairs by this point. “Lily — oh, your daughter, right, I remember Padmé talking about her. Here — Luke, can you go find your sister, finish the packing?”
“No!” cried the little boy, who had not detached himself from Master Kenobi’s leg. “I wanna stay with you!”
“Son, I don’t have time to argue —”
“I can take him,” Lily cut in, stepping up so that she was level with the child. “Hi there. Your name is Luke?”
He shuddered a bit, but nodded.
“You have a sister too?” Lily said. “I’ve always wanted a sister. But I’m an only child.”
“Sisters are dumb,” Luke mumbled, but he didn’t look entirely convinced of this statement.
“Can I meet your sister? Then maybe I could decide for myself.”
Luke looked uncertainly towards his father, and the latter nodded and stroked his son’s hair. “It’s all right, little one. I’ll just be in the next room.”
They’d reached the top of the stairs by then. Lily took Luke’s hand and they headed for the nursery, while the rest of the group continued to the largest bedroom.
“What seems to be the difficulty?” asked Dr. Ti-Lek as they walked.
Master Kenobi’s features immediately tightened. “We — well, we believe she may be miscarrying,” he replied, and Mon could see plainly the effort he was expending to keep himself under control. “This pregnancy hasn’t been an easy one. She’s been very ill, more than should be normal, we think. The last three days she’s barely kept water down, let alone food. And yesterday she started bleeding and cramping. She has miscarried before, and so we thought …”
Mon peered past the doorway to the bedroom, shocked once again by what she saw. If the Jedi looked awful, Padmé seemed near death. Pale, thin, weak and exhausted, she lay on her side in bed, two pillows under her head and another clutched to her stomach. Mon could not believe the changes in her friend, and she bit her lip.
“Do you know if she has passed anything?” Dr. Ti-Lek asked. “Clots, tissue …?”
Kenobi swallowed visibly. “I — have no idea,” he said faintly. “We’ve just assumed …”
“Understood.” The doctor strode into the room, leaving Mon and Padmé’s husband to hover by the door.
The Jedi scrubbed an exhausted hand over his face, at the same time stifling what appeared to be a huge yawn. “I — erm — look, Senator, I want to thank you for what you’ve done, for coming to get us. You must have placed yourself and your daughter at a terrible risk, given who I am, and … I’m grateful. We’re grateful. More grateful than I can possibly express.”
“Please, call me Mon,” she said gently, touching his arm in a gesture of support and friendship. “This has to be so difficult for you both. Alone, with only yourselves to depend on … I can’t imagine what that’s like.”
“Then you can call me Obi-Wan,” he replied. “And it’s been mostly all right, up until now. But I … I made a stupid, cowardly mistake, and she is paying the consequence. We both are, I suppose, but it’s so much more difficult for her. All she’s been saying since we found out is that she can’t go through losing another child. Having this baby has become the focus of her life. And it’s gone so wrong …” He stopped for a minute and closed his eyes, breath coming shakily.
“I’m so sorry,” Mon said, a lump rising in her throat as she looked back at her friend. “Padmé will have the best care imaginable, I promise you. Bail told me exactly what was needed, and if there is any chance of saving the child I swear we will do it.”
“It may already be too late,” Obi-Wan murmured. “But we don’t know … she won’t let me go in with the Force and feel the baby, because she thinks that might be too disruptive. If we could only know … one way or the other …” Abruptly he seemed to realize that his hands had clenched into fists, and again he took deep breaths. “I — I’m sorry, I forgot myself.”
“No, not at all,” Mon answered gently, though she was amazed that the Jedi in him would permit such a loss of emotional control. “I completely understand. You’ve been through such a lot. I’m just glad to be able to offer assistance.”
The doctor was talking quietly to Padmé now. She was answering Ti-Lek’s questions in a hollow, dead sort of voice, her eyes hooded and devastated. After a few moments the physician made her way over to the door, tucking several instruments back inside her bag.
“So far as I can tell, she is still pregnant,” Dr. Ti-Lek began, and Obi-Wan sagged visibly in relief. “I will need to conduct a more detailed holoimaging examination once we reach the ship, but at this point we must consider the bleeding and cramping as a serious threat of miscarriage. If we do not stabilize her quickly, she will lose the pregnancy.”
“But how can we?” Obi-Wan whispered. “She can’t eat, she can’t drink …”
“Yes, exactly. And while a certain amount of sickness is normal in pregnancy, an inability to keep down any foods or liquids is certainly not. I’d like to start her on a strong anti-nausea medication and replenish her fluid levels, which will involve dripping liquids directly into her veins. We may not be in time, but we must try.”
“Why is this happening now, though?” Mon spoke up. “She’s been pregnant twice before and, so far as I know, nothing of this sort has ever occurred.”
“Impossible to say, unfortunately,” replied Dr. Ti-Lek. “We may learn more after I analyze her blood, but then again, we may not. It is possible that the cause might never be determined. But what we need to focus on now is treating the symptoms and trying to save the baby.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Obi-Wan said hurriedly.
Padmé was too weak to walk on her own, so Mon and Dr. Ti-Lek went back to the ship and brought two service droids with a stretcher. Mon then helped Lily and Obi-Wan to load the luggage onto the ship and to finish tidying the resort. Assisted by the doctor, Obi-Wan gently rolled his wife onto the stretcher. At last, they were ready to leave.
Obi-Wan picked up Luke, Mon picked up Leia and they headed out the rear door, he and the doctor walking nearest the stretcher and Mon and Lily leading the way back to the ship. Padmé had been given strong medication and an injection of fluids to stabilize her for the trip, but she’d barely had enough energy to move herself onto the stretcher, and all were quite concerned.
“Obi-Wan?” she murmured as the little group made its careful way through the trees.
“Yes, darling?” He was at her side in a second.
“Where are we going?”
The adults stiffened; she had been told twice of the plans, so it was worrisome that she did not seem to remember.
