Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Leia jumped down instead of waiting for the landing platform, looking up into the thick, blue sky and grimacing. She’d never loved Coruscant, but she was learning to hate it in new ways this time around. The static, muggy air was still steeped with an undercurrent of darkness that she couldn’t quite push away, no matter how hard she tried.

“You need a lift?” Mikail called after her, hefting a crate.

Shaking her head, Leia half turned and started a few steps away from the ship. “No thanks. I’ve got a couple of stops to make and they’re on the rail line.”

The twi’lek nodded, adjusting his grip. “You be careful. You’re still not quite in the city yet.”

She debated being snippish, but decided it wasn’t fair. Mikail had been well behaved, and his crew might have stared a lot, but they kept most of their comments to whispers. “I’ll be fine. I’ve been here before.”

He snorted, but she knew it was concern. It had occurred to him a little more than halfway through their trip that it was odd for a freighter to get recruited as a passenger vehicle off of Naboo. Normal in other Mid and Outer Rim systems, but not on that prosperous planet. Since Leia didn’t give off an aura of being threatening, that suggested she was probably fleeing from something.

It was sweet, if misguided. “Thank you. Safe travels,” she called out to him as she loped off, trying to hurry without looking hurried.

Her hand slid into her jacket pocket, clenched tightly around the message she carried. She was pretty sure she had a permanent imprint of the device on her palm at this point.

The rail station was close to the docks, but she had to cross a lot of landing platforms before she got clear of the hustle and bustle of small-scale interstellar trade. She dodged around (and under) no small number of couriers and flight crew members, throwing back apologies for startled cursing and Corellian insults for the ones that made a grab for her or reached for blasters.

Which was stupid. This was Coruscant, and these platforms were flush with higher levels. You could only get away with attempted murder if you dropped a level or two down (or were the Chancellor).

A series of beeps had Leia looking around, but the astromech that was swearing at a nearby speeder was not the one she had been hoping for. She patted its dome on the way by though, as a comfort to herself.

She hadn’t stopped jittering since she’d gotten the call.

The train took her into the city, past gleaming towers and dense lines of traffic. Even standing instead of sitting, her leg bounced a quick rhythm, over and over until she almost couldn’t feel it anymore.

It took two hours to get to the Jedi Temple. Leia counted every second of it.

Her, “I need to see Mace Windu,” startled the guard at the gate, probably more than the man had ever been startled before.

It was fair. She was dressed practically, which meant somewhat suspiciously for the Senate district, her hair was probably a mess even in its braids, and she had a blaster strapped openly to her hip.

If he asked her to give it up, he’d be in for a fight.

“Master Windu?” the guard confirmed quietly, glancing over Leia at the slow stream of people passing them by to enter the Temple. “Did you… does he know you’re coming?”

No, but Leia thought he ought to if there were any justice in how the Force worked. She just said, “I’m not expected, but he’ll want to see me.”

The guard kept waiting, probably for Leia to give her name, which was not happening, she didn’t know how communication channels at the Temple worked and she was already taking a huge risk that they weren’t sufficiently compromised for her visit to be reported for at least another half day.

She knew Palpatine was watching her. He’d been being a real ass about it and making it twice as hard for her to work.

“I’m not sure I can help you,” the guard admitted at last when she didn’t move or speak. “We don’t usually schedule appointments inside the Temple grounds. The Temple proper is—”

“I’m not here for an appointment,” Leia said as clearly as she could, trying not to make it sound like she thought this man was simple. “I need to speak to Mace Windu, or any of the other members of the Jedi Council. But I would prefer Master Windu. I think he’s the most informed about the matter I’m bringing.”

Another guard joined them in time to catch Leia’s request. She looked at her partner and then at Leia and said, “We can direct you to the official communication channels for submitting requests to the Order, but items are prioritized by who has done the submission and how large of a sector it impacts.” Politics and politicians got first go, and Leia already knew that— “We aren’t authorized to send requests directly to Council members. Their time is valuable and most people that need to reach them already know how.”

Leia did not scream. She did not stamp her foot, she did not throw her arms up, she did not even swear at Luke (much) who was sending an endless litany of “I told you so’s” through her mind. Yes, she’d skipped every logical step to prepare for this. But Palpatine was watching her. She wasn’t sure the message hadn’t already been compromised, she couldn’t—

“Is something the matter?”

Someday, years from now, Leia would look back on her life and the long string of coincidences that made it so obvious in hindsight that she was constantly being kicked around by the Force. Or at least suffering the effect of having such a strong natural pull on it.

Today, she just watched as the two guards bowed and nearly screamed in relief when the man who walked up introduced himself as Master Plo Koon, one of the members of the Jedi Council.

“I have a message for the Council,” Leia said, “particularly for Master Windu if he is available.”

It was almost impossible to read Master Koon’s expression (alright, functionally completely impossible), and his presence in the Force was a gentle wave that seemed to lap around Leia’s ankles in the most peaceful, soothing way she had ever consciously noticed. If he was bothered by her request, or more than just curious, she couldn’t tell.

“I would be happy to take him your message. Who should I tell him it is from?”

Not ideal, but if she couldn’t get inside and make sure someone saw it, handing it over to a Council member was probably her second-best choice. “Leia Skywalker.”

The guards startled slightly. Master Koon, well Leia couldn’t tell if he had blinked or not, but he didn’t seem surprised. “I see.” And then. “Perhaps you would like to come inside? Master Windu may not be immediately available, and it will be more comfortable to wait there.”

The guards were too professional to let their mouths drop open, but their surprise registered loud and clear to Leia.

She didn’t care. She’d gotten in.

The entrance they used skipped the horrifyingly long flight of stairs that climbed the side of the Temple, instead leading them to a perfectly serviceable lift. Master Koon, to Leia’s great surprise, actually had the ability to engage in idle conversation, and asked her pleasantly about what season she was experiencing on Naboo, how the weather was, and how her flight to Coruscant had been.

It almost distracted her from her first sight of the inside of the Temple. But not quite.

“Wow,” Luke whistled inside her head. “This is…”

“Yeah,” Leia thought, trying to keep her focus on Master Koon as much as possible. The simplicity of the massive aesthetic lost her attention before her brother’s, but then he hadn’t seen the palace in Aldera (and never would…). While the scale and openness was impressive, Leia was able to make her mouth keep politely answering Master Koon’s questions.

(Later, she would deal with how different it was than her memories from Imperial Center.)

“Is there anything I can get you?” Master Koon asked her as he gestured her into a room off one of the pillared halls, empty except for a series of seats lining the wall in a circle.

Her, “I’m fine, thank you,” didn’t provoke any particular response, but Master Koon also paused to ask, “Would you prefer if I left the door open?”

It was impossible to tell from his tone what he expected, or desired, the answer to be. Leia thought about it for a moment before saying, “Closed.”

“I see,” Master Koon said as the door slid shut, and Leia had the uneasy feeling that he did see.

They’d gotten a lot of looks from the people they’d passed on the way here.

Master Koon did not feel the need to continue talking once the door was closed. Rather, he settled onto a padded seat, legs crossing, and gestured for her to do the same. She copied him, but took her time studying him instead of… well, she couldn’t know for sure that he had closed his eyes, but his breathing had evened out and something about his presence seemed to indicate that he was meditating.

She couldn’t bounce her legs comfortably while they were crossed, but she could take her message out and turn it over and over in her hands, studying every memorized line of the casing. Master Koon didn’t so much as twitch at her jitters, and eventually that gentle calm that had swirled around Leia’s feet filled the room.

It was stifling, but it was also like Leia could finally breathe. She closed her eyes, imagining herself sinking into that calm, like she used to do in the cold lakes of Alderaan. The chill was imagined, but it numbed her nerves, soothed the fire of her panic, created a bubble that felt secure. Safe.

A prod, like an invitation, reached out and brushed gently against her. Completely foreign, but so devoid of hostility she almost reached back for it.

Then she realized what it probably was and hesitated.

“He feels kind,” Luke’s voice was a whisper, as if he too were worried about reaching out and being caught. “I like him.”

“He hasn’t done anything,” Leia objected, testing the gossamer feeling that she hoped was a shield between her and Master Koon. “We can’t know if we like him.”

“I can,” she could hear Luke’s smile. “He’s kind. To you. I like him a lot.” When Leia’s only answer was a mental snort, Luke added, “He brought you in, and didn’t ask questions.”

That was true. And while Leia wanted to criticize the lax security that potentially implied, she couldn’t deny that right now it was a benefit.

So, taking a deep breath, she reached back as lightly as she could. And felt, for her efforts, a brief sense of greeting, wordless and undemanding. She knew her answer back was cautious bordering on frightened, and it had to be coming through. But there was no return push or recoil. Just a gentle sense of being that waited with an infinite patience.

She didn’t draw closer, but Leia didn’t pull back.

She did jump from her seat, almost falling over, when the door slid open, a riot of emotion crashed into that serene presence, and Mace Windu said, “You said it was urgent. What—“

She hadn’t actually pulled her blaster. Leia thanked and cursed her every instinct as her hand hovered over her holster, her breathing quick and sharp again.

Master Koon still hadn’t moved.

“I found Leia Skywalker at our gates, asking to be let in,” the kel dor answered on a slow exhale. He took a moment to breathe in and hold before adding on the next breath, “She requested to be allowed to see you.”

Leia felt the reprimand and disbelief that Master Windu sent towards Master Koon, but it didn’t seem to discompose Master Koon any more than Leia’s antics. “We have regulations about visitors,” Master Windu said tightly. “And you didn’t tell me there was a guest.”

Which was when Leia realized that Master Windu’s reaction to her was as much embarrassment as shock. He was dressed in what was probably a training outfit, sweat soaked and breathing heavily, his saber held loosely in his hand.

Just how urgent had Master Koon marked his message?

“You,” Master Koon answered, unfolding at last, “did not tell me that Leia Skywalker was Force sensitive. I suspect we have now been equally surprised."

“I may be in love,” Luke was almost sniggering, and Leia couldn’t blame him. She couldn’t help but relax as she processed Master Koon’s sense of humor. And the irritated look on Master Windu’s face.

“She’s not,” he said, and then Leia felt that stern presence brush against her, stop, and echo sharply with shock. “You—What?”

Leia bristled, curled in on herself, yanked away from that sternness until she was tucked safely somewhere it couldn’t find her. It wasn’t… it wasn’t the same as Vader. On the Death Star. But she didn’t need to be distracted by memories brought suddenly close and urgent.

She was half crazed as it was.

“Or you didn’t know,” this time Leia could hear the chuckle in Master Koon’s voice as he turned to look at her. “Interesting.”

“I don’t make a big deal about it,” she said, aiming for a casual shrug. “No one trained me, so it’s not really pertinent.” When Master Windu looked ready to protest she added, “I’m guessing you haven’t heard from Master Kenobi in the last two months.”

Everything in the room wrenched to a halt. Master Windu might have actually stopped breathing. It made Leia’s jitters worse, on the inside if not out. Luke offered comfort, but couldn’t separate it from his own worry.

He knew what was in the message.

“And I’m guessing you have,” Master Windu folded his arms, and Leia knew she had his full and possibly desperate attention.

She looked at Master Koon before asking Master Windu, “Are all Council members aware of Master Kenobi’s mission?”

“We shared his last report with the full Council,” Master Windu confirmed, and Leia frowned. There had been a previous report? “Master Koon has full privileges to hear whatever Master Kenobi might have said.”

Leia walked over to a narrow stand in the exact center of the room, placed the recording down and hit play.

An image of Obi-Wan, hair and beard long and messy, clothes rumpled, cloak missing, flicked on. For a split second his face was pure relief. Then anxiety set in and he rushed, “Get this message to the Council. Dooku is a Sith. The Separatists have a droid army. The Trade Federation hired Fett. I think the clones are a trap.” He twitched, looked off screen, then back. “I’m sorry. Don’t come for me.”

Then his image jerked back, his hand came up, clenched, and the holo went dark.

Leia had expected her first meeting with Grandmaster Jedi Yoda to be overwhelming either in its stream of provoked memories or because of his noble presence.

It was, in many respects, a disappointment, but not one she had much time to think about. She’d been ushered along by Master Koon and Master Windu once the holo had stopped, dragged to the tallest tower where she’s been ordered to give an account of how she had gotten her message (short version: worst late night call in— okay, two months, but still…) to the full present Council, thanked primly by Master Yoda, and immediately dismissed.

Apparently, she wasn’t welcome to hear their commentary on what she’d brought.

When she’d sweetly pointed out (smiling with all her teeth) that she didn’t know how to find the front door, Master Billaba had been volunteered as her escort by Master Windu under Master Yoda’s narrow gaze.

Which ended up being how Leia accidentally ran into Anakin Skywalker.

Leia and Master Billaba were making a slow, stately march through the building, more people present the closer they got to the main hall, and everyone who noticed Leia doing a double take, whispering to any companions walking with them.

She was ready to jump out of her skin when she heard a familiar voice.

“Master Billaba, are we—“ was cut short when Anakin spotted Leia, and for a split second her heart ached for him as she spotted the dark circles under his eyes. He looked just like Luke had, right after—

Bespin.

And that was where her sympathy died, right there.

“Padawan Skywalker?” Master Billaba prompted, and Leia didn’t know the woman well enough to guess if her expression was gentle ire at being interrupted, or a gross misinterpretation of why Anakin was staring open mouthed at Leia.

“I— Uh— What are you doing here?” Anakin demanded, hunching his shoulders. Leia was thrown by the pose. She’d half been expecting Vader’s vast looming and square frame, cutting through space as he moved and pushing light and energy away from it when he stood still. Even having seen Anakin before, the hunching was disparate from the confident arrogance she was getting used to.

“I had a message to deliver,” she answered, hoping this interaction wouldn’t last long. She didn’t have the emotional capacity to avoid the landmines it was sure to provoke. “I was just leaving.”

“From Padmé?” Anakin asked excitedly, and then, “Wait, why are you in the Temple?”

Since “I was invited,” was an exaggeration that would lead to awkward questions, Leia shrugged. “The door was open. I walked in.”

Equally exaggerated, but no one could accuse her of deception, or mentioning Obi-Wan. Anakin made a face. “Was it Padmé—“

“Padawan Skywalker,” Master Billaba interrupted, stepping forward, “you had a question for me.”

There was a surge of frustration from Anakin, but Leia felt him almost scramble to drag it back in when Master Billaba raised a brow. His shoulders pulled back with the feelings, and this posture was the one she had expected. It was… frightening (and a little sad). “I just wondered what else we were doing today. I finished my lessons and was thinking I could get in some more saber practice.”

“Diligent practice is admirable, but what you require most is meditation,” Master Billaba said, frowning. “I do not know if I will have time to supervise you today, so perhaps it would be best if—“

“I know how to meditate,” Anakin interrupted, starting to hunch again and glancing at Leia. “I could go to the—“

He stopped at the bland immobility of Master Billaba’s face. When he had been silent for several seconds, she said, “I am aware that you know how to meditate. I would like you to go and practice doing so in a manner that is more efficacious. I will join you when I am able.”

Meditation was all well and good, but if Anakin’s twitching fingers and clenched jaw were any indication, he either needed deep, uninterrupted sleep or to fix something. Then he could handle examining whatever else was bothering him.

At least, if those meant the same things as Luke’s tics.

“Have you had lunch?” Leia asked, struck by a sudden idea and a random desire to at least confuse that hunch away. It worked a couple inches at least.

“Lunch?” Anakin asked.

“The midday meal,” Leia supplied dryly before Master Billaba could interrupt. “If you don’t have anything planned right now, there’s a place I’d like to go and you may know where it is. Dex’s?”

She suddenly had his complete attention, which was unfortunate because Leia had been trying to be subtle and now Master Billaba probably suspected something.

Oh well.

“I know where it is,” Anakin said, standing even straighter. He turned and actually bowed to Master Billaba. “Would it be alright if I escorted her? Since you don’t need me?”

It was clear the Jedi master wanted to say no, but it was also clear she wasn’t completely upset by the sudden change in Anakin. “If you go straight there and come right back,” she said. “And I will request your speeder for you.”

That was a disappointed look, and another one Leia remembered from Luke’s face. But Anakin nodded and said, “Wait, am I bringing Leia back too?”

People from different planets and different systems always said Leia’s name a bit differently. She liked how Threepio sometimes almost called her “Lee-ah,” and how Han had used to drawl it out in a single breath, his lips curling up in a half smile.

Anakin said it with a cadence that reminded Leia of Shmi, with a natural drop at the end that he matched by looking down for a moment, before his eyes flicked up to her. It wasn’t exactly reverent, but it had a weight to it, almost solemn.

“No,” Master Billaba said after a moment. “She was just leaving. You may escort her home and then return.”

“Thank you, Master,” Anakin said, a tiny bit of excitement now dancing around him. He looked at Leia. “The speeders are this way.”

She fell into step next to him, choosing not to scold him for walking so quickly. She wanted to be moving too, and even if it was almost two of her steps to one of his, the energy was going somewhere.

They were given a speeder that had seen better days, but Anakin swallowed his lamenting when the deck attendant said if he didn’t like it, Anakin could walk. Leia just shook her head as they climbed in, Anakin jumping over the side and forgoing the door. She considered doing the same, but felt she had called enough attention to herself for today. Instead she slid demurely into her seat and held her breath as Anakin flipped the switches.

Their ascent was smooth, and Leia felt a small thrill as they slid into traffic at a not completely judicious speed.

It had been ages since anyone had flown her like this.

Chapter Text

When the server droid recognized Anakin on sight, Leia almost regretted coming here. The droid’s chirpy, “Brought a friend, honey?” had a few patrons looking up, and Leia took a moment to register that Anakin was dressed as a Jedi and so now both of them were standing out.

She didn’t really have time to think about it though.

They sat across from each other in a booth and when their server came to take their order, Leia waved at Anakin to go first and then got the same. He gave her a look and she shrugged.

Anakin at least managed to wait until the server was across the room (but not until the people at the tables closest to them had stopped staring) before asking, “Why were you at the Temple?”

He was so…young. It was a little frustrating. Had she been this impetuous at nineteen?

“Yes.” Leia didn’t need Luke’s commentary at this exact moment, and she had to fight back a scowl. No need to give Anakin the wrong impression when she was actually irritated at her brother.

“I was given a message and asked to forward it to the Jedi Council,” Leia said after a moment, keeping her voice low but aiming for a casual posture. “I felt it would be better if I came in person.”

“Why?” His confusion might have been justified, but Leia was still too agitated to be the subject of an interrogation.

And she hated expressing her paranoias outright, so she said, “I was worried about you,” and then immediately regretted it.

“Me?” Anakin couldn’t have looked more surprised if she’d slapped him across the face with a gooberfish. “Why?”

“Are you always this articulate?” she countered as their drinks arrived. She took a sip of hers to dodge his irritated look and catch her balance. And give their server time to leave. “I got the impression from the message that you probably hadn’t been getting updates that you were…eagerly anticipating,” she suggested, still staring down into her cup. She glanced up long enough to catch a look of twisted hope, pulled by despair. Wanting to help, but not sure she was willing, Leia said, “I’m not sure what the Council would want me to tell you.”

Although they hadn’t expressly forbidden her from saying anything. To anyone.

Sloppy.

“Obi-Wan’s in trouble, isn’t he?” Anakin didn’t shout it, but Leia wished he could have been a little quieter.

“Yes,” no point in dodging the fact. She didn’t know if she could lie to Anakin and wasn’t going to test it on something this important to him. He seemed keyed up enough already, and—

Well, she had a better idea than most of exactly what he could be like when he was…pressed.

He seemed to be almost jumping up and down in his seat now, tense and ready to spring to action. “What are we going to do?”

Well,” Leia tried to gauge the mood without reaching out in the Force. Anakin was too everywhere for her to feel safe outside herself right now, “I have a presentation at work this afternoon. So I was planning on going there after this.”

He was disappointed. And angry. It flashed with sharp heat around him. “What about Obi-Wan?”

“Your master in trouble, Anakin?” Dex didn’t strictly appear out of nowhere, but Leia was uncomfortable with how easily he’d slid up to them. She was sure he’d been behind the counter a moment ago. He was smiling, but even in the mess of Anakin’s emotions, she could feel the uneasiness hanging around Dex. “I did tell him to be polite to the Kaminoans.”

So Obi-Wan had gotten his lead from Dex, Leia thought as she took another sip. Her fingers drummed against the cup as she tried to remember the last conversation she and Obi-Wan had had. He’d said Dex had mentioned her, hadn’t he?

“You know Master Obi-Wan,” Anakin said, smiling in a way that tried to be humorous but mostly came off as deranged. “He smooth talks himself into trouble as often as he does out of it.”

That got a laugh from Dex before he turned to stare at Leia. “Saw you and your friend in here a while back, didn’t I? You didn’t mention you knew Obi-Wan.”

“I try to get by on my own charm as much as possible,” Leia said. And glanced at Anakin. “Besides, with his penchant for trouble, I wasn’t sure if it would be wise.”

A chuckle rather than an outright laugh from Dex. “Oh, I’m no trouble. At least, not anymore.”

Leia smiled back, but it was a smile that said, “Oh I seriously doubt that.”

Dex’s return smile was all teeth. Leia’d known she would like him.

“Obi-Wan says it was your fault that he got harassed by your smuggler contacts,” Anakin said, giving Dex his own skeptical look. “And you got him involved in breaking up that petty theft ring around here.”

“He likes his life interesting,” Dex shrugged with two arms, grabbing some plates from the server droid and sliding them onto the table with his others. “That’s not the same as me being trouble. And I did warn him about them cloners.” Leia froze, hoping Dex was too focused on Anakin too notice. “You head out past the Outer Rim, you’re just askin’ to meet those types.”

“Yeah, but not all parts of the Outer Rim,” Anakin wheedled, poking at his food as he flashed a smile at Dex. “What makes this one so special?”

“You mean aside from sittin’ right outside the Rishi Maze?” it wasn’t clear if Dex was humoring Anakin by just handing him this information, or if he was expecting something from it. “Makes for a good hidin’ spot, don’cha think?”

It was, Leia remembered. Not always easy to navigate, but that was what made the dwarf galaxy ideal if you were, say, a bunch of rebels trying to hide from a tyrannical Sith driven military.

“He doesn’t need to be hiding,” Anakin groused, shoveling a bite into his mouth, and Leia saw Dex’s eyes narrow.

“Tell him to come by,” Dex said when Anakin didn’t follow up on the comment, “when he gets back. I’ve got some words for him.”

Concern, regret, maybe a touch of bitterness laced with old fondness. Kenobi had a good friend here, Leia thought as she took her own first bite. She wished Anakin would give him more than, “Yeah, I’ll tell him.”

She’d offer it herself, if Leia had any idea what Dex was looking for as far as reassurance.

She took a few more bites before saying, “If Obi-Wan does need help on his mission, is the Council likely to send you or someone else?”

The reflexive, “Me,” was so definitive Leia had to bite back a sigh at it. He didn’t know then, and he knew what he wanted and that he might not get it (which was far more dangerous), which told Leia just about all she needed to know about what the Council was probably going to do.

Nothing.

Maybe not nothing nothing, but not something grandiose or heroic. They might even do as Obi-Wan had asked.

They might not come for him.

The energy that had leeched out in the high-speed flight to the diner was coming back, possibly being looped by Anakin’s growing anxieties. Leia didn’t need Luke’s smug feeling of, “I told you so,” to realize she still wasn’t practicing enough at establishing boundaries between herself and things in the Force.

Being around Anakin was driving her nuts.

“Have you ever been out near the Rishi Maze before?” Leia asked, taking a bite to muffle her dubious tone.

The half second delay before he admitted, “No,” was as telling as anything else he’d done. Great. “Have you?”

“Once,” Leia hedged with another bite and was surprised when he just watched her, waiting for her to finish and continue. “I’ve never been near Kaminoans before though. Couldn’t tell you anything about them.”

“Do you think they hate Jedi?” Anakin asked, and Leia had to swallow several caustic comments about the probable interest cloners had in anyone who didn’t have money.

If the Republic had a clone army, someone must have eventually produced the cash. “I think depending on the kind of cloning they do, there might be reasons they don’t work inside the territory of the Republic,” she murmured, and noticed the atmosphere around Anakin plummet. “Whether or not a Jedi imposed Republic law in free space would probably impact their reception. And as thrill seeking and dangerous as Kenobi is, I doubt he’s that tactless.”

It was impossible to keep her tone from running dry, but that earned a weak smile. For a moment. “He says he’s not,” Anakin agreed. “But he does bend towards aggressive negotiations.”

Leia tried to smile back at his grin. “Do I want to know what that means?”

“Negotiations with a lightsaber.”

Leia snorted (and cursed years of being around Han for her brain supplying an immediate, unmerited double entendre). “Cute.”

Anakin had nothing to say to that.

Most of his food had been inhaled when Anakin asked, “You’re really just going to work after this?”

Leia looked up from the table, took two seconds to plan her next move, then slouched back against her seat, throwing her legs up so that she could brace them on the bench next to Anakin. When he’d gone from explosive to confused, she said, “My work is just trying to prevent an intergalactic war from breaking out. I do have some obligation to do it, even if it’s not convenient,” she said quietly.

She didn’t tell him that she’d arranged for someone to take her place on the official Naboo transport that should be landing about now, that was supposed to be carrying her. She didn’t tell him that she’d opted to take a different transport, early, because she didn’t trust the transmission channels from Naboo to Coruscant (or any line of communication on Coruscant, period), especially not after Obi-Wan had sent a message to Naboo from where he was being held. She didn’t tell him that she’d been planning this trip for weeks, that Padmé and Shea and Syndulla had finally wrangled a panel to actually go over the trade information Leia had been working on before the whole assassination debacle had ever come out.

She doubted he would be interested in these things (except Padmé). He was too focused on Obi-Wan.

His huff and scrunch into his seat confirmed her gut feelings, even before he said, “Can’t someone else work on that? This is more important.”

In some ways, Leia agreed. Obi-Wan’s message had told her that he’d found the clones, but she’d assumed they were where he was being held. Dex’s information suggested otherwise. And she did need to find out more about those clones. Especially in relation to her job of trying to save the galaxy from itself.

Obi-Wan would be an excellent source of information. Rescuing him, under the current circumstances, would be…inconvenient.

“The kind of trouble he’s in,” she said slowly, still talking low and forcing him to lean in towards her more to catch what she was saying, “probably has been going on for a while and probably isn’t going to be solved just by us throwing ourselves in.” She wondered (he had gone on missions for the Jedi before, hadn’t he?) if Anakin understood what she was telling him. “The best odds for rescuing him now are taking our time and getting more information. Someone is holding a Jedi. Has been, probably for a while. We need to assume they could hold more than one and plan accordingly.”

“He doesn’t have time,” Anakin stressed, looking away, into the diner. His hands were under the table so she couldn’t see if they were clenched, but the angle of his face highlighted the bruised circles under his eyes, and Leia felt Luke squirm in the back of her mind. “We can’t wait.”

It was very hard to tell if that was impetuosity or conviction. And Leia wasn’t sure she had time to find out.

“We can’t wait long,” Leia agreed, deciding that reining him in was most important right now. “But getting caught isn’t going to save him. See what the Council says.”

“Like they’ll tell me anything,” Anakin was rustling around in his pockets, his aura screaming done even if he hadn’t said he was ready to leave.

Leia said, “I’ve got this,” and stood, sorting out payment with the droid before Anakin could throw together a coherent protest. “You were my ride,” she told him over her shoulder as she headed out. “The least I can do is cover lunch.”

“I can pay,” Anakin was more grumbling as he followed her out, maybe griping. She didn’t really want to think about it. “They give me money.”

“I wasn’t worried about it,” Leia lied. Honestly, she wouldn’t have been surprised if Obi-Wan had a long enough history with Dex that he always ate free. “It was my idea to go out and I chose where we went. I cover.”

And if the mindless bickering got them halfway to the Senate district without Anakin moping, some sacrifices were worth the effort. She had to stop him there though, to redirect him. “I need to go shopping,” she said. “My luggage isn’t with me.”

He gave her the dirtiest look. “I can take you to your luggage,” he said, sliding between other speeders. Leia had to bite her lips every so often to stop herself from grinning like a maniac. “I can drop you off anywhere.”

“Buying clothes will be faster,” Leia said. “There’s a place near the Executive building. I was already planning on going there.”

He at least had the decency to not whine after he made the choice to stay and wait for her. She’d intended to only take ten minutes, but needed to do more work on her hair than she’d thought. Probably because of Anakin’s flying, but she didn’t regret that.

“Sorry,” she said as she slid in, throwing the bag with her old clothes at her feet. Checking the time she winced, then remembered that Anakin was flying. “Think you can get me there in five minutes?”

The moment the words left her mouth he grinned, and Leia almost regretted offering him the challenge.

He got her there in three. Leia was actually laughing when they landed, as much at the deck attendant’s face as at the thrill.

“I think you nearly killed that trandoshan,” she chuckled as she slid out of the speeder and grabbed her things. “Did you hear him scream?”

“We had a handspan of space,” Anakin was grinning as he answered, jittery and eyes glittering. “He was fine.”

“Try two fingers,” Leia said, glad she’d kept her hands inside the vehicle. “Maybe only one.”

Anakin glanced over the speeder. “It is an older model,” he conceded. “Its maneuverability isn’t the best.”

“Make Master Billaba assign you a better one the next time I’m going to be late for something,” Leia told him as she stepped away. And then, because old habits, “Fly safe.”

He scoffed as he took off, and Leia got to finally deal with pulling out codes and proving she had a right to be entering the building. She got some odd looks, but no alarm as she was questioned. Apparently showing up with a Jedi was noteworthy (which she should have remembered, especially because Anakin), but any weirdness that accompanied them was business as usual.

Good to remember.

Threepio’s, “Mistress Leia, are you quite alright?” came out so quickly she couldn’t completely shut the door on it. Leia couldn’t decide if she was more bothered by someone possibly hearing the comment and spreading it around, or that she was operating at this level of paranoia constantly now.

Could have been equal parts both. “I’m fine Threepio. How have you been?”

“You didn’t arrive with Lady Dormé,” he continued, and she was surprised that he ignored her question. That was supposed to be a surefire way to derail him. “I was sure something had happened.”

What updates had Anakin given him?

Rani was smiling as she approached and handed Leia a bag. “He was very upset to see me,” she grinned, and Leia couldn’t help but grin back.

“You didn’t tell him I had a change of plans?”

“He doesn’t like you changing plans,” Dormé said, curiosity mingled with mild reproof. “They tend to lead to conflict.”

The not so delicate snort that came from Padmé helped Leia spot her across the room, curled up on the couch and reviewing notes. The Chancellor’s objections to Leia’s interference with Padmé’s security had led to more than just conflict. “It wasn’t even a fight,” Padmé protested. “I just told him he was wrong and to never tell me to do something that was politically risky and stupid ever again.”

“Politely,” Leia suggested, knowing if an actual screaming match had broken out between Padmé and the Chancellor, even the Outer Rim might have even caught wind of it.

Padmé glanced up, brows high. “I’m a consummate professional,” she stated flatly, which earned a chuckle from her guest. Leia only let herself watch Senator Organa in her periphery.

“I still want to know how you found time to find and memorize section codes to throw at him,” Senator Organa said, and Leia thought he might be looking directly at her.

Clever man.

