"Anakin didn't take his assignment with much enthusiasm." Obi-Wan held his chin up high as he walked beside Master Windu and Master Yoda, toiling over his former Padawan until his brain started to numb. He had practically raised the boy after he had entered the Order so long ago; he thought he knew Anakin Skywalker inside and out. The Hero with No Fear and the Negotiator—they were a duo known for their perfect balance of one another, symmetry that allowed them to prosper in battle.

But Jedi weren't made for battle. At least, they weren't supposed to be.

Anakin and Obi-Wan may have made names for themselves as Generals, but with everything the galaxy was going through, he had a hard time remembering just how young Anakin really was—just barely out of his Padawan braid. He was a young man, easily riled up with passionate beliefs, but never naive. Anakin didn't trust many people. Once Obi-Wan thought he was a shoe-in for the exclusive list of people his student trusted wholeheartedly, but the more they interacted, the more he began to doubt how true that was. He couldn't pinpoint exactly where he had lost Anakin, what moment had led them to drift apart—maybe more than just a singular moment. Somewhere amongst it all, Anakin had let Chancellor Palpatine in to replace Obi-Wan as a mentor figure, trusting his word over any other. And now a stranger he had known for a few days was getting more say in Anakin's decisions than Obi-Wan had ever been able to manage. A stranger he was committed to figuring out.

Never in a million years would the Council accept an outsider into their ranks; they had barely accepted Anakin as a child! But Master Yoda had insisted, eyes sparkling with wisdom he never shared with the group.

Obi-Wan saw the positive effect Luke was having on Anakin, and he more than welcomed it, knowing that, after Ahsoka, someone to teach was what Anakin desperately needed. But the strange half-Jedi boy still knew something more, and it drilled at him every time they came into contact. Master Yoda assured him, asking him to let it be when he expressed his concerns, and yet... Luke still felt unsettlingly familiar.

It was as he had told Anakin, the Force was bubbling with activity he hadn't felt since he and Qui-Gon had faced Maul on Naboo. Something was going to happen, and it all centered around the mysterious young man who had managed to slip into Anakin's list of confidants without much energy at all. Almost as if the Force had instinctively pushed him into sensing Luke's intentions to help...a manifestation of the Force's will.

Obi-Wan looked over to Mace, hoping to catch an equal sense of disquiet from one of his Master's oldest friends, who had, over the years, transferred his friendship onto him as well. Mace, however, maintained his straight-faced facade better than most Jedi, and gave no indication of a troubled mind unless he stated it outright.

"Much anger there is in young Skywalker, yes. Too much under the sway of the Chancellor, he is. Pride in his powers. Fear of loss."

"Loss, Master?" asked Obi-Wan. What more could Anakin possibly lose that he hadn't already in such a short time?

"Yes. Come to me, he did. Very troubled. Visions he had...darkness he saw." Yoda looked up at Obi-Wan, watching his face drain. "Help him, Starkiller will. Faith in him, I have."

Mace scoffed. "All due respect, Master, I think putting the two of them together is dangerous. We're trusting an undertrained newcomer with our most delicate internal proceedings."

"The rules of war, you are focused on, Master Windu. Listen to the Force, you must, yes. See Starkiller's importance, you will."

Obi-Wan frowned. He had heard Master Yoda's riddle-speak since he was a young boy, more than accustomed to the frustration that often followed his words. But Luke had told him something vital, something he was keeping to himself on purpose.

Wartime called for strict secret keeping and distrust, but war was ruining everything the Jedi were supposed to be. If they couldn't trust in the Force, then they were nothing. No matter where Luke was really from, the Force had sent him directly to Anakin, in a moment of crisis nonetheless. It wasn't a coincidence. Obi-Wan Kenobi didn't believe in coincidences.

"Well even so, I worry about letting Skywalker have more exposure to the Chancellor. It's just as Master Mundi said, our younger students are losing faith in the Order, turning to radical ideas that go against the Code. I only fear the Chancellor's political ideologies are influencing him more, Starkiller or not," said Mace, his interlocked fingers tightening.

"I agree, but it's our only opportunity to know what the Chancellor's intentions are," Obi-Wan said. "Even if Anakin buys into his politician charm, you should've seen him with Luke earlier. He wouldn't even accept the mission unless he was with him. It's a cornerstone of support that he hasn't had since...since Ahsoka's departure."

Mace released a weighted sigh, cutting his eyes at the memory. "Well that only brings me back to my point of Starkiller's intentions. If the Force deliberately sent him to Anakin, then for what purpose? He's a powerful Force user that, with practice, can hone his skills, but if he was truly important, why send him to us now, so deep into this conflict?"