“We have to leave,” Obi-Wan explained again. “You’re very ill, and you need treatment. We’re going to Chandrila.”
“Oh.” A pause. “Do you have the album?”
“Yes. It’s in my pocket.”
“Tell Ani —” She coughed several times. “Tell him I’m sorry we didn’t invite him. He must feel so left out.”
“Er —” It was clear that Obi-Wan didn’t know quite how to respond to that. “I will. I promise.”
“Will he be there?” Padmé asked. “Or is he going to Christophsis first?”
“Padmé, he — don’t you remember?” Her husband’s tone was pleading.
“Remember?” She blinked. “I remember that you’re both supposed to deploy to Christophsis tomorrow. The Separatists are planning a big incursion and Anakin said he had to go back to the Temple and do research …” Padmé closed her eyes momentarily, gasping a little.
“Darling, that’s over,” he said gently. “That was five years ago. Anakin won’t be on Chandrila. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, Mommy, don’t be silly,” Luke chimed in.
“No —” Padmé was becoming fretful. “He said he’d be there! Ani always keeps his promises!”
“He couldn’t keep this one,” Obi-Wan quietly replied. “The — the Council asked that some additional material be added to the mission briefing, so he needed to return to the Temple before he could meet us.”
This seemed to mollify her, and she turned her attention to her son, grasping gently at his little hand. “Anakin will be so happy to meet you and your sister … I remember when he came to my holoimaging session when I was pregnant with you both … he was really excited …”
Mon furrowed her brow; Padmé appeared to be mixing up past events, and for whatever reason Obi-Wan was making no attempts to correct her. Perhaps he figured it would be kinder to let her believe what she did, instead of retelling what seemed to be a very upsetting story. The Chandrilan Senator could see it simmering beneath the Jedi’s eyes whenever his wife mentioned Anakin’s name; clearly he was struggling with some private pain. She sighed and quickened her pace slightly.
“Daddy, who’s An’kin?” Luke asked loudly.
“I —” There came the sound of a throat being cleared and a breath exhaled. “A — an old friend of your mother’s and mine. Mon, how much farther to the ship?”
“Not very much longer,” she answered, seeing a clearing up ahead. “It’s just over that rise.”
“Good, I can’t wait to see him again,” said Padmé vaguely.
“He’ll be on the ship?” exclaimed Luke, excited.
“No, he will not.” Obi-Wan sounded even more tired than before.
“Aww, no fair,” the boy complained. “Mommy? Mommy, will we see An’kin on Chandra?”
“I … hope so …” Her response was faint.
“Padmé, stay with us,” Obi-Wan said urgently.
“Mmm … tired …” she mumbled.
“No, no, we’ll be there in a minute, you’ve got to stay awake, darling —”
But it was no use. By the time they gained the ship, her eyes were closed and she seemed completely unresponsive. Mon turned to see that Obi-Wan had set Luke down and was now biting his own lip hard enough to draw blood, clutching one of Padmé’s hands and rubbing it between his own.
“Obi-Wan …” He gazed up tiredly as Mon said his name. “She’ll be all right. I’m sure she’s just sleeping.”
“But the fluids …” Obi-Wan was looking hopeless again. “The doctor gave her fluids and I thought … she’d be better …”
“She has dehydrated over a period of days, so it will naturally take a similar period before she is completely better,” Dr. Ti-Lek put in. “The injection was a stopgap measure to prevent cardiac arrest until we can get her hooked up to a more permanent drip. That’s really what she needs. And when she gets it, she will improve.”
Obi-Wan seemed more alarmed rather than less. “But … the baby … will that be enough time to save the baby?”
At this, even the physician lowered her gaze. “I’m not sure. Only time will tell.”
***
She was sleeping peacefully.
He didn’t think he would have been able to bear it if she hadn’t been. The last number of days had exhausted her both physically and mentally, but she’d refused to sleep, so frightened was Padmé that she might lose their child. Of course he’d tried to reason with her, to tell her that the less she slept, the more strain would be put on her body. She’d refused to listen. Half the time she felt too sick to sleep in any case, so he had spent many hours after the twins were put to bed simply holding her, and occasionally soothing her while she cried.
Now, she slept. Padmé looked frail and insignificant in the large medical bay’s bed, a line dripping nutritive fluids continuously into her veins. Obi-Wan had already been visited by the unpleasant thought that she’d looked very similar when he had gone to see her in the Senate’s Medcenter. But he pushed that memory quickly from his mind. No need to dwell on past difficulties.
So he pulled up a chair next to her bedside and he sat, waiting. Waiting for her to wake up, waiting for some news to be delivered about the baby, waiting for a judgment from the Force that seemed inevitably forthcoming.
“She’s absolutely exhausted,” Dr. Ti-Lek had pronounced as the medical droids helped to hook her patient up to the lines. “I’ve not got the results of the blood work back yet but I’m sure they will show she is malnourished. She needs to rest.” So saying, the physician gave Padmé a mild sedative and dimmed the medical center’s lights. Obi-Wan had then taken position next to his wife’s bed.
Occasionally one of the twins would wander in and stand in front of him with arms outstretched, silently asking to be picked up. He would pull Luke or Leia into his lap and hug them, hold them as parent and child kept the vigil together. Obi-Wan only left the medical bay when it came time to put the children to bed and they refused to let Mon or Lily — whom they understandably regarded as inferior to their parents — carry out the bedtime routine. Luke, unsurprisingly clingy, requested that his father hold him while he fell asleep. Obi-Wan knew Padmé had developed this ritual with both twins, but he hadn’t quite expected to continue it. Nevertheless, he felt a strange sort of peace while cuddling his son in his arms, watching Luke’s eyes attempt to keep their focus on him as the child slipped further and further into sleep. The boy snuggled closer, burying his face in his father’s tunics with a soft sigh. Obi-Wan bent to press a gentle kiss to Luke’s forehead.