“Oh, you know,” Padmé waved a hand. “I was put on mandatory leave and decided to make the most of it.”

And if that had meant memorizing the charter and constitutional codes that Leia had included regarding the rights and limitations around banning a senator from taking place in a floor vote, well. It seemed like a better use of Padmé’s time than flirting with a baby Jedi (in Leia’s humble opinion).

“At least he hasn’t tried it again,” Rani said from her position at the window, where she watched traffic and the buildings (technically out of sniper range) that were in view. “It would be a bit awkward having to explain to the queen why you opted for open conflict.”

“She wouldn’t be surprised at all,” Padmé said, jabbing at a datapad and then leaning over the arm of the couch to look at something on the floor. “He’s inserted himself in a lot of local events he had no right to be in for years. I had to warn her about it.”

Senator Organa frowned. Leia noticed because she’d made the mistake of letting him get too far towards the edge of her vision and his movement had grabbed her full attention. “Previous senators aren’t welcome in public rituals on Naboo?”

“Previous senator isn’t the problem,” Padmé said. “The queen invited me to the first gungan peace celebration of her reign as the former queen as a sign of solidarity and to show she was continuing down the same path as far as Naboo/Gungan relations. Chancellor Palpatine showed up and insisted on being allowed to give a speech about— oh it was stupid. Not—“ she struggled as she watched Senator Organa’s expression shifting. “He didn’t say anything stupid. Or rude. Mostly. He just framed it—“

She got caught up in the memory for a moment, her gaze sharp as she stared at the wall.

“He has an…outdated way of thinking,” Senator Organa suggested. “In comparison to some people on your planet. He blunders into things sometimes, when he’s being earnest.”

“You’ve seen him,” Padmé agreed, nodding. “Sometimes here, on the floor, he just…”

“Yes,” Senator Organa was nodding, and Leia made her eyes move back to Rani at the window, the familiarity of the gesture striking at something unexpectedly. “I know what you mean.”

A prolonged silence stretched, got comfortable, coiled around the room’s occupants like a warm, heavy weight. Lingering.

Broken suddenly by a tinny, “But Mistress Leia, aren’t you going to tell us why you were late?”

“I’m not late,” she objected, part on instinct and partly to delay. “I’m here in time for a final run through before the meeting, as planned.”

“But you didn’t fly in with us,” Dormé pressed, and the tight line of her mouth said while she had gone with it, she was expecting an explanation. Leia didn’t need to look at Padmé to know the senator’s focus was zeroed in on Leia. “And you sent Rani.”

She didn’t say, “For cover,” but in hung in the air as heavily as the previous silence.

Leia shifted (princesses didn’t squirm, or fidget), hefting her bag and swinging it over her shoulder. “I had an errand to run. I decided it would be easier to come early than try and guess what my schedule would be like after all this.”

“An errand?”

Leia couldn’t avoid turning to face Padmé, especially not when she’d used that tone, but it was a slow, methodical turn. “I needed to stop by the Jedi Temple.” And then, because as careful as she was trying to be with information, Padmé needed a warning about what was coming, “I received an emergency transmission from Master Kenobi.”

And in that moment, the full implications of everything that he had said hit her again. She’d been focused on Anakin, on the clones, on the Chancellor’s plans, on the futile steps she’d been taking toward a brighter future.

She’d been focused on pain and fear.

But it was now that she remembered two important things, aside from the clones (from the Sith) that she knew because of that simple message. Things that Padmé deserved to know, needed to.

“The bounty hunter’s name is Fett,” Leia said to the wall of silence closing around her. “And he was hired by the Trade Federation.”

Chapter Text

For a moment, no one moved. No one breathed.

Then Padmé blinked twice, drew a shuddering breath, and pressed her fingertips firmly to her lips. For one second, two, three. Another shuddering breath as Senator Organa stepped over, placed his hand on Padmé’s shoulder and bowed his head, saying nothing.

When she could speak, Padmé only rasped, “Fett?”

“That’s all I currently have,” Leia said, her fingers clenching and unclenching on her free hand. “I’m working on seeing if I can find more.”

She knew he had to be related to Boba Fett, somehow. But Leia knew less about that Mandalorian bounty hunter than she was comfortable with, and none of it came back this far into his past. And as much as she wanted to know, there were other things that had been more pressing to her until right now.

Like saving Obi-Wan.

“He was hired by the Trade Federation?” Shock was turning to anger with those words, like they were being shot with increasing precision out of Padmé’s mouth. “The Trade Federation.”

“As far as I understand, yes,” Leia said, wishing she could drop her bag. It was becoming an uncomfortable weight on her arm. “His message was very brief, and I don’t think we’ll be getting any further details for some time.”

Senator Organa looked up at those carefully selected words, frowning. “He’s in trouble.”

Not a question, and Leia was a little grateful she didn’t have to treat it like one. “Again, the details are missing, but it sounds like,” she licked her lips, not wanting to spread details and knowing, knowing, she’d get flayed for it if she held her peace and Padmé found out, “the Separatists are amassing a droid army. Possibly,” her voice turned dry on reflex, instinctual self-defense, “supplied by the Trade Federation. Since there’s no active legislation against them selling arms outside of he Republic.”

“Warmongering,” Senator Organa’s voice was deep, troubled and furious. “War profiteering.”

“Are we really surprised?” Padmé demanded, slipping out from Senator Organa’s touch and starting to pace the room. “Can anyone be surprised by this?”

“They’re going to say we sold the Republic to the Separatists,” Senator Organa might be angry, but his mind was moving quickly and Leia was glad she didn’t need to steer him. “That they decided to amass forces once they knew the MCA had failed.”

“But they had to have been planning this for at least months in order to already have an army,” Dormé objected. “The Trade Federation wouldn’t have provided sufficient troops out of their current security force. It wouldn’t—“

“It doesn’t matter,” Padmé was looking to Senator Organa, fists clenched, head tilted slightly up. “Either our opponents will say we sold them out or that our intelligence should have caught them at it. People’s votes would have been different if they had known.”

“Are they going to target Leia?” Rani asked, blushing as all eyes turned to her. Her gaze fell to the floor as she added, “Leia’s been tracking the data, she’d be the mostly likely to have known.”

A shimmering unease flitted through the room before Leia said, “We’ll make sure everyone we see today understands what the Federation paperwork could be hiding. And we have one advantage. Some of the people who were for the MCA but voted against it did know some details of my research. They’ll likely stand as friends, as much for self-preservation as anything. As long as we don’t alienate them.”

She didn’t look directly at Padmé as she said it, but Leia knew Padmé’s attention was riveted on Leia all the same. “They supported us and we’ll support them.”

“As much as we can,” Senator Organa hedged. “First, we need to go over Leia’s presentation again, this time focusing on how we can convey what we’ve learned given how little information there is.”

When he said Leia’s name, she felt her heart skip oddly and almost missed what he had said next. It was a familiar word in a familiar voice, but it had none of the familiarity, the affection that her memory told her it should have. Leia covered by turning and searching the room for a place to put her things since she wouldn’t have time to take them home yet.

“I’ll give you an outline of some of my other updates,” she said half over her shoulder as she moved away from them, hoping to find composure in that growing space. “And we can talk about how they back up Master Kenobi’s claims.”

“Can we tell them when he’ll be back?” Dormé asked. “It might be easier to bring things up more directly if they know they’ll be able to hear a witness soon.”

Something wobbled around Leia at the question (“Help me Obi-Wan Kenobi.”) and she had to take a moment before she could respond. “He didn’t give any indication that he would be returning soon. I don’t know when the Jedi will be able to recall him.”

Or reclaim him. If they would even try. He knew, they knew, that Leia had passed along his message. The important part was done. Whatever happened to him now, he would know he had succeeded.

(“You’re my only hope.”)

She’d done what she needed to do, Leia told herself as she moved to the couch with her notes. What had been expected, what he’d asked. The information was safe.

Leia paused before she could speak, staring at the carpeted floor and instead seeing polished grey, feeling a red light on the back of her neck, the cold implacability of the slab that was her seat and bed, the crushing sensation of the walls closing in when a dark shadow moved into the room and she thought, she knew, no one (but Luke was always going to come) was going to help her. To save her.

“Are you ready?” Padmé asked, her voice coaxing and gentle.

Leia nodded. “Yes.”

She knew what she had to do.

“These are just the data sets that I’ve been able to confirm,” Leia said, looking around the room at the serious expressions. Senator Organa was still frowning, Padmé’s lips were even but there was a crease between her brows, Shea was almost lounging she was so slumped in her chair, and Senator Darsana…

Senator Darsana was a perfectly blank mask, twisting his chair back and forth in tiny, slow movements. It was distracting Cham Syndulla, who’s arms were crossed and lekku were twitching.

“You suspect there are more?” Senator Darsana’s tone almost didn’t ask a question, but Leia nodded anyway. He sighed, inspecting his nails. “How petty they are.”

“How disgustingly greedy,” Syndulla snarled, and while Senator Dio flinched, her Junior Representative Malé-Dee only glanced at the twi’lek and then back to Leia. His face betrayed nothing, but his agreement was a quiet whisper in the Force. “They can’t go on like this!”

“With the majority of the sectors and systems in the Republic still at the mercy of their trade routes, it’s hard to see how we can press an advantage,” Senator Organa said quietly. “Not that we won’t, but any of us who call for regulatory measures have to know that we may be asking our colleagues and their systems to make sacrifices much greater than ours.”

“They’re starving my people with their greed and their price gouging and their pilfering,” Syndulla had almost thrown his head back. “How much worse can saying something make it?”

“They could bribe pirates to target your sector,” Leia said evenly, her tone neutral. His attention snapped to her with a hiss. “Or just use their security forces to drive them that way. Make it impossible for you to find smaller, willing alternatives. Interrupt the other trade you already have.”

She was very proud that nothing in her tone shifted on that last line. She’d still caught Shea’s attention though, and a slight hand gesture, at waist level, was enough to give Leia a warning. Step back. Give him space.

Leia brushed a sleeve to signal message received and caught Shea’s smile.

“We may have an opportunity,” Padmé said the word tightly, with so much distaste it curdled off her tongue. “There’s a good chance that with all the excess goods that they have, they’re in a position to be supplying the Confederacy. Their contracts may technically follow Republic guidelines, but they aren’t binding only to Republic systems. If we can prove they’re moving goods from the Republic to the Confederate systems—“

“It will at least make some people angry,” Senator Dio nodded. “And if we’re asking for heavier regulation, for the benefit of Republic systems, if we can get those measures through it will make it harder for the Separatists to leverage more systems away from us.”

“If the regulations are passed,” Senator Darsana said, his steepled fingertips tapping. “And if they redistribute the goods fairly.”

Senator Organa sat a little straighter as he said, “We have hard numbers to work with. We can start by seeing how many natural groupings the systems fall into and what the most important regulations are.”

“I don’t like this,” Syndulla said, grinding his teeth. “I don’t like the uncertainty.”

“Nothing in life is certain,” Representative Malé-Dee said softly, turning to face the twi’lek. “We will do our best in spite of it.”

“And stars preserve anyone who tried to get in our way,” Shea murmured, glancing across the table at Senator Darsana. It was only for a moment, but he noticed, and his smile was all teeth.

“I sincerely doubt,” he said slowly, “that the stars have ever cared.”

The meeting was exhausting, the after meeting with Padmé and Senator Organa even more so, and the after after meeting with Padmé, Dormé, and Rani was even worse.

There was so much shouting.

“I’m not leaving!” Padmé had moved beyond adamant straight into belligerent. “We just started these negotiations and I need to—“

“It would probably be better if you were gone,” Dormé cut in, uncharacteristically firm and caustic. “You don’t have the best track record as far as negotiating with the Trade Federation—“

“We’re not negotiating, we’re—“

“And Senator Organa has more than enough help from Senator Mothma and Senator Darsana. Not even beginning to include their contacts and networks.”

“And the small army that is loyal to Shea,” Leia added. “Alderaan’s system is noted for exports of education and training, Chandrila for agriculture, and Herdessa for industry and processed goods. Shea’s ties to Syndulla represent the Outer Rim, and I’ll bet you could get Senator Onaconda for that too. Shea and Senator Dio cover the Mid Rim, and we’ve got Alderaan and Chandrila for the Core. The right balance of connections, and no one too closely associated with the MCA down vote.”

“There are thousands of systems—” Padmé protested.

“And you don’t have enough connections,” Leia interrupted, feeling her temper slip. “Your work in the Loyalist Committee has been important, but the other systems and senators have better contacts and more weight with them because of their tenure. Let your friends lay the groundwork and then come in later, to back them up once they have a chance to introduce you.”

“I have been doing this longer than you,” Padmé snapped, and for a moment Leia had to bite her tongue to not contradict it.

“We need to go home,” Leia tried to make it sound like a plea, not a command. “We need to tap Shmi’s contacts and get at least fifty more systems on board with the RRM in the next few weeks, to at least start evaluating their options. They have an army,” Leia nearly choked on the word, watching Padmé’s nostril’s flare and jaw stiffen at it. “We need opportunities to relocate industries to different planets, and to relocate people. Your best bet at making new regulations stick is proving the Federation isn’t necessary for the Republic to function. That it’s hampering it.”

Leia watched Padmé rub her forehead, the movements slow and deep. “It doesn’t feel like I’m helping,” was the soft confession.

“You’re coming at them sideways,” Leia protested. “From behind. You’re going to get them where they didn’t even know they needed a guard. Rip the ground out from under them.”

That earned a half smile. “I hate it when you’re right.”

“No,” Leia smiled back, “you hate it when you lose an argument. Period.”

“That too,” Padmé conceded. She rubbed her arms, glanced at Rani, took a breath, and faced Leia as she said, “I’m worried about seeing my parents again.”

Well, that was a completely justified concern. “They’ll be happy to know you’re okay.”

“And not happy that I’m planning on going back,” Padmé collapsed into her chair, still managing a fairly upright posture. Ah, queen training. “If we’re working directly with the RRM, my father might try to interfere on anything he… doesn’t agree with.”

Leia leaned back against the wall, folding her arms. “Him verses Shmi, who wins?”

“Shmi,” Padmé’s smile was wide and warm this time. “Definitely Shmi.”

“Give her a heads up and she’ll manage him,” Leia promised, only feeling slightly guilty at volunteering her grandmother. “So nicely too, he’ll barely even notice.”

They let Padmé mull it over. Leia knew the senator was considering how now was the best time while there weren’t any open votes on the floor, how she could get back quickly if needed, how she really hadn’t been home since Cordé’s death and it was long past time for a formal farewell to her companion.

If Leia had to guess, based on the tone of Padmé’s mood, it was Cordé’s memorial that was the deciding factor.

“Three weeks,” Padmé said. “Maybe four. Some time to see my family, to talk to the queen, to help pull together that list of fifty systems, to get it rolling.”

“And to hand it over to Sabé and Versé,” Dormé agreed. “Versé’s an expert with those kinds of negotiations. She’s been working with the queen’s task force on incorporating the gungans. She knows how to present the benefits of cultural integration.”

“I still have travel restrictions. How many days do you think it will take for them to send us an escort?” Padmé asked with a sigh.

Which was the exact opening Leia had been looking for. “I was thinking we could recruit your local Jedi fanclub and co-opt them as security.” She met Padmé’s glare with bland innocence. “They owe us, and it’ll be faster than waiting for Panaka and Typho to fight it out.”

There was no small amount of resentment on Captain Typho’s part that he’d been excluded from the need to know list when Padmé hadn’t arrived on Naboo. He was no longer allowed in the room while Padmé was working because it created a…suboptimal atmosphere.

“I’d hate to impose on the Jedi—“ Padmé began, when Rani asked, “Jedi fanclub?”

She blushed when she realized she’d interrupted the senator and stammered an apology. Leia took pity on her and cut in with, “Mostly it’s just Anakin Skywalker, but he did a good job as security before the MCA vote, so it should be a quick approval. Besides, you known Captain Typho couldn’t resist the chance to upstage him.”

“Can he leave Coruscant?” Padmé asked. Leia could feel her interest as Padmé considered the other benefits to taking Anakin with them to Naboo, but her tone was cautious. “If Master Kenobi isn’t back—“

“One way to find out,” Leia said. Padmé sighed and called Senator Organa, asking if he knew the quickest way to submit an expedited request to the Council.

Anakin was practically bouncing as he watched Master Windu sigh at the datapad in front of him.

“Did Leia Skywalker tell you about this?” he demanded.

Anakin was grateful he could honestly say, “No, she never brought it up.”

He was trying not to be too excited, but he knew it wasn’t working. Master Billaba was frowning at him. Not like Master Windu did, with a full deep scowl. Master Billaba’s disappointment was the slightest downturn of her lips and a subtle pressure in the Force, insisting that he yield.

Anakin tried, but after months of waiting, he needed to do something.

“The senator’s request is reasonable,” Master Billaba said. “I don’t have any other assignments currently, so I can accompany Padawan Skywalker to Naboo.”

“It may be for an extended stay,” Master Windu said. “She’ll likely want an escort back too.”

“Given that we haven’t submitted a report to the Senate that Master Kenobi has dealt with the assassin, it would make sense to answer the request,” Master Billaba almost sounded like she was trying to soothe Master Windu. “If our presence increases the Senate’s confidence, it can only be to our benefit. And it should be a simple enough mission. There have been no attempts since the last.”

“This is not a vacation,” Master Windu said, looking directly at Anakin. “If this is approved, you have a sworn responsibility to see to the safety of the Senator. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Anakin wanted to roll his eyes, but settled for hunching instead. “I have done this before.”

Master Windu, who had probably read Anakin’s last report on protecting the senator multiple times and guessed at all the things Anakin hadn’t been brave enough (or stupid enough) to explicitly say, hmphed. “Follow Master Billaba’s instructions. They requested you, but she’s in charge of this mission.”

“Yes, Master,” Anakin said, knowing his tone said, “I know,” clearly enough. And then, because Master Windu hadn’t said anything, but Leia said they knew something, “Do you think Ob- Master Kenobi will be back by the time we’re finished?”

The panic was only there for a moment, like a flash of lightning, before it was locked so tightly behind shields Anakin almost felt like he was alone in the room. “I wouldn’t assume so,” Master Windu said tightly. “But we’ll have to see.”

Anakin bowed as he left, hoping his face was serene.

He thought it might be, might have settled into that false calmness almost too easily. He could feel Master Billaba’s surprise at his sudden quiet.

Anakin knew what Master Windu’s face meant. Knew what holding back bad news looked like. His mother had done that a hundred, a thousand times to try and protect him. To give him hope.

So the quiet came easily now, as he thought of his mother and locking things away so that they couldn’t be used against her.

He knew. Master Windu thought Obi-Wan wasn’t coming back.

Chapter Text

Anakin looked ready to jump out of his skin as he boarded the ship. He wasn’t even drooling over Padmé (much), just trying to disappear behind Master Billaba, a feat he would never, in any way, be able to accomplish.

Leia sighed. She understood, she really did. But he was just so… little.

“I think he’s cute,” Luke sounded defensive beyond the teasing and Leia almost rolled her eyes.

“He does remind me a lot of you, fresh off of Tatooine,” she shot back, and felt the impression of a hunch and a grumble from her brother. “I need to be normal now. Don’t bother me.”

“Oh, good luck,” he at least had no compunction about rolling his incorporeal eyes. She wished she had the freedom to close her eyes and mentally stick out her tongue at him.

She was pretty sure he got the message anyway.

“We’ll be landing in Theed,” Dormé was telling the Jedi as they boarded. “And we’ll spend some time there working with the queen. You’re welcome to stay with us, or other accommodations can be arranged.”

“Our plans were to be available as security for the senator for the duration of her stay,” Master Billaba said, following them towards the main hold. “If you are confident of her safety on Naboo, we will of course take a background role. We wouldn’t wish to cause any inconvenience.”

Leia watched them as she took her seat. She wished she could have dropped back next to Anakin, almost wished she was brave enough to take his hand and squeeze his fingers, to let him know things would be alright.

But she didn’t know what was happening with Kenobi, and she didn’t actually want to touch Anakin, and nothing good would come of her making overtures to him while Master Billaba was around.

Leia could feel her observing everything around her in the Force, even if she couldn’t watch all of it going on.

Luckily (or unluckily), Padmé took a seat next to Anakin and spent the first twenty minutes of the flight absorbing his attention. Leia followed their conversation while also keeping tabs on Dormé and Eirtaé distracting Master Billaba.

She probably should have joined one of the groups, but it was easier to sit back and listen to them speak. She didn’t really have the heart for this sort of small talk.

The fourth time Anakin glanced up to stare at her, Leia glared back at him until he blushed and looked away. She felt a little guilty once she had done it, but the oppressive focus of all his attention being riveted on her was suffocating. He didn’t look like Vader, didn’t talk like him, but in the Force the weight of them was similar. Less toxic now, and putrid, but still heavy.

Like a dead weight.

The next time she felt his attention shifting to her, Leia didn’t bother to look at him, just quietly slid out of her seat and wandered away, searching out her room and collapsing on her bed.

“I thought you were going to be playing at being normal,” Luke’s voice brushed against her senses as if he were whispering, or asking permission to have her attention.

“I was,” Leia shifted her gaze from the white ceiling to the chromed finish of a wall. One blink, two, and then it was Luke that was laying there, across from her. “I forgot I was dealing with Jedi, and normal is relative.”

Luke’s face turned as if he were looking across the room, towards the main hold. “She’s very…formal.”

“Very,” Leia agreed. “A lot of them are, though.”

“I noticed,” Luke’s tone was dry, his face as he turned to look at her was all smirk. “Probably a good thing I didn’t have to deal with them?”

As jokes went, it wasn’t really funny, but she didn’t think he’d meant it to be. There was a wobbly lump settling in her gut, made of the sadness of a bright temple turned to a cold throne, an absence of lights on Coruscant and throughout the galaxy, the cold reality of Luke having almost no one to turn to as he tried to discover what it meant that he had such a strong connection to the Force.

The Temple and its inhabitants might come off as stuffy and serious, but that didn’t mean the galaxy was a better place with them not in it. Or that Luke hadn’t missed a lot of opportunities by not getting to be there and meet everyone.

“It should have been you,” she thought lazily, thinking of Master Billaba serenely observing the handmaidens, or Anakin hovering over Padmé, his full attention fixed on her every word. “You would have been so much better at this.”

That earned an emphatic snort. “Politics? Negotiating? Legislating? Leia, you know me better than that.”

“You would have gone to the Jedi,” Leia said. “They would have helped you.”

“They would have taught me,” Luke agreed. “Especially if they thought it would keep me out of trouble. But Father knew what he was doing when he sent you to Grandmother. Good intentions can be poorly executed.”

“Did you always speak in riddles like this?” she demanded. It wasn’t that she couldn’t follow him, but it was almost as stuffy as listening to Master Billaba’s carefully polite replies.

Luke chuckled. “No. But it’s kind of fun. Maybe that’s why they do it. Looking stuffy and having fun.”

What an awful thought.

A knock at her door had Leia half sitting before she had thought about it. “Hello?”

A muffled, “It’s Anakin,” had her half groaning as her brother snickered.

Leia resigned herself that Master Billaba had probably already noticed him leaving and said, “Come in.”

She pulled herself up to the head of the bed, legs crossed as the door slid open and Anakin lurched in, hesitating as the door closed behind him.

And suddenly Leia was in a small room, on a ship, with a tall, dark cloaked figure lingering at the door as she sat on a long, flat—

“Did you need something?” She didn’t mean to sound so defensive, tried to pull her feelings back in as Anakin almost recoiled.

He’d done nothing wrong. He didn’t deserve that.

“I just… wanted to talk,” he bit his lip for a moment, his shoulders coming up. “If you’re not busy.”

She wasn’t. She obviously wasn’t. And it wasn’t worth the damage it might do to lie to him, as reluctant as she was to have him in here. “I’m not. What is it?”

“Can I sit there?” he gestured to the foot of her bed and Leia swallowed three instinctual, increasingly violent versions of, “No.”

“Sure.” Leia shifted so she was facing him as he matched her pose at the opposite end of the bed. He looked around the room as he sat, pausing on the patch of wall she had been staring at before. He blinked twice, squinted, then shook his head once. Before turning his full attention back to her.

“Did you ask the Council to give me this assignment?”

At least he was direct. It wasn’t easy to deal with, but she didn’t have to worry that he was being evasive. “I recommended that Padmé ask for you. She’s had Master Gallia and some other Jedi assigned to her on a few occasions since the vote, but,” Leia refused to say, “she prefers you,” and opted for a safer, “it made more sense to bring you with us if we were leaving Coruscant.”

“Really?” he leaned forward at that, just a little.

Leia tried to pinpoint the cause of his excitement, failed, and said, “The Council is working on getting you more independent field experience, aren’t they? And you were useful last time. Seemed like a good fit.”

She’d baffled him. It was in the slight turn of his head, the noiseless movements of his mouth, his unfocused stare. In hindsight, she probably shouldn’t have slipped into talking about him like a recruit up for promotion. To cover, she tried, “Have you been on many other missions with Master Billaba?”

Anakin shook his head. “No. Obi-Wan and I have been out with other Jedi, but I didn’t start training with Master Billaba until… until after the vote.”

The previous report. Leia pulled up one of her legs to rest her chin on her knee, taking a moment to think about that. They’d given Anakin a babysitter immediately after the MCA vote, which meant that was probably when they’d known Obi-Wan wouldn’t immediately be coming back. Which meant he had found something, and if he had started by investigating Kamino, that meant he’d already told them about the clones, which made sense because when he’d mentioned them in the message the masters hadn’t reacted, which meant they’d known since the vote that there was a clone army and had said nothing…

Leia swore in every language that she knew (and threw in a couple of phrases she’d never gotten Luke and Han to confess the meaning of), her fingers gripping her leg so tightly she felt her nails clawing marks into her skin.

“Leia?”

She jolted as Anakin spoke, still not used to her name coming from his mouth. And that tone, the worry, the concern, it almost sounded like—

“Nothing,” she forced out. “I just realized—“

But she couldn’t tell Anakin about the clones, she didn’t know what he knew and she couldn’t be dealing in too many secrets.

He hadn’t been surprised.

Leia’s eyes grew wide as she looked at him, watched him fidget. “You knew about the cloners.”

He almost fell off the bed. “What? No!”

Lie. Not a complete lie, but a very desperate bid to cover the truth. “You weren’t surprised. When Dex mentioned cloners.”

For the first time since he’d entered the ship, Anakin’s presence retreated until he had actually contained it. “I don’t—I’m not—I’d heard of the Kaminoans,” he mumbled.

Leia felt her brows go up. “When Obi-Wan hadn’t?”

His arms crossed, pulled in close to his chest. “They said not to talk about it.”

“They?”

“Master Yoda and Master Windu,” Anakin admitted, not meeting her eyes.

Leia shifted so her forehead was on her knee instead of her chin and gave herself two minutes to be blindly, flagrantly, crudely angry at the Jedi masters. And a little at Anakin too.

When she looked back up, Anakin had moved beyond baffled to mouth hanging open, eyes so wide his pupils were pinpricks. And then he smiled.

And Leia never wanted to see him smile like that again. (That was Luke’s—)

“Did you—“

Before she could finish, there was another knock on the door and Padmé’s curious, “Leia?”

“Yeah,” Leia called back, noticing how Padmé paused when she spotted Anakin at the end of the bed, and how his face contorted, how he looked down and away, his cheeks and neck coloring.

“You’re meditating together?” Padmé was trying to be smooth as she asked, but there was an odd catch when she said “together.”

Leia waited for Anakin to say something, to confirm the story, before she decided she was irritated enough to throw him at Padmé’s mercy. “When you come up with a cover story for why you’re leaving a room, you should generally let someone know if they’re supposed to be your coconspirator.”

He got even redder, stumbled over his words for a moment, then just settled on staring at Padmé up through his lashes and mumbling, “Sorry.”

Padmé was about to answer when Eirtaé appeared in the doorway saying, “Did you ask her?”

Anakin snapped up at that, trying to peer around the handmaiden, who noticed and flapped her hand to invite Dormé into view as she said, “It’s just us. Master Billaba also went to go meditate.”

Eirtaé’s grin was wide and her voice held no judgement, so it was no surprise that Anakin loosened his posture, leaning forward. “Some Jedi meditate faster than others.”

“Do they?” Eirtaé didn’t giggle, but it was a near thing. “Good to know.”

The thin braid Anakin wore just behind his ear swung back and forth as he stayed leaning. Leia noticed three colored bands on it and wondered what the colors and placement meant. He never touched or fiddled with it, like she might have expected, even with it constantly hanging over his shoulder. Maybe that was taboo.

“We were wondering if you’d like to join us while we read,” Padmé said to Leia. “And Anakin?” Bless (and curse) Padmé, at least she could adapt quickly. “Leia found me a new book in that series we read together.”

What?

“You read those out loud to him,” Leia wasn’t sure what her voice was conveying, but Eirtaé’s brows went up. “Were you trying to kill him?”

“You do realize,” Padmé said, “that in order to know they are that bad, you had to have read them yourself.”

“Obviously,” Leia said, her chin coming up. “But you managed to repeat those words, out loud, while another person was listening.” She looked at Anakin. “I’m impressed you still speak to her. You can’t have liked them.”

“No,” Anakin agreed, grinning now, that overwhelming tension returning, but more diffuse and redirected toward Padmé. “They were terrible. It was kind of nice.”

“Please tell me,” Dormé said in a strangled voice, “these are not the stories that Moteé was making everyone read last season. They are brain poison.”

“The heart wants what two functioning brain cells want,” Padmé smiled at her friend. To Anakin, she said, “You don’t have to, but I think they’re revisiting the trandoshan-rodian-wookiee love triangle they set up in that second story, and someone is being cursed again.”

“They do know that’s not how the Force works, right?” Anakin sounded half delighted and half pained.

“I’m keeping a running tally of things the author clearly did not know,” Leia said, shaking her head. “Including but not limited to basic biology, halfway decent politics, and proper Corellian swear words.”

“The swear words are the most important,” Anakin nodded sagely. “Can’t get anywhere in the Mid Rim if you can’t get those right.”

“Not the Outer Rim?” Eirtaé asked, leaning against the door frame.

“Huttese and Ryl for there,” Leia said, noting that Anakin hadn’t noticed the slightly more provocative nature of Eirtaé’s current pose. “Corellian’s okay, if you’re south enough, but anything near Hutt space…” She shrugged as they all stared at her. “I did live in the Outer Rim,” she reminded her friends.

“But you can’t cook,” Anakin objected, and Leia glared at Padmé for a moment before turning to him.

“So?”

“So how did you not die of food poisoning?” he demanded.

Leia rolled her eyes. “I bought food, or rations.”

She wasn’t sure if his look was pity or disgust. “How did you know those were safe?”

“I can read,” she snapped, crossing her arms. “And speak and ask questions. I didn’t buy it if I didn’t know what something was.”

And her friends and brother had been more than willing to expand her list of known safe dishes for humans. And what to look for in a familiar dish that might suggest it wasn’t fit for her consumption. She’d paid attention.

“I want to hear Padmé try and read this story out loud, even if the rest of you don’t,” Eirtaé said. “It has to be way funnier than just trying to get through it myself.”

“You said you didn’t read the other ones,” Dormé protested, and Eirtaé had the decency to blush as she shrugged. Padmé was giggling.

