Chapter 11

The more time Padmé spent in Anakin's company the more she realized that it was, in fact, a horrible idea to spend time with him. This epiphany had crept up on her so very innocently with shifts as insignificant as a single butterfly until Padmé had finally been able to take in the sight of the tidal wave rising within her chest. Anakin, when he wasn't waking from his nightmares, more strings of doubts and visions than man, was funny and insightful, and Padmé couldn't believe her own traitorous heart for beating faster whenever she was close to him.

She hadn't meant to catch feelings for her friend.

She was just fine being befriended with him. Her parents had been lucky as that their marriage had gone hand in hand with love. Padmé hadn't ever really expected something like that for herself, which would have been just fine. As a prominent member of Naboo's high society, the idea that she might marry for love was quite ridiculous, but she hadn't ever truly cared. Padmé had been just too busy with her duties and then felt content when she was surrounded by her friends.

And now here she was, thinking of kissing Anakin as if she were a little schoolgirl. Were she to start drawing hearts in the pages of her notes, she'd fulfill the cliché completely. None of this would be a problem if she just knew how Anakin felt about all of this, romance in general for one.

She didn't even know if he even liked to kiss people. Did Anakin even get crushes? He had never spoken of them to her and he had shared even some of his deepest fears. Then again, Padmé hadn't ever said a word about romance either. Maybe Anakin just hadn't ever thought he could bring it up?

Padmé pondered on the question of whether that made her a bad friend. She had never had the issue with her handmaidens. It would have been impossible to avoid the topic going by how Rabe, Sabé, and Eirtaé hardy let go of one another. Padmé could bring it up with Anakin now, but then he would wonder why she had done it and urgh.

Why couldn't have Padmé decided to catch feelings at another time? Didn't Shiraya above know that this was really not the time to worry about romance when she had a job to do?

It was awful.

The timing couldn't have been worse.

And yet, when Anakin did cartwheels over the meadow, practiced his katas and reciting poetry from old homework assignments as if he had memorized these particular words just for Padmé, she felt as if perhaps, maybe—

No.

No, this was dumb.

"—and then Ferus decided we could sneak out to the lower levels and I learned why I shouldn't drink any alcohol," Anakin continued his story, eyes sparkling.

Maybe she should have read more romance books to learn whether the jump her heart did at their sight was normal.

"Oh?" Padmé asked. "And why is that?"

Anakin pulled a face, evidently not wanting to answer, but when Padmé just kept silent, waiting, he relented with a sigh. "Because I'll start saying all the most embarrassing stuff."

Padmé grinned. "Like what?"

"I think I confessed that hid Obi-Wan's lightsaber when I was twelve, blamed Qui-Gon, and Obi-Wan believed me. Or that I helped Aayla dye Quinlan's hair," Anakin replied. "Or I think my best friend is really—"

Anakin promptly shut up, cheeks flushed. "Eh. Nothing."

Padmé had learned the fine art of discretion, allowing the person she was conversing with to drop the subject at hand. By all means, it would be kinder on Anakin and on her own soul to simply let him switch the topic and their exchange here.

But Padmé's heart, that burning jealous organ, wasn't satisfied and sowed doubt in her mind, demanded that she inquired what words, what feelings, Anakin was hiding.

"Your best friend is what?" Padmé asked carefully.

At first, he was silent, caught between two options Padmé was so cruelly forcing him to choose. And then Anakin began to speak.

X

Obi-Wan's day was rapidly turning from bad to worse. He thought he'd be able to deal with whatever this mission would bring. Finding a planet that had obviously been erased from the archives? Fine. He could deal.

Traveling to that planet? Also no trouble. Obi-Wan had been on a mission with Qui-Gon and Dooku simultaneously, which was less of a mission and more a secondary trial to endure. Sometimes he was still haunted by their constant, ceaseless, calamitous bickering. Force, it was still a miracle Obi-Wan hadn't just abandoned them to their quarreling and finished the mission on his own.

So yes, Obi-Wan could tolerate a lot. He could even deal with rain drenching him until he was shaking, the cold seeping into his limbs and his mind, a cruel and a terrible tormentor.

However, Obi-Wan could not endure the feeling of pure agony and helplessness that assaulted him from all sides as he walked through this city's hallways.