“Your beard tickles,” Luke murmured sleepily.
“Does it?”
“Yeah.” But he was smiling, and had a look of utter contentment about him.
Obi-Wan reached deeper into the Force, feeling his son’s presence, grasping along their bond to sense the rush of warmth and trust they shared. He doubted Luke understood the full significance of the connection, but all the same, it was wonderful to experience it like this. Perhaps Padmé had been right when she said that the bond might have a higher purpose, at least for these types of encounters.
“Daddy,” Luke sighed happily.
Obi-Wan waited awhile longer until he could be sure the boy was asleep, and then he tucked him carefully into bed. Part of him was concerned, having sensed the same undercurrent of worry and fear in Luke. But he needed to get back to Padmé, and as the medical bay was right near the twins’ assigned bedroom, he hoped he would sense or hear any sort of distress before the problem became truly intractable.
And now here he was, by his wife’s bedside once more. Nothing much had changed — still she slept, and still he worried.
There was the guilt, too, if he gave himself a moment to stop and think about it. Despite the fact that he’d looked upon it previously with levity, he could not ignore what was right in front of his face.
Obi-Wan had caused this, with his foolishness and lack of control. If only he hadn’t panicked after the Vader nightmare. If only he’d taken a moment to release his fears into the Force, so he would not have been so scared. What kind of Jedi was he, anyway, to forget about the Force? He knew that if he’d kept his focus, not to mention his patience, he might not have lost his composure.
But then again, it had not been the dream which truly upset him. His real reaction had come later, when Padmé described the effects Luke’s inherited bond was having on the boy. And the thought of his son, his child growing up to face the precise same things, facing them now when his sole concern should have been playing and being a little boy … this had broken him completely. He knew what it was to live with a bond, to experience emotional connections on such a deep level despite the fact that they had been prohibited by the Old Order. He also knew about the wrenching sense of loss and the deep, almost physical pain that came when the carrier of a bond was confronted with grief of any kind — especially grief relating to a loved one. And as Obi-Wan imagined all of those emotions, he knew that he could cope with them because he had been doing so for a very long while. But he had passed the same ability on to his child … and now what had been passed on could not be revoked.
So what had he done? Well, of course he’d gone and caused his wife to conceive another child. A child who had just as much potential to inherit the bond as Luke did. Obi-Wan knew that the chances of this were low, given the inherent rarity of Force bonds, but it seemed like just the sort of irony the universe would cook up to torture him if the baby lived.
As if he hadn’t been tortured enough. It was difficult sometimes not to simply throw up his arms and, as Anakin had once done, exclaim that life simply wasn’t fair.
Obi-Wan leant forward on the chair and massaged his temples, well aware that he was thinking in an entirely self-centred and circular manner. Most likely due to fatigue, although this didn’t exactly make it any better or less self-indulgent. He’d been relying on the Force for days to stay awake and functional, but perhaps he was reaching the end of even the enhanced endurance that could provide. Yet he couldn’t … he couldn’t fall asleep now … he had the twins to care for, and Padmé … he just couldn’t.
Almost as though his thoughts had conjured her mental presence, his wife turned her head slightly and shivered, stretching out feeble fingers to grasp the bed rail. Obi-Wan made sure they met his hand instead, and he clasped them gently.
“Obi-Wan …?” she whispered, her voice thick with sleep.
“I’m here, darling.” He kissed her hand softly, sweetly. “I promise you, I’m here.”
“The baby!” Suddenly Padmé opened her eyes wide. “Obi-Wan, the baby —”
“He’s fine.” He squeezed her hand. “Absolutely fine. You didn’t lose him.” Yet, he did not add.
She sagged with relief. “I can’t — I thought —”
“Please don’t worry, darling. Please, you need to rest. The baby will be fine, I promise you.”
Padmé’s eyelids were drooping again. “You look exhausted,” she commented ironically.
“I’m all right.”
“You haven’t been sleeping either,” she accused. “Obi-Wan, the Force can only take you so far.”
Mirroring his earlier thoughts, of course, but he didn’t say that. “Shhh. Don’t worry about me.”
Obi-Wan rubbed her hand between his. “Your hands are like ice.”
“I’m cold.” She shivered, trying to burrow deeper under the thin sheets.
Obi-Wan looked about for a blanket, anything he could use to cover her, but found none. “I’ll go look in the twins’ room, they might have something …”
“No!” Padmé grabbed his wrist with surprising strength. “No, Obi-Wan, please.”
“What?” He leant close. “Tell me what you want.”
“I just — I want —” Tears began to streak her cheeks. “I want you, I want us to sleep like we did before, together … I want to be out of here and I just want the baby …”
“All right.” He stroked her cheek gently, brushing away the moisture, aching for contact as much as she seemed to be. “It’s all right, we’ll do it together. Here.”
And he began stripping off his cloak and pulling off his boots. A twitch of the Force unlocked the bed rail and he slid slowly in, cupping himself around her and pressing a kiss into her hair.
“There, is that better?”
“But — if someone finds you like this —”
“No matter. You are my wife, and you’re ill. We’re not hurting anyone or anything.”
Slowly Padmé began to relax against him, melting into his gentle strokes of her arms and his fingers drifting through her curls. She still felt pale and cold beneath his touch, but her lips were curved upwards in a small smile.
“We’re going to have a baby, darling,” she murmured sleepily.
“Yes, we are.” He nuzzled her cheek.
“I think she’s a girl.” Padmé’s fingers knitted through his. “Another little girl … a friend for Leia …”
“Luke will be upset,” Obi-Wan chuckled, feeling content for the first time in a few days.
“He’ll love her too,” Padmé said softly. “He’ll get to be a big brother … Leia is more his equal than anything else. But he’ll love the baby. He’ll dote on her.”