“We’ve got time,” Anakin said, standing and stretching. He reached out a hand to Leia. “Do you mind?”

He needed a distraction, Leia thought. It wasn’t perfect, as far as distractions went, but it would help. Maybe it would even help her.

She made her face as open and willing as she could as she put her hand in his and let him help her up. “If nothing else, I can just jam my fingers in my ears and watch all of your faces.”

He smiled again, but this time it was a crooked half mouthed thing that looked only like Anakin. Leia half smiled back as she retrieved her hand and turned to follow Padmé out.

They touched down in the evening, watching an accelerated sunset as they approached Theed. Anakin made some grumble about a bumpy landing as they dropped into place in the main hangar, but snapped his mouth shut as Master Billaba gave him a look.

Leia watched the interplay and tried not to sigh. Padmé’s reading had been hilarious, but it meant Anakin hadn’t done any meditating or sleeping at all during the trip (no surprise) and he had to be at the end of his rope.

They were greeted by Jar Jar, who was excited to see everyone, including Anakin, and who could actually swallow the lanky monster in a full hug. Anakin seemed happy to see Jar Jar too, instead of angry or irritated. It said at least one good thing about him.

“Will you be staying here tonight?” Captain Typho asked as he finished getting a report from Rani. He’d come back ahead of them when he’d heard the Jedi were coming. “Or going home?”

“We’ll need to see the queen in the morning,” Padmé told him, her steps strong and confident even as Leia felt her uneasiness at the thought of seeing her family again. “I’ll stay here tonight so we can speak first thing in the morning.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Are you staying, Leia?”

“Uh,” she hadn’t thought about it. She’d just assumed she would be staying with Padmé since the senator normally liked to report to the queen immediately after landing, and Leia would be able to contribute this time. “That depends on how early you intend to see the queen.”

And if Leia could get a ride home. Shmi had dropped Leia off at the docks the other day because hey, one shared speeder.

“Stay tonight,” Dormé suggested. “It’ll be easier to get your report in the morning, and then we can all be there when Shmi gets to see Threepio’s new coverings.”

“She’s seen a holo,” Leia protested as she felt Anakin’s attention sharpen. “He was visible in a bunch of calls.”

Giving Threepio a solid look over, Eirtaé said, “It’s not the same,” and smiled.

Well, that was fair.

“Do you think Mistress Shmi will be unhappy to see me?” Threepio warbled, scuffling along beside Leia. “That she won’t like this new look?”

“Shmi loves you,” Padmé said firmly, and Leia added, “You’re part of the family. She’ll always be happy to see you.”

Apparently, someone had given Master Billaba some warning about Shmi Skywalker, because the woman’s posture had gone completely rigid.

Chapter Text

“You should head to bed. You look like you need the sleep.”

It was hard to tell what Leia’s tone meant. Anakin just blinked at her a few times, leaning heavily on the railing. She hadn’t turned on the light in the sitting area before coming out here. He hadn’t either, but it seemed weird that she wouldn’t. “I’m fine.”

Theed was dark at night. Not pitch black like the swamps, but only sprinkled with small lights that dotted patches of darkness. Their glows were deliberately dim too. The city wasn’t still, but the movements were hushed and sluggish, at least this close to the palace.

It was lulling. He liked it.

“If you say so.”

That tone he could interpret. It was dry as the desert and grating as sand. Leia used that tone a lot.

It broke the peace of the moment.

Leia knew she’d misstepped when Anakin stiffened, pulled away. If it were Luke, she would have pressed closer. But if he was already noticing her hostility…

He looked much grimmer in the dark, his outline obscured by shadows, made thicker and more menacing. More like what she expected. More like her memories.

“I didn’t mean to be rude,” she tried, but his posture didn’t change even as he nodded. She followed his gaze out over city, the yellow white halos around the lights telling her everything she needed to know about how tired she was. And she had been getting sleep, up until the other day.

Mostly.

“Now will you tell me about Obi-Wan?”

One track mind, Leia noted as she also leaned against the railing, using the movement to disguise her quick check of their surroundings. Or maybe it was his condition for her apology? “There isn’t much to tell,” she admitted. At least, not much that wasn’t based on knowledge she shouldn’t have. “He called me before he left Coruscant, I think to try and see if you had made it here safely.” It was hard to tell in the dark, but she didn’t think she’d made him smirk even a little. “He didn’t say where he was going, but he did ask about me having met Dex. Which is why I invited you to take me.”

That and she’d wanted to get him away from the Temple. The feeling in the building had varied from room to room, but something about the rigid austerity had rubbed Leia the wrong way as she had worried about Obi-Wan. Like she was sullying the atmosphere with her concerns.

“He didn’t tell you anything else?” Anakin was looking at her now, Leia could feel it in how his attention had swarmed around her like a thick cloud, testing her sincerity and trustworthiness. And almost trying to squeeze the truth out of her.

She wondered if he knew he was doing that. “Not then. But he had my number and I guess when he couldn’t reach Coruscant, I was his best option.”

“What did he say?” Anakin was leaning towards her now, the last words almost a hiss in the dark (almost like that slow, mechanized—).

“He said to leave him,” Leia’s voice didn’t have any tone now, like she was a flat, colorless shadow next to him. “He told them not to come for him.”

It took almost a minute for Anakin to remember to breathe. “You said—You said to wait for the Council.” He almost couldn’t get the words off his tongue, he was so angry. “You said he didn’t have time.”

“You said that,” she corrected, not looking at him, not facing his eyes. “You also said the Council would send you.”

Yes, but she’d known he wasn’t serious. He had seen it in the way she’d moved her head, crossed her arms, made herself breathe before answering. That last one was a trick Obi-Wan always used. And Master Windu. “And that’s it? We’re just leaving him to die?”

There was another of those slow, deep breaths before she answered, “You don’t know that he’s going to die.”

But she believed it. He could feel it vibrating off of her in tense shivers of fear. Tight, controlled. Real. “You don’t know that he isn’t.”

“No,” she half laughed and Anakin wanted to scream. “I don’t. I don’t know what will happen to him after this.”

“If he does die,” Anakin snapped as he spun back towards the door, “it’s your fault.”

He would have stayed angry if he hadn’t heard the softest, “I know,” as the door closed between them.

He couldn’t—it almost tasted sad, when she said it. And he didn’t have the energy to be angry anymore. Didn’t have the energy for anything.

The pillows were too soft when Anakin put his head down and the mattress felt like it was trying to swallow him, but he couldn’t complain at this point. He was so tired.

In spite of the weird softness of the bed, the odd smell of the palace, the lack of noise, and the spiral of worry that ate at his stomach, Anakin almost immediately fell asleep. And slept straight through the night.

Leia sat on the end of her bed, struggling to muster the energy to lean down and take off her boots. If she could just do that, then she could sleep.

And dream.

And hence, still boots.

“Leia,” Luke’s voice was gentle, like the brushing waves of Master Koon’s presence. Surrounding, effusive, but distant, waiting for her invitation.

“If I close my eyes,” she told the darkness, “I’ll watch you die. Again.”

She didn’t always know when those dreams were coming, but tonight she did. She could feel them, curling around her like the darkness she’d survived on the Death Star, and tonight she couldn’t face them.

It had been a while, since she’d been as still as this. As certain.

Luke didn’t leave. She couldn’t see him, eventually couldn’t hear him call her name. But she felt him like a warm light, persistently warding off the darkness, keeping it at bay. She was lonely, but not alone.

But she couldn’t hug him. Couldn’t hide her face in his shoulder and make all the world go away. And tonight she missed that, and remembered all that it meant.

“Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi,” her memory betrayed her. “You’re my only hope.”

It felt like a breath, like a passing blink. But when Leia’s eyes focused, she could see the first golden outline of dawn, taunting.

Morning felt strongly of sunshine. Not just bright, but somehow radiant and warm, almost like…

Anakin flailed trying to get out of bed, the covers twisted around him and the mattress still sucking him down. But the moment his feet touched the floor he practically flew through the door, stopping only when he realized there were two people in the room.

“Mom.”

She was standing in front of someone, his brain tried to tell him. But in comparison to the light of her smile and the warmth in her eyes, everything else was pointless. “Ani.”

She only took a half step towards him before he was in front of her, grabbing and picking her up in his hug, laughing into her hair. Her hands were warm on his back, softer than he remembered but still gently calloused, pressed against his spine and against his heart like she was trying to drag him back in through her skin.

He couldn’t leave her again, he couldn’t—

“Padawan Skywalker.”

The voice was the line needed to draw the conclusion his eyes had already reached to the thinking part of his brain. Master Billaba was here.

She didn’t seem angry exactly, as he looked up over his mom’s shoulder. Just pinched and maybe… maybe frightened. “This is my mom,” he said, and felt stupid the moment he did. It was true, but he was supposed to explain, and Jedi never just understood…

“Are you going to hoard her all day?” this voice from Leia wasn’t as dry. She was warm as she came out of her room, smoothing down her hair. Was she wearing the same clothes as yesterday? He thought—

“He can’t,” Anakin’s mom said, turning so she could keep an arm around him and face Leia, her left hand still pressed against his back over his heart. “I do have meetings I have to be at today.”

His mom didn’t frown as Leia stepped closer, but he could feel her focus shift to Leia in a way that ignored Master Billaba. Which was how Anakin noticed Leia’s eyes were red and she seemed…faded. “I’m sure the members won’t mind if you bring him with you,” Leia said, leaning in for a half hug. “I’ll bet they’d love to meet a real Jedi.”

“Unless the senator will be attending the meetings, we won’t be present,” Master Billaba said. Anakin would have expected it to be more stern, but she seemed willing to show a certain gentleness to his mother. “We do have our responsibilities.”

That sounded more like her. Or, more like Master Windu. He would have known who she was talking to, even if she hadn’t been looking at him.

“I didn’t realize you finalized arrangements with Padmé.” Leia’s tone was almost cheerful, but something about it made Anakin nervous. It might have been how his mom’s fingers twitched. “I thought she wasn’t up yet.”

Master Billaba blinked, and then looked annoyed. “I understood that Captain Typho is head of her security.”

“Yes,” Leia agreed, moving to take a seat on one of the couches, gesturing for them to follow. “He makes the plans and Padmé approves them.”

It was a little awkward finding a way to sit that didn’t mean letting go of his mom, but Anakin managed and was happy when she reached out and took his free hand in hers, squeezing his fingers until they almost creaked. But her eyes never left Leia.

Master Billaba was focused on Leia too, and was actually frowning. “I thought I understood from Captain Typho that the plans had already been settled.”

“He may have misunderstood,” Leia waved her hand and while Anakin didn’t know that move exactly, he’d seen Obi-Wan pull enough similar ones to make Anakin nervous. Leia was trying pass on bad news, politely. “I’d recommend confirming with Padmé’s once she’s up.”

“Confirming what?” Padmé was frowning as she appeared, but the moment she spotted Anakin and his mother she smiled. Then frowned again as she turned to Leia. “Is something the matter?”

“I ran into Captain Typho after my morning meditation,” Master Billaba said, watching Padmé closely. Anakin noticed Padmé go stiff. “He wanted to review plans for how we would be integrated into your security while we’re here.”

It was a little disappointing to watch Padmé take a seat next to Leia, but it meant Anakin could see her clearly, even if she wasn’t as close. Her hair was still loose, soft waves. Her eyes were hard though. “I’d be happy to confirm what our plans are,” happy was not the word Anakin would have picked listening to Padmé. “What did he tell you?”

Leia felt bad for Master Billaba. Dealing with Skywalkers and internal discontent between Padmé and her security team was not a great way for anyone to have to start the day. As stiff and unyielding as the master seemed, she handled Padmé’s underlying hostility very diplomatically and accepted all the changes from Captain Typho’s plans without particular comment.

“If you won’t be needing both of us to stay close at all times,” Master Billaba said, “it would be possible for Padawan Skywalker to spend time with his mother,” she only tripped slightly over that title. “If he wishes to.”

Given that they hadn’t stopped touching since she’d entered the room, Leia was ready to bet that Shmi would have completely rearranged her own schedule to stay with her son, never mind the meetings that she had mentioned. She probably hadn’t intended to guilt Leia into volunteering to go for her, but if it added stability to Anakin’s life and happiness to Shmi’s, there wasn’t a question of if Leia would have done it.

“………-a…….”

A whisper of something tried to cross Leia’s mind, but she couldn’t make out what her brother might be saying.

It probably wasn’t that important.

Anakin looked at Shmi, anxiety and hope on every line of his face. She smiled up at him. “I think it would be fine for him to accompany me today.” Shmi looked to Padmé, “If you really don’t need him.”

“We should be—“ Padmé began, but stopped at a light cough from behind her. Dormé had entered the room, fully dressed and ready for the day.

“Since we’ll be updating the queen on the security situation,” Dormé looked apologetic, “it might be best if Padawan Skywalker came with us this morning. Since he was with you back on Coruscant.”

Right. That.

Padmé’s head tilted, her gaze flitting to Leia and her brows pinching in a frown. She asked Shmi, “When are your meetings?”

“Later this afternoon,” Shmi answered, also glancing at Leia. “We have updates for work placement and schooling to review. And then I’ll be making my usual visits in the evening.” She stayed focused on Leia this time as she said, “I was hoping I would be able to bring Threepio along.”

It should have occurred to Leia much earlier that the droid was missing. She couldn’t afford to be this tired right now.

It took effort, but she managed to not look around the room, trying to spot a droid that would have happily volunteered himself if he were present. “That shouldn’t be a problem. We can tell him as soon as he—”

The door to the room slid open and an irritated, “—expect you to know what to serve. That’s why I—Mistress Shmi! Oh dear, we only brought enough for six. This is all your fault,” Threepio directed to Artoo, who trilled an objection and slid back and forth, making the food on the tray he carried shift and earning more scolding from Threepio.

Shmi was too busy staring to ask him to stop. By the look on Anakin’s face, whatever Shmi was murmuring under her breath had to be inspired.

“Just put it on the table, you stupid bucket of bolts. I will go and get the extra since you can’t be bothered.” Threepio’s testy command as he put down his own tray earned a series of beeps Leia was finally able to recognize as a particularly stuffy set of insults from Artoo. “Now really, we have guests! How can you make the senator look bad while we have visitors?”

It shouldn’t have been so funny, but Leia fell prey to a series of giggles that she tried to muffle with her hand. She at least managed to keep them quiet enough that Threepio didn’t notice before Shmi said, “It’s alright, Threepio. You don’t need to worry about me. I ate before I came.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, scuttling so he could hover over her. “I wouldn’t wish to be rude. Although,” he turned to look at Anakin, “this does seem to be a rather informal breakfast.”

This time Leia failed to hide her giggles, but only Padmé (who had been shamelessly examining Anakin inch by inch when she thought no one was looking) directed anything like a glare at Leia.  “Threepio and Dormé are the most presentable,” Leia said when she got herself under control. “And Master Billaba.”

Artoo’s beeps, protesting that he should be included, were ignored as Threepio said, “Oh yes, Mistress Shmi I have new coverings. I hope that is alright. They were a gift from Mistress Leia, you see, and I do admire them very much.”

“Of course,” Shmi said as she reached out to touch Threepio’s arm. “They’re lovely.”

“And durable,” Leia promised, surprised when Anakin nodded agreement. “He shouldn’t have trouble at the temperatures he worked through on vaporators, and he should have a lower temp limit now too.”

“How much did they cost?” Shmi’s voice was for Leia’s mind alone, but Padmé could read Shmi’s expression clearly enough.

“I’d been saving for them,” Leia admitted as cover. “It’s fine.”

“That much,” Shmi’s tone promised consequences, which Leia would have been more frightened if she weren’t so tired. Fear would have to wait.

“Senator Darsana complimented them,” Threepio announced. “He said they were very well suited.”

Which was probably a good sign, if Threepio was bringing it up. Leia hoped.

“Leia chose well,” Shmi said, standing. Anakin followed, still caught in her arm. “The children will be excited to see the change.”

“The rude ones?” Threepio seemed to deflate slightly and Leia had to bite her lip to prevent any more giggles. “Maybe we shouldn’t encourage them.”

“Anakin will be coming too,” Shmi said. “It would be sad if you didn’t join us.”

“Oh, will you Master Ani? Well then, I must come with you. Someone has to introduce you properly.”

Almost giggling again, Leia reached for some plates and nearly dropped them as her vision greyed around the edges when she leaned back. It took her a moment to reorient, and when she did Shmi, Anakin, and Master Billaba were staring at her. Padmé did too when Leia didn’t immediately hand over the extra plate.

“You okay?” Padmé asked mildly, holding out a hand.

“Yes,” Leia said, pretending to be looking over the food choices while she made sure that wouldn’t happen again when she moved. Food would be good. Food would give her energy.

“I warned you,” Luke’s voice was the barest whisper in the back of her mind and Leia carefully ignored whatever he said next as she grabbed her food. She was fine.

While people started serving, Anakin extracted himself from his mother’s side and slipped away to get a shirt. It wasn’t a huge difference if Padmé’s continued glances were any indication, but it stopped Threepio’s complaints and allowed everyone a few minutes to eat in peace.

Eventually, Padmé said, “Anakin, if you’re willing, it would be nice if you could come with us this morning. Then you can head out with Shmi this afternoon and be her escort.”

Which made it sound more official and slightly more worrying than Leia would have preferred, but since Anakin was technically supposed to be here in an official capacity, protecting a member of the RRM was as good an excuse as any.

“I can,” Anakin agreed right away, only half glancing at his mother. “If you think it would help.”

Padmé nodded. “Then Shmi can take Leia home and we can regroup later.”

“I can’t go,” Leia protested, almost choking as she swallowed to clear her mouth. “I’m going to the meeting too.”

There was no give in Padmé’s expression. “I can report on the presentation and the follow ups. Dormé can help if needed. It would be better if you took the morning off.”

Which was a pretty diplomatic way of admitting Padmé knew how much Leia needed sleep. But if it was that obvious, Padmé was probably right.

Which didn’t make sense. Leia had been functional with much less sleep than this.

“You’re not using the Force,” it felt like Luke was almost shouting, but it still came through as a whisper. “You’re too busy hiding.”

Which was when Leia noticed that she felt cramped, cloistered inside of herself like she was hiding from the other people in the room. Specifically the two Jedi.

“I don’t want to touch him,” Leia forced herself to admit, knowing it would bring the wave of guilt and sadness from her brother. “I don’t want him to touch me.”

“I know,” Luke seemed to be coming through clearer now. “And I know why.”

Which didn’t make it better, but did make Leia feel less stupid. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to reach out and draw strength from the Force. Not around these people.

“Leia?” Shmi’s voice brushed against her mind, probably having felt Leia withdraw even more.

“I’m okay,” Leia tried to be reassuring. “I’m just tired.”

It was obvious Padmé was expecting a fight, and if Leia needed another reason to take a break, the fact that she wasn’t up to arguing with Padmé was a sure sign. “Alright. Shmi and I will head out now and we’ll come back here once we’re done.”

Shock came from Padmé and Dormé, but Shmi just seemed relieved. “We can go once you’ve finished eating.”

“Master Billaba,” Padmé turned to the Jedi, “would you mind going with them?”

“What, no,” Leia protested before she could think about it. “We don’t need—“

“I’d feel more comfortable if you or Anakin could be with them at all times,” Padmé continued blithely ignoring Leia’s protests. “We still don’t have enough information on who orchestrated the assassination attempts, and it’s possible that Leia, and Shmi through her, could be easier targets after so many failures.”

Which had Anakin tense and worried, which was the exact opposite of what bringing him here was supposed to accomplish.

“I can accompany them,” Master Billaba agreed, watching Leia. “If they accept my escort.”

“We do,” Shmi said firmly, not bothering to look at Leia for confirmation. As tempting as it was to slouch in her seat and grumble, Leia made herself sit straighter, lift her chin up. “If it isn’t too much trouble.”

“None at all,” Master Billaba answered, eyes still on Leia. “It would be my pleasure.” A brief pause before she looked to Shmi. “And you’re sure Padawan Skywalker would be welcome to join you this afternoon?”

“Anakin is always welcome to join me,” Shmi said, placing her hand on his leg. “He is my son.”

“Yes,” Master Billaba agreed, her expression smooth, blank. “He is.”

Chapter Text

Leia made it all the way back to the house and up the stairs in a muggy haze, waving off Shmi’s concern and promising to sleep for a couple of hours, before she remembered that by choosing to come here she would now have to sleep in her bed.

The bed she was sleeping in when she got the call from Obi-Wan.

Standing in her doorway, looking at the painfully neat corners of her folded blanket, the meticulous neatness of her room, Leia realized everything about this space was a testament to her trembling psychosis when she’d left it.

Looking back out the door, Leia gauged the odds of breaking her neck trying to get back down the stairs.

“Help,” she sent plaintively to the warm spot of light that was Shmi. “I can’t—“

It had to have taken more than a blink for Shmi to get up the stairs. Leia must have blacked out. It made sense. She was only vertical because she was hanging limply against the doorframe.

“What’s wrong?” Shmi asked, checking the room and frowning.

“Stairs,” Leia supplied woozily, hoping Shmi would manage to take from that, and the sight of the room, the knowledge that Leia needed help getting down to the couch.

“Or,” Shmi suggested, wrapping her arm around Leia’s waist and turning them, “you could stay up here.”

Ready to protest (sleeping in her room was not an option) Leia realized Shmi was taking them to Shmi’s room, and that made a lot more sense than both of them braving the stairs.

“Thanks,” Leia managed as Shmi tucked her in, brushing Leia’s hair behind her ear and placing a kiss on her forehead.

“Rest,” Shmi ordered. “I’ll wake you up before we have to go.”

Leia meant to reply to that, but sleep pulled her under too fast.

“Are you nervous?” Padmé sounded surprised and Anakin stopped tugging at his robes and tried to stand straighter.

“No,” he said, and then, “We’re just meeting the queen, so…”

“You’ve met the queen of Naboo before,” Padmé bumped into his shoulder, inviting him to smile at her joke. “I know for a fact she likes you. You’ll be fine.”

“That was a long time ago,” Anakin pointed out to avoid confessing that he’d been just as nervous (more nervous) around Padmé even before she’d told him she was a queen. “Maybe she’s forgotten me.”

“I seriously doubt that.” Padmé leaned in to whisper, “You’re impossible to forget.”

Which was reassuring enough that Anakin managed to make it into the throne room and through his introduction before his nerves found him again. Padmé seemed to be right that Queen Jamillia did like him, but not everyone else in the room was as welcoming.

Mostly Captain Eye-Patch, but Anakin thought Captain Panaka was also looking a bit stiff.

The meeting, as Anakin expected, was boring.

He stood near Padmé and answered questions about Coruscant when they came up, sticking to the details he’d submitted in his official report. He thought he might have surprised Padmé with some of his answers and wasn’t sure how to feel about that. She didn’t think he’d talk about everything that had happened, did she? He couldn’t name his mom’s contacts. That just wouldn’t be fair. If they’d been listed in an official report and the assassin had gotten access, it could put Oobra and Hailee and those children in danger.

And Anakin would throw himself on his own lightsaber before he admitted that he might have made Padmé cry.

Mostly though, Anakin’s comments weren’t really needed. The queen was talking about refugee movements and the actions that the Trade Federation had taken.

There was one new thing though.

“Leia says Master Kenobi identified the bounty hunter who came after me as Fett,” Padmé said at one point. “And that he was hired by the Trade Federation.”

Leia hadn’t told Anakin that. And it was important. Never mind that he already knew, he was supposed to be Padmé’s guard. Leia should have told him.

“Hired by the Trade Federation?” it was Captain Eye-Patch that growled the words, but the fear, anger, and disgust that swept the room made Anakin slightly nauseous. And then, because Eye-Patch was a jerk, “And you didn’t tell me you knew this before?”

Watching Padmé in the same room as Queen Jamillia, it was clear they’d had the same training. Both of them sat up straighter, lifted their chins slightly at the captain. The queen’s face was steady but Padmé’s expression pinched for a moment and Anakin watched Eye-Patch deflate.

Good. He should know better.

“Jedi Master Billaba was aware of Fett’s name,” Padmé said once the captain had backed down. “We had her reassurance that she was prepared to deal with him if we encountered him en route.”

Which meant Leia and Padmé thought that Anakin hadn’t been told about Fett.

He made himself stare at the floor, breathe slowly, keep his hands locked together in front of him. He couldn’t get angry. Not in here.

Later.

The bickering ebbed and flowed during the conversation, usually rising when Padmé’s safety was brought up. Anakin did not like that pattern.

At last, Queen Jamillia said, “If you can arrange to meet with the RRM in the next few days, then we can determine how long you will be here and make any other needed arrangements.” She looked at Anakin and said, “Would it be possible to request the presence of another Jedi? Not for security, but to consult with the RRM? Someone who is aware of the Jedi’s current efforts regarding refugees?”

It took Anakin a moment to pull an answer together. He hadn’t been expecting that question. “I don’t know, but since Master Billaba is on the Council, we can probably get you an answer very soon.”

“Thank you,” the queen’s smile was warm and her presence soothing. She’d kept the atmosphere in the room to a mild chaos, bringing warmth and chill in carefully timed moments as offense was taken or tempers flared. She wasn’t inspiring, like Padmé, but Anakin thought she was probably a pretty good queen.

Padmé liked her. That was good enough for him.

Leia opened her eyes to the softness of Shmi’s sheets and the hint of spices wafting up from the kitchen. She was still tired, but the silence and warmth around her made her feel safe as she reached out, seeking strength and resilience.

Her mind sharpened with each in and out of her breath.

Until she noticed there were almost a half dozen people in the kitchen. And a blinding Force presence in the house.

She held onto what she’d grabbed. Barely.

It took a lot more stumbling than she liked to make it to the door, so Leia paused with her hand braced against it, taking a few more deep breaths and moving her feet until she felt centered and balanced.

By the time she finished and opened the door, she could feel Shmi at the bottom of the stairs.

“Leia?”

“I’m up,” Leia called down, not moving too quickly toward the banister. She felt more steady, but no reason to tempt fate just yet. “We have guests?”

“Yes,” Shmi was smiling, and everything in the house felt warm and welcoming. Even that blinding supernova in the front room. “We’re getting ready to eat.”

Leia was still wearing yesterday’s clothes, her mouth was tacky, and she didn’t want to think about what might have happened to her hair. “I’ll be down in a few minutes. Do you need help?”

“Yes, please,” Shmi said, even though she knew that Leia knew there were three other people already in the kitchen. “Once you’re ready.”

Avoiding thinking about trying to cook in front of guests, Leia just nodded and went to get dressed.

A shower would have to wait.

Stepping back into her room meant facing her memories again. It wouldn’t have stung so much if she didn’t know that Obi-Wan was still out there, suffering at the hands of the Sith, waiting for no one to come.

Some things, she understood a little too well.

It wasn’t until Leia was on her way downstairs, rechecking her appearance in the glare off the window, that she realized the sun was setting and this was not a lunch crowd. It was dinner.

Which explained everything that Leia was feeling so much better.

“You lied to me,” she grumbled as she slid into the kitchen, taking a look at Jar Jar helping with one of the pots and Eirtaé and Dormé peeling vegetables at the table while Shmi kneaded some sort of bread mixture in a bowl.

Shmi smiled. “I did not. I went into the room and said your name and waited for a reply. And then I told you that if you could stand and get out of bed it was time for you to get up. And you buried your face in the pillow and whined.”

Jar Jar was too distracted by his careful stirring to hear, but the handmaidens were snickering and Leia had no memory of what Shmi described and so couldn’t fight back. So she just went to wash her hands and helped Shmi start making small pockets for the filling coming together on the table behind them.

“Did you get enough sleep?” Shmi asked, and Leia just glared, pressing the dough harder than she was supposed to. Shmi looked at it, then at Leia.

“I’ll have that one,” Leia promised. It wouldn’t be as fluffy as the others, but it should still taste fine. “How was your meeting?”

“Good,” Shmi’s hands never stopped moving, no matter what she said or where she looked. “You were right, the committee was very excited to meet a real Jedi.” There was a simple admiration to the word as Shmi said it now that was different than before. “And very glad when he passed on Master Billaba’s reassurance that another Jedi was coming.”

Leia tore the circle in her hands, flushing as she started kneading the dough back together to try again. “Another Jedi?”

“Queen Jamillia requested someone who could help us coordinate with any work that was already being done through Coruscant. Padmé is hoping that will make it easier to find the fifty systems she thinks we need.”

It was a question as much as an explanation. “I wanted a reasonable number to get her started on without feeling overwhelmed. We need more like fifty plus sectors, probably a solid thousand systems if we want a network diverse enough and large enough to meet everyone’s needs and not get overloaded.”

“A network that would only work well under the standing cooperation of a functioning republic,” Shmi suggested, and she had to know that Dormé and Eirtaé were listening behind them.

Did she not care? Or did she think they wouldn’t worry, even if she expressed something close to… rebel sentiments. Leia worked slowly as she said, “Not only. But the Republic is what we have, and as long as we have it, we should use it. Networks are like the body, they can atrophy.”

Shmi considered this. “A republic that doesn’t use its networks and negotiations can atrophy into a republic in name only.”

“Yes,” Leia agreed, still aware of the noises behind her. “And other networks, other frameworks, can take its place.”

“Like the Trade Federation,” Shmi had demonstrated months ago that she was this astute, and Leia wondered at the focus on this conversation right now. “Where do the Jedi fit?”

And for once, Leia was stumped. She could have told Shmi the hypothetical purpose of any of the branches of government. The elected conglomerate that was supposed to be the legislator, the mediator that the courts were supposed to be, the moderator that was supposed to be the chancellor. She was tempted to say that the Jedi were the enforcers, and that was certainly true.

But it felt wrong. Like that was what they were, but not what they were supposed to be.

What should the Jedi be doing in a functional Republic?

Leia was angry to realize she hadn’t thought much about it beyond “not dying.”

Which, given what had happened to Luke and how much it had hurt him (even before it had killed him), was functionally unforgivable.

“The Jedi represent the Republic’s ideals,” Eirtaé said when Leia didn’t reply. Shmi looked back for a moment to show she was listening. “They act as mediators and negotiators, and help local systems with enforcement. They keep an eye on things and let us know where we may need to legislate changes, or what parts of the network we might need to tap to solve a problem.”

“A catch all,” Shmi supplied, “when the government moves too slowly, or without coordination.”

“Not exactly,” Dormé said, but she seemed unsure how to follow up.

Shmi brushed her hands as she turned around, keeping half an eye on Leia’s slow progress. “I do not understand. If the Republic is supposed to emulate the Jedi’s ideals, do the Jedi not run the Republic?”

Leia choked back a snort.

“No,” Dormé tried again, but Leia could feel her confusion even without looking. “The Republic chose the Jedi to support them because the Jedi’s ideals were good and were for the benefit of all people. But the Jedi don’t run the Republic. They have obligations to the Force.”

“Then how can they be trusted by the government?” Shmi demanded. “If they serve different masters.”

That was a dangerous word. Leia glanced up at her grandmother, but Shmi’s feelings were like shifting dunes beneath her skin, impossible to pin down.

“The Jedi are guided by a Code,” Master Billaba’s timing was too good, Leia thought. And she didn’t like that she hadn’t noticed the woman approaching. “Like the Republic is a framework for establishing peace and cooperation in the galaxy, the Code is a framework for establishing peace and cooperation among the Jedi. For tying us to the same goals and values.”