Yoda held up a clawed hand, maneuvering his hover-chair to whir in front of the two Masters, halting them in their steps as they strode through the hall and towards the landing pad. "Question the Force, we must not. Detached we have become from our own ideologies. Spoke with Starkiller, I have, and question him, I shall not." He leaned further, half out of his chair. "Not always clear, the mystery of the Force is. To challenge its methods, our place it is not."

Obi-Wan and Mace observed their small Master with a deep silence, absorbing his words with dipped heads. Yoda very rarely spoke so clipped and solemn.

Mace recovered first. "I will meditate on the issue, Master. But I still choose to remain cautious."

Yoda hummed, leaning back into his hover-chair with his hands over his lap. "Understand, I do. Wary, too, am I, but still hopeful. Yes, hopeful that soon, this war will end."

A voice interrupted them. "Master Jedi?"

The three of them turned to see a clone pilot approaching them with a low bow, his helmet tucked under his arm, the white duraplast streaked with charred blaster bolts that no quality of scrubbing could remove. "Your transport to Kashyyyk is ready for departure, General, sir." Yoda nodded towards the young man, now in a stiff soldier's salute.

"Speak more later, we will. How Skywalker fares with his new assignment, update me on."

Mace and Obi-Wan nodded, both of them holding their tongues to push their inquiries further on the Grand Master. "May the Force be with You," they said in unison, watching the hover-chair float down the landing bay and up into the awaiting ship.

Once the sound of the engines faded into Coruscant's atmosphere, Mace let out a long sigh and looked over at Obi-Wan with pursed lips. "Are you alright, Obi-Wan?"

Sighing, Obi-Wan let his chin drop down to his chest, his head suddenly heavy. "I'm just worried about Anakin. He's been more troubled than usual and...Force above, I don't know what to do."

"You sound like Qui-Gon, you know."

Obi-Wan's head jerked up, all decorum of the formal Jedi dropped on mention of his old Master. "In what way?"

Mace gave one of his rare smiles, patting the younger man on the shoulder. "You and Skywalker never really severed your Master-Padawan bond when he was Knighted. Now all of his worries become your own and you end up taking on more emotional responsibility than you should."

Obi-Wan tensed his shoulders defensively. "Anakin's like my brother. I can't just ignore his troubles. He barely speaks to me anymore."

"I know, Obi-Wan. But you let your fear guide your actions." He took a deep breath. "We're all scared. This war has taken more out of the galaxy than anything I've ever seen before. The shifts in Anakin are there, I've meditated on them. But it's as Master Yoda said, as wary as I am over Starkiller and the Chancellor's motives, we must trust the Force. It has a plan for its Chosen One, surely."

Obi-Wan swallowed the bitter sand that was building in his throat, hands tightening over the sleeves of his robes. He felt like a helpless youngling being sent to the AgriCorps all over again, eyes burning with fat tears of shame as he realized he hadn't managed to become a Padawan. What if he had failed his student just as he had failed so many others? Failed at the one dying wish Qui-Gon had asked of him? He had already lost too much in the past three years just to lose Anakin as well. The rift between them had to be mended; he could no longer stand the evasive blue eyes that refused to meet his gaze, eyes which had once looked up at him in such wonder and awe. Eyes that had bubbled with unstoppable tears—a young, homesick boy wailing for his mother in the middle of the night and asking the most innocent of questions that most Initiates would've already had locked in their brains by his age. Eyes that held a firm trust and a deep unsettling passion hidden underneath.

He glanced up at Mace, blinking away the warmth behind his pupils. Ahsoka's words moments before departing for Mandalore, how she had lost complete faith in the Jedi and the Republic, rattled through his brain. "I only wonder what that plan may be, Master Windu." He cast an arm up where the fading trails of engine smoke from Master Yoda's ships stained the bright, blue sky. "After all, this war is part of the Force's will. How can we ever teach our students to have faith when all they ever see is suffering?"

Mace stared. Outraged with himself for letting his emotions overcome him, Obi-Wan huffed. He gave a sharp nudge to the swelling sorrow and frustration, shoving them deep down inside his chest to be released into the Force...just as he had been trained. Mace was still silent.

"What?" said Obi-Wan.

"Skywalker asked a similar question a few months before Padawan Tano's departure. You were on mission at the time, but it was part of the reason why we've begun to notice a sudden lack of trust in the Jedi Code amongst our ranks...a loss of faith in the Force that is fueled by fear and inevitably draws in the darkness."

Now it was Obi-Wan's turn to stare.

Mace clasped his hands beneath his chin, solemn gaze drawn downwards towards his boots. "I hope you're right about this Luke Starkiller character. For all our sakes."

◂◂◂

Hand outstretched, Padmé allowed Captain Typho to escort her from her speeder, Threepio popping out from behind her and already scurrying off with a list of errands spouting from his mouth. She sighed, feeling dead on her feet as her stomach churned and her head throbbed in time with her heartbeat.