Obi-Wan slid his hand down to her abdomen, caressing gently. “May I …?”
She stiffened slightly, but then nodded. “All right.”
And so he dipped back into the Force, into the energy flowing around them, and delighted in the love and light he could sense from her before plunging inside her Force signature, feeling, probing, testing … and he found it much more easily this time, the tiny embryo. The baby was bigger now than when he had last probed, which was surprising considering Padmé’s health problems. Its thoughts — if indeed they could be referred to as such — were still undefined and impossible to read, but if he sank deeper beneath the surface, he could sense movement, tiny arms already waving back and forth. And …
“Ah,” Obi-Wan murmured suddenly.
“What?” Padmé exclaimed, alarmed.
“I can tell if the baby is a boy or a girl,” he explained. “Would you like to know?”
She was silent for several moments, and Obi-Wan thought she might have fallen asleep. “No,” Padmé said at length. “Half the fun for me when I was pregnant with the twins was trying to guess whether they were boys or girls, or one of each. I want to do the same thing this time. And usually I’m pretty good at guessing.”
“You guessed for Luke and Leia?”
“For Luke. I was almost certain that one of the babies would be a boy. Ani was convinced they were girls. Well, we were both right, really.”
He sighed. “You know where we’re going, right? To Chandrila?”
Padmé blinked. “Of course I do! Why wouldn’t I?”
“You didn’t before,” Obi-Wan said quietly. “Dr. Ti-Lek said you were so dehydrated that you were starting to hallucinate.”
“Oh my goddess,” she whispered. “What did I say?”
“You thought that Anakin was still alive, and that he’d be meeting us on Chandrila.” Unconsciously, his grip had tightened. “Then you said he and I were supposed to deploy to Christophsis for that battle.”
“Darling, I’m sorry,” Padmé said immediately. “I didn’t mean to bring all that up again …”
“I know,” he replied, drifting a finger along her cheek. “You were ill, you are ill … and you didn’t know what you were saying. I understand.”
“But still, it must have been awful for you.”
“I want to remember him,” Obi-Wan said evenly. “But together with everything that had happened, it just … well, it wasn’t something I wanted to hear. But neither was it your fault.”
“I know. And I’m still sorry.” She closed her eyes and pillowed the back of her head against his chest, sighing softly. “You should sleep too.”
“I’m not tired,” he lied.
“Oh, Obi-Wan, come on. That’s what Leia tells me when she’s having too much fun to go to bed. Surely you can be more creative than that.”
“I just want to make sure you’re all right,” Obi-Wan finally sighed. “If … if something goes wrong, I want to help you.”
“Which you won’t be able to do if you’re too exhausted to stand up straight,” Padmé pointed out. “I’ve given you the perfect opportunity right now. Sleep.”
“Oh, so that was your plan?”
“Well,” she replied diplomatically, “one good turn deserves another.”
He chuckled. “I suppose.”
“Go on!” Padmé said after a few moments. “Close your eyes! Meditate! Do whatever it is you need to do to fall asleep!”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes!”
“All right, all right.”
They continued to laugh as she drifted off to sleep, and he soon followed, his hand still clasped over the place where the baby grew.
***
Pain.
Hard, fast, sharp. Ever-present.
She wrenched herself into wakefulness from a beautiful dream, a dream in which the twins had run through a golden field with a young brown-haired girl hot on their trail. The girl had turned back, her curls bouncing against her shoulders, to wave happily at her mother. Then the images had swirled until she could hear the clashing of lightsabers, running feet, an unfamiliar voice exclaiming, “Now’s our chance, go!”
And another voice, vaguely recognizable but changed somehow, saying, “You can’t win, Darth … if you strike me down I shall become more powerful than you can possibly imagine …” A loud scream, followed by a woman’s shout: “Daddy!”
Then, she had woken up, the same scream still in her throat, pain lancing and stabbing through her middle. She screamed again and kept screaming, over and over, even as she reached her hand down to find bright red blood on the sheets, even as the doctor came running through the doors …
And the word she screamed was Eshonna.
Author:
padme_kenobiPrevious Chapters: Can be read here.
Characters/Pairings: Obi-Wan/Padmé, others
Word Count: 4,801
Rating: PG
Summary: It was difficult sometimes not to simply throw up his arms and, as Anakin had once done, exclaim that life simply wasn’t fair.
Author's Notes: Expect to be absolutely deluged with TIS chapters over the next few days, as Katie and I have finally finished our marathon editing session and I now have a total of 17,063 words to post. *facepalm* I seem to have developed a bad habit where I let chapters build up and build up until there's a huge backlog to put up, but I'll try and break it now I have marginally more time on my hands. About two chapters will be posted per day/night so as not to kill your f-lists. This one ends on another cliffie, for which I apologize, but at least you'll have another one to read right after it? And remember: always in motion is the future ...
Fly under the radar.
Well, thought Mon Mothma, I’m not sure how much more under the radar I could get. This place is the middle of sodding nowhere.
“We’re almost there, Mom,” said Lily from the navigation seat. “I’ve got the coordinates locked in.”
She turned to face her ten-year-old daughter, shooting Lily a grateful smile. “Thanks, dearest. Our instructions are to just set down in the middle of that field, and then hike to the resort house.”
“Should we bring the med droids?” Lily asked.
Mon considered. “As much as I’d like to, it would be a bit too cumbersome. I know Master Kenobi said the situation was dire, but we’ve also got to get them off this rock. I’d say that’s pretty dire too. You can alert the doctor though and ask her if she’d like to come.”
Lily nodded once, and Mon re-focused her attention on the pilot’s console to prepare for landing. She had come to take her daughter’s level of maturity and good sense almost for granted, but there was no denying that the girl was growing up, and growing up fast. It seemed only yesterday that she’d refused to eat green food rations and had been frightened by the idea of a Separatist attack on her home planet, and now she was almost a teenager, keen to assist her mother as much as she could in whatever endeavours Mon undertook. She’d make a fine warrior someday. And perhaps, a fine rebel.