A few gestures asked if the Jedi’s help was needed at the counter and Shmi shook her head, nodding for Master Billaba to continue. “The Jedi present a unified front in the face of the disagreements that occur in the day to day running of the Republic. The Republic was established by those who did want to emulate some of our values, and the Jedi watch over the Republic, and those who run it, to advise them when they go astray. To restore the balance.”

It sounded so good and reasonable. But Leia wasn’t the least bit surprised when Shmi’s cold, even response was, “Then why is there slavery in the Republic?”

Shifting so she could see Master Billaba out of the corner of her eye, Leia thought whoever had warned the Jedi about Shmi Skywalker had not warned her enough.

To her credit, Master Billaba took a moment before she answered. “The Jedi… we are bound by the Code. But we are people, the same as anywhere else. And while the Republic grows and we take on new students, there are not always enough of us. To safeguard all reaches of the galaxy. Or the Republic.”

“Then how can you keep the Republic balanced?”

It was hard to tell if Shmi’s question was asked in anger or raw defiance. And Master Billaba at last realized she seemed to have stumbled into a trap.

Thinking back on the conversation, Leia now had to wonder if she had gotten enough sleep, and if Shmi had noticed the Jedi lurking before the conversation had begun. If Shmi had been having it in front of Eirtaé and Dormé incidentally, for a different purpose.

“Whether or not we are able,” Master Billaba eventually managed, “we cannot justify making no effort to try.”

Something in Shmi softened a little at that. She asked, “What is your Code?”

Leia had enough self-control to make it through, “There is no emotion, there is peace,” with only rolling her eyes, which no one noticed because she was still facing the counter.

But, “There is no ignorance, there is knowledge,” brought the delayed realization that Leia was not herself yet as she burst into hysterical laughter, half collapsing into her arms.

Her awareness couldn’t find anyone else in the room, she was too trapped in the sudden attack her mind had launched, completely unprompted. It wasn’t even funny, part of her knew even as she felt herself shaking with noise. It wasn’t funny that they hadn’t known, that Luke hadn’t known, that Leia hadn’t known, that Vader hadn’t known about them, even having been trained in using the Force.

The hell there wasn’t ignorance.

(“I know.”)

Sickness and spite had been her long-time companions by this point, but even Leia was shocked to realize that once out, she had no idea how to control them. She didn’t think she was laughing anymore, but she could still feel herself shaking, her mind throwing images of Endor, of Vader at the head of the table at Bespin, of kissing Luke on Hoth because fuck Han and his overinflated ego and why was she even doing this?

(“Somehow…I’ve always known.”)

“Leia,” that was Shmi’s voice and Leia wasn’t laughing or screaming but now she couldn’t say anything, it was too much, all of it.

(“You’re my only hope.”)

He’d known. Obi-Wan had known who they were, what they were. And he’d still been ignorant. He’d thought Luke would never realize it, wouldn’t hesitate even if he knew.

Or maybe, maybe he had known. Maybe that was why he had lied. Because he knew that Luke would know and once Luke realized he knew, that he’d always known, Luke wouldn’t do it. Wouldn’t kill Vader.

But then that meant Obi-Wan hadn’t known Vader could be saved.

“Don’t come for me.”

“Give her space,” a familiar voice, but caught in the past Leia’s sense of the present was slipping away. “She will be fine.”

There was a price for ignorance. It had to exist. Leia’s whole life was unfailing proof of that. Her presence here, unknown and undetected, was its confirmation. Some things couldn’t be known. Some things couldn’t be changed.

And some things could.

“Do whatever is necessary,” Vader had said, his eyes the price of all the things he hadn’t known (hadn’t let himself know).

“Don’t look back,” Leia rasped, leaning into the hand that rested on her back, the kitchen coming back into focus.

She knew what she was going to do.

Master Billaba was shaken. She wouldn’t say anything about what had happened, had only reluctantly accepted Leia’s apologies before running away to hide and meditate.

Anakin wanted to meditate (which was not even the weirdest thing that had happened today, and how?), but he hadn’t been invited and didn’t really want to meditate with Master Billaba, so that was out.

But standing in the kitchen doorway, watching Leia’s hand occasionally shake as she spooned filling into dough, watching her knuckles stand out white on her hands as she pinched each pocket closed, was not helping.

He couldn’t even watch Padmé, because Padmé was hovering, lips pinched tightly together, waiting for… something. From Leia.

Looking at his mom, Anakin hoped for reassurance from her, but while her face was calm, he knew the look in her eyes.

Leia was in pain and Mom couldn’t fix it. Could only watch, no matter how much it hurt. And Leia wouldn’t even let Mom hug her, to sing and try and chase the dreams away. To carry the pain together, to make it hurt less.

The Jedi didn’t always know what Anakin meant about having dreams without sleeping, but he wondered if Leia knew.

Leia could use the Force.

And that… that was a whole new problem and one Anakin didn’t know how to deal with. He was already trying to figure out how he was going to save Obi-Wan when no one was going to help him. He didn’t need to be dealing with Leia’s problems too.

Chapter Text

It was a testament to Leia’s excellent upbringing that she not only made it through dinner without having another breakdown, but she made it through dinner and helped coax everyone else back into a better mood.

Her mother would have been so proud.

Her other (potential) mother was clearly ready to jump down her throat now that it was over. So Leia did the only thing that made sense.

“Walk with me,” she ordered, grabbing Anakin by the elbow and steering him towards the door. He blustered, but didn’t (couldn’t?) resist, and Leia was able to smile and point at him as she passed Padmé saying, “Don’t worry, I’m not going alone.”

It worked. More or less.

She let him go as soon as they had rounded the corner and were out of sight of the house.

“What was that?” Anakin demanded, rubbing his elbow.

Baby. She hadn’t grabbed him that hard. “Nothing. I just needed to get out.”

“You could have grabbed Master Billaba,” Anakin muttered.

No. That was…not going to happen. “She was busy.”

“She was not.”

“She didn’t want to come with me,” Leia tried, wandering down the block, wondering how far to take them.

Anakin gave her two seconds before saying, “No, but you didn’t actually ask her.”

“I know when I’m not wanted,” Leia shot back, stretching her arms over her head.

“So you just value her disinterest more than mine?”

Well, that was caustic. And deserved. “Maybe a little?”

She didn’t try any sort of innocent look as she turned to him, just met his gaze head on. His face scrunched for a moment, then he rolled his eyes and sighed. “Where are we going?”

“Nowhere,” Leia said, turning them at the next corner. “I just figured we’d loop around a few times.”

He fidgeted while walking, quite a feat. “Do you want to be walking or just not be inside?”

“Why?” she managed to keep most of the suspicion out of her voice.

“Can we look at your speeder?”

Her eyes narrowed. “I assume that you saw it earlier today.”

“Well, yeah. That’s why I’d like another look at it.”

Two answers warred inside Leia’s chest. On the one hand, he was going to criticize her work. She knew it. She was slightly above passable when it came to mechanical hijinks, and knew when she was outstripped. On the other hand, if she had broken something and Anakin noticed something dangerous it could be fixed.

It would be embarrassing, but much less terrible than accidentally blowing Shmi up.

Leia didn’t think Shmi would miss the kinds of sounds or smells that would prelude impending doom, but given her track record of poor decision making today, Leia also wasn’t willing to take chances.

“Okay, but you’re not going to be impressed.”

He didn’t seem even slightly surprised by the warning. The wretch.

It wasn’t as bad as Leia had made it out to be. The speeder itself wasn’t impressive. Probably an almost twenty year out of date model, with the body modified to give it a ten to fifteen years out of date look.

Not pretty, but Anakin cared more about speed than looks. If he had to choose.

Its guts were pretty interesting. “You’ve been rebuilding it.”

“When I have time,” Leia admitted, “and money.”

Which made Anakin feel a lot better, actually. It had flown pretty well while he was in it. There were noises, but they were just needs-a-bit-of-tweaking kinds of things. He’d hoped when he opened it up the component parts wouldn’t secretly be garbage.

Most of them weren’t. But he could tell what Leia hadn’t replaced yet. “These will have to go. Soon.”

“I’m working on it,” she didn’t exactly grumble, and he probably could have asked instead of just telling. But this was the speeder his mom flew and she needed to be safe. After a few more minutes of him poking around, she asked, “How bad is it?”

He dragged his head out to look at her, surprised by how much she was bracing herself. Was the speeder that touchy a subject? “I mean, for a second,” third? Fourth? “hand piece of scrap metal, she runs pretty smoothly. You found good replacement parts.” He squinted at some of the wiring. “Seems weirdly cobbled together though.”

“We need an updated power source,” Leia admitted, and Anakin agreed although if it was really a problem he’d tell Mom she shouldn’t fly it at all. Leia seemed to have worked around that okay. Safely.

“Yeah, but your steering is the real mess.”

“We have a full, safe range of motion,” Leia objected.

“At a crawl.”

“At Theed legal speeds,” Leia corrected. “I’d get a different speeder for Coruscant. I’m not crazy.”

She wasn’t. And while this wasn’t as fine-tuned as, oh, a pod racer, she did seem to have balanced safety with functionality pretty well. But her workarounds were probably what was causing some of the weird noises, sitting on parts that wouldn’t damage the setup, but wouldn’t ignore it either.

“I’ll need to look at it some more,” Anakin sighed, absently wiping his hands on his cloak. “And stop by a junk dealer. We can probably— Do they have those here?”

“A junk yard,” Leia said, nodding in a random direction. “Outside of town. It’s where I usually get my parts.”

Probably good enough then. They’d be here long enough it shouldn’t be any trouble for Anakin to convince his mom to go down there. It wasn’t like Obi-Wan—

He couldn’t—He couldn’t stay here. Obi-Wan was in danger, he had to…

“Hey.” She wasn’t touching him. Leia wasn’t touching him, but she was leaning close, watching him carefully. “It’s going to be alright.”

He raged, how dare she say that, she had no idea—

She was gone.

Physically she was standing in front of him, but he couldn’t feel her, couldn’t sense her at all. She was braced, balanced, ready to hit him if he came any closer. Like she knew, knew, how angry he was, like she was ready to fight him.

It was enough to jar him back into the moment. No one… no one fought him when he got angry. No one treated him like a threat. The Council ignored him or stared him down, Obi-Wan tried to talk him out of it, Padmé had maybe argued with him but even she’d just run away.

Leia…looked ready to take him down.

It was sort of frightening.

“Sorry,” he managed, pulling his feelings back in, bundling them up to deal with later. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—“

“It’s fine,” Leia relaxed, a tiny flicker of her presence reappeared. But everything about her was cold and stiff. “I shouldn’t have said that. It was stupid.”

Which was worse, because even if it was a lie, it was the lie that Anakin most wanted to hear, and for her to just throw it off like that…

Neither of them said anything else, but they both started moving to go back to the house.

By the time they made it back, most of the guests were leaving. Leia let Jar Jar grab her in a tight hug, savoring the uncomplicated affection and kindness of his feelings. “You are being okay now, alright?”

“I’ll be fine,” she promised, actually smiling. “Shmi will take care of me.”

He nodded, but added, “We're being your friend too. No being all sad by your lonesome. You like fish?”

It seemed like a random tangent, but Leia answered, “Dead or alive?”

“They're being tasty munchies,” Jar Jar grinned. “But lovely for watching. You should come to Gungan City. You'd not be sad there.”

“Let me check my schedule.” She gave him one last hug and he bowed out of the house, waving to everyone left as he headed for the speeder.

Master Billaba was still arguing with Anakin over who would be staying the night, and trying (with poor success) to suggest that everyone return to the palace.

If she got Shmi to budge on the issue, it would be a portent.

“If we were in easy reach of each other—” Master Billaba was saying.

“Anakin can have my room,” Leia threw in, watching Master Billaba’s lips compress. “I’ll fit better on the couch.” All their attention was on her now, and it wasn’t pleasant, but it was probably better than an escalating fight. “I think they’re waiting for you outside,” Leia added for Master Billaba’s benefit.

And there was the woman’s temper. So she didn’t like being so obviously handled. Good to know.

The Jedi turned to Anakin. “You remember Master Windu’s instructions about the focus of this mission?”

“Yes,” he only half rolled his eyes. “I know it’s not a vacation. Don’t worry, I’ll keep Mom and Leia safe.”

Leia wished she liked Master Billaba enough to admit to a similar level of skepticism at Anakin’s promise. As it was, she held her peace. It was Shmi that said, “We’ll rejoin you at the palace first thing tomorrow. For breakfast, if you’d prefer. But I don’t sleep well at the palace. Neither does Leia.”

Which was rude. Not only was that Leia’s secret to keep, it wasn’t even true.

Probably.

If Master Billaba thought it was significant in any way, she didn’t say anything, just bowed herself out with a last long look at Anakin. Which left just the Skywalkers to reassure Threepio that it was alright, they’d already made arrangements to fit everyone in the house comfortably and if he could just grab some spare blankets it would be the most helpful.

Drifting off to sleep downstairs, Leia wondered if Anakin would notice anything off about her room.

It was still dark when Leia’s comm went off. Probably wouldn’t be for much longer, and Leia didn’t need the sleep. But it was still a bit irritating to hear Moteé’s voice asking if Leia wanted to join them for morning practice before breakfast.

It was a trap. Leia still said yes.

She told Threepio where she was going so he could tell Shmi. And then she thanked every star that she’d been too tired to drag her luggage upstairs yesterday and it was just sitting by the door. No having to sneak into her own room and risk waking Anakin to get at her own clothes.

She skipped eating anything and was waiting outside when Moteé arrived, looking only slightly more awake than Leia. But she’d brought extra caf and Leia was able to sip at it as they sped through the greying light of the early morning.

“I wasn’t sure you’d make it,” Padmé said when Leia and Moteé walked in. “Did Shmi and Ani keep you up?”

“We had an early night,” Leia said, picking a target and loosening her shoulders. “Are we just doing shooting this morning?”

“And hand to hand,” Sabé said, walking past Leia and squeezing her shoulder. “If you’re up to it. If not, we’ll just trade pairs.”

Dormé wasn’t here, Leia realized, frowning. But instead of asking she just said, “I’m up to it.”

She didn’t think it was an accident that Padmé and Sabé took the targets on either side of her. She knew it wasn’t an accident that she got paired with Padmé for combat training.

Limiting herself to the moves and style of the handmaidens was always the hardest part of this exercise. Leia’d lived without conscious knowledge of the Force for long enough that she didn’t have to watch her speed and strength like Luke had used to, when he’d gotten far enough in his training. But her habit of accumulating moves in every style she’d ever been exposed to, no matter how good it’d been on the run, did her no favors here.

At least, not while practicing exchanging hits and blocks. She’d thought Padmé was smarter than to invite Leia to an open spar.

“Are you serious?” Leia asked, mostly recovered from her sleep deprivation at this point, but still tired after the focus of target practice and the energy Padmé had been putting into their hand to hand. Leia wasn’t breathing too heavily, but she thought she might be more winded than Padmé, which was embarrassing. “Right now?”

“We have time,” Padmé’s movements were slow, Leia noticed. Maybe she was more tired than she was letting on. “Why not? Can’t leave all the saving and competence up to the Jedi.”

If that was supposed to be fishing for something, it was a poor effort. If it was supposed to be goading, it did slightly better.

“Alright, fine. What’s a win?”

“Until yield,” Padmé said, and smiled at Leia’s look. “Yeah, that’s a bad idea. Five seconds immobile?”

Tough, but it was more Leia’s specialty than Padmé’s. Take the advantage and make Padmé regret it, or give Padmé a handicap instead? “If you want.”

“Oh I do.”

That should have been Leia’s first clue.

Actually, Leia’s first clue should have been that Padmé had invited her to morning practice, and had opted for their first occasion with relative privacy after Leia’s breakdown to be in combat instead of nagging her until Leia spilled all her secrets.

The spar and win conditions were just extras.

Basic practice rules included plenty of addenda for not doling out injuries that couldn’t be hidden or would impede hours of sitting. They had more intense training sessions from time to time, but no one in the room had any illusions about how valuable their pretty faces were. Which made practice combat fun and interesting on most days.

Today it was just brutal. And exhausting.

Getting Padmé to her knees, her arms locked behind her, her head bent almost completely upside down wasn’t as satisfying as it should have been, no matter how many swears poured out of her mouth as she collapsed onto the mat when Leia let her go at the end of five seconds.

“How,” Padmé demanded, lying flat on her back and gasping for breath, her face still flushed from the head rush, “did you do that?”

“Practice,” Leia didn’t flop down, but did fold into a cross legged seat just out of Padmé’s reach. “And very unscrupulous friends.”

“We need to meet them,” Sabé said, arms folded as she lounged against the wall, faintly smiling. “And discuss the great disservice they have done you by setting such a bad example.”

Leia wasn’t sure what her face was doing as she said, “But I win.”

“Do you?” It was impossible to miss the implications of that question.

So Leia threw back, “You won’t be able to meet them. They’re all dead.”

Functionally, if not literally. And Leia felt a little bad for causing those looks on everyone’s faces. But she’d also been bullied into being here as a pressure tactic, so they shouldn’t be surprised that she would fight back.

“I’m going to go clean up,” she said. “I think Shmi and Anakin will be here soon.”

She passed Master Billaba in the hall, probably just having finished some early morning saber practice. Leia didn’t say anything, just looked straight ahead.

“I’m sorry,” Padmé said, her skirts rustling as she took a seat on the ground instead of on the bench next to Leia. It made for uncomfortable positioning, even if it as supposed to be conciliatory. “I didn’t mean to be so difficult this morning.”

“You did,” Leia countered, bracing her arms on the back of the seat and staring off into the garden hedge. She couldn’t hear anyone right now, but that could change at any moment. They were taking an early lunch, but soon there would be the usual afternoon crowd. “But as the master of being difficult, I can hardly complain about it.”

“I wish you would.” Leia blinked at Padmé’s earnestness. “It’s not like you don’t know how to complain.”

This conversation was always going to be awful, but Leia had hoped it wouldn’t be this awful this fast. “Yeah, but I’d give Anakin mastery of that skill. I’m still a novice compared to him.”

“Why don’t you like him? You were the one who recommended we should bring him.”

Leia felt her fingers twitch, but made her face stay calm. “What makes you think I don’t like him?”

She didn’t actually want to talk about this either, but if she was being obvious…

Padmé frowned, plucked some grass growing at the feet of the bench. “What is it that you’re trying not to talk about?”

“I thought we were talking about Anakin?” Leia countered.

Padmé actually hmphed. “Okay, why won’t Master Billaba talk to you?”

That was a harder one to answer. As irrational as Leia’s response to two lines of the Jedi Code must have seemed, it made no sense that Master Billaba wouldn’t talk to her at all anymore. “I have no idea.”

More grass met a vicious end by Padmé’s fingers. “Is there anything you trust me with anymore?”

It was like a slap to the face. Leia’s mouth worked, but no words came. After a moment of silence, Padmé looked up, face frozen. Nodded. “Right. No then. Okay.”

She would have left. She should have and Leia should have let her, but something fluttered and almost shattered in Leia’s chest and she grabbed Padmé’s hand on instinct, making sure Padmé couldn’t go.

It took three tries to stop, “I think you’re my mother,” from accidentally escaping. But the persistence of that impulse told Leia everything she needed to know about what was really wrong here.

“Please don’t go,” was all she managed. In the weakest, most pathetic voice. If she’d done it on purpose, Leia would be the worst person in the galaxy. As it was, she was still humiliated. “Please don’t.”

This time Padmé joined Leia on the bench, sitting close and wrapping an arm around her. Leia leaned into, hid her face in Padmé’s shoulder, tried to even out her shaking breaths.

“It’s alright,” Padmé whispered, smoothing across Leia’s hair. “I’m staying.”

But that didn’t change the truth. It didn’t change the fact that a little more than a year ago, Padmé had been dead, destroyed by the machinations of the Sith and the failures of Leia’s biological father. Dead in a galaxy that had just barely survived the torments of Padmé’s lover, would soon kill her son, and would leave a daughter so bereaved and unhinged that when the ghost of her second greatest enemy (third?) offered to let her run away to the past, she would take it.

Leia was doing everything in her power to prevent that future, and it may have cost Cordé’s life.

She didn’t know. And now there was no way to find out.

And she had to live with that.

(To say nothing of Padmé Amidala accepting Anakin Skywalker—)

“Talk to me,” Padmé whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I miss her.”

It was all Leia could say, and it was so inadequate. She felt the waves of grief and sorrow from Padmé, the aching and longing that Leia could so perfectly understand and identify with. Padmé didn’t say anything, just held Leia tighter, hiding her own face in Leia’s shoulder and shaking with grief and rage, barely contained. Barely processed.

But they couldn’t afford to stay here.

By the effort of so much practice, Leia pulled herself together, leaned back, brushed away her few tears and thumbed away Padmé’s as the senator took a deep breath and tried to compose herself.

“I don’t know how you do it,” she half smiled at Leia. “Just…keep going. When everything inside is like this.”

“Yes you do,” Leia countered. “You do it too.”

For different causes and different reasons. But Padmé had never been able to stand back and hold still while other people were in pain, no matter how much she was hurting.

And Leia liked to think, hoped, that while her stubbornness and inhuman perseverance might come from her biological father, maybe this—this fighting spirit, this passion for what was right— was Padmé’s inheritance.

Maybe Leia didn’t have to regret the fact that she had come to exist by destroying this person. Maybe it was alright that she had ever been born.

Maybe she wasn’t just Vader’s legacy.

“Do whatever is necessary.”

“I don’t blame you,” Padmé said, hands clasping Leia’s, eyes boring into hers. “I never have and I never will.”

A deep, shaking breath. “I know.”

There was a pause before Padmé said, “We’re sending her off tonight. Just the handmaidens. Will you come with us?” And when Leia didn’t answer. “She’d want you to be there.”

This was what Leia had admired, all those years. What she had regretted never seeing when her father had talked about his dearest friend. This, Leia could live with. Look forward to.

“Yes, I’ll come.”

“Thank you,” Padmé whispered, leaning her forehead against Leia’s, her relief and admiration a clarion call in the Force (so much like—).

“And don’t look back.”

Chapter Text

Anakin helped his mom with the dishes, reaching out in the Force every so often to check and see if Master Billaba was on her way back. Or at the palace.

Tracking Leia was nightmare worth of effort.

“She’ll be back soon,” his mom said, not pausing or even looking up at him. Not that she wouldn’t look at him. They’d met each other’s eyes off and on all day as she’d taken him around, showing him the ships that they were preparing to send out, the schools where the children he’d met last night were studying, the training camps where refugees were being prepared for planet specific employment.

Handing Jaina Solo the picture her son had asked them to pass along had been Anakin’s favorite moment. Mom’s too, he thought. “I’m not worried.”

That was why she hadn’t looked at him. To show she was calm. Anakin remembered that habit.

“You worry about everything,” his mother corrected, this time looking at him and smiling, everything about it so real and warm. “Because you have a big heart.”

She put her hand over his chest and he let her, knowing (feeling) how much it settled her to feel his heartbeat under her fingers.

Whatever else had changed, she’d told him, that hadn’t. It was just like she remembered, from before he had even been born.

“Leia doesn’t let me worry about her,” Anakin said after his mom had had a moment. “She doesn’t let anybody worry about anything.”

His mom considered this. “She does prefer to do all of the worrying herself.”

Did she? Anakin wasn’t sure she worried very much at all. Leia seemed…very cold. To him.

Except yesterday, when she’d been a series of fractures in the Force, breaking under the pressure of her own laughter. Hysterical and haunting.

“If you say so.”

Mom didn’t seem as pleased about that, but she also didn’t scold him. She knew that once she frowned, Anakin would stop, would think about what he’d done, what he’d said. She squeezed his arm, kissed his cheek, let him reflect on it. But stayed right there with him.

He couldn’t explain how much of a relief that was. Obi-Wan had—

The snarl of emotion inside him surged and receded. Surged and receded.

“What’s wrong?”

Mom wasn’t looking at him again, but Anakin could tell she was paying attention. He always knew when she was watching him. “I don’t want to say it. It’s a premonition.”

And Mom understood. Knew what speaking sadness could do. Who it could give ideas.

“Are you doing everything that you can do?” she asked instead, glancing up at him as he squirmed.

No. He was obeying his orders, waiting, “Everything that I’m allowed to.”

“Allowed?” The way Mom said it felt weighty and tight. Anakin had thought he’d been going crazy, being so sensitive to how the Jedi did things, how they talked about them. It was a relief to see that Mom spotted it too, objected to it.

“It’s not—“ It wasn’t just their fault. He’d taken Leia’s advice (and she’d practically lied to him) about not rushing into things because it had seemed reasonable. Padmé still needed to be protected and Anakin was willing to do that.

But Padmé was here now, and safe, and Obi-Wan wasn’t and it just didn’t feel right, leaving him like this.

“They know more than I do,” Anakin tried again, because even after everything he’d learned at Padmé’s meeting, he’d bet Leia and the Council had plenty of other secrets. “They’re trying to do their best. They gave me orders. I agreed to them…”

“You wish you hadn’t,” this time it was harder to tell what his mom was thinking. He didn’t like it when she was distant like this. Hiding things. Trying to protect him.

He was a Jedi now. He would protect her. “I wish I knew what to do,” he admitted. “I…I think I do. Sometimes. And then it feels wrong and I don’t know.“

It was all so confusing. Even without Leia being Force sensitive and whatever was going on with her and Master Billaba, and Padmé was up to something but Anakin didn’t really get it, and he loved working with his mom but he couldn’t stay here.

“Master Ani,” Threepio almost dashed into the kitchen, “you’re being called. I heard something upstairs and thought it might be for Shmi but it wasn’t, so it must be you.”

When he reached for his pocket, Anakin found his comm exactly where he thought he’d put it. “It’s not mine. Must be Leia’s.”

“Oh dear. She isn’t even at home. I hope it’s not terribly important.”

Mom was wiping her hands as she said, “If she left it, she must not have been expecting anything. She’s with Padmé and the handmaidens, I’m not trying to reach her, who does that leave?”

“Senator Sadashassa,” Threepio suggested, his voice pitching higher, more anxious. “I don’t think Senator Darsana contacts her directly, but I suppose it could be Senator Organa, if he can’t reach Senator Amidala.”

A thought made Anakin stutter, “Obi-Wan called her before.”

It probably wasn’t him. There was no reason it would be. But Anakin was grateful when his mom said, “I’ll go and check. If it seems urgent, we can try and reach Captain Typho. He should be near them, but available.”

It wasn’t Obi-Wan. And it wasn’t any of the people Threepio had mentioned. It was a guard named Rani, checking to see if Leia was on her way back home.

Apparently, once the memorial was over, she’d ditched her escort.

“Great,” Anakin muttered, running his hands through his hair. Mom looked annoyed. “Why did she do that?”

“I don’t know,” Mom said, turning the lights off with an almost snapping gesturing. “But when we find her, I expect a good explanation.”

It had been years since Anakin had heard that tone. He would have said he didn’t miss it, but it sounded a lot better when it wasn’t directed at him. “Any idea where she might be?”

“A few,” Mom paused at the door to grab a wrap. “We should hurry.”

Night was coming and Leia was missing. Anakin didn’t know all the whys of his mom being anxious, but those two were reasons enough.

“You’re gonna get in trouble.”

“Bite me,” Leia muttered under her breath, glancing around to make sure no one had suddenly appeared to hear her. “I need a moment, and once I’m home I won’t get it.”

If she looked straight down from where she leaned against the canal wall, she could make out the subtle, choppy impression of her brother’s face in the water. She didn’t need to see it to feel him wrapped around her mind, like a thin white blaze, helping to keep her isolated and to herself. “Are you angry?”

“Dumb question,” she retorted, and felt his acknowledgment. She’d been angry for a very long time. Then she sighed. “I’m not just angry anymore.”

“Mom loves you.”

It was moments like this when Leia felt the gulfs between her and Luke the most. When he said Mom he meant Padmé, confident and unabashed, delighted by every good thing about her and by being given the chance to see her in this past, even if she didn’t know he’d existed.

Leia heard Mom and thought of Mother, Mama, who was always a queen and never a senator. Who was kind and compassionate, strong and daring, the stalwart pillar that had protected their people while allowing Papa to organize and execute the rebellion. She felt guilty for not thinking first of Padmé, and then felt guilty imagining how guilty she would feel if she ever did think of Padmé first instead of the woman who had actually raised her.

Leia was happy that Padmé was her biological mother. But “Mom” was…

“You can love both of them,” Luke added.

She didn’t say, “Easy for you to say that,” and didn’t allow herself to think it as more than a passing thought, not one she directed to Luke.

But she got the feeling he caught it anyway. “Why do you like making this difficult for yourself? You do this to Grandmother too.”

She would have argued, but the sound of a speeder caught her attention. It could be nothing, but she scrubbed under her eyes, making sure the last of the tears she had come here to shed were gone before anyone came into view.

Yeah, she was definitely in trouble.

“You left your comm,” Shmi said as she almost stormed over, arms crossed as she did a visual check for damage. “Rani wanted to know if you were back yet.”

“I assume you told her no?”

“Leia…”

At least Luke wasn’t snickering. He hadn’t been making very much fun of her since yesterday, and Leia was smart enough to guess why. “I needed a moment. I broke off when we reached the palace and decided to walk partway back. I was going to call you as soon as I was done here.”

“With the comm you left at the house?” Anakin demanded, also crossing his arms. And no, he did not get to take that tone with her.

“With the Force,” Leia rolled her eyes.

He froze. “What?”

She was not going to give him a demonstration, and she couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed something about her last night, so she said, “In my mind. You know.”

His mouth was starting to hang open. “But…that only works between Force sensitives. And only masters do it.”

What?

Somewhere, in the back of her mind, Leia felt Luke’s chagrin. Deciding to avoid any conversation on her probable levels of training, Leia went for, “You didn’t know your mother is Force sensitive? She reaches out to you all the time.”

Much, much more subtly than any of Anakin’s oozing about, but he had to have noticed it was deliberate. Leia could tell the difference between what Shmi did and being around Padmé or someone else she just knew well.

Score one for distraction, Anakin blustered a bit, looked at his mother, seemed to capsize in his posture and in the Force, and Shmi was now focused on reassuring him that it didn’t bother her and she knew he loved her and it was fine, she didn’t really think of herself as using the Force anyway, so it wasn’t a problem…

“Are you going to dive into the canal?” Luke’s amusement almost made Leia feel less guilty. “Or take your punishment like a professional?”

“Professional what?” Leia shot back, hovering just out of Shmi’s sight as Anakin was coaxed back into a good mood.

“That is the question.”

Anakin had perked up enough to start glaring over his mother’s shoulder to say, “If you can reach her mind to mind—and how did you—why didn’t you tell her before Rani had to call?”

There was no good answer to that question, so Leia settled for a shrug. One that Shmi caught, and made Leia’s grandmother scowl in a way that Leia hadn’t seen from anyone since her childhood.

“I do not know everything that is happening,” Shmi said slowly, pausing to take a deep breath. “But I do know that Padmé considers us to still be in danger, my son’s teacher is missing, and you,” her finger came up in a jab, “are always inserting yourself into someone else’s trouble. On top of your own. Do you expect me not to worry? Have I demonstrated such little regard for you?”

Each question was a punch to the gut. Leia stayed standing, her arms now crossed, but she could feel her knees growing wobbly under her. “No.”