"Will you be alright, my lady?"

Padmé looked up at Captain Typho with a weary smile, cupping a steadying hand around her abdomen. "Quite alright, Captain, thank you. I'll comm you if I need anything further."

He gave her a skeptical once-over, the argument practically clinging to his lips, yet he nodded all the same, eyes soft and understanding. "Rest well then, Padmé. You deserve it."

"Thank you, Gregar."

With another low bow and another check on the security droids in place, Captain Typho made his way back into the speeder and flew off into the dimming sunset, leaving Padmé to watch with a sigh. She had only known she was pregnant for a few months, yet the symptoms had been hitting her in full force, sapping her energy out of her faster than she could keep up with.

Kicking off her shoes and hiking up her skirts as she strode barefoot to her kitchen, her drooping eyes zeroed in on the lone kettle, the puffs of steam rising from the lid indicating a recent brewing. A figure stepped into the kitchen before her, pouring green liquid into two mugs. The heavenly aroma wafted in her direction, nearly sending her into a faint.

"Ani?" she tried.

Her husband turned from his position by the counter, smile blinding. "Hello, darling."

He handed her one of the mugs, the outside of it warming her chilled palms in an instant. She hummed, rising on her toes to press a long, grateful kiss to his awaiting mouth. "I love you so much."

His hands cupped the sides of her face, brushing away strands of her hair in gentle, circular motions. Her muscles went limp, and she allowed herself to slump into his chest, head still spinning with information.

"Is it safe to say the meeting didn't go well?" he asked.

She smiled against his robes, pulling back to look up at him. "No, Ani, it was fine. I'm just a bit tired, is all."

Anakin frowned. "Do you need to lie down? This is normal for pregnancy, right?"

"Yes, honey, I'm perfectly alright." She sipped at her mug. "The tea is helping, thank you."

"You're welcome." The hands at her neck traveled down her shoulders, around her sides and towards her stomach, the flesh and the prosthetic hand both circling the growing bulge of her belly with the utmost care. "Has there been any movement?"

"A bit. The little rascal keeps kicking at my organs." She winced.

"Can I listen?"

She smiled at the childish curiosity behind his voice. "Of course, love."

The infamous Anakin Skywalker was not known for his hesitation, yet here he was, kneeling down before his wife, ear so tepidly pressed to her abdomen in search of the sound of their child, that one would've thought the senator was made of glass. Padmé took the opportunity to reach out and run her hands through his dark hair, exposing the bits of blonde roots clinging stubbornly to his scalp, the last remnants of his desert childhood.

She bit her lip to restrain her giggling as his eyebrows scrunched up in concentration. "I think I hear...hold on."

A sharp twang jolted through her middle, startling the mug of tea nearly out of her hand.

Anakin peered up at her, eyes sparkling and smirk wide. "Found her."

"Him," Padmé corrected, sticking her tongue out. "Probably heard your voice."

Awe washed over Anakin's face, stilling him for a moment as his hands hovered over her stomach. "We're really having a child..." He let out a slow breath, blinking away his sudden emotion.

"A child we still need to start discussing names for." She helped him to his feet, pressing another peck to his cheek as he rose.

"I was thinking about Shmi for a girl?" His voice wavered as he suggested it, but his smile remained. Padmé ran her hands down his arms.

"That's a beautiful idea, Ani."

Suddenly sober, Anakin huffed out a chuckle. "But you still think it's a boy."

She grinned right back. "Of course. A mother always knows."

"Is that so?"

"Most definitely."

He laughed, pulling her back into his arms with a hum. "Okay. So what name were you thinking for a boy?"

Padmé pursed her lips, scanning through the lists of names her handmaidens had provided for her, all of them anxious to pick the perfect title for the newborn. "Well...my father always said that Sola and I should choose strong Nabooian names if we ever had children. That's how Sola decided on Ryoo and Pooja."

Anakin nodded in thought. "Were there any that caught your attention?"

"Dormé mentioned the name Pahluk."

"Pahluk Skywalker?"

Padmé ducked her head. "Stars, you hate it."

Anakin laughed. "No, no! It's very Nabooian. I like it."

She swatted at his arm, sipping at her tea and stepping away to set the cooling kettle onto the counter. "Well there was a shorter version of it I had my eye on too." She suddenly halted in her tracks, eyes dilated.

Anakin looked up from where he had started sipping at his own tea, frowning at her stillness. "Sweetheart?"

Padmé shook her head, releasing the sudden death grip she hadn't noticed she had on the counter. "Sorry. It's just strange. Probably a coincidence."

"What are you talking about?"