“We’re going to take small arms, just in case,” Mon instructed. “Remember what I taught you, and keep behind me. Don’t fire unless you are directly under threat, is that understood?”
“Of course,” Lily replied. “Do you think we’ll encounter any resistance?”
“Doubtful, but it never hurts to be prepared.”
They met Dr. Ti-Lek at the bottom of the boarding ramp and, after exchanging several pleasantries, proceeded across the field, following the directions they had been given. It was a short hike and the weather was pleasant, so they gained Varykino without any difficulty.
“Senator!”
She jerked her head up and aimed her gun; the cry had come from an upper balcony and she couldn’t immediately tell who had spoken.
“Mon, don’t shoot!”
“It’s Master Kenobi!” Lily exclaimed, tugging at her mother’s sleeve.
Mon could see that now, but if the girl hadn’t pointed him out she didn’t think she’d have recognized the Jedi. He looked exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes, hair pointing in all directions and rumpled clothing. Far from the polished, official image she was used to seeing from Master Kenobi.
They climbed the steps to the veranda and were met at the door by the Jedi, a young boy clinging to one of his legs. The corners of Master Kenobi’s lips were twitching and he seemed to be trying to smile, but couldn’t quite manage it.
“Master,” Mon greeted him. “I hear you’re in need of a lift?”
“I’m sorry, Senator, I don’t have time for pleasantries,” the Jedi said brusquely. “You’ve brought Healers, medical professionals?”
“Yes, of course,” Mon replied as she stepped inside, gesturing to Dr. Ti-Lek. “This is Dr. Ti-Lek. She’s a doctor who also specializes in treating pregnant women. She was my physician when I was expecting Lily. And the ship has a fully-equipped medical bay.”
“Good, good.” They were hurrying up the stairs by this point. “Lily — oh, your daughter, right, I remember Padmé talking about her. Here — Luke, can you go find your sister, finish the packing?”
“No!” cried the little boy, who had not detached himself from Master Kenobi’s leg. “I wanna stay with you!”
“Son, I don’t have time to argue —”
“I can take him,” Lily cut in, stepping up so that she was level with the child. “Hi there. Your name is Luke?”
He shuddered a bit, but nodded.
“You have a sister too?” Lily said. “I’ve always wanted a sister. But I’m an only child.”
“Sisters are dumb,” Luke mumbled, but he didn’t look entirely convinced of this statement.
“Can I meet your sister? Then maybe I could decide for myself.”
Luke looked uncertainly towards his father, and the latter nodded and stroked his son’s hair. “It’s all right, little one. I’ll just be in the next room.”
They’d reached the top of the stairs by then. Lily took Luke’s hand and they headed for the nursery, while the rest of the group continued to the largest bedroom.
“What seems to be the difficulty?” asked Dr. Ti-Lek as they walked.
Master Kenobi’s features immediately tightened. “We — well, we believe she may be miscarrying,” he replied, and Mon could see plainly the effort he was expending to keep himself under control. “This pregnancy hasn’t been an easy one. She’s been very ill, more than should be normal, we think. The last three days she’s barely kept water down, let alone food. And yesterday she started bleeding and cramping. She has miscarried before, and so we thought …”
Mon peered past the doorway to the bedroom, shocked once again by what she saw. If the Jedi looked awful, Padmé seemed near death. Pale, thin, weak and exhausted, she lay on her side in bed, two pillows under her head and another clutched to her stomach. Mon could not believe the changes in her friend, and she bit her lip.
“Do you know if she has passed anything?” Dr. Ti-Lek asked. “Clots, tissue …?”
Kenobi swallowed visibly. “I — have no idea,” he said faintly. “We’ve just assumed …”
“Understood.” The doctor strode into the room, leaving Mon and Padmé’s husband to hover by the door.
The Jedi scrubbed an exhausted hand over his face, at the same time stifling what appeared to be a huge yawn. “I — erm — look, Senator, I want to thank you for what you’ve done, for coming to get us. You must have placed yourself and your daughter at a terrible risk, given who I am, and … I’m grateful. We’re grateful. More grateful than I can possibly express.”
“Please, call me Mon,” she said gently, touching his arm in a gesture of support and friendship. “This has to be so difficult for you both. Alone, with only yourselves to depend on … I can’t imagine what that’s like.”
“Then you can call me Obi-Wan,” he replied. “And it’s been mostly all right, up until now. But I … I made a stupid, cowardly mistake, and she is paying the consequence. We both are, I suppose, but it’s so much more difficult for her. All she’s been saying since we found out is that she can’t go through losing another child. Having this baby has become the focus of her life. And it’s gone so wrong …” He stopped for a minute and closed his eyes, breath coming shakily.
“I’m so sorry,” Mon said, a lump rising in her throat as she looked back at her friend. “Padmé will have the best care imaginable, I promise you. Bail told me exactly what was needed, and if there is any chance of saving the child I swear we will do it.”
“It may already be too late,” Obi-Wan murmured. “But we don’t know … she won’t let me go in with the Force and feel the baby, because she thinks that might be too disruptive. If we could only know … one way or the other …” Abruptly he seemed to realize that his hands had clenched into fists, and again he took deep breaths. “I — I’m sorry, I forgot myself.”
“No, not at all,” Mon answered gently, though she was amazed that the Jedi in him would permit such a loss of emotional control. “I completely understand. You’ve been through such a lot. I’m just glad to be able to offer assistance.”
The doctor was talking quietly to Padmé now. She was answering Ti-Lek’s questions in a hollow, dead sort of voice, her eyes hooded and devastated. After a few moments the physician made her way over to the door, tucking several instruments back inside her bag.