“You expect,” Shmi continued, “you demand a level of caution and paranoia from the people around you that makes them equally uncomfortable and concerned for your sanity. If you expect so much and have justification for these fears, why do you think this does not apply to you?”

It wasn’t glee that Leia was feeling from her brother, but she wasn’t getting any silent backup from that corner either. She was almost feeling lightheaded and wondered if she had forgotten to breathe. She knew her mouth was aching, trying to hold its tight barrier against her objections.

Nothing Shmi had said so far had been wrong.

“Well?” Shmi demanded, and Leia felt even worse as she spotted the start of tears in her grandmother’s eyes.

Shmi Skywalker did not cry. Not even for Leia Organa.

But— But she wasn’t Leia Organa anymore, was she?

And that mattered. Because here, Leia Organa was never going to exist, which meant she was basically dead. And the body that she had inhabited, the one that was walking around and changing things, from the perspective of Leia Organa, it was a spare. An anomaly. Superfluous if it couldn’t do its one job.

But Leia Skywalker. She was Shmi’s family. She belonged here, she mattered.

And sometimes (mostly recently), Leia had forgotten that.

“Sometimes,” Leia knew this was going to hurt. To say out loud, to see Shmi’s face as she heard it, “Sometimes, I forget who was buried. And who wasn’t.”

Anakin didn’t get it, it was all over his face that he didn’t have a clue. Shmi though.

She knew.

Leia was wrapped in a hug, pulled in tight, almost creaking as Shmi’s arms closed around her. There was the softest whisper in Leia’s ear of, “You are mine now.” Sharp and possessive, vast and infinitely sad. “I won’t let you be buried. Not yet.”

A flash, not quite a vision. Something tiny, so small, supposed to be warm, still and cold. Buried in the desert, swallowed in the sand…

She was pulled so tightly against Shmi that Leia couldn’t move her arms to hug her grandmother back. She wasn’t sure it would even help. So she said, “I’m sorry,” and, “I’ll do better.”

Shmi eased back, cradled Leia’s face, pressed their foreheads together, and (this shouldn’t be) a single tear slipped down her cheek. “You are everything I was never promised,” Shmi whispered. “All that I was still missing. I cannot own you, but my heart knows that you are, that you always will be, mine.”

“The desert brought you to me,” Leia remembered Shmi saying. “In the rage and in the storm.”

Sent by Darth Vader, who was once Anakin Skywalker. Who gave his daughter to his mother, someone safe, someone who could help Leia fix things.

“I didn’t know this was broken,” Leia thought desperately, leaning into that touch. “No one told me. I didn’t know.”

“Didn’t you?” Luke asked, the closest to condemnation she’d heard from him in a long time. “Isn’t that why you asked her to come with you?”

Not because it was what Anakin wanted, not because anyone had told Leia to, but because it was what had Shmi wanted, Leia thought, trying to remember those first days in the desert. Because she’d been sent to fix things, and something right in front of her was broken.

“Don’t break it again,” she told herself, knowing Luke caught it, feeling the tension around him as something about that made him anxious. “Don’t screw up.”

“I love you,” Leia whispered, knowing that it wasn’t enough, it was never enough.

“Against your better judgement?” Shmi asked, and it should have been teasing but carried too much truth.

“Sometimes,” Leia admitted, years of regrets leaning on her memories, “my heart is smarter than my head.”

(She could almost feel Han laughing at that.)

“Maybe,” Shmi said, pulling back, “we should fix that.”

Probably. “But first, we should get inside,” Leia said, looking back to where Anakin was standing, hunched and shifting. Shmi looked between them, and Leia knew she should worry more about what that frown meant.

“Yeah, let’s head back,” Anakin said, stalking towards the speeder. “Where it’s safe.”

There wasn’t any particular sense of danger on the street, but Leia didn’t call him out on it. If she was feeling this unbalanced, who knew how he was taking it.

Two days of Anakin’s increasing fidgets later, a second Jedi arrived on Naboo.

Leia was not introduced to them (and wondered at the deliberate exclusion), but Shmi took them on her rounds and introduced them to the RRM, which meant Anakin had no justification to lurk at his mother’s shoulder and Leia had a tall, lanky shadow tailing her around the palace as she worked with Sabé and Versé on the list of systems to integrate next.

This lasted for a day and a half, with both Anakin and Leia now staying at the palace (where she slept just fine), and the new mystery Jedi staying with Shmi, before Leia woke in the middle of the night to a series of precise beeps from her comm.

She sighed and swung out of bed, not bothering to check a chrono.

She knew exactly what time it was.

Chapter Text

It would have been a problem if the ship was in the main hangar. But since Jedi not specifically on call to protect the senator were apparently relegated to a tertiary landing zone, Anakin didn’t have too much trouble sneaking onto the ship and getting it prepped for flight without attracting any attention.

It didn’t hurt that he had the Force to help him muffle any noises he might have normally made.

He did have to be careful of the cameras though.

But when he was able to dash into the ship, closing everything and taking three quick steps to the pilot’s seat, he was as giddy with relief as he was nervous about the trip.

If he was lucky, Master Billaba would kill him before Master Windu could.

He powered up the ship and took off in a series of maneuvers that would have left Obi-Wan pressed into his seat, muttering under his breath even when the ship didn’t so much as twitch at the smooth if reckless movements. Since Obi-Wan wasn’t there, Anakin also let himself drop almost to the treetops and skim along their surface, getting some good distance from Theed before he pulled up towards the star-studded sky.

Even in all of this mess, flying was just right.

“You really need to pay more attention to your surroundings.”

Anakin yelped and jerked, the ship banking hard enough that there was a small thud and some swearing from—from Leia.

“What the—“

“If you crash us,” she said, moving around his seat to start pressing buttons on his right, “Shmi’s going to kill both of our ghosts.”

“How did you—“ he started, before, “Are those Kamino’s coordinates?”

If she knew exactly where it was, maybe this would be worth the surprise. He’d been ready to just head towards the Rishi Maze and trust his luck.

“No,” she said, and Anakin nearly jumped, trying to look over and make sure she wasn’t summoning a rescue. If she interfered… “He’s not on Kamino. At least, that wasn’t where he called me from.”

“Then where—“

“Here,” Leia said, finishing inputting the nav data. Anakin blinked as his screens directed him to the fastest path to Geonosis.

If Anakin had gone to Kamino first, and Obi-Wan hadn’t been there, would he have been able to get to Geonosis? It grated, but he said, “Thanks.”

“I did tell you the point of waiting was to make a plan.”

He wasn’t sure if it would have been better or worse if she’d acknowledged his gratitude. “So this was the plan all along?”

“One of a few,” Leia said, folding herself into a seat on the floor, leaning against the console and extending a leg to brace her foot against the opposite wall. Good thing she was so small. “I figured you’d get tired of waiting before I had to try goading you into doing something stupid.”

She said it so casually, Anakin ground his teeth to avoid snapping back at her. It was the worst kind of condescension and she was the one who’d decided she couldn’t go without him. “Well, aren’t you lucky then.”

“No.”

She didn’t elaborate, but her tone had at least shifted. It wasn’t as bad.

She didn’t say anything else as he guided them away from the planet, or when he shifted them into hyperspace. She didn’t seem bothered by her position on the floor either, made no move to try and see what he was doing. It was eerie.

When the silence was thick enough it was choking him, Anakin asked, “So what’s the rest of the plan?”

He wasn’t sure if he expected her to answer. When she didn’t speak right away, he glanced down and saw that her head was tipped sideways, her mouth hanging slightly open.

She was sleeping. On the floor of the cockpit.

“You have got to be kidding me,” he grumbled, setting the controls and standing, shrugging out of his cloak and draping it over her, making sure to tuck it around her shoulders so it wouldn’t slide down. “Seriously?”

Sure, he’d been planning on meditating most of the time he was in hyperspace, but there was no way she would have known that. She snuck onto the ship just to take an interstellar nap?

Obi-Wan deserved a better rescue that that.

It was odd, trying to settle into some sort of meditation while listening to her breathe. The tempo was wrong for having another person there. Too slow, too inconsistent. Unconscious.

His fingers twitched in his lap and Anakin tried to move past his anxieties (what if they were wrong, what if they were too late?), seeking calm and reassurance from the Force. It wobbled as he brushed against it, warping in ways that told and offered him nothing.

The future was always in motion, Master Yoda had said a million times. Even if Anakin could see something of what was coming, what would he do with it? Would Leia believe him? Would she let him make their plans?

Somehow, he doubted it.

There was a crick in her neck when Leia jerked back into consciousness, and one of her legs was tingly and numb. These distractions only held for a moment before she realized there was a prickly, white hot presence beside her. Blinking her eyes to a semi-functionality, Leia thought Anakin might be doing some sort of meditation. He hadn’t reacted to her movement yet.

Shifting and trying to stretch, Leia pulled an arm out from under her blanket and—

Stopped. Blinked.

Oh.

“Space is cold,” the words were stilted and almost slurred, and Anakin didn’t move as he spoke. But apparently he was paying attention.

“So I’ve been told,” Leia answered, thinking of her brother but only feeling silence inside of her. “Thank you.”

He did look at her for that one, seeming almost as bewildered as she had felt recognizing the cloak. “I do have manners,” Leia told him as she stood, wobbling slightly as her numb leg failed to tell her if it was properly on the floor or not. His hand shot out to steady her, but she leaned away as she found her balance.

To cover, she held out the cloak, as if he had been asking for it, making sure not to pull away until he had a firm grip, even when his fingers brushed her hand.

Nothing happened when she touched him. Nothing ever did. Still…

The blue of hyperspace washed out Anakin’s skin, making him look colder than he probably was as he shrugged his cloak back on. He had to stand to do it, which made the space even smaller, but Leia forced herself to relax as she waited for him to sit again.

He hesitated, looking over at her and asking, “Do you want…” his hand waving towards pilot’s seat.

“No,” Leia shook her head. “No, it’s fine. I’ll move to the back if I want to sit.”

There wasn’t much space back there. A few narrow, needs must amenities, something that probably counted for a bunk. This was definitely a ship for one, two in a pinch. If Leia needed to get away, she could make it work.

Even with part of the back already occupied.

It didn’t look like meditating had helped Anakin much. He was twitchy as he checked all of the controls, doing it twice. She wondered if he thought she hadn’t noticed he was stalling, or if he was just being neurotically cautious as a stress response.

When she didn’t move and didn’t speak, he said, “We’re a couple hours out, I think. Do we have a plan?”

“Of a sort.” She ignored him glaring at her. “I’m not familiar enough with the exact geography of Geonosis to be sure what we’ll find, but I did some preliminary research. If the trace on his call was accurate,” and that wasn’t a sure thing given how little time they’d been connected, “I can get us to where it was broadcast from the surface. But the Geonosians mostly live underground, so even if we find the right location, we could be looking at a maze of an underground lair to try and navigate to find him.”

“Okay.”

Leia frowned. “The tunnels may have patterns to them, but those aren’t documented in the generally available data for the planet. We may be able to use the ships scanners to detect life close to the surface, but if they’re hiding far enough down, we won’t pick up on subterranean activity.”

Now he was looking worried. “So, you learned basically nothing?”

It took a few tries to beat back her gut responses and say, “I learned that it’s a desert planet, but not habited in the same style as Tatooine. Which means we won’t make the mistake of relying on misleading information from personal experience. I learned a bit about their technology, which doesn’t appear to be space travel oriented. They aren’t really colonizing, they like their world.”

His impatience was lashing around the room. “So?”

“So it doesn’t make sense that they would abduct a Jedi,” Leia said, fighting to keep her tone even. “We’re probably looking at an operation that has other people involved. Most likely the Trade Federation. Obi-Wan mentioned them specifically.”

“And Jango Fett.”

Anakin’s tone was trying to be an accusation, but he’d let something interesting slip. “He didn’t say Jango in my message,” Leia said, watching Anakin roll through a series of facial expressions that conveyed his anger and chagrin. “Just Fett.”

When he didn’t answer right away, Leia was tempted to keep going with her briefing. But he seemed to be thinking about something. He said, “Master Yoda told me not to tell anyone about the first message. Not until we had more information.”

“When did he tell you that?”

“Right after the vote,” Anakin confessed, and Leia almost missed him adding, “when we got the first call.”

Those karking Jedi. “Well,” she made her lips smile, hoping it wasn’t manic, “I’d say we recently got some more information, wouldn’t you?”

He smiled too, and it was familiar, but not Luke’s expression. “Yeah. I guess we have.”

It took a few tries and some pointed questions to get the answers Leia was really looking for about the call. Some Jedi had purchased a clone army. The Council wanted Jango Fett brought in for questioning. At the time, Obi-Wan hadn’t known about the connection to the Trade Federation. All important things.

But Leia was distracted by, “And he has a son. The cloners made him one, just like him.”

“A son? Does he have a name?”

Anakin shrugged. “Obi-Wan didn’t say.”

Well, that was going to bother her. Still. Good information to have. And she knew he was expecting her to return the favor.

“He didn’t say much more to me,” Leia prefaced. “The Trade Federation hired Fett to kill Padmé. Obi-Wan thinks the clones might be a trap. There’s an army of droids that belongs to the Separatists, probably provided by the Federation although he didn’t say that.”

“How are the clones a trap?” Anakin demanded. “They haven’t done anything. And the Jedi… bought them.”

He looked away as he said it, his hands clenched into tight fists. Leia… almost understood the sentiment. “I don’t think he means that the clones are evil,” she said, wishing her father had talked a lot more about the troops he had worked with so long ago. “I think he means something about the situation is suspicious, and the clones might inadvertently be involved.”

“That’s not their fault,” Anakin snapped, and for once Leia wasn’t especially bothered by it.

“No,” she agreed. “But that doesn’t mean the Jedi and the Senate shouldn’t be careful.” She added, “Count Dooku is a Sith.”

That got his attention. “What?”

Someday, he might grow out of that question. “Obi-Wan said that Dooku is a Sith. I suspect if that is true, there’s a lot more going on here than just the obvious.”

“Obi-Wan’s been captured by a Sith?” if he hadn’t noticed her second sentence at all, she couldn’t exactly blame him. The only Sith Anakin had known was the one that had killed Obi-Wan’s teacher. Since Leia’d never heard anything about him, ever, he probably wasn’t that important or powerful in the grand scheme of things, but he was clearly frightening to Anakin.

The Sith Leia was most familiar with… Well, she didn’t think anyone would ever be more frightening than Vader. How would Dooku measure up? “Probably yes.”

“Probably?” Anger and tension building, pushing.

“I don’t know,” Leia stressed. “Since he’s been captured and held, I think yes. But he didn’t say if Dooku was still there. Obi-Wan barely said anything at all. Just the essentials.”

And not to come for him, but they were already ignoring that part, and besides it was for the Council (which technically meant it was probably for Anakin the most, but…).

“He’s been captured by a Sith,” Anakin was practically seething, had turned away from her and was pushing against the console, as if trap his hands, “and you thought we should wait?”

Her back was locked, her chin up, and her arms halfway raised with her hands balled into fists before Leia gripped her own temper and forced it down. This. This was why she didn’t like touching the Force around Anakin. Even if she understood his feelings. “Rushing in wasn’t going to save him—“

“You don’t know that!”

He was still leaned over in his seat, but he turned his head to glare up at her, his eyes almost glowing blue in the light, the shadows under them black and sunken. It was… it was…

She shoved him.

It was a gut reaction, a snap response when the anger didn’t fade and the air started pressing closer, like her throat was closing, like she couldn’t breathe. Leia shoved him, knocked him off balance, whipped around the corner, practically threw herself into the back of the ship. Heard him coming, tucked herself into the corner of the bunk, braced herself to kick him when he got close enough.

“Wai—“

There was a shriek and a series of beeps as Artoo rolled out from the corner, nearly tripping Anakin. The baby Jedi stopped, slammed his hands against the walls to catch himself, swearing.

Leia managed to get her legs down, but her spine was locked and her shoulders were rigid. Artoo’s antics could only make this so funny, and only so much humor could pierce through sheer self-preservation.

“What is he doing here?” Anakin demanded, half angry, half embarrassed.

It took two breaths and a lot of offended beeps from Artoo before Leia managed, “He is the absolute best person to bring on a rescue mission. Obviously we wouldn’t do this without him.”

“Since when?” Anakin was getting shoved, step by step, back towards the cockpit as Artoo chased Anakin’s knees, blatting and warbling. “Stop that. We’re still in hyperspace, I don’t have to be at the controls.”

The ensuing argument was a touch beyond Leia’s understanding of binary, but Anakin’s running commentary on flying not being the only thing he was good for and no he wasn’t a stupid organic helped to filled in some of the blanks. By the time Artoo had worn Anakin down, Leia was mostly composed again, in no small part thanks to Anakin now being the length of the ship away from her, as small a distance as that was.

When he looked up and back to her, his emotions still rolling thick around them, it didn’t feel like she was being attacked by his eyes this time.

“So what is the plan?” his arms crossed as he stood straighter, and that was a pose Leia felt more familiar with. “Given all the stuff we don’t know.”

Unsure whether to be grateful he wasn’t brining her reactions up, Leia still said, “We get as close to where we think he is as we can. Then there’s some sneaking, some judicious usage of Artoo’s skills, and hopefully a quick and quiet rescue.”

“And when that definitely doesn’t happen?”

It shouldn’t have been reassuring that he expected trouble. But it was. “We make a stunning and heroic getaway.”

It made him smirk, but Leia didn’t smile back. He wasn’t going to like the details of the plan.

Padmé’s toe tapped against the floor. Quietly, and hidden under her skirt, but the backward glance she got from Master Billaba was a reminder that hiding her physical cues wouldn’t stop the Jedi from knowing how impatient Padmé was.

She thought she was being very patient, under the circumstances.

Dawn was just starting to creep in through the windows. They were hours behind because somebody had decided that the Jedi’s ship taking off in the middle of the night wasn’t a high enough priority to wake anyone, including the other Jedi. Surely it could just be taken care of in the morning.

Padmé and Captain Typho were going to have words.

“Depa,” the tiny holo form of Master Windu seemed almost pleased, and Padmé noted the informality. “You’re early today.”

Today?

“Master Windu,” Master Billaba said, and Padmé watched as Master Windu immediately frowned, losing all of his softness, “we have a bit of a situation.”

Head falling immediately to his hand, Padmé heard, “Please tell me it’s not Skywalker.”

“It is,” Master Billaba said, calm and succinct. “Both of them.”

“Both? Which both?”

“Padawan Skywalker and Leia,” Master Billaba’s tone conveyed nothing to Padmé, but Master Windu’s mouth twitched. “I’ve confirmed that Shmi Skywalker is still on planet.”

That didn’t seem to provide Master Windu much relief. “How?”

While Master Billaba summed up the scant details on how Anakin had absconded with the Jedi’s ship and no one had bothered to say anything, Padmé glanced to Dormé to get her opinion. A brush of her sleeve, a narrowing of her eyes, a flick of her fingers. Gestures different than what Padmé was used to, but still clear.

The Jedi were under pressure. It was now or never.

Padmé took a moment to focus, to think about the multitude of ways she would kill Leia when the Skywalkers got back, to push them aside.

“I don’t think we can risk going after them,” Master Windu was saying. “It will be bad enough that a Jedi ship will be seen in Separatist territory. Given the other potential threats, it’s probably too hostile for a safe extraction.”

“No one is close enough to intercept them before they arrive?” Master Billaba asked, her between the brows frown appearing.

“No, and even if they were, if our assumption is correct…” He trailed off, knowing someone was listening, not sure who, but cautious.

Which didn’t matter. He’d given Padmé her opening. “Your assumption that Obi-Wan is being held where the Separatists are keeping their droid army?” She said it loud enough to register to both Jedi, even without standing right next to Master Billaba. Padmé now had both of their undivided attention. “That you haven’t felt the need to inform the Senate about?”

She moved next to Master Billaba so Master Windu could see her and glare at her properly, “We don’t have confirmation—“

“You’re confident enough you won’t go in to rescue one of your own,” Padmé knew she was seething. “But not confident enough to tell me what you’ve learned about the people threatening my life?”

Master Windu’s expression was terrifying, but Padmé squared her shoulders, making herself remember his smug, condescending look when he’d told her it wasn’t in Dooku’s character to assassinate someone. If Fett had been hired by the Trade Federation, if the Trade Federation was working with the Separatists…

Dooku had at least failed to condemn Padmé’s attempted assassination. Had indirectly paid for it.

Almost the moment Padmé thought she might break, might look away, Master Windu said, “Let me gather the Council. And we’ll need at least a few more from the Loyalist Committee.”

“Done,” Padmé said. “We’ll expect to hear from you in short order.”

It ended up being Leia that dropped them out of hyperspace. Anakin had been successfully nagged into trying to take a nap, since he was unbearable to be around, and while she didn’t think he was getting particularly restful sleep, he was at least away from her.

If Luke had been around to bother her, Leia might have felt guilty for that sentiment.

Their shift was enough to wake Anakin, and Leia ceded him the pilot’s seat without a word. They did have a bit of an argument about how to approach the planet, but counter rotation won at some point, more on gut feeling than logic.

Leia didn’t question it. She knew better.

“How low do we want to approach?” Anakin asked, and Leia hesitated.

“Very low,” she said. “They probably don’t have much native technology for tracking incoming vessels, and anything that’s been set up by accomplices is probably more concerned with large ships that will coast higher, if they break atmo at all.”

“Sounds like a lot of guessing,” Anakin mumbled, but he did as she said.

They cruised under white light past red rock formations and deep fissures. Some spouted steam from underground vents and Leia wondered again how deep the Geonosians tunneled. Some of the rocks had been carved into narrow, spiraling spires. Others had large, vaulted openings. Nothing moved where the light sat, but the structures went from well-lit to black like a sudden drop. No knowing if someone was watching from those shadows.

“What’s that?” Anakin asked, starting to drift towards the left.

Squinting, Leia noticed another carved formation ahead. Something about the horizon suggested a sudden drop to a lower plain beyond it. “Put us down.”

“Right here?”

“More left,” Leia gestured, “but make sure we don’t get too close.”

The scanners were picking up signals that could be ships. Several ships. Several large ships, up ahead in that plain. Leia checked their current location against what data she had from her call.

Close enough.

It took a minute, but Anakin was able to put them down near a clear path to the carved structure, but not directly in sight of it. Leia made sure she was blocking his path once the ship touched down, so he couldn’t just rush out.

“Are you ready?” he asked, a half-hearted courtesy.

“Here’s the thing,” Leia said, knowing springing this on him was bad, and knowing there was no good way to do it, “you’re staying here. Artoo and I are going alone.”

Chapter Text

“What?”

“Do you ever get tired of that question?” Leia asked, trying to keep her voice even. It wasn’t working. “I can’t imagine that every other sentence you couldn’t hear me.”

There wasn’t a lot of space in the ship to begin with, but even with the door now open behind her, Leia felt trapped as Anakin loomed closer, hovering over her. “You dragged me all the way out here—“

“I snuck onto the ship you were already hijacking,” Leia corrected.

“—To just leave me here? No.” He tried to push past her, “I’m coming with you.”

“Anakin,” the name stumbled off her tongue. Leia tried not to think too much about it as she wedged them both in the doorway, her hand fisted into the front of his cloak, “I have a reason.”

“Oh I bet you do,” he sneered, clawing at her hand, failing to get her fingers loose.

It hurt, but not enough she would let go. “I need you to stay with the ship.”

“Obi-Wan is being held by a Sith,” Anakin snapped, “and you want me, the trained Jedi, to stay with the ship?”

“Yes,” Leia pushed, not expecting him to budge but hoping to make a point. “Because I’m better at sneaking and you’re better at flying, and someone needs to stay with the ship.”

He had the grace to pause for a second. “If you get into a fight—“

“Then I’ll need someone who is an amazing, spectacular pilot to fly in to the rescue and help me get out before things get worse,” she put as much sincerity into the words as she could. She hadn’t seen him fly much, but she did have faith he was a pilot of the caliber she needed for this plan to work. “Which will only work if you stay with the ship.”

He dithered over that, twisted so he could poke his head out and peek towards their target, then glared at her. “It’s too far away. And we don’t know how deep it goes. It doesn’t matter how fast I can get there if you’re underground.”

An irritatingly astute point. “It won’t matter if you’re there to fight with me if we can’t make it back to the ship and off the planet,” she tried.

He wasn’t buying it. “And what if you get caught before you even find Obi-Wan? What then? We can’t just leave without him.”

There was a brain in there after all. She shouldn’t have been surprised. Still irritating though. “Alright, what’s your genius plan then?”

His fingers twitched against her hand where she was still holding him, but he wasn’t trying to yank and pry them anymore. Leia tried to ignore the contact and was furious to find that the moment she made that effort, her brain decided to detail where the callouses were on Anakin’s fingers, and how much larger his hands were than hers.

Her attention snapped back as he said, “What if I flew a distraction?”

“That’s,” she blinked, “not a terrible idea.”

“Thanks,” the eye roll was a bit much on top of the dry tone, but she should have expected him to be dramatic.

“What would the plan be for your distraction?” She could think of a million objections to him using their transport as bait, but since at least fifty percent of her object had been to keep him, a Jedi, away from anyone he might kill, as a compromise it had some promise.

Especially if she needed help going unnoticed.

“I just make some loops down over there,” he said, pointing to where it looked like the plateau dropped off. “It looks like there might be some landing zones out that way. I could fly loops a few times, get a lay of the land, come and get you when you’re ready.”

If he’d been underestimating the time it would take her to find Obi-Wan because of her skill, she would have been flattered. As it was, Leia said, “You can probably loop that area a dozen times right now and I’ll just barely be getting inside. What if you waited until I made it into the building, then started?”

“That could work,” he was frowning. “But it still leaves me sitting here for a while.”

“It means you’ll be close to where you need to pick us up when we need you,” Leia wheedled. “And you can try and get footage of whatever is on the ground over there.”

She pulled out a recorder and handed it to him, mostly able to ignore the perplexed look on his face. “Why would I do that?’

“Because we suspect that the Separatists are keeping an army out here,” Leia leaned back, pinching the bridge of her nose. “And since we don’t know anything about it, the Council and the Senate need all the data that they can get. To help save lives.”

The last line might have been a bit much. But Anakin nodded. “So, you and Artoo go along this path and sneak into that… fortress?”

“Enclave?” Leia suggested, partly just to see if Anakin’s lips twitched. They did.

“Building,” he answered, waving an arm. “With big holes in it.”

“Yes. And when we get close enough to get inside, we let you know so you can prep the ship and start making a nuisance of yourself.”

His lips twitched again at “nuisance,” but he continued, “I take off, grab as much attention as I can, but keep my distance from anyone trying to follow me. Then, on your signal, I fly inside, pray there’s a makeshift landing platform, and you, Artoo, and Obi-Wan get in.”

Given that two minutes ago Anakin had completely nixed the very dubious plan Leia had come up with by herself, this was not terrible. Not great, as far as rescue missions went. But they didn’t have the time to do more, and as an improvisation, this met most of Leia’s biggest concerns.

“And you’ll try not to shoot anyone?” she added.

“No weapons on the ship,” Anakin said, sounding more than a little disappointed. “It’s just a transport. Decent shields, but nothing designed for prolonged combat.”

“So I shouldn’t waste time taking in the sights?”

“No,” but now he was smiling a little, and Leia let herself grin for a moment before she turned.

She paused at the end of the landing ramp and looked back up at him. “Is this a good time for may the Force be with you?”

He’d been turning back, but he stopped, staring. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Maybe the Force be with you, Anakin.” Only a slight trip of the tongue this time.

He sounded stilted though as he repeated, “May the Force be with you.”

Leia didn’t let it bother her. She had work to do.

Shmi was pacing in the hall. The meeting was about to start and Padmé couldn’t afford to be late, not when she’d called for it herself and had demanded the attention of the full Jedi Council and the Chancellor. But Shmi was also voluntarily in the palace when she didn’t have work and her family wasn’t present and that wasn’t something that Padmé could ignore.

Two steps out of the room and Shmi looked up, a hesitance in her expression that Padmé hadn’t seen in months. Padmé held out her hands and said, “Did they promise to be back in time for dinner?”

Accepting Padmé’s hands and managing a small smile, Shmi shook her head. “Neither of them said anything. At least,” she shrugged, “nothing specific. I knew it was on Anakin’s mind. He mentioned several times that Obi-Wan has been a father figure to him, and he couldn’t ignore anyone in need, much less family. Leia…”

Padmé felt her own expression twist in time with Shmi’s. Leia. A mystery and a martyr. Or whatever the next closest thing was. “They could have said something.”

“To whom?” as worried as Shmi had been, this seemed to be perfectly straightforward. “If the Order intended to send Anakin, they would have. If we intended to act on Obi-Wan’s behalf, we’d be making plans. If a rescue was non-negotiable and all their allies proved overcautious or disinterested, what else could they do?”

“Take me with them,” Padmé muttered before she had thought about it.

Shmi squeezed Padmé’s fingers. “I wish they would have. You would help keep them safe. But you are also needed here.”

And that was a neat escape, with just enough time for Padmé to still look professional. Shmi was getting very good at these sorts of negotiations.

With a quick kiss to Shmi’s cheek, Padmé said, “If they aren’t back by the time my meetings are finished, we’ll just have to go and get them.”

“I will plan on it,” Shmi promised, moving towards Master Allie. The Jedi made a graceful bow in Padmé’s direction before following Shmi, probably in search of breakfast.

At least, Padmé hoped they were getting breakfast. Someone should get to eat this morning.

“Ah, Senator Amidala. The Council insisted we couldn’t start without you.”

The Chancellor’s comment irked, especially since Padmé was a full minute early from their planned start time. But it did look like everyone else was already present. “I’m grateful. I wouldn’t want to miss any of their updates.”

The series of holos around the room was almost dizzying. The Council had convened at the Temple, and not all of the senators were on Coruscant. The projection layout wasn’t ideal, but then nothing about this situation was.

“Since some of our updates do concern the matter of your safety, it would only make sense to give them with you present,” Master Windu intoned, and Padmé was very proud that she didn’t so much as twitch at that.

“Unless you know more than that the assassin goes by the name Fett and was hired by the Trade Federation, I think there are more pertinent matters to discuss. I’ve already spoken to Leia.”

The Chancellor frowned for a second, several of the attending senator’s gasped or flinched, Master Windu’s eye may have twitched at Leia’s name, and the kel dor master in the circle steepled his fingers, leaning back slightly in his seat. Padmé wasn’t sure if the move was bracing or smug.

“That is a very serious accusation to level at the Trade Federation,” the Chancellor remarked. “They’ve been bitter but cooperative since the end of the incident on Naboo.”

Incident? “Their failed invasion and criminal prosecution did lead to some circumspection on their part,” Padmé agreed, smiling with what she knew was too many teeth. “Which makes this change in behavior all the more concerning. Especially in lieu of the actions of the Confederacy. Master Jedi, you have more details on that?”

A look between Master Windu and Master Yoda before Master Windu said, “We have several pieces of information that the Senate should be aware of. It does seem that the Trade Federation is at least involved in the attempts on Senator Amidala’s life. We were waiting for Master Kenobi to return in hopes that he would be able to add more details, but he’s been… delayed.”

“We have some hope of his returning soon,” the kel dor master added, and Padmé was certain Master Windu’s eye twitched that time.