She tucked a strand of hair behind her hair, still wearing a troubled expression. "The name. I've had it in mind for a while, but—"

The fresher door down the hall wooshed open. Startled, the couple glanced over to find Luke, his calm smile melting when he saw their faces. "Uh..." He looked over his shoulder, expecting them to be staring at something behind him. "Did I interrupt something?"

"Luke," Padmé breathed, regaining her composure. "No, dear, you're fine. Just caught us off guard is all."

Luke opened his mouth before quickly sealing it, resigning himself to a nod.

Anakin reached around Padmé for the kettle, gesturing it outward. "Want any?"

Padding forward, Luke accepted a steaming mug with a grateful sip, but when he looked back up, his parents were still staring at him, unsettling smiles on their faces. He swallowed tightly.

Anakin leaned across the counter. "Hey, what do you think about the name Pahluk?"

Unable to stop himself, Luke found his eyes drifting towards the bulge under his mother's gown. The tea became thick sludge sliding down his throat. Force above, his parents were asking his opinion on his own name.

"Uh...well it...sounds Nabooian?" His teeth nearly drew blood at how hard they were clenching down on his lower lip.

Padmé, still eyeing him, gave a soft nod. "Yes, that's what I was going for."

Luke spun a finger around his drink, ignoring the heat gathering up in his skin, tingling his nerves.

"But we could also go with my mother's name, because it is most definitely a girl," cut in Anakin, smirking at his wife's eye roll.

Luke huffed out a shaky laugh, his finger now completely numb. "Well I'm sure whatever you two come up with will be perfect."

As long as it's Luke, he thought, internally cringing. Of all the possible changes he could possibly make to the future, his name was turning out to be the one giving him the most anxiety. Stars, for all he knew, his parents would forever associate the name Luke with 'that Jedi kid who stayed on their couch' and avoid it completely.

He had to change the topic.

"So, Padmé, did Anakin tell you we were appointed to the Jedi Council today?"

Padmé whirled around, eyes bugging. "Anakin! Why was that not the first thing you said?"

"I was gonna mention it!"

Luke blew out a sigh of relief, finally pulling his finger out of the tea.

Padmé was still swiveling her head between the both of them, her curls bouncing. "I don't understand. What prompted this?"

Anakin took a deep breath, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else in the galaxy. "The Chancellor requested it personally. To serve as his direct representatives. It was his way of showing gratitude for saving his life."

Padmé thought back on her meeting with a roll of her stomach, the blood draining from her face. She had been wary of Chancellor Palpatine's growing powers over the Senate, but this was something else entirely. The Jedi were not a political organization. They fought for the Republic, but mainly against the Sith Lords who ran the opposing side. At least...that was the justification at the start of the war. She wasn't so sure about the present day anymore.

Without looking up, she knew her husband could sense her disquiet. While she wasn't Force-sensitive herself, she always knew when he was scanning her, taking in her very essence in attempts to soothe her.

Not even family, Mon's words rang through her head.

"They refused to promote my ranking to Master, though. So I'm still a Knight as far as they're concerned, which I already explained to Obi-Wan was a bit contradictory—"

Padmé rose a hand, cutting off Anakin's explanations. She was too hyper focused on the fact that her husband was now the personal representative to the person she was trying to get more access to in hopes of diminishing his out-of-control political powers. This was her only opportunity.

"Luke, would you excuse us for a moment? I need to talk to Anakin alone," she said, watching Luke blink and Anakin sputter.

Then the legs of the chair Luke sat in slid out with a grind. The young man was on his feet and gathering up the three mugs with a deft swipe. "Don't let me get in your way, please."

Ever grateful for the manners of their newest house guest, Padmé linked her arm around Anakin's elbow and directed him towards their bedroom, ignoring his puzzled frown. Once their door slid closed though, the sensors in the lights flickering on, she spun on him, face a hard politician's mask.

Anakin's eyes similarly darkened, his arms crossing over his chest as he peered down at her. "What's going on, Padmé? Is this about your meeting? What did you all discuss?"

Padmé massaged her knuckles deep into her temples, pacing back and forth beside their bed. She hated talking politics with Anakin, and she knew he hated it just as much. Every time they did, it always managed to tangle itself into an argument, a shouting match that ended with sleeping apart and days of radio silence. After months of being unable to see him during the Sieges, the last thing she wanted was to drive him away. They had to be united. If not for each other, then for their baby.

But stars, this was too important an opportunity to pass up.

"Have you ever considered that we may be on the wrong side of this war?" she asked.

Anakin recoiled as if she had slapped him, arms loosening in shock. His voice dropped to a hushed whisper. "I... What do you mean?" His head whipped around the room in a paranoid search for an eavesdropper.

Padmé dropped onto their bed, feet tapping restlessly. "I mean, what if the democracy we thought we were serving no longer exists? That the Republic has become the very evil we have been fighting to destroy?"