“So far as I can tell, she is still pregnant,” Dr. Ti-Lek began, and Obi-Wan sagged visibly in relief. “I will need to conduct a more detailed holoimaging examination once we reach the ship, but at this point we must consider the bleeding and cramping as a serious threat of miscarriage. If we do not stabilize her quickly, she will lose the pregnancy.”
“But how can we?” Obi-Wan whispered. “She can’t eat, she can’t drink …”
“Yes, exactly. And while a certain amount of sickness is normal in pregnancy, an inability to keep down any foods or liquids is certainly not. I’d like to start her on a strong anti-nausea medication and replenish her fluid levels, which will involve dripping liquids directly into her veins. We may not be in time, but we must try.”
“Why is this happening now, though?” Mon spoke up. “She’s been pregnant twice before and, so far as I know, nothing of this sort has ever occurred.”
“Impossible to say, unfortunately,” replied Dr. Ti-Lek. “We may learn more after I analyze her blood, but then again, we may not. It is possible that the cause might never be determined. But what we need to focus on now is treating the symptoms and trying to save the baby.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Obi-Wan said hurriedly.
Padmé was too weak to walk on her own, so Mon and Dr. Ti-Lek went back to the ship and brought two service droids with a stretcher. Mon then helped Lily and Obi-Wan to load the luggage onto the ship and to finish tidying the resort. Assisted by the doctor, Obi-Wan gently rolled his wife onto the stretcher. At last, they were ready to leave.
Obi-Wan picked up Luke, Mon picked up Leia and they headed out the rear door, he and the doctor walking nearest the stretcher and Mon and Lily leading the way back to the ship. Padmé had been given strong medication and an injection of fluids to stabilize her for the trip, but she’d barely had enough energy to move herself onto the stretcher, and all were quite concerned.
“Obi-Wan?” she murmured as the little group made its careful way through the trees.
“Yes, darling?” He was at her side in a second.
“Where are we going?”
The adults stiffened; she had been told twice of the plans, so it was worrisome that she did not seem to remember.
“We have to leave,” Obi-Wan explained again. “You’re very ill, and you need treatment. We’re going to Chandrila.”
“Oh.” A pause. “Do you have the album?”
“Yes. It’s in my pocket.”
“Tell Ani —” She coughed several times. “Tell him I’m sorry we didn’t invite him. He must feel so left out.”
“Er —” It was clear that Obi-Wan didn’t know quite how to respond to that. “I will. I promise.”
“Will he be there?” Padmé asked. “Or is he going to Christophsis first?”
“Padmé, he — don’t you remember?” Her husband’s tone was pleading.
“Remember?” She blinked. “I remember that you’re both supposed to deploy to Christophsis tomorrow. The Separatists are planning a big incursion and Anakin said he had to go back to the Temple and do research …” Padmé closed her eyes momentarily, gasping a little.
“Darling, that’s over,” he said gently. “That was five years ago. Anakin won’t be on Chandrila. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, Mommy, don’t be silly,” Luke chimed in.
“No —” Padmé was becoming fretful. “He said he’d be there! Ani always keeps his promises!”
“He couldn’t keep this one,” Obi-Wan quietly replied. “The — the Council asked that some additional material be added to the mission briefing, so he needed to return to the Temple before he could meet us.”
This seemed to mollify her, and she turned her attention to her son, grasping gently at his little hand. “Anakin will be so happy to meet you and your sister … I remember when he came to my holoimaging session when I was pregnant with you both … he was really excited …”
Mon furrowed her brow; Padmé appeared to be mixing up past events, and for whatever reason Obi-Wan was making no attempts to correct her. Perhaps he figured it would be kinder to let her believe what she did, instead of retelling what seemed to be a very upsetting story. The Chandrilan Senator could see it simmering beneath the Jedi’s eyes whenever his wife mentioned Anakin’s name; clearly he was struggling with some private pain. She sighed and quickened her pace slightly.
“Daddy, who’s An’kin?” Luke asked loudly.
“I —” There came the sound of a throat being cleared and a breath exhaled. “A — an old friend of your mother’s and mine. Mon, how much farther to the ship?”
“Not very much longer,” she answered, seeing a clearing up ahead. “It’s just over that rise.”
“Good, I can’t wait to see him again,” said Padmé vaguely.
“He’ll be on the ship?” exclaimed Luke, excited.
“No, he will not.” Obi-Wan sounded even more tired than before.
“Aww, no fair,” the boy complained. “Mommy? Mommy, will we see An’kin on Chandra?”
“I … hope so …” Her response was faint.
“Padmé, stay with us,” Obi-Wan said urgently.
“Mmm … tired …” she mumbled.
“No, no, we’ll be there in a minute, you’ve got to stay awake, darling —”
But it was no use. By the time they gained the ship, her eyes were closed and she seemed completely unresponsive. Mon turned to see that Obi-Wan had set Luke down and was now biting his own lip hard enough to draw blood, clutching one of Padmé’s hands and rubbing it between his own.
“Obi-Wan …” He gazed up tiredly as Mon said his name. “She’ll be all right. I’m sure she’s just sleeping.”
“But the fluids …” Obi-Wan was looking hopeless again. “The doctor gave her fluids and I thought … she’d be better …”
“She has dehydrated over a period of days, so it will naturally take a similar period before she is completely better,” Dr. Ti-Lek put in. “The injection was a stopgap measure to prevent cardiac arrest until we can get her hooked up to a more permanent drip. That’s really what she needs. And when she gets it, she will improve.”
Obi-Wan seemed more alarmed rather than less. “But … the baby … will that be enough time to save the baby?”
At this, even the physician lowered her gaze. “I’m not sure. Only time will tell.”
***
She was sleeping peacefully.
He didn’t think he would have been able to bear it if she hadn’t been. The last number of days had exhausted her both physically and mentally, but she’d refused to sleep, so frightened was Padmé that she might lose their child. Of course he’d tried to reason with her, to tell her that the less she slept, the more strain would be put on her body. She’d refused to listen. Half the time she felt too sick to sleep in any case, so he had spent many hours after the twins were put to bed simply holding her, and occasionally soothing her while she cried.