“In the meantime,” Master Windu pressed on, “we have reason to believe, from Master Kenobi’s reports, that the Separatists are purchasing battle droids from the Trade Federation.”

“An army,” Master Yoda added softly, “Master Obi-Wan said.”

There was a static filled silence.

“The Separatists have an actual army,” Senator Paddie’s tone made the words curdle. “And we have decided we are too idealistic for such things. How quaint.”

The way his voice warbled on the last word made Padmé wish she could sneer. But she was interrupted by Master Windu adding, “That would be the other matter we wish to update the Senate about.” And this time he didn’t look to Master Yoda, but every member of the Council shifted, riveted to Master Windu. “Someone may have also purchased an army on behalf of the Republic.”

“What?” It came from too many people at once for Padmé to be sure who had said it first, but Bail had actually stood, his mouth moving wordlessly. Senator Ta had the audacity to sink into his seat with relief, the traitor.

“Who exactly,” Senator Aak found his words first, “purchased this army? For the Republic?”

None of the Jedi had moved, Padmé realized. All of them were still tense, still staring at Master Windu. “Reportedly, Jedi Master Syfo-Dyas. And he didn’t order a droid army. He hired cloners.”

If Leia knew about this, Padmé thought around the din that erupted from the assembled senators, and she hadn’t said anything, she was in so much trouble.

Artoo and Leia ran into their first scouts about twenty minutes from the ship. It was almost a relief. Leia had thought she might be crazy about this being the right place. Armed guards were a good sign. Not a sure sign, but a good one.

She had Artoo roll off the main path into a nook and followed him, tucking herself up against their cover, back to the path they had been walking. Their tracks were obvious, so it was only a matter of time before two insectoid forms twitched their way through the gap, peering towards the back.

Mistake.

Artoo still trilled a distraction while Leia fired twice, clean shots to the head. Vicious (and if this wasn’t the right place, if these had just been guiltless locals?), but quick and relatively quiet. She made sure both bodies were tucked away, checked to see if they had any communication device she could use (no), reviewed their weapons (wouldn’t be an improvement, into a fissure with them), and waved Artoo forward.

He seemed to hesitate before he followed her and that, more than anything else that had happened in days, made Leia nervous. “Artoo?”

The droid rolled back and forth for a moment humming. Then he chirped a cheerful, “Coming,” and slid to her side.

She would deal with that later.

The closer they got to the openings in the rock, the more buzzing noises filtered back from time to time. And faintly, in the distance, Leia could make out the sound of machines and ships readying for war.

It was like coming home. Which probably said more about her life than she would want anyone to think about.

“Easy,” she whispered, hugging the rock face as she approached the nearest entrance at a crouch, using the curves of the rock face to lend some cover as she tried to find a pattern to the figures flying into and out of the other openings. There weren’t many, most of them were focused on the plain below, which she could see much more clearly now.

There were… hundreds of ships. Less than a half dozen large enough to be obvious blemishes on the landscape, carefully sculpted metal where the rock felt worked away, chipped and carved. But there was a film of small bumps across the landscape, and trains of machinery going to and from each one.

Inside was worse.

There weren’t many workers flying outside right now, but inside the arched and buttressed fortress teemed dozens of Geonosians. Many were avoiding the entrances, but plenty had congregated in the sunlight that swept the open floor several stories below.

Unable to guess at exactly how many more she might not be able to see, Leia and Artoo made their way around the shadows of the floor they were on, peering around corners and into crevasses. Some showed only darkness, others machines and assembly lines putting the finishing touches on battle droids.

They hadn’t even made a full circuit of the floor.

Crouching and huddling close to Artoo, Leia whispered, “We need a map, Obi-Wan’s location, and whatever information we can get from the records they have here. Think you can help me?”

Rather than beeping, Artoo gave a full body nod and they start combing their floor for an access port. Leia was starting to run out of hope that they would find one when they stumbled on an entrance to a set of stairs leading to one of the manufacturing levels. That had an access port, and while Artoo wasn’t able to make much use of it, he was able to find the location of a better one on the floor.

Leia kept her blaster drawn, her attention on their surroundings, and the back of her mind on the light in the distance that was an impatient Anakin.

If she didn’t move soon, he would act without her, promise or no promise.

Artoo’s, “Got it!” came just as Leia was wondering if she should preempt the discovery and start Anakin early to keep the semblance of her being in charge.

Hesitation was inevitable as Leia fumbled for a comm, knowing the risk it presented. Swallowing her pride and bracing herself, Leia reached out in the Force with the gentlest touch and sent Anakin, “Now.”

She felt his surprise, his focus, and wondered if Dooku was even here. Had he not felt that?

No time to think about it, Artoo was giving Leia specific directions to Obi-Wan’s cell and access codes. When he finished, a flurry of activity was starting to build around the entrances overlooking the plain. Not all consuming, but a good start.

Leaving the droid was harder than Leia had expected. He’d been given solo missions before and there should only be one locked door between her and Kenobi. She’d Force it open if she had to (if she could). They needed the data he was pulling and she couldn’t waste time.

“Be careful,” she urged. “I’ll be back soon.”

His snarky comment that she would be lost without him helped to even out Leia’s spirits. Some things never changed.

Chapter Text

Padmé gave Bail three minutes to stroke his beard and ponder before she said, “What are we going to do?”

She recognized the resignation in his face as he asked, “Can you get back here in time for the vote?”

The answer was no. The answer was no, and it was Bail’s idea for her to have left in the first place even if it was Padmé’s people that had made the best arguments, and now she wouldn’t make it back in time. “Would me being there even make a difference?”

“With the numbers as low as they are for an emergency session, it might. Some of the junior representatives will be able to fill in, but unless they get a full briefing back home and new orders quickly enough, they may vote along the same lines as the MCA.”

“Emergency powers to the Chancellor are a completely different—“

“I know,” Bail managed to convey the weight of that interruption, even while being incredibly gentle. “But if the clones already exist, and have been trained and prepared for the Republic, the last thing we want is them languishing in the Outer Rim. If we don’t collect them, Kamino might look for other buyers. If the Hutts got even a portion of them?”

“Slavers,” Padmé said the word the way she’d heard Shmi say it, only once but with the sort of conviction that left an imprint on the memory. That had the shape and tone of a scar. “We’re competing for purchasing sentient lives with slavers.”

“I know,” Bail repeated, looking as tired as she had ever seen him before. “I get to explain whatever choice I make to my wife, and then to our people. Believe me, I know.”

And Padmé would have to explain to the Queen. At least the Jedi felt that Padmé’s personal safety was more assured. She would still need to be cautious, but they were dealing with known quantities again. Dangerous, but known. “So what are we going to do?”

“Let me talk to Senator Mothma, and Senator Onaconda. And to the Chancellor. Once we know what steps he will be taking, we can present our plans to him. The refugee matter, and trade routes, will be twice as important now. If we’re facing actual war, there will be border disputes, blockades, resource pillaging. If you’ve made any progress with the RRM…”

“We have sixty systems we’re in active negotiations with. About half of those far enough along we could move people on short notice.”

“It’s a start. I’ll speak to Senator Darsana and see how he feels. Unless Leia has time to—“

He stopped at the look on her face, and Padmé couldn’t be sure what sort of expression she was making. “I’m afraid Leia Skywalker isn’t available right now.”

The worst part of getting to Obi-Wan’s cell, Leia realized after she’d started moving and finished processing what Artoo had instructed, was that it was on the main level. She could feel the activity of the hive being drawn towards the outside. Anakin’s distraction must have been working.

She only hoped it would clear the floor enough by the time she got down there for her to slip in unnoticed.

Depa watched the holo silently, waiting for Master Rancisis and Master Trebor to stop their murmurings and give anyone else a chance to get a word in. Her eyes rested for an extra moment on her former master, hoping that someone nearby would recognize, once this meeting was over, how much he needed some peace and quiet. Meditation at least, but rest if he could possibly get it.

She knew she was responsible for interrupting him this morning. If she’d known how serious things would turn so quickly, she might have been tempted to delay.

Which would have been wrong. The matter was urgent.

But still. Someone had to keep an eye on Mace Windu. He certainly didn’t.

Her attention was caught by “—expulsion from the Order!”

“That is unreasonable,” Master Koon said. “Jedi frequently act independently of the will of the Council, and we do not simply—“

Master Rancisis was not, unfortunately, in a mood to be reasonable. This was not surprising giving previous concerns he had voiced about Padawan Skywalker, but it also wasn’t particularly helpful at the moment. “This is not simply acting against the will of the Council. The presence of the Jedi in Separatist territory could be seen as justification for violence!”

“We’ve already sent Master Kenobi,” Master Trebor admitted. “We can hardly claim that Padawan Skywalker’s actions are fundamentally against the will of the Council.”

“More to the point,” Depa felt the need to add, “if Padawan Skywalker or Master Kenobi can confirm that Dooku is indeed a Sith now, that would make the Jedi’s presence there essential, regardless of whose territory they have to enter.”

Master Yoda leaned forward and there was silence. “If confirmed a Sith, Dooku is, wise it may not be to reveal such a truth.”

There were a few nods around the room, most notably Master Mundi and Master Gallia. But there was also a sense of unease, so powerful Depa could almost swear she felt it even without being present. Or perhaps that was just her own unease.

“The Separatists may accuse us of lying,” Master Gallia offered, unhappy but practical. “They could just as easily say we were using that as an excuse to justify military action. And with the Senate set to collect the clones, they would have good reason to be suspicious.”

“We have reason to believe Count Dooku has exaggerated his Force abilities of precognition,” Master Ti agreed. “So the existence of a droid army, purchased but stationed on a Separatist planet, would work in his favor and against our accusations.”

“We’ll leave the politics to Master Gallia,” Master Windu said, his hands clasped in front of him to prevent them from rubbing his forehead or pinching the bridge of his nose. “As far as the matter of Skywalker, none of us are surprised by his actions, even if we are disappointed.” Depa wondered if her master actually fell into that category. As frustrating as he found the padawan, he was also grudgingly impressed by Anakin Skywalker’s commitment to his ideals. If they could be brought more in line with the Code… “Our immediate concern is that if the Chancellor is granted emergency powers, which is very probable, we’re about to be put in charge of an entire army. In spite of none of us being soldiers.”

Combatants, yes. Survivors, peacekeepers, enforcers when needed. But not soldiers. Not like this. “Do we have a framework we can look to,” Depa asked, “for stepping in and leading troops that are not Jedi?”

“We’ll consult with Master Nu,” Master Windu said. “There may be something.”

Depa hoped so. There weren’t many people she could think of that the Jedi could turn to if there wasn’t good data in the archives.

This had been a good plan, Anakin told himself as he tried to get a mostly hyperspace travel oriented ship to weave and dodge like a fighter. He’d heard Leia’s voice loud and clear, even though she’d never reached out to him before, been spotted at just the right moment when he was close enough to the building entrances to lure some people to try and follow him, and he’d caught plenty of attention on his way down and around.

Plenty of attention. Lots, even.

A barrage of it, his master would say.

The worst part, he realized (trying to stay in the sweet spot of just high enough to be out of range of whatever was shooting at him from the ground while low enough to use the transport ships as cover during maneuvers) was he couldn’t even blame Leia. She’d told him she’d need time. She’d told him she needed him in a ship because he was a brilliant pilot and he was their best shot of getting out.

He agreed with her.

He just wasn’t sure he was a good enough pilot to get them out of this.

He couldn’t bank hard enough and had to pull up to avoid hitting one of the transports instead of ducking behind the tip of it. A warning flared in the Force before he felt two blasts hit the ship, one at a wing tip (grazed but harmless) and one scoring the side of the ship hard enough to knock it sideways, away from the next transport Anakin had been aiming for.

Open sky on all sides and droid ships everywhere.

Anakin closed his eyes and flew.

There were noises. Distant, but that was ships and a firefight, and Leia had to take a moment to steady herself before moving.

He would be fine, he would be fine, everything would be—

“Feet apart more,” a familiar voice said, gruff like she expected, but with an edge of fondness Leia found jarring. “You want a solid stance before you try hitting anything. You know that.”

“Yeah, yeah,” a much, much younger voice answered, half irritation, half adoration. “You told me.”

“Then let’s see you do it,” Leia heard as she eased forward, pressed so hard against the wall she had to stop so her clothes wouldn’t catch and drag, making noise. She focused on being small, tiny, invisible as she passed an open archway on the other side of the hall, catching a glimpse of a back as she moved past. “No, not that far. See,” a grunt from the younger voice, “you move too much if I just tap you. Little closer. Solid.”

“If I get it right, can we shoot next?” The eagerness had an edge of mania to it that made the still present adoration slightly horrifying.

“I don’t know. Think you can get this right?”

The banter and lesson continued as Leia slipped away, breathing quick and shallow.

Fett. Fett was here.

She’d known that was a possibility. Accepted the risk. Made sure Padmé couldn’t come. But still.

She hated these moments when the past came back. This wasn’t Tatooine. It wasn’t nighttime at Jabba’s palace, sneaking past drunken cronies and across a rancor trap door. If someone caught her here she might be tortured and would be killed, but she wouldn’t be made a decoration. A trophy.

A Hutt prize.

But the sight of the helmet on the table in the room, the sound of a voice (cloned, Anakin had said, Jango had a son that was cloned) so close to familiar while barely foreign.

She did not need this right now.

She couldn’t afford to stop moving.

Blaster now out, attention half behind her and half ahead, Leia made it to the bottom of a stairwell to be greeted by the sight of six guards at the exact door she needed to open. Distracted guards, but present.

She’d need to fix that.

There wasn’t a lot for her to work with. Leia peered out past the guards and the arch into the courtyard, noting some amounts of rubble, but mostly more Geonosians, fluttering and agitated. Many were taking to the sky, trying to see the commotion that was much louder than before.

The distraction was working. But not enough.

Leia debated all of the probable damage she could cause with the Force to make a distraction, cursed her lack of training, and voted against it. She was almost better off just trying to make a run for it, they still weren’t looking.

A series of explosions, much closer than before, had the Geonosians shrieking, the guards dashing forward, guns raised. Leia took half of half a breath to think, “This is stupid,” and dashed, fingers keying the second they were close enough, torn between relief and terror as another explosion covered the noise of the door opening and she slipped inside.

She made sure it closed without her being caught before she turned and swallowed a groan, an empty room with some sort of ray shield holding platform, inactive and silent greeting her.

She’d almost reconciled herself to the travesty when a weak voice moaned, “No, please…”

“Hey,” she half whispered, moving even before her eyes had finished confirming that it was in fact Kenobi on the floor, flat on his back and flush against the left wall. “It’s alright.”

“Told you,” he muttered, eyes fluttering, “not to come.”

“That,” she informed him, doing a quick check for injuries as she removed a blanket, “was for the Council.”

“You too,” Obi-Wan half gasped, his hand twitching as he tried to move it.

His skin was grey toned, his hair and beard still a mess, and there were dark circles under his eyes. None of which was a surprise.

The broken legs were.

They shouldn’t have been.

“I don’t think they liked you sending me that message,” Leia said, gently touching the braces (not full casts, the bastards) and swallowing swears as Obi-Wan flinched at the lightest touch. They’d been set, but he wasn’t getting strong painkillers, if he was getting any at all.

“I told you,” he gasped, eyes pinched closed, “not to come.”

“Well, someone had to keep Anakin out of trouble.”

That got another moan. “Please, please no.”

“You thought he would stay away?” Leia asked, moving back to his head and brushing his hair out of his face.

His eyes opened this time, and they were flecked with pain, but clear. Ish. “No. But I hoped.”

“No you didn’t,” Leia told him, before she could think about it. “You wanted him safe, but you did want him to come for you.”

There was the tiniest twitch of a smile as Obi-Wan rasped, “Don’t tell him?”

“Not until we’re off planet,” she teased. Then sobered. “This is going to hurt.”

He shook his head. “Go. I can’t. You can’t—“

She’d never done this before, but hell if Leia wasn’t going to try. Leaving Obi-Wan was not an option, and she only need to succeed for a few minutes. Maybe even in spurts, if Obi-Wan was light enough.

(He might be, and that was the worst thought.)

“Deep breath,” she told him, getting behind him and pushing him into a sitting position. It didn’t register pain, but she noticed him groping at the ground, trying to keep his balance.

“I don’t like this,” his voice had been weak and scratchy this whole time, but it was getting worse.

She hadn’t brought water. Stupid, stupid, stupid (Luke should have told her, reminded…).

The next part was harder, but Obi-Wan had definitely lost weight in the last couple of months and Leia was strong enough to at least get him onto her back, although standing almost overbalanced them.

Ignoring his pain, not just in his voice but in the Force, was the hardest part.

“Okay,” she said, taking slow steps to the door, “here we go.”

Leia was small. Obi-Wan was not large, not like the monster that was his apprentice, but Leia had to keep his legs pretty high as much to keep them from dangling too much and swinging as to keep them off the floor. And while he wasn’t currently heavy, he was basically a dead weight.

A quick poke at the internal security system confirmed there was a camera watching just outside and the guards hadn’t come back to the door yet. They might be watching, but they weren’t at the door. Leia braced herself and took her time, trying to tug at the Force, to feel how to draw it to herself.

“Not like that,” Luke’s voice was clear, if quiet. “You really should have practiced this—“

“You’re tardy,” she snapped back. “You don’t get to complain.”

“I never left you.”

Which didn’t explain where he’d been this whole time that Leia had needed him, or how she was going to get herself Force enhanced enough to move. “And?”

There was a sensation of hesitation before, “We can try something, but I don’t know if it will work and I’m sure it’s dangerous. Though I’m not sure why.”

“Fine,” she actually muttered, and felt Luke fluttering around her consciousness.

“It’s just a brief memory, this isn’t training, you still have to practice.”

And then she knew. The first time Luke had succeeded. What if felt like in his arms, his legs, his shoulders, his breath.

“Leia?” Obi-Wan shouldn’t sound defeated. “Just leave me. I’ll be—“

“Absolutely not.”

Assertion. Conviction. Emotion. Need. Maybe this wasn’t how the Jedi used the Force, but right now, Leia didn’t care.

She touched that memory, the one Luke had shared, and reached for the Force again.

She felt light and floaty, distant in some way from her own limbs. And at the same time, perfectly grounded.

Hefting Obi-Wan and ignoring his hiss, she said, “I’ve got this.”

They made it out the door and to the stairs without anyone the wiser. Smoke was pouring out from somewhere halfway up the cavern and the Geonosians were very distracted.

Chapter Text

Moving was hard. Or rather, moving while trying to keep her focus on their surroundings was hard, since she was trying to move while channeling the Force in a completely new way so that she didn’t drop Obi-Wan down the stairs. Or on the floor. Or over a railing.

Though if they couldn’t get out, the railing might be the kindest option.

They were up two floors when he got conscious enough to not just move his arms, but wrap them loosely around her shoulders so they wouldn’t keep bumping against her. It helped. One less distraction.

“Thanks,” Leia murmured, trying to keep a steady pattern with her feet and breathing. The more she focused the easier each step was.

Obi-Wan didn’t answer, but that was probably also a good thing at this point.

They’d made it to the third floor (not moving fast enough), when there was a soft click behind them and Leia half stumbled, losing focus and bumping into a wall to catch herself.

Obi-Wan hissed and she tried to be gentle as she pushed away and glanced behind them.

“Now this is a surprise,” Fett had blasters drawn, pointed firmly at Obi-Wan. “I thought you were enjoying the Count’s hospitality downstairs, Jedi.”

It shouldn’t have irked Leia that she was being treated as a non-entity. It did.

“How gracious of the Count,” Leia managed, only slightly breathless. “But we’d hate to intrude on his hospitality any longer.”

The grip around her shoulders tightened and Leia felt Obi-Wan shift his hips to try and hold his own weight around her waist. Considerate, and she might be able to reach her blaster. But not quick enough. She side stepped away from the wall, edging towards the nearest railing, both eyes trained on Fett.

One blaster tracked Obi-Wan’s head as Fett stepped closer, the other casually drifted towards Leia’s chest. It was impossible to tell where his eyes were though. “I’m sure the Count would be more than happy to host the both of you. He’s been very eager to meet you, Leia Skywalker.”

He knew her name. He knew her name and he knew her face (and he still didn’t think she was a threat, idiot…) and he’d been ready for her to come. Leia gave herself three seconds to panic over this maybe being a much more clever trap than she had allowed for, still moving towards the railing, pausing half an arm’s length away.

“I’d hate to disappoint him,” Leia let her voice tremble as Fett got just out of arm’s reach, blasters still on the Jedi and her. “But I’m afraid I already have plans tonight.”

There was a snort. “Look, fun as this might be for you, I get half of what I get for watching him,” one blaster flicked from her up to Obi-Wan and back, “if I bring you in alive. Only a quarter dead. So let’s make this easy on both of us. Win-win, right? What has the Jedi ever done for you, anyway?”

Leia didn’t say, “He saved my life, he protected my brother, he protected Padmé.” Instead, she managed, “What have you ever done for me?”

“You’re not dead, little lady. And you could be.”

Too focused on moving, on escaping, she had completely missed Fett behind them. He was right.

But she wasn’t out of options.

“Sometimes death’s the better choice,” she said, the words the first that came to mind as she tried to think how to lure him closer. “The kinder one.”

“Never been accused of being kind,” Fett shrugged, blasters barely shifting, and Leia found herself smiling as she noticed something behind him.

“Neither have I.”

She fundamentally lacked the control to do this (it was wrong), but she didn’t have time to worry. Push instead of pull, sharp, quick, and hard. There was a yell and a thud as the little boy (Boba? It was Boba, wasn’t it?) hit the wall, skidding down the hall a bit.

A split-second distraction as Fett half-turned, a sharp, “Boba!” (she knew it), and Leia lunged, skipping the blaster, aiming for a different trigger (grappling wire on the right forearm, if his armor was the same as Boba’s…), and Fett didn’t expect it as she turned, couldn’t get his arm back fast enough. She felt the armor nick her palm as it slid through her hand.

But the wire shot out, down through the railing, hitting something below, and Leia got the trigger a second time before Fett yanked back—

And shot forward, slamming into the railing, his arm pulled tight between the spindles, one blaster falling three floors down. Leia risked it and kicked Fett from behind as he raised his free arm, slammed it into the rail, shoved down with her foot so the second blaster twisted out of his hand, also in free fall.

No time to think, no time to check the child. Obi-Wan was keening under his breath, his grip on her shoulders slipping, the leg she’d had to drop twitching as he tried to pull it back up. Arm under his knee, pivot, grab and yank the Force, breathe and pray—

Leia ran. Felt the world blur around her, didn’t focus with sight, just the sense of here not there, danger. Up and around she thought, but everything was fuzzy and the air was wrong, she missed a breath.

She didn’t blame Obi-Wan for screaming as they hit the ground. She couldn’t stop when she tripped, and they slammed into a rock floor and skidded. Leia wished she had the breath to scream. But she had to stop her eyes from watering so she could see again, had to pick them both up, had to check where they were.

Two more floors. And she couldn’t hear Fett behind them.

But the Geonosians had noticed.

“Master Gallia will escort you to Kamino,” Mace said, watching Yoda stare out the Council windows, his ears drooping, leaning more heavily on his walking stick than he had that morning. “She’s been speaking to the senators, and to the Chancellor. We’ll inform you of the results of the vote as soon as we have them.”

One of those small, clawed hands rubbed the top of the stick in small circles. Mace considered speaking again, to make sure he’d been heard, but decided against it.

There was relief as much as pain in the silence.

“A great debt we owe the Skywalkers, if return Master Obi-Wan to us, they do.”

“Padawan Skywalker—“

“Both,” Yoda insisted, twisting his head to look up at Mace, his gaze more stern and serious than it had been all morning. “At great risk they have done this. Her life and her work, Leia Skywalker has put on the line. His apprenticeship, Young Skywalker has risked, and his life. Failed to see this, we did, knowing him even as we do.”

There was a tension in the Force, as if “failed to see” was actually “failed to acknowledge.” Depa had been clear in her reports. Skywalker’s temper and anxiety had settled around his mother, jumped and spiked again when he’d been moved away from her. Even his responsibility to the senator hadn’t been enough to ground him.

His mother, not his duty.

“We couldn’t risk sending him,” Mace said, heart heavy as he parsed the logic again, hating the choice. “We have a responsibility to him, for his wellbeing. Knowing what we did, sending him to face a Sith, to face Dooku—“

“Stopped the apprentice, Obi-Wan did, when Master Qui-Gon failed,” Yoda’s gaze was level, unflinching. “Trained Anakin, Obi-Wan has. Trained by Dooku, Qui-Gon was.”

“It’s not the same.” Mace floundered, and felt no relief when Yoda sighed, nodded.

“A great debt,” he repeated, turning from the window. Mace fell into step beside him. “A very great debt.”

Hands braced against the floor, Leia pushed up, hauled her legs under while trying to breathe in strength, grabbed Obi-Wan’s legs as carefully as she could, but quick, surged up and forward, ignoring the sounds in her ear.

“I’m sorry,” she choked, trying to keep focused, trying to breathe. “I’m so sorry.”

The only answer was a tighter grip around her shoulders and a deep breath against her back, a sense of settling and calm in the Force as she moved, not further down the hall but through an opening, then left and forward, ignoring the steep drop and stairs to an assembly line below, hoping there would be another exit back onto the hall.

Improvising. They were always improvising.

“Still here,” Luke brushed against her mind, lending steadiness if not calm. “Not leaving.”

Three was better than two, Anakin would be coming which was four, and Artoo was as good as two people in a pinch, as long as he could find her. So basically six, or five and a half, given Obi-Wan was down to partially-in-the-way-but-conscious and if she could stop dropping him and he could focus, maybe he could use the Force and they’d have one (one and a half?) Jedi between the three of them.

Which was better than the half-to-quarter Jedi Luke had been when he’d joined the rebellion, and she and Luke and Han had done just fine.

Chewie. They needed a real adult to balance things out the next time she planned a rescue mission (could she get Master Koon, she should have brought Billaba…).

“Left,” Obi-Wan muttered, and Leia stopped, looking at a stone wall before he added, “two steps forward.”

The wall curved back on itself in a narrow opening. Leia slid in, just as she heard the buzz of wings behind them. There was a chattering she wished she understood, but when it didn’t immediately start getting closer Leia took a moment to figure out where they were.

More curved and narrow spaces. Obi-Wan was making this a tight fit, she had to drop his legs and let his toes trail a bit so she could inch them sideways, forward a step, and then start sliding right around another tight curve. It was slow, but three more zig zags later, Leia could peer around a corner into the hall again, the Geonosians to her left, piling into the archway she had dodged through.

“You’ll need to be quick,” Obi-Wan’s whisper was barely present in her ear and she wasn’t sure if that was deliberate or because he couldn’t manage more. “Run again.”

“Didn’t go so well last time,” Leia turned so he might hear her. “Never really done this.”

She felt him chuckle. “First time for everything.” More settling in the Force around her before he added. “Breathe, you were doing fine earlier. Same concept. Plan your steps, just get to the stairs.”

With some very serious questions about where Obi-Wan fell as far as methods for training, Leia shoved her fears and concerns aside, measured the distance with her eyes, planned each movement, each breath, each step, and pulled the Force through her again. Braced herself, let her vision focus, measured again. Closed her eyes and moved.

Coughing black smoke out of his lungs, Anakin tucked and rolled out of the cockpit, down the nose of the ship and flipped up into his feet. Turned to take a quick look at the damage and slumped.

“Oh man,” he groaned, running his hands through his hair. “Obi-Wan’s gonna kill me.”

If Leia and Master Windu didn’t get to him first.

Well, nothing he could do about the crashed ship now. He’d thought he’d been doing okay when he’d started looping through the different entrances, losing droid ships one by one as they couldn’t keep up. But then he’d run out of holes and had had to skim the building to find another one, and just before he’d turned they’d got in a lucky hit and, well. Oops.

Glancing around, Anakin smiled. A hangar. Perfect. He’d just grab another ship and—

He reached out to start testing the ships, confirming what his eyes were telling him, when three things registered. One was a subtle, dense, shifting presence heading more or less this way. One was Obi-Wan, fluttering and sputtering in ways that made Anakin want to cry as he felt them, also moving.

And hiding under the familiar strength of Obi-Wan, shifting so slightly Anakin almost couldn’t be sure he felt it, was Leia.

Using the Force.

Padmé watched the votes tally, grateful for Shmi’s hand on one shoulder and Sabe’s on the other. Jar Jar was nearby too, strung tight enough he might burst, hands balled into fists that he shook in small rhythms, chanting, “Come on, come on…”

It wouldn’t be close. The slow tick of no votes was steady, but it didn’t beat the constant stream of yes’s, couldn’t weigh down the yelling and chanting in the dome as the Senate made a move to try and, as Senator Aak had so disgustingly put it, hold the Jedi accountable for their audacity and undemocratic behavior.

By stripping power from the voting body and giving it to one man.

It was a very good thing Padmé couldn’t physically reach Senator Aak right now.

“Everything we did,” Sabé murmured. “Everything Cordé—“

She couldn’t finish and Padmé couldn’t reply. Just reached up to touch those fingers as they tightened on her shoulders, remembering every sacrifice, every effort that had been made to prevent the MCA from coming to be.

Wasted. All of it had been wasted. Worse than wasted. This wasn’t just an army. This was an expansion of the Chancellery that would have permanent consequences for the seat, not just immediate ones.

Bail at least maintained an even expression as the vote was called. Though she would need to look up the bow he performed. It felt…funereal. And nothing he did on the Senate floor was a casual gesture. Mon was less inscrutable, but she wasn’t scowling the way Senator Dio was.

Senator Darsana was also bowing, but his hands were raised in something that looked like supplication or prayer. Padmé should ask Threepio about that one too. She should open her mouth and—

“No,” Jar Jar moaned, drooping as all his tension fell through his body, pulling him into a full sag. “Oh no, no, no, no. This all terrible.” He looked to Padmé beseechingly. “What is we gonna be saying to Leia?”

Anger, coiled and ready, building since dawn, snapped out of Padmé’s mouth. “Where the hell were you?”

She should have asked Obi-Wan how to stop. Without running straight into a wall.

The only good news, as far as Leia could tell, trying to recover from this most recent slam, was that whatever chaos had erupted outside was loud enough that her quiet thud didn’t attract any attention. Neither did Obi-Wan’s groan, or muttered, “Ow.”

“You said run,” Leia retorted as she started hauling them up the stairs. “If you want to switch places…”

He actually had to bury his face in her shoulder to muffle his laughs. There may have been an edge of hysteria to them. “Oh certainly, Anakin.”

She nearly dropped him. Mostly it was his own grip on her that saved him when her hold on the Force snapped. It took…embarrassingly long to get her breathing back under control so she could carry him properly.

“You’re bleeding,” Obi-Wan commented as they started moving up again, one hand shifting so he could brush his thumb by her eyebrow.

“Yes,” seemed like a good answer, but she was cheeky enough to say instead, “Your legs are broken.”

He chuckled again and it was enough to make Leia have serious concerns about how together Obi-Wan was at this point. Grim humor was a staple of her life, but he shouldn’t have been finding it this funny.

She could only imagine what Dooku had done to him.

(No, that wasn’t quite true, was it?)