She watched as Anakin's gloved hand tugged at his hair, his feet picking up where she had left off in her pacing. "You don't believe that. You're speaking nonsense, like a Separatist—a traitor! What even brought this up, the Chancellor? That's what that meeting was about, was it not?"

She sighed. "Anakin, this war represents a failure to listen. We've let corruption run amok and our constitution be ignored all for the sake of winning, but at what point do we recognize that we're giving too much power to one person? We have to look beyond the war, what our future looks like. Our child's future."

Anakin hesitated for a few moments before clenching his teeth. "The Chancellor didn't ask for this war. You really think the man who mentored you, who has done nothing but humbly serve the Republic, would have made all these emergency decisions if they weren't absolutely necessary? He wants this conflict gone as much as the rest of us. But for now things need to be done quickly, and one person making the decisions is the best way to do so. The Senate decided so itself, not him."

Padmé clenched her hands in her skirt, maintaining her facade as Anakin's shattered, his face starting to redden from the neck up. "I'm not accusing him of deliberately causing these situations. All I want is to make sure that, when the war is over, he cedes his powers back to the Senate. We're in dangerous territory with how he's been appointing Governors to planets, and now you and Luke with the Council."

Anakin's hands shot up in exasperation. "And now you sound like Obi-Wan."

Padmé perked up. Bail and Mon had directly relayed their troubles with including the Jedi on their plans, confident that they were too deeply controlled by the wishes of the Senate, no longer an independent entity serving the innocent. But if Obi-Wan, a member of the Jedi Council, was expressing his unique concerns to one of his own...then there was a chance they could bring this even higher. Obi-Wan was as close a friend to her as he was Anakin. She trusted him.

Anakin started glaring at her, able to follow her train of thought through facial expressions alone. "Padmé, the Chancellor appointing us to the Council was not a political move. He trusts me and was grateful to Luke, that's it."

Padmé flashed her own glare. "No, he chose you because he knows you trust him. He already has the Senate, but he needed a firmer grip on the Jedi. You wouldn't hesitate to argue on his behalf, just like you are now, so he puts you in the highest position under the argument that a General should have a higher standing."

The accompanying undercurrent of silence was toiling, Anakin's right eye twitching. "What are you trying to say?"

She blew out a long breath. "Anakin, you've said so yourself, it's unprecedented for a Jedi to be appointed to the Council by anyone other than the Council themselves. Especially not when you were only just Knighted at the beginning of the war. Your military rank has nothing to do with your Jedi status."

Anakin snarled. "It's also unprecedented for a nine-year-old slave boy to up and become a Padawan without any former Temple experience, but what do you know?"

"This is different, and you know that."

The tables on each side of the bedside began to rattle, Anakin's eyes squeezed shut and his hands quivering at his sides. His entire face burned crimson, steaming as hot as the tea had been in the kettle.

Momentary fear shot through her heart like a stray blaster bolt, gluing her to the mattress. She watched with a racing pulse as Anakin visibly collected himself, the black of his pupils dangerously bloated.

"I don't want to fight with you," he whispered in a strangled voice.

Padmé released the pressure in her lungs, heavily reminded of the young Padawan on Tatooine, face streaked with tears as he hollered with such rage about the creatures that had killed his mother. The creatures he had slaughtered.

"I don't either." She got back to her feet, tiptoeing as cautiously as she could, approaching him less like her husband and more like a feral loth cat. "I just want you to at least speak with the Chancellor about this. Ask him about his plans after the war, how he plans to help the galaxy recover from this shift in life...that sort of thing. If he agrees to step down once the war is done, then there's no issue." She moved forward a bit more, wedding band flashing in the dimming Coruscanti sun filtering through the blinds. "You'll be closer to him than ever now, and I want to be sure... Please."

Anakin studied her with a conflicting purse of his lips. He cast a glance over at the closed bedroom door, thoughtful of Luke still sitting in the kitchen, most likely tapping away at the counter in an awkward gesture to pass the time while his hosts shouted in the other room. As he turned back to his wife, he noticed her hands tapping in a similar fashion. He sighed. "I can't promise anything. The Council already has me reporting on his movements, and I'm sick of being everyone's little errand boy."

Shaking her head and dismissing the startling mention of the Jedi directly keeping tabs on Palpatine, Padmé found her opportunity, snaking her arms around his waist and leaning her head into his chest. His arms returned the embrace without hesitation, fingers twisting her hair free of its braids out of habit. "You know I don't think of you that way. This means a lot to me. To a lot of people."

She felt his chest rise and fall in a huff. "Yes, I know. I'm just tired of the politics. Everything should be much simpler."