He wasn't sure if it was the Force speaking to him, weeping, telling him to look and help and children, so many bright lines, born and raised for war and slaughter—

Obi-Wan wanted to throw up. It was a harrowing experience. The people, clones, goods to be grown, bought and sold, were all moving in unison, acting as if they were a single organism, not thousands upon thousands of individual lights.

Obi-Wan really should have listened to his instincts and taken another Master with him.

"Is it possible to speak with their progenitor? Obi-Wan asked.

The Kaminoan looked at Obi-Wan with surprise, but then they nodded. "Of course, Jango Fett lives here with his son."

With his son? Obi-Wan couldn't imagine any parent that would willingly expose their child to such horrors. He'd never raise a Padawan here and he doubted any other Master of the Order would disagree with that sentiment. Who could raise their own child next to thousands of identical clones that were treated as nothing more than fancy blasters? If Fett truly was a father who cared about his son's wellbeing, he must recognize that this was not the place to bring up a child.

"Is he here right now?"

"Yes, I can lead you to him."

"That would be much appreciated. Before that, though, I would like to make a call to the Council, if that is possible."

The Kaminoan blinked, then inclined their head. "Follow me."

X

Dooku had expected to enjoy a quiet morning. Despite his Padawan's claims, he was not oblivious to his age and took care of himself. Dooku practiced his morning meditations even more carefully when he knew he had an entire day of exhaustingly polite political posturing ahead of him. He didn't particularly look forward to his meeting with the Chancellor later. While he was a seemingly kind man, yes, and did believe in the Jedi, he was also a cut-throat power-hungry politician. He hadn't contributed anything useful to the Senate in the recent years to ensure that the Republic fell apart at a slower pace.

They had reached the point where it was only a question of time until the already tense situation finally cracked and passive-aggressive negotiations turned into battle. Many Senators saw it, either displeased and fearful or ambitious and voracious.

Dooku looked forward to the next election. Hopefully, someone more sensible from the Loyalist faction would take his seat.

After Dooku had finished his meditation and poured himself a cup of tea, his comm rang. Annoyance bubbled up in him until he saw who was calling him.

"Obi-Wan," Dooku greeted his grand-Padawan. "How is your mission faring?"

"Well," Obi-Wan replied, a hurried look on his face. "Or as well as it can be. Dooku, I don't have much time. I need to ask you a question."

This couldn't be good. "Ask away, Obi-Wan."

"What can you tell me about Master Sifo-Dyas?"

Dooku froze. Slowly he put his teacup down on the table, the ceramic suddenly no longer warm but scalding, burning through his defenses and mercilessly dropping on his heart like acid.

Sifo-Dyas.

Dooku hadn't thought about him in a while, the memories too painful. He couldn't linger on the memories of his dearly beloved friend without that hollow pit, the old festering wound ripping open and, with it, the undeniable longing.

"Sifo-Dyas disappeared shortly before Shmi decided to drag me back to the temple," Dooku replied shortly, suddenly at a loss for words. Obi-Wan was investigating the attempted assassination of Senator Amidala. Nothing in his research should lead him to Sifo-Dyas and the night terrors Dooku had never been able to soothe.

The message of Sifo-Dyas's disappearance, his loss, that tell-tale feeling of a bond snapping had been enough back then to drag him down to the dark depths Shmi and Yaddle had rescued him from. It had been easy to focus on other things in the aftermath. He had helped Qui-Gon recover, taught him how to control the force as he had once before. Then there was Anakin's education to consider, Obi-Wan's dissatisfaction with his fighting style, little Ahsoka, and squabbling with the council on Shmi's training and what that might mean for other, older, Force-sensitives.

Dooku hadn't come to peace with his grief. He had learned to ignore it, distracting himself with a thousand other tasks. "Obi-Wan, what happened?"

A shadow passed over his face. "Nothing good."

Dooku could have guessed that on his own.

X

"So," Anakin said, lying on his back among the flowers, his fingers just a hairsbreadth away from Padmé's. "Are we going to talk about this?"

"Do you want to talk about this?" Padmé asked him in return. Anakin wasn't looking at her but staring at the blue sky above, searching for all the answers hidden in the fluffy white clouds. He raised his hands and spread his fingers, trying to reach for it.

"I don't know. I think we should. Probably. Obi-Wan always says I should examine my feelings and figure out why I am feeling a particular way."