Now, she slept. Padmé looked frail and insignificant in the large medical bay’s bed, a line dripping nutritive fluids continuously into her veins. Obi-Wan had already been visited by the unpleasant thought that she’d looked very similar when he had gone to see her in the Senate’s Medcenter. But he pushed that memory quickly from his mind. No need to dwell on past difficulties.
So he pulled up a chair next to her bedside and he sat, waiting. Waiting for her to wake up, waiting for some news to be delivered about the baby, waiting for a judgment from the Force that seemed inevitably forthcoming.
“She’s absolutely exhausted,” Dr. Ti-Lek had pronounced as the medical droids helped to hook her patient up to the lines. “I’ve not got the results of the blood work back yet but I’m sure they will show she is malnourished. She needs to rest.” So saying, the physician gave Padmé a mild sedative and dimmed the medical center’s lights. Obi-Wan had then taken position next to his wife’s bed.
Occasionally one of the twins would wander in and stand in front of him with arms outstretched, silently asking to be picked up. He would pull Luke or Leia into his lap and hug them, hold them as parent and child kept the vigil together. Obi-Wan only left the medical bay when it came time to put the children to bed and they refused to let Mon or Lily — whom they understandably regarded as inferior to their parents — carry out the bedtime routine. Luke, unsurprisingly clingy, requested that his father hold him while he fell asleep. Obi-Wan knew Padmé had developed this ritual with both twins, but he hadn’t quite expected to continue it. Nevertheless, he felt a strange sort of peace while cuddling his son in his arms, watching Luke’s eyes attempt to keep their focus on him as the child slipped further and further into sleep. The boy snuggled closer, burying his face in his father’s tunics with a soft sigh. Obi-Wan bent to press a gentle kiss to Luke’s forehead.
“Your beard tickles,” Luke murmured sleepily.
“Does it?”
“Yeah.” But he was smiling, and had a look of utter contentment about him.
Obi-Wan reached deeper into the Force, feeling his son’s presence, grasping along their bond to sense the rush of warmth and trust they shared. He doubted Luke understood the full significance of the connection, but all the same, it was wonderful to experience it like this. Perhaps Padmé had been right when she said that the bond might have a higher purpose, at least for these types of encounters.
“Daddy,” Luke sighed happily.
Obi-Wan waited awhile longer until he could be sure the boy was asleep, and then he tucked him carefully into bed. Part of him was concerned, having sensed the same undercurrent of worry and fear in Luke. But he needed to get back to Padmé, and as the medical bay was right near the twins’ assigned bedroom, he hoped he would sense or hear any sort of distress before the problem became truly intractable.
And now here he was, by his wife’s bedside once more. Nothing much had changed — still she slept, and still he worried.
There was the guilt, too, if he gave himself a moment to stop and think about it. Despite the fact that he’d looked upon it previously with levity, he could not ignore what was right in front of his face.
Obi-Wan had caused this, with his foolishness and lack of control. If only he hadn’t panicked after the Vader nightmare. If only he’d taken a moment to release his fears into the Force, so he would not have been so scared. What kind of Jedi was he, anyway, to forget about the Force? He knew that if he’d kept his focus, not to mention his patience, he might not have lost his composure.
But then again, it had not been the dream which truly upset him. His real reaction had come later, when Padmé described the effects Luke’s inherited bond was having on the boy. And the thought of his son, his child growing up to face the precise same things, facing them now when his sole concern should have been playing and being a little boy … this had broken him completely. He knew what it was to live with a bond, to experience emotional connections on such a deep level despite the fact that they had been prohibited by the Old Order. He also knew about the wrenching sense of loss and the deep, almost physical pain that came when the carrier of a bond was confronted with grief of any kind — especially grief relating to a loved one. And as Obi-Wan imagined all of those emotions, he knew that he could cope with them because he had been doing so for a very long while. But he had passed the same ability on to his child … and now what had been passed on could not be revoked.
So what had he done? Well, of course he’d gone and caused his wife to conceive another child. A child who had just as much potential to inherit the bond as Luke did. Obi-Wan knew that the chances of this were low, given the inherent rarity of Force bonds, but it seemed like just the sort of irony the universe would cook up to torture him if the baby lived.
As if he hadn’t been tortured enough. It was difficult sometimes not to simply throw up his arms and, as Anakin had once done, exclaim that life simply wasn’t fair.
Obi-Wan leant forward on the chair and massaged his temples, well aware that he was thinking in an entirely self-centred and circular manner. Most likely due to fatigue, although this didn’t exactly make it any better or less self-indulgent. He’d been relying on the Force for days to stay awake and functional, but perhaps he was reaching the end of even the enhanced endurance that could provide. Yet he couldn’t … he couldn’t fall asleep now … he had the twins to care for, and Padmé … he just couldn’t.
Almost as though his thoughts had conjured her mental presence, his wife turned her head slightly and shivered, stretching out feeble fingers to grasp the bed rail. Obi-Wan made sure they met his hand instead, and he clasped them gently.
“Obi-Wan …?” she whispered, her voice thick with sleep.
“I’m here, darling.” He kissed her hand softly, sweetly. “I promise you, I’m here.”
“The baby!” Suddenly Padmé opened her eyes wide. “Obi-Wan, the baby —”
“He’s fine.” He squeezed her hand. “Absolutely fine. You didn’t lose him.” Yet, he did not add.
She sagged with relief. “I can’t — I thought —”
“Please don’t worry, darling. Please, you need to rest. The baby will be fine, I promise you.”
Padmé’s eyelids were drooping again. “You look exhausted,” she commented ironically.
“I’m all right.”
“You haven’t been sleeping either,” she accused. “Obi-Wan, the Force can only take you so far.”