Padmé chuckled, leaning back to meet his eyes. "Now that, we agree on." She traced a hand down his robes, fascinated by the thick, minimalist fabrics all bundled up as his sole protection on the battlefield—no armor in sight. It basically was begging for a blaster bolt to singe right through. Her stomach jerked and she let her eyes flutter closed, humming. "For what it's worth, Obi-Wan doesn't think of you that way either."

She heard the roll of Anakin's eyes, his hands growing tighter all tangled up in her curls. "You seem to have quite a bit of faith in my old Master."

"That's only because I know you two. You bicker, but he genuinely cares about you, even if you can't see it." She nodded at the door. "And if I can't convince you of that, maybe Luke can. You two have grown rather familiar, after all."

Anakin's face loosened ever so slightly, a small smile gracing his lips. "Yes, well..." He took a deep breath. "I asked him to be my Padawan today."

Padmé's stomach reeled again, shocking her back a step. She stared up at her husband's sheepish look, forcing her brain to comprehend. "What did he say?" she whispered.

"He has to think about it. You know, with his family and all."

Padmé rubbed her abdomen thoughtfully. Anakin had told her time and time again that he couldn't fathom having another student, too fearful of failing them or forming yet another strong attachment. Ahsoka had been like their little sister—a daughter, even—and to know that she was out and about in the galaxy dealing with the war on her own was hard to swallow, even with her advanced training. But most of all, since she told him of the pregnancy, she never imagined him making any more commitments to the Order, just as she could only do so much more in the Senate before she tendered her resignation. Anakin seemed to catch on to this train of thinking rather quickly, reaching out to still her agitated hand.

"He said he'd be willing to train outside of the Order, that way he still has access to his family. And knowing that I could still contribute to the Force, even when I'm not a Jedi... I like that idea." Anakin's eyes sparkled with dreams of another place, a not-so-far away future where the two of them and their toddling child maintained a peaceful, post-war life on Naboo. A future where he was still able to spar with a friend and teach the intricacies of the Force to a learner—to a friend. "Besides, he could be an excellent babysitter."

Padmé snorted, leaning back into Anakin's arms with a sated grin. "I'm not sure if diaper changing is part of Jedi training, Ani."

Anakin shrugged. "It'll be new."

"Everything will be new... And not just for us, but the whole galaxy. I fear the state we'll be in after this war," Padmé said.

With another long sigh, Anakin gripped her hands, his gentle blue eyes meeting her wavering browns. "We'll be alright. We just have to have faith and put our focus on our family. If the Republic abandons us, we have to be ready to maintain ourselves."

Padmé peered up at him. "So you do think the Republic's unstable?"

Anakin's eyes shifted. "I think there's a shift in the Force, something I can't put my finger on. You say it's the Chancellor, which I still don't agree with, but I believe it's more than that. Almost like...something is coming. Or maybe already came."

A muffled trill echoed from outside of their bedroom door, Anakin patting at his belt before remembering that he had left his comm out in the den. The repetitive noise quieted rather quickly, followed by the hesitant tones of Luke's inquiring voice.

"Do you think it's Obi-Wan?" asked Padmé, regathering her skirts.

"I'm not sure." He pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead. "You should stay and get out of all your formal wear. Just be mindful when you come back out." They could never be too careful with visual-comm calls. One misstep and there'd be questions as to why the Senator and the Jedi were in each other's company so late at night.

As soon as Padmé nodded her understanding, Anakin pressed the door release and padded out of the room to find Luke smiling casually down at the tiny, pulsing blue figure rising from the holo-stand. He glanced up at the sound of the door hydraulics, his cheeks dusted pink at being caught answering Anakin's personal comm.

"It's the Padawan healer from the Temple. She's just calling for a check-up," Luke explained.

The holo flickered as the young woman turned to Anakin. "Hello, Knight Skywalker, I was simply calling on the orders of my Master to request an update of Mister Starkiller's condition. I apologize for the late hour, but the process shouldn't take but a few moments—just a quick med-scan and some painkillers if necessary."

"And I was telling her that I feel fine," Luke insisted, stepping over to hand the comm to Anakin, who had raised a curious eyebrow.

"Well, I see no harm in just a quick visit." Anakin turned to the Padawan. "Did his blood work turn out clean?"

Luke went pale, shifting on his feet as the Padawan nodded gently. "All clear. Just a few minor things. Nothing a few booster vaccines can't fix."

"There you go." Anakin smiled down at Luke, who felt the air being sucked out of his lungs. The thought of his blood still circulating in the Temple archives made him dizzy with fear. It seemed almost impossible that the healer woman hadn't stumbled upon the secret upon her scans. After all, Sidious had already managed to hack the information for himself, so who was to say another medical visit wouldn't put him at further risk of exposure? All it took was one quick curious glance from anyone with access. Stars, if it wasn't for Yoda's trust in him, he was sure the Jedi Council would've ordered a thorough background search on him already, starting with the blood. "He's been a bit off anyhow. Getting dizzy spells here and there," Anakin continued.