"Obi-Wan is pretty smart," Padme conceded. "We shouldn't have to talk about anything. It's not like we can really go on with this."

Anakin turned around so he was lying on his stomach, supporting his head with one hand. "Why not?"

"Uh, Jedi and Senator of Naboo? I'm pretty sure it's illegal for you to date anyone outside your Order."

Padmé was sure she had read something like that last night on her frantic search for arguments validating her decision to not date her friend. She knew she was forbidden from starting a relationship with a Jedi for as long as she was in office. The law was meant to guarantee that Senators couldn't claim their system had been ignored in favor of another. While in theory, that was a good idea, in practice, everyone tried to get favors from the Jedi anyway. By the moons, it was an open secret Valorum had only been able to get Naboo help so quickly by skipping many of the official channels.

"Ah, no." Anakin shook his head. "It's forbidden to have any relationships to someone outside the Order who is of any significance in their homeworld and could influence the political climate of such."

Padmé snorted, Anakin's words sounding perfectly recited. "That's just bureaucratic speech for 'everyone who isn't a Jedi.'"

"You don't have to be a Jedi for it, just, you know, be a part of the Order in a certain capacity. But that would mean giving up your job. And you love your job."

That really was the problem, wasn't it? Padmé adored representing her people and Anakin thrived around his people. He'd make a miserable trophy husband, probably.

Immediately the thought of Anakin dressed in typical Naboo fashion crossed her mind and Padmé cursed her own imagination.

"Yeah." Anakin sighed. "This is probably not such a good idea, is it?"

"No, it isn't."

But Padmé still wanted it.

X

The desert was kind to them tonight, the winds didn't howl, and no storms chased them.

"Are you sure about this?" Beru asked again, keeping a hand comfortably on her blaster. Shmi liked her. She reminded her a little of Obi-Wan.

"Yes," Shmi replied. "This is our best bet right now. If this doesn't work out, we can always search for a second option. But first we must exhaust all the resources we do have."

Shmi could feel various life forms in the distance. They weren't far from the next camp. With luck, it would be the only one they had to go to for support. "Alright, from here on, everyone follow my lead."

Shmi's group was small, only Beru and three others and a protocol droid Shmi was determined to take back home with her. Anakin would love him.

They headed in the direction of the camp, always on the lookout for any attackers. Shmi could feel the tension in the air and how close it was to snapping. Before they could get too close, the first scout noticed them and from there on it didn't take long for them to be picked up by the Tuskens.

A'Sharad had once told her that her accent was horrible, but Shmi hoped that she was still understandable to this tribe.

"Eyaak urk urk! Ru rah ru rah." Shmi called out loudly into the night. At first, silence followed, then a shadowy figure approached them.

The Tusken was wearing their traditional cloth. As soon as Shmi was sure that they could see her hands, she began signing the signs she had retained, more confident in those than she was in her spoken Tusken. She hoped that if something went sideways, the protocol droid could help translations along at least a little. That was if the Tusken didn't demand he be destroyed.

My name is Shmi Skywalker, she signed. I am a friend of A'Shard Hett, son of Sharad Hett, whose clan walked the great plains and now guides the sandstorms.

At first there was no reply, then the Tusken signed back. I see you, woman of the Sky, what do you want?

That was a good start. Shmi tentatively allowed herself to grow a little bolder. This tribe lived closer to most settlements; they should understand Basic well. May I continue in Basic?

If need be.

"My friends and I have come to make an offer to your leader," Shmi said. "Your people and our have been oppressed too long. We intend to change the system on this planet. Are you willing to help us or, at least, hear our offer?"

Silence followed her statement, then the Tusken inclined their head. "I will take you to our leader. The machine and the bright weapons must remain."

"Of course," Shmi replied and turned to her companions.

"Are you sure this is safe?" Beru asked.

"As safe as we can be. We need to leave Threepio and any of the more tech-savvy weapons here," Shmi replied.

"Leave me? Oh, I think I might faint!"

Threepio's theatrics made her smile. They might not be able to use the droid to help negotiations along, but at least they hadn't fought anyone yet.

They stripped themselves of their weapons, though Shmi kept her lightsaber concealed within her robes. She wasn't going to lose her blade. She was reasonably sure that the others had also kept at least a knife on themselves.

The Tusken observed them and then, obviously content with their state, guided them inside the camp.