There was a noise as she approached the top of the stairs and Leia was torn between relief and despair as she spotted Artoo. He wasn’t supposed to be here, he should be on the next floor—

“This way!” the droid urged, turning and waiting for Leia to follow.

She didn’t ask questions. If he’d left his post, it had to be for a reason. She was tempted to ask about what he had found, but no one had noticed them on this floor yet, and if they could keep it that way, maybe they could still reach Anakin without killing anyone (else).

Artoo moved them away from the central hall, almost straight out to the edge of the building and down another set of halls. Only years of faith and trust kept Leia from panicking the further they got from the path that she knew. Artoo was fearless and her friend. Artoo would never lead her astray.

“Where?” Obi-Wan didn’t bother to lift his head as he spoke and Leia pushed aside worry at that. And the sensation of him slipping away from consciousness. He had to be in so much pain, to be so tired. They’d get him back to the ship, start getting him hydrated, find something for the pain, let him sleep somewhere safe, take him home.

Hangars, Leia realized. Artoo was leading them to hangars. With ports to the outside. Better than a makeshift landing platform, and probably easier to get to. She could just reach out to Anakin now and—

“Leaving so soon? I had hoped we would get a chance to get to know each other. I’ve rather been looking forward to our meeting, Lady Skywalker.”

Smooth, elegant, refined. The voice matched the dignified, composed man that half strode, half glided towards her, two Geonosian guards on each side. White hair and beard, clean black clothes, not a speck of red dust on them, cape clasped by a chain across his chest.

Impressive, even before you got to the refined sense of menace and austere haughtiness that he wore like a second cloak around him.

If it weren’t so fragile.

Whatever that composed veneer was hiding, that voice made an immediate change in Obi-Wan. Calm gone, pain present, every inch of his body tensed, anticipating…

What, Leia couldn’t guess. Didn’t care. Face to face with the Count, there was only one correct response to this nonsense.

“Aren’t you a little short for a Sith Lord?”

Chapter Text

Luke was giggling. Leia could feel it in the back of her mind as Dooku just stared at her, an almost…concerned expression on his face. She could practically see him cast aside answers of, “No,” and, “I hadn’t realized there was a requirement,” and maybe even, “Aren’t you a little short to be hauling around a half-conscious Jedi?”

But he didn’t say any of those. Just sighed after a long moment, shaking his head. “Bravado is admirable, and you’ve made it quite far. But even at this juncture you could at least maintain your dignity. You are, after all, a member of Senator Amidala’s staff. Surely, she expects better of you.”

“Clearly you’ve never heard her fight with the Chancellor before,” Leia tossed back, tone perfectly casual, watching every twitch of his fingers, the narrowing of his eyes, feeling the way the Force around him tightened for a second, as though in that invisible space he was hunching beneath that cloak of composure like a sulking Anakin. “And I don’t find that dismissing men of your caliber has ever damaged my dignity.”

Confusion warred with anger around the Count. Maybe that should have intimidated her. Obi-Wan hissed, “Leia!” into her ear, his grip on her shoulders tightening until his knuckles were white. Maybe that should have made her more scared.

She wasn’t.

Dooku was strong, trained, and dangerous.

But (as she’d suspected) he wasn’t Darth Vader. And that made a world (a galaxy) of difference.

“My caliber?” Dooku asked, a laugh in his voice as false as his calm façade.

Leia nodded, ignoring Obi-Wan trembling against her, trying to grab the Force around them as if he could pull her back. “I never put much stock in men who parade around while attached to even the finest leash.” She may as well have slapped him based on his look, so she added, “I find any conflict I have with them tends to be…short lived.”

That was a lie, as far as Vader was concerned. But she hadn’t had to endure Tarkin for long after the loss of Alderaan. Or Jabba.

“You,” Obi-Wan growled under his breath, “are the most—“

“Leia!” And suddenly Anakin was there, not just in the room, but in front of her, lightsaber in one hand, the other thrown out behind him as he moved to shield her. There was a sense of inevitability and exhaustion from Obi-Wan and Leia did not feel the least bit sorry for him. “Are you okay?”

She was bleeding on her face, hands, and forearms, had probably skinned her knees under her pants, and was carrying a half-fainting Jedi on her back using a trick with the Force she hadn’t even tried an hour ago. Not to mention, “You’re supposed to be in our getaway ship.”

She didn’t even try to hide her exasperation, no matter how amused Dooku looked at hearing it. Anakin pointed with his free hand and said, “Mine exploded. We’re taking that one.”

Of course it did. She shouldn’t have been even slightly surprised. And the new ship looked promising. Too shiny, but promising.

“If you are going to steal my ship,” Dooku said, his lightsaber flying to his hand, “I’m afraid you will have to make a better effort than this.”

Anakin twitched at the red blade, but Leia was already walking backwards towards the ship. She’d see Artoo headed that way and had every faith he could get it open by the time she got there. After a moment, Anakin started moving too, keeping himself between her and their enemies.

For the moment. More Geonosians started pouring into the hangar, from outside and from the halls. Anakin spun his saber, but it seemed to be as much to get his cloak sleeve out of the way as an intimidation tactic.

“If you were going to imprison a Jedi, shouldn’t you have made a better effort than this?” Leia wasn’t proud of that one, but it did split Dooku’s attention between her and Anakin’s lightsaber. “He broke out twice. Once with no legs.”

A whispered, “You’re going to get us killed,” in her ear didn’t faze Leia much. The wavering around Anakin as he realized why Leia might be carrying Obi-Wan was more worrying. But she kept her chin up and her shoulders loose, a light smile on her lips. She knew how to play this game.

“It was an unexpected opportunity,” Dooku replied, as if that somehow justified the sloppiness. His own saber was steady in his hands as he took slow, calculated steps sideways, forcing Anakin to move closer to Dooku to keep his companions covered. “I hadn’t anticipated having such an extended visit with my student’s student. We haven’t had such experiences in the past.”

A landing ramp was extending behind her. She wasn’t going to get to it before the Geonosians got her, but if she could force them back, “You must be so grateful. Qui-Gon Jinn must have been a real obstacle for you to be this loyal to his murderer.”

Something snapped, like the sky during a mountain storm. There was white and pain and Leia flew backwards, landing with a crash and Obi-Wan screaming beneath her. Luke was screaming in her head, her body was twitching, there was a smell of smoke and ozone.

They were inside the ship. He’d thrown them up the ramp, the fool.

Anakin was also screaming. He’d charged Dooku in a wild attack, and Leia wanted to scream too, if she thought it would’ve made any difference. Her head was ringing, Artoo had practically flown up the ramp to reach her, was trilling and blinking in panic.

“Take off,” she gasped, pushing Obi-Wan out of the way so Artoo could get around him. “Get us. Ready.”

There were a pile of swears and chastisements for her as the droid moved up front. Leia was too busy making sure Obi-Wan wasn’t about to puke or die to pay too much attention. When she knew he could breathe again, Leia jumped up, threw herself around the entrance of the ship and started firing.

She caught the cape twice before Dooku turned to start blocking her shots. Anakin swung wide and was caught by a second burst of lightning (of course it was lightning, no wonder Luke was upset) and thrown back, which was enough of a distraction that Leia landed another hit to the cloak.

Damn, he was quick.

Recovering quickly, Anakin jumped up, ready to charge in again.

“NO!” Leia felt him rock slightly as her voice hit his mind. She kept up her shots, waiting for Dooku to try and rip her blaster from her hand (why hadn’t he already tried?). “Obi-Wan. Escape. One chance!”

One last, long look to Dooku, Anakin dashed past her, slamming the controls for the door. Leia kept firing as the ramp pulled up, as Dooku made several aborted attempts to try and dash towards them. A few of the Geonosians were firing, but with Dooku so close, many of them couldn’t risk it.

The door closed, the engines sang, Leia half collapsed against the wall, and a tug hit the ship, pulling them backwards. Anakin swore, turned, his attention in the Force snapping back, hesitating.

Leia threw her hand against the door, closed her eyes, felt for that cloak of disdain, now twined with rage, holding them back.

Remembered. Shoved.

The ship shot out of the hangar and Leia had to twist to avoid landing on Obi-Wan again. She overcorrected and slammed her back into the wall, stunned for several seconds.

By the time she could scramble up, they were already pointed directly at the sky, heading straight up as fast as Anakin could take them. Leia slid next to Obi-Wan, throwing an arm across his chest and trying to hold him steady as they climbed and climbed and climbed. The pressure built in the cabin and Artoo started sliding down. Leia threw up a hand to catch him, hoping against hope she didn’t misjudge and throw him out through the front window.

He stopped, suspended an inch off the floor, still and steady.

Leia looked over, smiling at Obi-Wan, who, grey faced and sweating, kept the droid from sliding any further. Noticing her smile, he rasped, “Generally, I only let Anakin take off once I know everyone—and everything—is strapped down.”

“Wise,” Leia was still smiling, the feeling of danger falling behind them as they raced into space. The pressure shifted, gravity reasserted properly, black space with billions of stars came into focus, and liquid gold spilled out in front of them, expanding into a sail. There were two space stations in front of them, but Anakin seemed relaxed as he settled into his seat, teasing the control sticks in his hands until he seemed comfortable with them.

“There might be some more shooting,” he said, “but I’m going to try and go around them far enough it isn’t worth it to send more droid ships.”

And since they weren’t cruisers, following the tiny ship wouldn’t be on the agenda.

“Where are the nav controls?” Leia asked as she wobbled up. “I’ll set our course.”

“Artoo’s working on it. Can you check for supplies? We should probably eat before we reach Coruscant.”

“Coruscant? We’re going to Naboo.”

Artoo beeped an agreement and Anakin risked a glance at them both as they started passing above the stations, a few tiny dots starting to trickle out.

Lovely, they were sending ships anyway.

“Right,” Anakin said, shifting their angle slightly to put more distance between them and the space stations. “Back to Naboo.” And then, “Are we sure it’s safe?”

“Obi-Wan needs medical attention, Naboo is closer, and Master Billaba is there. She can help us and speak directly to the Council if anyone manages to follow us.”

Anakin nodded, keeping an eye on the scanners, watching the tiny ships get closer. “Alright. How close are we?”

A final warble from Artoo and Anakin threw the controls as the first shots zipped past, shifting them into hyperspace. Leia let herself have one sigh of relief before she started examining the walls, looking for compartments.

Anakin was right about one thing. They did need to find food. And water.

Dooku waved off the hovering Geonosians, dusting off his clothes and trying to regain his composure as quickly as he could. This was not how this was supposed to have happened.

“You didn’t say she was a Jedi.”

The anger around Fett was a clear beacon, but the last word fell like venom from his lips.

Shaking his cloak so it fell straight, Dooku replied, “Because she isn’t. She is, however,” surprisingly, “Force sensitive. And very untrained.”

“You wanna explain how you missed that?”

It was a fair question. One Dooku would be taking to his Master. A question he hoped would tip the scales back in his favor in the face of his Master asking why Dooku had lost Kenobi.

The ship they had stolen was about the same size as their last one, and newer, but not as well arranged. It seemed to assume there would be two people more or less always in the cockpit, in a very comfortable sitting or reclined position.

It was not built for an astromech and three humans, one of whom had to stay flat on the floor because of his poorly braced broken legs.

The eventual workaround involved Leia sitting on the floor, Obi-Wan’s head resting in her lap as he dozed, waking often, sometimes not sure where he was. She thought he was running a fever and wasn’t sure if that was to be expected, or particularly bad.

Anakin didn’t like it, but since Obi-Wan’s color had improved as Anakin had slipped him carefully measured doses of water and his heart rate and breathing were regular and steady, they agreed it was probably not too dangerous.

For now.

The third time Obi-Wan woke with a slight jerk, mumbling, “Wha—Where?” Leia hadn’t so much as blinked. Just held one of his hands under Anakin’s cloak and smoothed his hair and whispered, “It’s alright. You’re with us. You’re safe.”

“Leia,” he said, and for a moment there was clarity. “Hit a wall.”

He would remember that of all things. Hopefully Anakin hadn’t heard. “You’re safe now. We’re almost home.”

“Dooku. Sith.”

“I know.”

“Have to tell. Council.”

“I did. They got your message. They know.”

“Right,” Obi-Wan gasped, drifting off again. “Right.”

When he was still, Anakin came from the front, crouching next to Leia and doing something to examine Obi-Wan in the Force. Still uneasy, as Anakin had been since he’d gotten his first chance to really observe his teacher. But with a grim sense of purpose rather than just aimless worry. He brushed a kiss on two of his knuckles and touched them to Obi-Wan’s forehead, closing his eyes and moving his lips.

When he finished, he looked at Leia, and she found herself locked under the full weight of his scrutiny. “You’re injured.”

“A little. It’s fine.”

He didn’t seem impressed. “They’ve got a med kit. Hold on.”

He had to step carefully with Obi-Wan occupying most of the hall, but soon he was back, cross legged by Leia’s side, holding out a hand to her. It took her a moment to realize he wanted to treat her arms first, not her face. She blamed the exhaustion on too much Force nonsense (and walls) and gave him her right arm, making sure to hold it limp as he rolled back the sleeve and started inspecting the damage.

“A wall, huh?” he was smiling as he looked up at her, but it was timid. Uncertain.

If he’d already heard, “This was the floor,” she said, nodding. “My face was the wall.”

“That’s rough,” he commiserated, starting to clean the scrapes. “I got to practice in a padded room. Kind of fun that way.” He glanced sideways from his work. “Tripped into a lake one time though, running too fast.”

She giggled. Felt herself relax. “Water can be hard.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “And I couldn’t swim yet. Not well, anyway.”

For a moment, Leia let herself imagine that. And quickly stopped. Water was scary enough, if you weren’t expecting it. Still learning to swim? “Did Obi-Wan get you out?”

“Master Fisto, actually. He’s nautolan,” Anakin added. “He was already in the water, looking for something. I don’t really remember what. Just that we were searching for someone, and I thought I saw something and…”

“Splish,” Leia supplied, noticing how gentle he was as he moved down her arm to her hands.

“Yeah. Big splish.” He looked down at Obi-Wan. “He didn’t have to jump in after me, but he did make sure I didn’t freeze to death. He knew how much I hate the cold.”

Leia could recall with perfect clarity the baking, scorching heat of those twin suns. “Everything’s cold next to Tatooine.”

Easing her fingers open, Anakin turned her hand back and forth, trying to get better light. “Pretty much. Even here.”

“Geonosis?” she clarified, because of course space was cold.

“Yeah.”

Her fingers twitched as he worked on the cuts on her palm. Some of them were just more scrapes. A couple were from grabbing Fett, thin lines that showed surprisingly deep when Anakin’s fingers pressed, trying to clear the blood and dirt.

“How did you meet her?” Anakin asked.

“Your mother?” Leia checked. He nodded. “She didn’t tell you?”

“She said you came to her,” he answered, starting to cover her injuries. “In a sandstorm. And you stayed, because you were looking for something.”

“That’s pretty accurate,” Leia hedged, noticing him frown even though he didn’t look over. “I…was trying to get somewhere. Or maybe figure out where I was trying to get. I made a risky gamble, ended up in the storm, and Shmi took me in.” Deep breaths. “I’d…lost everything. Recently. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do now that I couldn’t get it back. So I stayed, tried to help.”

He moved from her hand back up her wrist and forearm. “She had a family there?”

Had Shmi already explained, or just dropped casual statements? Leia could have sworn her grandmother had mentioned this on Coruscant. “The Larses. Cliegg, his son Owen, Owen’s girlfriend Beru. Fiancée?”

“She just left them? To come with you?”

Tricky. Shmi had never asked Leia to keep this a secret, but if she hadn’t told Anakin already, who knew what she wanted him to know. Or maybe it just hadn’t come up. Shmi might have only answered the questions Anakin had had the courage or interest to ask. “I told her I was heading to Coruscant and asked if she wanted to come with me, to see if we could find you. Cliegg said she should go, she’d been missing you too much and it was a good chance.”

“And you found Padmé,” he added, gesturing for her other hand. Leia extracted it, brushing Obi-Wan’s hair with her bandaged fingers when he stirred. “And she took you to Naboo.”

“Yes. She helped us get papers and things since we were both functionally refugees at that point. Coruscant had always been the end goal, but we knew we might get stuck on some planet for a while if we had trouble with our transport. Naboo was a good place to get stuck, and opened up a lot of opportunities.”

“Mom loves her job.”

“Her job loves her,” Leia smiled. Paused, risked saying, “I love her.”

She had his full attention again, but she couldn’t look at him. He finished her second arm in silence, pausing just before letting go to say, “She loves you too.”

He touched her face to tilt her head, brushing her hair back from the cuts and bruises, still achingly gentle. She couldn’t avoid his eyes now.

“I know.”

“Gods and streams and stars all bless Shmi Skywalker,” Padmé murmured, blinking at the datapad in her hand. “Bless the hands that made her, bless the ones that brought her up, bless the ones that brought her here.”

“Unless they were slavers,” Sabé commented, taking the datapad and handing Padmé something that she did not immediately recognize as food. “Then bless the spirits that made good of their evils hands, and may their fingers rot or be eaten by dogs.”

“Unless they were slavers,” Padmé agreed, trying to convince her own hands to bring the food to her mouth. But that would require chewing, and was it worth the effort? “Any news from Bail?”

Sabé looked behind Padmé to check with Versé, but shook her head. “The Jedi only left for Kamino today. It’ll be a little while before we get details of how many troops to expect, and whether or not they’ll need transport. If they already have ships, we should be fine. I forwarded the travel regulations and patterns we’ve been using for the RRM on to your friends in the Senate and the Chancellor. As long as they get upscaled and approved, we shouldn’t have any congestion or accidents.”

“If they need our ships?” Padmé asked around a bite, hands finally by her teeth.

It was Dormé who said, “Still working on it. Most of our refugee connections aren’t going to work out for something like that. Either not enough room or less than no interest. But we’ve had some senators volunteer transports and the RRM is working on their contractor options to see what’s available.”

“How are we going to feed them?” Padmé groaned. “Arm them? Move them around? The Trade Federation does mostly battle droids, but they have siege ships and I’m sure they’re going to find different kinds of artillery. Not to mention battle ships. Do we have fighters? Will we have pilots?”

“Legislator,” Dormé tapped Padmé on the head with another datapad. “Not general. They’ll have people for that. It’s the Jedi’s problem.”

“Unless they don’t have those things, need them, and have to tap the Republic budget for them,” Padmé grumbled. “We still haven’t traced where the original payments came from?”

“Mixed reports,” Master Allie said from across the room, her gentle voice the first reminder for hours that she was there. Master Billaba had been with Shmi most of today. “It looks like some may have come from saving funds the Jedi keep for unexpected projects or in case of emergency. Some may have been falsely labeled and taken from research and medical budgets. Those are large since the Corps use them and the proceeds are for galaxy wide projects, or work we do for people outside of the Order, so it would be harder to notice.” She paused. “He may have needed an outside patron. Until we know how many troops there are and what they cost, we can only guess.”

Padmé glared at the food in her hands, trying to will it into her stomach. “Any reports if the funds may have come directly from Republic accounts?”

“The Finance and Budget Committee is looking into it,” Eirtaé said, knuckling her brow. “But it could be weeks before they get back to us, and they’ll probably try and classify it no matter what they find.”

“Because they’re hiding fraud for the Trade Federation,” Padmé grumbled.

“And the Banking Clans,” Master Allie added easily. “At least, that’s what we suspect.”

“We” being the Jedi, and if the Jedi suspected this why had no one informed the senate. Unless, “If you have concerns about that sort of coverup, who are you allowed to report it to?”

“The Chancellor,” Master Allie answered as she kept reading. “And the Finance and Budget Committee. But we don’t get to install an advisor among them, and we can’t make arrests, or suggest them, without primary document evidence. And the Chancellor gets reports on all sorts of things. I would hardly be surprising if he missed that one.”

“Anyone else?” Padmé forced another bite, chewing a tasteless mass and fighting a gag reflex to swallow it. “Anyone?”

“Specific details might get reported to smaller committees. Pirating notes to Infrastructure, since they monitor the hyperlanes, product deficiencies to Commerce and Intrasector Regulation. And to the various subcommittees for health, medicine, and food quality control if relevant. I don’t remember them all anymore, it’s been a while since I visited the Senate personally. And this was never my area of expertise.”

“We need Leia,” Eirtaé groaned, rubbing her face. “She had a handle on things that made senators want to act. Framed it to show how they were being robbed and exploited.”

“Well, Leia decided she needed to go on a little adventure, so she’s not here right now,” Padmé sniffed. Sabé grinned and Dormé rolled her eyes.

“As a point of interest,” Sabé said, taking a seat next to Padmé and rubbing her neck to help relieve the tension, “I personally believe that Leia is in very big trouble and should face very real consequences.”

“Oh, I have plans,” Padmé promised.

Sabé kept grinning. “I’m aware. I just think you should remember, when you greet her and dole out her punishment, that what you’re really angry about is that she didn’t invite you. And if she had, you wouldn’t have thought twice about going.”

That was a reasonable argument, and Padmé had no interest in being reasonable right now. She was swimming in desk work. “I still have plans.”

“As long as they involve Leia working with us and making our lives easier,” Eirtaé supplied, “I’m on board.”

“Do you have copies of her data or reports?” Master Allie asked, interested. “I could try taking a look.”

Four sets of hands started digging for spare datapads at once. Eirtaé got one first. “Here. It’d be a riveting, thrilling drama if it weren’t happening to real people.”

“Everyone wants to make history,” Master Allie shook her head, smiling sadly. “They don’t always care about how they do it.”

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan was in a high fever by the time they exited hyperspace. He’d had water, but they hadn’t been willing to risk the odds of him vomiting up rations (and losing that perfectly good water), and that had meant none of the painkillers on board were an option. He’d lost any semblance of lucidity an hour ago and had skipped from delirious to limp and unresponsive so quickly Leia almost wanted to believe it was deliberate.

She’d banished Anakin to the cockpit stating Obi-Wan needed breathing room, not to be drowning in his padawan’s anxieties.

Anakin was not pleased.

“Head for the palace,” Leia said. “I don’t have clearance codes to land, but they can patch me through to Padmé and she’ll get us in.”

Mostly to reduce the wait time on getting to yell at Leia, but Anakin was trembling with anxiety already. If Leia could see that from where she was sitting, he didn’t also need to be worried that her presence might sour their reception.

As it turned out, they were expected and Leia’s influence wasn’t needed at all.

“Please land in the main hangar. You will be met by an escort.”

“We have injured passengers on board. Will the escort include medical personnel?”

There was a brief silence before, “It can be arranged. How many will need mobility assistance?”

Leia could only hope Anakin’s concise, “Two,” was obscured by her shouted, “One!” They should have at least heard her. Someone on the line definitely snickered.

“You fell,” Anakin protested as he started to bring them in, “and you ran into a wall. You might have strained something. You have to be examined. ”

“I walked onto this ship—” Leia started.

“You were thrown onto it with lightning—“

“And I will walk off of it,” she finished, making sure her tone didn’t allow for argument. “I’m fine.”

Flipping switches and moving levers, Anakin said, “We’ll see.”

Leia watched Theed slide into view, daybreak casting the city in gold tones, the palace a solid mark, seeming to pull them in as they got closer, as if it were its own source of gravity. Anakin didn’t seem to have any problem finding the main hangar, which flagged in Leia’s brain as odd, but didn’t connect with any information that would have told her why.

She’d have to think about it later.

For the moment, she extracted herself from under Obi-Wan, making a last check of his pulse and noting how warm his skin was. He wasn’t any more responsive to her touch than he’d been to her shouting a minute ago. She slid up to the front, patting Artoo on his dome and trying to gauge what they were getting into now.

There was a small army of people waiting for them as Anakin landed. Leia noted Shmi, Padmé, and at least three of the handmaidens were present, as well as Jar Jar and two more gungans Leia didn’t recognize, Governor Bibble, Master Billaba, and the mystery Jedi Leia hadn’t met yet. A tholothian, it looked like.

And there was also Captain Typho and several other members of security. And medical staff prepped for two incapacitated patients. Lovely.

The ship touched down and Anakin started moving. Leia had to slide around him picking up Obi-Wan to get to the exit and open the door for him. He almost didn’t wait for the landing ramp to lower, but a look at Obi-Wan’s legs kept him in place instead of jumping. Leia followed in his shadow, shamelessly using him as cover for a last few moments of peace.

Controlled chaos erupted.

The medical team extracted Obi-Wan from Anakin’s care while Master Billaba tried to start pulling details from the padawan. He ignored in her favor of answering the medics’ questions about Obi-Wan’s injuries and condition. Leia filled in a few details as needed, catching the Jedi master’s attention, which would have been more worrying if Padmé weren’t waiting two steps away, clearly ready to pounce the moment Leia was free.

Shmi beat her to it.

The moment the medics were clear of them, Anakin and Leia were simultaneously pulled into a hug, Shmi Skywalker materializing from nowhere and holding them against her like she was the anchor to their universe.

She was, Leia realized, swallowing a sob as she buried her face in her grandmother’s shoulder. After everything that had happened across the last couple of days, this was reality. This was constant. This was home being right where it was always meant to be. With Anakin smooshed against her side, Leia could only get one arm up to hug Shmi back, but she managed.

“You are both,” Shmi whispered as she pulled back, moving her hands to their faces, “wonderful. May we never do this again?”

Instinct had Leia looking to Anakin before she had thought about it, and she was pretty sure the uncertain look he was giving her was matched on her own face. She made herself say, “Depends on what you mean by ‘this.’”

The look Shmi gave her back was not reassuring.

“I need to go with Obi-Wan,” Anakin said, looking over his mother’s shoulder before bending down to kiss her cheek. “I know most of his medical history.”

“May I come with you?” the new Jedi asked, smiling gently. “I have some training as a healer, I may be of some use.”

Master Billaba’s nod was ignored, but matched Anakin’s fervent, “Yes, please,” as he half ran to try and catch up with his master.

Leaving Leia alone in the hangar with an assembly of people who looked ready to throttle her.

Except for Shmi.

“If you are able to give a full debriefing,” Master Billaba said, sounding as close to anxious as Leia imagined the woman could, “it would be best if we could get that now.”

“To you or the senator?” Leia found herself asking before she had thought better of it. Stupid idea. The looks on their faces said they hadn’t even thought about it.

“Me,” Padmé said, taking another step forward. “We’ll have a different focus than the Jedi, I think. Anakin can help them when he’s finished.”

A careful, “If I could be present—“ from Master Billaba died at the look on Padmé’s face.

“There are some matters we need to discuss before Leia gives a public briefing. If you’ll excuse us, Master Jedi.”

Falling into step behind Padmé, Leia couldn’t decide if this was going to be bad, or worse.

It was definitely worse.

It didn’t start out worse. Leia might have been uncomfortable at being led into Padmé’s office alone. She might have disliked that no one did a sweep of the room before they started talking (this was not the kind of conversation she wanted getting back to Palpatine), or that Padmé took a closed off position in front of her desk, crossing her arms and leaning against the furniture.

But none of those things were the worst that could have happened. Padmé’s first question was practically benign.

“Is Obi-Wan going to be alright?”

She cared, and Leia was glad for that because it left some glimmer of hope in this conversation. “Physically, I think he’ll make a pretty quick recovery. He was conscious while we were escaping from where they held him, but passed out as soon as we left atmo. I’m not sure what he else may have experienced though, and how long that recovery might be.”

But she could guess.

Padmé’s lips were a thin line, her breaths were short and shallow, the frown between her brow so pronounced it almost cast its own shadow over her face. Before Leia even got to observing her reaction in the Force. A tightly coiled mass, ready to snap at any moment.

And Padmé now had an outlet.

A deep breath, and she started in the last place Leia had expected. “I had a conversation with Captain Typho today.”

“Oh?” Leia felt like the ground was starting to creep out from under her. “How did that go?”

“I was upset,” Padmé was trying for a mild, explanatory tone. She was missing by a margin large enough to be jarring, but close enough to be recognized. “I didn’t understand why our security forces had felt it was okay to wait all night to let us know that one of the Jedi had left in their ship.”

Oh no. No, Leia did not like where this was going. “Unusual.”

“Very,” Padmé agreed, tone flat. “As it turned out, someone had interfered with the security feed. So no one realized the ship was missing until long after it had taken off.”

“I didn’t touch the security feeds,” Leia said, knowing it didn’t win her any points the moment the words left her mouth.

“No,” Padmé agreed. “You had Artoo do it.”

To be clear, “I didn’t tell him to mess with the feeds. I just asked him to help make sure Anakin got to the hangar, and that we had enough time to take off.”

“Did you?” Padmé’s fingers were twitching against her arm.

“Yes. I would never have asked him to compromise security in that way. I should have been more clear—“

“You should have,” Padmé snapped, “let someone know the moment you figured out Anakin was leaving. You should have told us!”

As a citizen of Naboo, as a member of Padmé’s staff? Yes, she should have. But Leia hadn’t, because this had been too important. “I couldn’t.”

“Why?” There was something like fire licking around the edge of Padmé’s presence.

Leia winced. “If I’d told you, you would either have felt compelled to go with him or to stop him. I couldn’t allow that.”

“Couldn’t allow?” Padmé was hissing. “You work for me, Leia Skywalker, not the other way around. You don’t get to decide what I can and can’t do, or who I can and can’t rescue. That’s my choice.”

Since none of that was debatable, Leia went for the only argument she had. “Fett was there.” Padmé stiffened at the name. “I didn’t know he would be, but I had to assume. Telling you meant putting you in a position where you had to choose between deliberately putting yourself in front of a bounty hunter’s blaster or not helping.”

So she’d taken the choice away. Partly to spare Padmé, but mostly because Leia had a lot more experience about how dangerous it was to walk around, and especially into a highly volatile situation, with a bounty on your head. And Leia had not wanted to deal with that on top of a Sith.

“It was still my choice,” Padmé snapped, but she was curling more in on herself. “And you had no right to interfere with palace security. None.”

That…had been a poor choice. But Leia hadn’t seen any other options. “I didn’t mean—“

“You meant,” Padmé said, “to cause enough confusion to get you and Anakin out without getting caught. And it worked.”

Technically, Leia had recruited Artoo specifically to help Anakin. But she didn’t think that obliquely admitting that she knew the position of all the security cameras between the senator’s suite and the hangars was a good idea. More important was, “Does the queen know?”

“Yes.”

And there went Leia’s relationship with Jamillia, tentative as it was. But that was fair. Captain Typho had known, and Captain Panaka would have been told. As a security risk, it was a huge problem if one astromech could cause a visual blackout for that long. “Does she want an apology, or for me to never come back?”

Or both?

Padmé had to take a moment, feelings squirming around her skin, before she answered. “Captain Panaka wants, and the queen agrees, that you need a full time escort any time that you enter the palace. And you won’t be allowed to stay here beyond public hours going forward.”

Leia flinched. Not good. Not terrible, perfectly reasonable, but not good. It would limit Leia’s value to Padmé’s team, especially right now, unless they relocated. And there wasn’t anywhere secure enough that that was possible.

“Also,” Padmé’s discomfort had returned to full tension, “they want to do a complete memory wipe and factory reset of Artoo.” Leia gagged trying to find her words to protest. “And I agree with them.”

“What?” Rage and horror fought for dominance and it took every ounce of Leia’s self-control not to scream, not to break something. “You can’t—“

“He’s been a huge help,” Padmé preempted, “and he’s done a lot for us. But he’s moving further and further from his designated programming, and if it’s being used against the queen, when he was originally purchased for the royal cruiser, that’s not acceptable, Leia.”