"Anakin." Luke gave a desperate flash of his eyes, miffed as Anakin regarded him with nothing more than a sympathetic smile. He gave a huff, running his prosthetic hand through his hair with a tight tug.

"It'll be in and out, Mister Starkiller. I'm just following the standard procedure from Master Che. She insists on check-ups of all our patients, especially since you're a newcomer to the Temple."

Anakin pursed his lips, memories of his own trips to the medcenter rising to the front of his mind. He patted Luke on the shoulder. "Trust me, Luke. You don't want to get on Master Che's bad side. She's a wonderful healer, but she's strict as a line. Would restrain you to a bed if she had to."

The Padawan gave a cheeky smile. "That indeed, Knight Skywalker."

Looking back and forth between his father and the holo, Luke steadied his shoulders. He brushed at the nonexistent Force presence that usually lingered in the back of his mind, longing for the bright, buzzing presence of his twin. Letting the memory of her keep him strong, he gave an imperceptible nod, chest still tight with unease.

Contented, Kirei gave a firm clap of her hands, opening her mouth to continue when her image flickered, the audio overlayed by a shrieking buzz. Anakin frowned, fiddling with the frequencies. "One moment, Padawan Barizaan, I'm getting another call."

Luke only had milliseconds to see a confounding lack of surprise on the young woman's face before she was sucked into the device, instantly replaced by a crinkled, eldery face and swooping maroon robes. His heart shuttered to a standstill.

"Chancellor Palpatine. To what do I owe the pleasure?" said Anakin, giving a low bow of his head. Padmé, having slowly emerged from the bedroom in a silk nightgown, her curls spilling down her shoulders and her stomach on prominent display, wore a pinched expression, eyeing the hologram with the gaze of a mind reader, aching to pick apart the man's secrets. Luke only wished he could tell her how right she was to be wary.

"Anakin, my boy. Pardon my intrusion, but I simply wished to pass over all the bureaucracy of contacting the Jedi Council and communicate with you more directly. A more personal level, to say. As my representative, I figured that you wouldn't mind." The air around Luke grew bitterly cold. His teeth gnawed at his cheek, and he caught his mother give a faint shiver, her previous glare softening to a more troubled look. It didn't matter that she was out of the comm's visual range; Palpatine knew she was there.

Anakin, on the other hand, looked unbothered, pulling out a chair and settling deep into it, his robes spilling around him. "Of course not, Your Excellency. Luke and I are here to serve you, whatever you may need."

"Ah, yes, Mister Starkiller." Palpatine's silver eyes remained static as he spoke, only briefly darting to the corner to acknowledge Luke's presence. "Good to see you solidifying your place in the Order. The more Jedi, the better." His smile was pressed, twitching in displeasure. Luke stepped closer to Anakin, keeping his head high like he had on the Second Death Star, refusing to cave. A threat from a Sith was far from empty, but he couldn't let his fear deviate his actions. He had to protect his father.

"Yes, well, we hope to keep him on for as long as we can," Anakin continued, smiling proudly over at the shorter man.

Palpatine nodded. "Well, seeing as I have the both of you here. I was hoping you could meet me down at the opera house tonight. I've come across some information I'd like to discuss."

"Of course, Your Excellency, but I'm afraid Luke may be preoccupied at the Temple healers. We have a Padawan on the other line, and I was going to take him myself, seeing as he has no transportation." Anakin nudged Luke with an elbow, tugging on his sleeve to pull him towards the commlink.

Luke cleared his throat. "Uh, yes, that's correct, sir. They want to double-check my scans, make sure I'm free of risk of relapse."

"Oh dear," Palpatine said with a hollow breath, his hands clasped in front of him. "Well that sure is a pity, but I'm afraid I cannot reschedule. Would it be alright to drop Mister Starkiller off at his destination beforehand, and retrieve him in at a later time? I wouldn't ask if I didn't think this was important, you understand."

He's trying to get Anakin alone, Luke thought with a bout of sudden nausea. Somehow—he had no blasted idea how—Sidious had made it so Luke would have no choice but to deny the invite. He had asked for them both originally to get a sense of Luke, who he was and why he was here, but now that he knew, now that he wanted him out of the picture, he was back to what he did best: alienating Anakin Skywalker from everyone he cared about.

He thought back to the Padawan, Kirei, on the other line, her instructions to take Luke for a random check-up bouncing around his brain. Sidious' insider had to be in the Halls of Healing, the one who had insisted on his appointment that coincidentally coincided with the Chancellor's personal meeting. Maybe, just maybe, if he played this right, he could use this opportunity against the Sith. If he could pull some information from the Padawan, get her talking about all the Knight and Master Healers, then he could find the person who had leaked his DNA file to Sidious.