Mirroring his earlier thoughts, of course, but he didn’t say that. “Shhh. Don’t worry about me.”
Obi-Wan rubbed her hand between his. “Your hands are like ice.”
“I’m cold.” She shivered, trying to burrow deeper under the thin sheets.
Obi-Wan looked about for a blanket, anything he could use to cover her, but found none. “I’ll go look in the twins’ room, they might have something …”
“No!” Padmé grabbed his wrist with surprising strength. “No, Obi-Wan, please.”
“What?” He leant close. “Tell me what you want.”
“I just — I want —” Tears began to streak her cheeks. “I want you, I want us to sleep like we did before, together … I want to be out of here and I just want the baby …”
“All right.” He stroked her cheek gently, brushing away the moisture, aching for contact as much as she seemed to be. “It’s all right, we’ll do it together. Here.”
And he began stripping off his cloak and pulling off his boots. A twitch of the Force unlocked the bed rail and he slid slowly in, cupping himself around her and pressing a kiss into her hair.
“There, is that better?”
“But — if someone finds you like this —”
“No matter. You are my wife, and you’re ill. We’re not hurting anyone or anything.”
Slowly Padmé began to relax against him, melting into his gentle strokes of her arms and his fingers drifting through her curls. She still felt pale and cold beneath his touch, but her lips were curved upwards in a small smile.
“We’re going to have a baby, darling,” she murmured sleepily.
“Yes, we are.” He nuzzled her cheek.
“I think she’s a girl.” Padmé’s fingers knitted through his. “Another little girl … a friend for Leia …”
“Luke will be upset,” Obi-Wan chuckled, feeling content for the first time in a few days.
“He’ll love her too,” Padmé said softly. “He’ll get to be a big brother … Leia is more his equal than anything else. But he’ll love the baby. He’ll dote on her.”
Obi-Wan slid his hand down to her abdomen, caressing gently. “May I …?”
She stiffened slightly, but then nodded. “All right.”
And so he dipped back into the Force, into the energy flowing around them, and delighted in the love and light he could sense from her before plunging inside her Force signature, feeling, probing, testing … and he found it much more easily this time, the tiny embryo. The baby was bigger now than when he had last probed, which was surprising considering Padmé’s health problems. Its thoughts — if indeed they could be referred to as such — were still undefined and impossible to read, but if he sank deeper beneath the surface, he could sense movement, tiny arms already waving back and forth. And …
“Ah,” Obi-Wan murmured suddenly.
“What?” Padmé exclaimed, alarmed.
“I can tell if the baby is a boy or a girl,” he explained. “Would you like to know?”
She was silent for several moments, and Obi-Wan thought she might have fallen asleep. “No,” Padmé said at length. “Half the fun for me when I was pregnant with the twins was trying to guess whether they were boys or girls, or one of each. I want to do the same thing this time. And usually I’m pretty good at guessing.”
“You guessed for Luke and Leia?”
“For Luke. I was almost certain that one of the babies would be a boy. Ani was convinced they were girls. Well, we were both right, really.”
He sighed. “You know where we’re going, right? To Chandrila?”
Padmé blinked. “Of course I do! Why wouldn’t I?”
“You didn’t before,” Obi-Wan said quietly. “Dr. Ti-Lek said you were so dehydrated that you were starting to hallucinate.”
“Oh my goddess,” she whispered. “What did I say?”
“You thought that Anakin was still alive, and that he’d be meeting us on Chandrila.” Unconsciously, his grip had tightened. “Then you said he and I were supposed to deploy to Christophsis for that battle.”
“Darling, I’m sorry,” Padmé said immediately. “I didn’t mean to bring all that up again …”
“I know,” he replied, drifting a finger along her cheek. “You were ill, you are ill … and you didn’t know what you were saying. I understand.”
“But still, it must have been awful for you.”
“I want to remember him,” Obi-Wan said evenly. “But together with everything that had happened, it just … well, it wasn’t something I wanted to hear. But neither was it your fault.”
“I know. And I’m still sorry.” She closed her eyes and pillowed the back of her head against his chest, sighing softly. “You should sleep too.”
“I’m not tired,” he lied.
“Oh, Obi-Wan, come on. That’s what Leia tells me when she’s having too much fun to go to bed. Surely you can be more creative than that.”
“I just want to make sure you’re all right,” Obi-Wan finally sighed. “If … if something goes wrong, I want to help you.”
“Which you won’t be able to do if you’re too exhausted to stand up straight,” Padmé pointed out. “I’ve given you the perfect opportunity right now. Sleep.”
“Oh, so that was your plan?”
“Well,” she replied diplomatically, “one good turn deserves another.”
He chuckled. “I suppose.”
“Go on!” Padmé said after a few moments. “Close your eyes! Meditate! Do whatever it is you need to do to fall asleep!”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes!”
“All right, all right.”
They continued to laugh as she drifted off to sleep, and he soon followed, his hand still clasped over the place where the baby grew.
***
Pain.
Hard, fast, sharp. Ever-present.
She wrenched herself into wakefulness from a beautiful dream, a dream in which the twins had run through a golden field with a young brown-haired girl hot on their trail. The girl had turned back, her curls bouncing against her shoulders, to wave happily at her mother. Then the images had swirled until she could hear the clashing of lightsabers, running feet, an unfamiliar voice exclaiming, “Now’s our chance, go!”
And another voice, vaguely recognizable but changed somehow, saying, “You can’t win, Darth … if you strike me down I shall become more powerful than you can possibly imagine …” A loud scream, followed by a woman’s shout: “Daddy!”
Then, she had woken up, the same scream still in her throat, pain lancing and stabbing through her middle. She screamed again and kept screaming, over and over, even as she reached her hand down to find bright red blood on the sheets, even as the doctor came running through the doors …
And the word she screamed was Eshonna.