The enemy is always trying to one-up you. Spies, traps, the lot. You just have to be the one to get there first, Luke recalled Leia reciting in a briefing one day, her brown eyes firm and hardened.

Lotta war talk for a princess from a pacifict planet, one of the Y-wing pilots had responded, catching a few chuckles around the room. It hadn't taken long for Leia's steely glare to shut them all up. Luke had simply watched her in awe, catching Han's equally impressed air from across the room.

A pacifist planet that suffered at the hands of evil. Leia had been gripping the table by that point, General Mothma almost moving to cut her off, before she continued. Enemies like these are not the ones to be taken lightly. We fight because failure creates another generation bred in violence. Failure creates another Alderaan.

Failure is not an option.

"We understand perfectly, Chancellor," Luke cut in, startling his father. "I don't want to let my presence disturb any passing of intel. I'm sure whatever you discuss will be relayed and discussed upon the next Council meeting."

Palpatine paused, a thin eyebrow rising up his forehead. Luke held firm to his mental shields. "Yes...I'm sure it will..."

Anakin looked between the both of them for a long second, trying to gauge the sudden twist in conversation. He thought of his newest assignment from the Council, how he was to report his every move and word. He thought of Padmé and her senatorial meetings, how she was standing just across from him, lip pulled taut by her teeth as she listened with rapt attention.

What had Obi-Wan said to him? All I'm asking is that you report anything suspicious...

All at once, Anakin felt like a caught wire in the gut of a disassembled droid being tugged uselessly between two points and never able to break free. He was hyper aware of Padmé's gaze having moved towards his direction, her hands steadily creeping towards his.

Shaking his head, he gave Luke a swift pat on the shoulder, his train of thought recovered. "Well, if it's all settled, then I will see you in a few hours, Chancellor. I appreciate the call."

Palpatine gave him his regalest nod, his focus still encircling around Luke. "I look forward to it, Anakin. My best to both of you."

Once the holo winked out, Kirei returned with a remarkably patient smile. "Everything alright, Knight Skywalker?"

Anakin returned her smile, trying to blink away his oncoming headache. "Quite, Padawan. Luke will be there within the hour, so you can let your Master know. I'll check him in, personally."

Luke gave a sharp nod to relay his agreement right as she clicked a few devices off screen. She gave her standard goodbyes and well-wishings through the Force before the comm finally quieted, the steadying whirring interior powering down into a weary, static hum.

Padmé was the first to move, abandoning her mission to grab her husband's hand and going instead for a light kiss on his cheek. Luke gave them a warm smile.

"It'll be a long night for both of you in the evening traffic. It's probably best you two stay at your Temple apartment for the night, Ani," she instructed softly, brushing back Anakin's dark curls in preparation for a protest. Instead, Anakin leaned down to return her kiss, this one fuller and over the lips.

"You're probably right. Obi-Wan'll kill me if I fly tired again."

Padmé rolled her eyes. "I'd join him on that."

"I know you would." Anakin took her hand, it so much smaller than his, before turning back to Luke with a sigh. "Will you let me know what the healers say?"

Luke's eyes dilated. "Only if you let me know what the Chancellor says."

Anakin frowned. "Of course, I'll have to give a briefing to the Council because of our assign—"

"Everything he says, Anakin."

Taken aback, Anakin regarded the young man with a captivated glance. The Force hummed t r u s t at him, insistent as a stamping toddler. Padmé wore a similar expression to his own, her hand back to her stomach as another kick rattled her spine.

"Right. Yeah, no problem." He rose from his chair. "I guess we should get going, then."

Padmé tsked, shoving both men towards the bright yellow speeder parked outside. "Yes, you should. I know you'll find some way to be late, Ani."

Luke snickered, unable to help himself at how stern his mother had spoken. Anakin just rolled his eyes, adjusting the sleeves of his robes and patting around for his keys. "We'll see you tomorrow, love."

She crossed her arms, giving a thoughtful smile before reaching out and ruffling Luke's hair in a quick farewell, the young man ducking in surprise, his ears burning. "Just be safe. And remember what we talked about, Anakin." She turned over her shoulder to see Threepio waddling her way, a duster in hand as he appeared from one of the closets. Eager to quell his babbling before it started, she gave one last wave. "I love you!"

The comment was undoubtedly directed towards Anakin, who returned it with an air kiss, but as soon as he and Luke bundled into the cramped speeder, Luke held tight to the tender image of his mother telling him she loved him. If anything, that was all the confidence he needed to begin his plan to take down Darth Sidious.