“It was my fault,” Leia protested. “You can’t punish him—“

“He shouldn’t have been allowed to be taking your orders when it put my people at risk. If we don’t wipe him,” Padmé continued, ignoring Leia’s protests, “you can’t have any authority over him going forward. You can’t even work with him.”

“Fine,” Leia didn’t have to think about it before she answered. It surprised Padmé, her eyes going wide, her mouth hanging slack. It cut Leia to the core. But she wasn’t going to be responsible for erasing Artoo, for killing him. Not after—No. Just…no. “No projects, no special requests, no adventures, no missions, no data grabbing, no collating, no research, no favors. He doesn’t get wiped.”

It took another moment before Padmé could ask, “Why?”

And while Leia searched for an answer (I can’t kill him, I can’t watch him die again), something in her broke. She’d made the choice to go after Obi-Wan knowing it could be the end of her career. Knowing it might be the end of her stay on Naboo, if things went badly enough. She’d done it anyway, knowing it was too important to be afraid of the risk. She’d kept Shmi out of it just case.

Leia hadn’t calculated for all of the other people she could hurt.

She’d misjudged.

She’d failed.

“It’s not his fault,” Leia whispered. “He doesn’t deserve that.” And, more importantly. “You need him.”

The last one at least Padmé seemed to agree with. “I don’t want to do it,” she whispered. “But if we can’t guarantee he won’t take orders from you, I may not be given a choice.”

She’d do what she could, Leia knew. It wasn’t worth the effort of additional protests. If it came down to it, Leia would just offer to buy him and move him off planet. She could probably give him to Anakin, although who knew how the Jedi would feel about that.

“Which brings us to our next problem,” Padmé said when it was clear Leia had nothing else to say. “What the hell were you thinking?”

The anger was back, but the catch in Padmé’s voice made it clear what lurked beneath. Leia struggled for a breath, for focus. “I had to save him.”

“The Jedi—“

“Weren’t going,” Leia compressed her tone to be even, straining the words through her throat. “Not fast enough. He’d been in the hands of a Sith for two months. Leaving him…”

Wasn’t an option. Leia’d been held by a Sith for a matter of days and it had destroyed her entire world. Had almost destroyed her. Twice. He may not know it, but she owed her life to Obi-Wan as much as Han and Chewie and her brother. As much as Artoo, or Threepio.

“And you thought that the best plan was you, a completely untrained Force user, and Anakin, a Jedi Padawan? When there were two Jedi masters on planet?”

In retrospect, having at least one of the Jedi would have been nice. But Leia couldn’t have risked them interfering and preventing her from going. And as much as it galled her, she’d needed Anakin at least if she was going to make the effort. One man rescue parties against Sith in military occupied compounds did not tend to go so great (as her brother had learned the hard way).

“They might have stopped us.”

“They should have!”

It was impossible to answer that. Leia stared and stared at Padmé trying to understand how she’d come to that conclusion. How it even made sense. “Anakin would have gone alone.”

“Not if he’d been caught,” Padmé countered.

“He would,” Leia grasped at how to explain this, couldn’t believe that Padmé was missing it. “How would they stop him? Maybe they’d catch him the first time. Maybe he’d get more desperate, do something more stupid. But keep him from Obi-Wan? From saving him?”

Waving that aside (and how could she just dismiss that?) Padmé said, “That doesn’t justify you.”

“You would have been right there with us,” Leia snapped, temper surging back. “You’re angry because you didn’t, but you would have! You know that!”

“It doesn’t justify you risking your life!” Padmé was leaning forward now, hands in fists at her sides.

“You’re not the only one allowed to die for something you love!” Leia gasped as the last words came out, horrified to realize she was crying now, slow tracts of tears sliding down her cheeks. Her voice was soft, trembled as she added, “You don’t get to tell me what I’m allowed to die for. When I’m allowed to risk my life.”

When Padmé answered, it was a hesitant, “You love him?”

Leia closed her eyes and bit her lips so she wouldn’t scream. “No, I—“ Two deep breaths. A third. Counting backwards. Forwards. Backwards again. “Obi-Wan Kenobi is a friend. Anakin is Shmi’s son. Shmi is my family. Not saving him wasn’t an option.”

And beyond that, there was the image playing on the inside of her eyes, cold and white and grey, dozens of stormtroopers, and beyond them blast doors and the saddest duel Leia had ever seen. For just one moment, before in a flash of red an old man had been a pile of clothes on the ground, trod under the foot of someone who had once loved him, would have died for him, would have given anything to save—

“You’re my only hope.”

When she opened her eyes, she couldn’t read the expression on Padmé’s face. Was wound too tight to feel her in the Force. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

It was a Skywalker thing.

Padmé almost looked like she had been slapped. She made two tries before she managed, “I didn’t want him to die. I wanted to save him.”

“He’s safe,” Leia said, so far past done with this conversation. “We all are. So what do you need me to do now?”

There was a sharp knock before the door slid open, Eirtaé saying, “It’s—“

And then Anakin stormed in, almost running into Leia. “What are you still doing here? You should be in the medbay.”

“I’m fine,” Leia stressed, waving at her bandages. “You already helped me, I don’t need—“

“You were electrocuted,” he snapped, grabbing her arm and trying to drag her away. “You need—“

“What?” Padmé demanded, and Leia could hear her moving.

“You were too,” Leia pointed her finger at him, ignoring a second chorus of “What?” from everyone else. “I don’t see you—“

“They already looked at me,” and now Anakin was dragging her, and Padmé (the traitor) was pushing from behind. “And I didn’t run into a wall.”

Eirtaé definitely choked at that and Leia almost groaned.

She was never going to hear the end of this.

Chapter Text

“We’ll be keeping her overnight for observation, but unless something unexpected happens, she should be clear to leave in the morning.”

Leia looked at the group of bobbing heads that included not only Master Allie and Anakin, but Shmi and Padmé and struggled not throw herself backwards on the bed and groan. Her irritation must have been clear though, because all Force sensitives in the room looked over at her, Shmi apologetic but firm, Anakin triumphant, and Master Allie…

Master Allie was a diplomat and a healer through and through. Her expression was kind, but had no give to it. Leia knew when she’d lost.

“What about Obi-Wan?” Anakin asked. “Will I be able to stay with him tonight?”

The answer was probably supposed to be no. The palace medical facilities weren’t really designed for guests to stay with patients. But it was clear he was going to be given a yes, even before his expression started to pout slightly and his blue eyes went massively wide.

Leia’d seen that look on Luke way too many times. It was baffling how people could still fall for it.

“We won’t be able to give you very comfortable accommodations,” Dr. Leor explained. “And he’ll be under constant observation. The scanners will let us know if there are any significant changes and one of us will be in to check on him every hour…”

Anakin didn’t say a word, just nodded very slowly, maintaining eye contact. A quick look to Shmi did the doctor no good. Her expression was just as intent and earnest, if less heartbroken.

Her reason for backing her son became clear once Dr. Leor agreed to letting Anakin stay. “If it isn’t any additional trouble, I would like to stay with Leia.”

Shmi might have missed Padmé’s twitch, but Dr. Leor didn’t. “I think you’ll be more comfortable—“

“Rani will be staying with Leia,” Padmé said, soft but firm. That didn’t stop Shmi’s eyes from narrowing. “You can ask her if you could also stay, but it may be a bit cramped.”

The current examination room wasn’t where Leia would be held then. No surprise. There was a smaller room adjacent, with a better setup for someone who had to guard the door.

Shmi’s adamant, “I will be staying,” didn’t earn any other comments from Padmé, but Dr. Leor was definitely on edge. She made arrangements for chairs to be brought, but kept glancing at Leia nervously.

So much for being welcome here anymore.

She was lying on a cold metal slab, the grey and black and red of the room numbing her vision into a twisted blur. She knew if she closed her eyes something would happen. Someone would come. But she couldn’t be sure if it would be the person she wanted or the person she hated.

If it was the second, she would wish she could die. If it was the first, Obi-Wan would die.

“You don’t actually want to be here, you know.”

Leia pushed up, staring at Luke sitting cross legged at her feet, leaning against the wall of her prison. “I don’t want you to be here either.”

He didn’t tease her. He could have, she saw the thought cross his face, to threaten to leave. But he didn’t say it. Just unfolded himself and stood, moving so he could instead crouch in front of her, reaching out to cup her face and stroke her cheek with his thumb. “You’re avoiding the dreams.”

“I have to sleep somehow.”

“This isn’t the way to deal with it.”

“How do you know?” Leia demanded, forcing herself away from that touch. “Did this ever happen to you? Did you always dream about dead people?”

He hesitated, and there was something about it that made her nervous. Something careful and gentle.

She hated when Luke was gentle with her. It always meant—

“I didn’t. Not often, and not like this. But Father did. He wanted me to know how to escape.”

“Escape,” Leia snorted. “Run away, like he did?”

“Like you are,” Luke suggested, and Leia jerked back. So hard and so fast she would have hit the wall if—

Leia shot up, scrambling to get out of the covers, biting her lips on a scream. She nearly hit Shmi when her grandmother touched Leia’s shoulder. It took a moment to recover from that, to be still and think.

“It’s alright,” Shmi whispered, pulling Leia into a hug as she sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m here. You’re safe.”

Leia breathed and sobbed and breathed again, hiccupping into Shmi’s shoulder and shuddering so hard she couldn’t move, not even to return the hug.

It hadn’t been Bespin. It had been bad, but it hadn’t been Bespin. She could cope. She could deal—

“Mom?”

A door had opened, Leia realized. Anakin was there, his worry seeping into the room like a fog. “We’re fine,” Shmi answered, and something in those words pushed the worry back, eased it away. “Go back to sleep.”

For a moment, Leia thought he wouldn’t listen. Her eyes caught his (Luke’s eyes) in the darkness, and before she could be exposed Leia clamped down, shoved everything into that deep dark place where no one could find it.

“Stop that,” Shmi murmured. “You’re only hurting yourself.”

“I can—“ Anakin tried.

“No,” Leia growled, burying herself further into Shmi’s presence, fluttering there, unbalanced and anxious and—

“Not now, Ani. Thank you.”

Dawn was still hours away. Leia could feel it in the cold darkness beyond the walls. Someone would be in to check on her soon, to check Obi-Wan. Which was pointless. His presence was still a flickering storm nearby, ebbing between waves of strength and whirlpools of weakness. Even Leia could tell that, and she didn’t know anything.

Another shift reminded Leia that Rani was still in the room, that this would be reported. Probably directly to Captain Typho. Would he feel pity? Unlikely. Probably no remorse either. Would he suspect her of trying to garner sympathy? Would he keep it from Padmé, to try and weaken Leia’s influence?

“Enough,” Shmi urged, squeezing Leia’s shoulders and demanding attention. “No more of this.”

Not the crying. If Leia had kept crying, Shmi wouldn’t have objected. But crying wasn’t safe here. Nothing was safe here anymore. Leia wasn’t a guest, she wasn’t welcome. They weren’t going to allow her to watch the palace to keep it safe. Wouldn’t listen to her about the dangers.

Leia had Obi-Wan. Palpatine got the palace.

At the moment, it didn’t feel like a good trade.

“Still here?”

Padmé looked up, noticing the blank expression on Sabé’s face and trying not to think too hard about it. “For now. I had a call with Mon, working around time differences. Since I’m not there…”

Sabé nodded, acknowledging the difficulty without saying it. That was the thing about Sabé. She’d been Padmé’s right hand first, had been there since the beginning. She’d never begrudged Cordé’s placement, had advocated for it when it became clear that Padmé’s needs in the senate would be slightly different. That someone needed to stay behind, be her eyes and ears. Her check. Her second opinion.

She was as much a part of Padmé as anyone could be. So it wasn’t a surprise that instead of agreeing with Padmé’s comment, she said, “You don’t want to leave Leia here alone.”

“She’s not alone. She not allowed to be alone.”

“Which is why you’re worried. You don’t want her to be here without you if something happens. You won’t be able to protect her.”

Sabé had already made sure the door was closed, was speaking in a way that moved her lips in odd shapes so they couldn’t be read. Had grudgingly admitted to regularly sweeping Padmé’s office now, since the MCA vote. Which meant they were going to actually have this conversation right now, in the middle of the night. When Padmé was exhausted and on the defense.

Well, that was one of the consequences of hiring competent people.

“What do you want me to say?” Padmé asked, pushing aside her work and bracing her arms on the desk. “We know what she did was wrong. Not just dangerous, but—“

“Typho’s more upset about the security breech than you. You know it’s serious, but you’ve moved on to no harm done, and probably past that to none intended. Panaka’s furious, but it’s half that it happened and mostly that an astromech did it, and only a little bit that it was on Leia’s orders. He’s too smart to think you told her outright to do it, but knows you well enough to assume you might have encouraged or suggested it, even if you couldn’t go yourself, and hold you responsible as much as her. Since this was once your palace.”

He was wrong on that point, and Padmé and Sabé both knew it. But Padmé was okay with that. Because, “She didn’t mean any harm and it wouldn’t help us to get her in trouble. We need her too much.”

“We love her too much,” Sabé corrected, taking the seat across from Padmé and matching her pose. “Cordé was right, we should have recruited her right from the start. We had better odds of convincing her then, and might have gotten more out of her.”

It was grief as much as offense that had Padmé hissing, “We don’t need more—“

“I don’t mean time or energy,” Sabé said, irritated that she’d had to spell it out. Padmé knew, was protesting on instinct. “We left her to her own devices and basically told her to find her own focus. That she was useful, but untried. To find a cause worth championing and then maybe we’d step in…”

Rubbing her head didn’t stop the aching, but it did let Padmé avoid Sabé’s eyes for a moment. “Well, she certainly found a cause.”

“And now we can’t use her. Because she’s demonstrated that she’s above our pay grade.”

“And made an enemy of the royal guard,” Padmé pointed out.

Sabé sniffed. “Like we didn’t break them years ago. Once he knows he’s plugged the gap, you know Panaka is going to be laughing about all of this. Typho will too, once he’s got a bit more tenure.”

Padmé wasn’t so sure about that, but figured it would be a good thing if they never broke Typho. She needed some pushback to keep her alive. No matter how much being coddled irritated her. “So what do we do now?”

“Rehab,” Sabé said blithely, inspecting her nails. “Keep Leia on the job, dig her in deep, deeper than she already is. She’s currently essential, we need her to be irreplaceable.”

“That’s going to lead her to some bad places.”

Sabé nodded. “It will. And Shmi will probably be angry at us. But the other option is Leia losing face permanently with the palace, maybe us losing her. And we can’t have that.”

Tapping her lips, Padmé struggled to form a plan. “Have you talked to Jamillia yet?”

“No. We both know you need to do that.”

“I’m not—“

“Leia’s not one of us, but the queen has allowed her the sort of freedom all your handmaidens have. That’s your job to patch, not mine.”

Ugh, “Fine.”

“After you get some sleep,” Sabé added. “Come on, this will all still be here in the morning.” Dragging Padmé to her feet, Sabé grinned as she added, “And so will Leia.”

“She better be,” Padmé grumbled.

The chair was not comfortable, but Anakin had plenty of practice sleeping in uncomfortable places. When he couldn’t sleep, he half dozed, and when he couldn’t do that he meditated, brushing against Obi-Wan’s presence and basking in it.

They’d made it, he was alive…

The shadow that was Leia shuddered in the other room and Anakin had to grip the chair to stay put, to not go back and insist on letting him help. He knew how to handle bad dreams. He always had them, past, present, or future. He could have told Leia, led her in a meditation.

She shuddered again and Obi-Wan’s presences flickered, flared, not to full brightness but to consciousness and—

“Hey,” Anakin didn’t jump out of the chair, but he did lurch forward, taking Obi-Wan’s searching hand. His grip was weak, fingers too skinny (Anakin had held hands like this before, knew what they meant), the skin cool where it had been warm earlier. “Welcome back.”

It took a cough and some grated swallowing before Obi-Wan managed, “Ani…”

“You were expecting someone else?” Anakin teased, hating the flash of fear from Obi-Wan, the way his eyes flicked, the way he flinched (Anakin knew those signs too, hated them…).

“Leia…” Obi-Wan nodded, trying to stretch and feel for her.

She must have woken him. That was no good. “She’s with Mom. You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

There were a hundred, a million things Anakin wanted to say, wanted to tell Obi-Wan. But he could feel his master slipping, skidding away from consciousness in spite of every effort. “Shouldn’t. Have come.”

“Like you really believe that,” Anakin scoffed, not sure if it was his hands trembling or the one he was holding.

Obi-Wan couldn’t answer, just drifted back to sleep.

Scooting his chair closer to the bed, Anakin held on to his master’s hand, humming one of the songs Mom had used to sing him, grabbing on to the peace those memories brought, radiating it as much as he could. He was never good at this, at soothing people. He was always too strong, too bright. But Obi-Wan must have been too tired to notice.

It wasn’t until later that Anakin realized Leia was quiet again, cradled in a soft, peaceful sleep.

Chapter Text

Dr. Leor was not happy, but she couldn’t outright forbid Leia from leaving and they both knew it. “I’d recommend you staying another day. Your body could use more time to recover.”

“I feel fine,” Leia repeated for the fourth time, trying to ignore Padmé lurking in the corner. “And I’ll be doing desk work.”

She wasn’t going to budge on it and everyone knew it. No matter how much they glared. There was a sigh before Dr. Leor said, “Yes, of course. But I will need you to come back in for another exam at the end of the week. I’m not sure how ‘Force lightning’ is supposed to be different from normal electrocution, but even if you aren’t showing signs of long-term damage now, we will need to make sure your recovery is progressing smoothly.”

“Master Allie wasn’t able to explain it?” Padmé asked, shifting. “If it’s a Force technique…”

“It’s not in common use, she said, and she hasn’t had experience with it personally. She helped with Padawan Skywalker’s examination, and Leia’s results were within his range, more or less. I’m hoping they’ll both be here for an additional exam as well, but no one has been able to confirm when they’ll be removing Master Kenobi to Coruscant.”

“I’ll talk to them about getting you the results if they’re off planet. So you have more data.”

Nodding, the doctor added, “If she isn’t busy this morning, and if you are alright with it,” her expression was not especially hopeful as she turned back to Leia, “we could see if Master Allie can take a look at you now.”

The last (well, not quite last, but close enough) thing Leia wanted was for a Jedi to examine her after the night she’d had. It had been bad enough trying to keep a straight face with the doctor looking into bloodshot eyes in a wan face. “I’m sure she has more important things to do.”

A mistake, Leia realized after the words were out. Padmé said, “As long as Master Allie is available, Leia will see her.”

Since making a fuss about being in charge of her own medical care was only going to get her into more trouble, Leia just nodded and hoped the Jedi would be too busy for a visit.

“What do you have for me?” Padmé asked, hoping for good reports from the previous evening.

Captain Panaka looked to Typho, willing to let him lead. Padmé’s head of security seemed a bit daunted. “We’ve been reviewing the material that R2-D2 brought back with him, as well as the recording Padawan Skywalker took.”

This was new, and it shouldn’t have been. “What material?”

“Apparently Leia instructed Artoo to integrate with the computer on Geonosis. Where they were keeping Obi-Wan,” Captain Panaka clarified. “And get any data he could about the army they were building there.”

“And Skywalker reported that she asked him to try and capture video of anything he saw during his flight to pick them up,” Typho added, gesturing at the screens behind them. “There’s maybe forty seconds of useable material from Skywalker’s flight once he’s within sight of their target. His maneuvers get interesting pretty quick after that, and…”

He hit play and let Padmé watch Anakin’s approach to a red rock fortress. Her breath froze as he crested far enough for them to see into the valley below for a long moment. Then there were blazes of shots zooming past and everything started spinning.

Which made sense. Anakin did love to spin.

“Not much,” she said. “At least, not specific.”

“No,” Captain Typho agreed. “But enough to verify the data Artoo was carrying, and confirm it wasn’t something Leia cooked up.”

He sounded bitter about that, and Padmé gave him a look. She’d told him so.

“We didn’t expect it to be falsified,” Padmé reminded him, her chin coming up. “We had no reason to believe that.”

Another look between the captains and one to Sabé who stood silently at Padmé’s shoulder. Then Typho said, “I know you trust her. But you have to admit, this looks suspicious.”

“She did us a favor,” Padmé countered. “She did the Jedi, the Senate a favor by not just rescuing Obi-Wan but getting more information on what we might be facing. She risked her life.”

And that still made Padmé want to shake and scream. Cordé had been bad enough. Losing Leia too— it would have been too much. Too much on top of everything else.

“I’m aware,” Typho was stepping more carefully than he had in the past few weeks, and it was eerie. “But my lady,” his posture stiffened, his face was somber, “she knew to go after the data. And to get the recording.”

“We’ve always suspected she had espionage training,” Padmé tried to push it aside.

But Captain Typho didn’t budge. “And I had my concerns about that from the beginning. We agreed that as long as she was using them for us, and not against us, it was an asset.”

“She wasn’t trying to endanger the queen.”

“Everyone makes mistakes,” Captain Panaka agreed, lounging against the table. “It’s probably one of her worse ones, and we can’t allow it. But that’s being handled. The bigger problem is beyond that.”

“We need a spy,” Padmé protested. “Or at least someone with that training.”

“And we have one,” Captain Typho agreed. “Right when we need one, fully trained, ready to take risks, and capable of running a two-man rescue operation in a fully active military base. Successfully.”

“Almost solo,” Captain Panaka added. “If Skywalker really was with the ship most of the time.”

“And all because somehow, miraculously, you bumped into Shmi Skywalker and a random stranger on a side trip, and they decided to settle here, upend our social and economic framework, and start building a new political angle for us in the Senate. In less than a year.”

When he put it that way. “We were planning to make some of those changes anyway. Would have done them earlier if we had the right expertise and staffing.”

“And now we do,” Typho stressed. “And it’s suspicious. I don’t mistrust Shmi Skywalker. Her trail goes straight back to Tatooine and matches with everything that we know about her. She’s steady and consistent and perfectly happy to take a back seat as long as we’re helping people. Leia…”

“We’ve got nothing,” Panaka said bluntly, shaking his head. “We can trace her to Tatooine with Shmi for one whole day. Before that, it’s like she didn’t even exist.”

“And the Chancellor’s contacts haven’t done any better,” Captain Typho added, “in spite of trying to run a full background check of their own. Fully trained, fully capable spy, who is Force sensitive, and no one knows where she came from or what she wants.”

“She isn’t trained in the Force,” Padmé stressed. “And we don’t know where she came from, but I think we can at least guess at what she wants.”

“Vengeance,” Sabé whispered softly. “For whatever was taken from her.”

There was a lot of uneasy shifting at that, and Padmé felt compelled to add, “Cordé’s a part of that now. What was taken. So we know she’ll stand with us.”

“As long as we don’t take something from her,” Captain Panaka cautioned. “As long as we give her what she wants.”

Machines were beeping, but it was a background noise Leia was so used to it didn’t even register when their tempo changed. It was the feeling shifting in the room that got her attention, or maybe the pressure on her hand.

Probably the pressure, she thought as she looked down her arm, stretched across the dim space between her and the bed. Obi-Wan’s fingers squeezed around hers again as their eyes met, reassurance flickering in his gaze and around the room.

“You really awake this time?” she asked, returning a slight pressure.

He nodded, opened his mouth, grimaced. Leia set down her datapad and helped him get a drink, ignoring the difficulties of doing this one handed.

She didn’t mind his clinginess. He hadn’t been outside yet.

“Thank you,” he managed, leaning forward instead of sitting straight up, bracing his weight on his other arm. “You didn’t have to—“

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Leia said, hooking her chair and dragging it over with her toes, getting as comfortable as she could in it. “It was nothing.”

The expression on his face was dry, the wrinkles around his eyes more pronounced as he glared, the single raised brow a conversation she was sure he’d had dozens, hundreds of time with another person. “As I remember—and I could be wrong, I’m still a bit fuzzy on some things—you ran into a wall.” Leia kept her face neutral. Shrugged. “And fought a bounty hunter.”

“Got lucky,” she corrected.

“And carried me up, well I honestly can’t remember how many flights of stairs, but it had to be several.”

“You’re running light right now,” she waved a dismissal.

“And,” he paused, the tension squeezing back into the room, “very nearly met my captor. But I’m pretty sure I was delirious at that point and made it all up. We could hardly have escaped if you did.”

Leia tried to exude calm as she said, “We did run into the Count.”

“You see,” Obi-Wan’s expression was sharpening, pinching, “that can’t possibly be right. Because I have this memory, very unreliable of course, of you saying some very…nonsensical things to him. And you would never, I’m sure—“

“I get quippy when I’m in the middle of a rescue,” Leia said, keeping her expression bland, her voice mild. “I’m sure I said plenty of nonsensical things.”

“You’re in the middle of rescues often then?” Obi-Wan shot back, goading, probing.

She could give him at least this much. “Often enough.”

“Rescuing people from bounty hunters and Sith?”

She actually laughed, and it felt good for a moment, before it felt sad. “You have no idea.”

His eyes flicked in confusion, and he opted to scold. “It was incredibly dangerous. You shouldn’t have—“

She put up a hand, and he had the decency to respect it. “That isn’t even the close to the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

“I do not believe that.”

He wouldn’t, but she could hardly tell him it wasn’t even the stupidest or most dangerous thing she’d done to deal with Sith. She’d faced Vader over Tatooine rather than try and run, the asteroid field was Han’s idea but she’d lived it, Endor had been two Sith within orbit laying a trap. And that was just scraping the surface.

Something in her expression or her mood must have reached him. His teasing, hopeful expression was grim again. She smiled. “You don’t have to believe it. It doesn’t matter.”

But it did, and he knew it, and even if he couldn’t get the truth out of her, he wasn’t going to stop thinking about it.

She should probably have been more careful.

As a distraction, she offered, “Want to run away? It’s kind of boring in here.”

Hope sang in the Force, but, “Running may be a bit beyond my capacity right now,” he murmured, looking down at his legs. They were casted now, and he was on something strong enough to allow him movement without wincing.

“We may have to just get permission then,” Leia sighed, shaking her head. “Or I can call Anakin to come and spring us.”

“That’s hardly necessary,” Obi-Wan said. “I’m sure we can escape just fine without him.”

In the end, Leia just ducked out and asked for permission. Dr. Leor put up little fuss, agreeing that Obi-Wan needed sunlight and fresh air, neither of which his room provided, in spite of its many other benefits.

Leia didn’t go into the room while Obi-Wan was being loaded into the hover chair to loan him some semblance of dignity, but did keep up the narrative of escape when he was led out, even as the doctor lurked nearby and Rani moved to follow them down the hall.

“Where are we going?” Obi-Wan asked at the first turn.

“Anywhere you’d like,” she answered. “But most of the people you know are probably down this way.”

“And if I’d like to avoid them?” he asked, but let his voice carry, humor seeped in it.

“We can always turn around.”

He paused at the first window in the next hall, and Leia didn’t say anything as they stayed there for a moment. It was close on noon, the garden below was a riot of green shrubs and pink and purple flowers, dancing in a gentle breeze. People walked there, talking and laughing. Too far to be heard, but their smiles were clear. The marble of the palace gleamed, brilliant and grand.

After a few minutes Obi-Wan closed his eyes, breathing deeply in that warm patch of sun. Wrapping something from it around him, Leia thought.

His look was apologetic when he opened his eyes, but Leia understood. It wasn’t real until you had seen it.

It took her a few minutes of silently following him to realize he was chasing a particular feeling in the Force. She shouldn’t have been surprised, but she was a little disappointed when their first stop was Padmé’s office.

Where Anakin was sulking.

He was supposed to be debriefing Master Billaba, but it looked like she had meandered into a lecture. Even Padmé was looking defiant when Leia and Obi-Wan wandered in, Obi-Wan offering an easy, “Well this is pleasant.”

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin was exuberance, practically vibrating as he scurried over, skidding to a stop and folding himself into a seat on the floor next to Obi-Wan, offering a hand and smiling when his master took it with a grateful look on his face. “Tell Master Billaba it’s not stealing if you borrow a ship because someone blew up your first one.”

Long-suffering and chagrined, Obi-Wan admitted, “I had hoped I was remembering that part wrong.”

“I think the ship in dispute was actually the ship Master Allie came in,” Padmé countered, standing and gesturing for Leia to take one of the free chairs. It took a moment, but Leia caved, making sure to pick one where it would be easy for Rani to sit between Leia and the door.

No sense in making things more obvious and awkward.

Obi-Wan had noticed something though. His awareness of Rani was higher than Leia would have preferred.

“But I got her a new one,” Anakin protested, gesturing towards the hangar where the solar sailer was resting. “A better one!”

Master Billaba looked discomposed, but unwilling to continue the argument. At least that vein of it. “You took the ship that had been assigned to Master Allie, moved it on a non-designated course to a non-designated location, and crashed it. While it was still in her name. Jedi are responsible for what they borrow from the Temple.”

“We brought Obi-Wan back,” Anakin mumbled. “He’s worth more than a ship.”

“He is worth more than a dozen ships,” Master Billaba agreed, smiling slightly. “But that doesn’t change what you did.”

“Should he have stolen one of the Naboo ships instead?” Leia asked, a little curious as to what the answer would be.

Master Billaba dodged that trap by nodding to Obi-Wan, indicating in that simple gesture, “Your student, your problem now.”

Grimacing, Obi-Wan said, “It would have been wrong to steal one of the queen’s ships. Or anyone else’s. It was even wrong to steal Master Allie’s, for the exact reasons stated.”

“What, was I supposed to buy a ship?” Anakin demanded. “Build one?”

His anger was tightly knit with fear, fear of a thing not far enough behind him to be forgotten. Leia could see Obi-Wan getting ready to scold again, tired and falling into habit instead of reading the situation. She said, “I think you should have built one. Then you could give it to Shmi and I could borrow it.”

It got the reaction she was hoping for. Confusion from Anakin, frustration from the Jedi masters, and horror from Padmé.

“Absolutely not,” the senator snapped. “The last thing we need is you having unlimited access to hyperspace.”

"But it would be so useful," Leia aimed for the saccharine tone that had driven her brother up the wall when they'd been obligated to talk politics. It had about the same effect on her sort-of-mother.

"No."

"It's like they don't trust me," Leia told Anakin, blinking furiously and pouting slightly.

He grinned. "Can't think why."

"I'm a very reliable person," she shot back. "Didn't you tell Master Billaba? I thought you were explaining our adventure."

There was a snort from several people at the word adventure, and Leia ignored it. Anakin was shifting again, glancing at Master Billaba and then Obi-Wan. "I gave her the bits I knew. She thinks it wasn't detailed enough."

"What, we landed on Geonosis, you stayed with the ship, waited for my signal, tried to be a distraction, blew up our escape ship, found me and Obi-Wan with Dooku, nearly got your face hacked off, and then flew us away? I think that's about everything."

From his perspective. And at least Anakin appreciated her summary of events. Obi-Wan was looking nauseous (although that might be because he hadn't eaten real food yet) and Master Billaba perturbed.

"I assume," she said, "you have your own details to add?"

Leia tried to keep her report succinct. It wasn't her fault people kept interrupting.

"Wait, you contacted Anakin with the Force," Obi-Wan demanded, early on. "Two months ago you weren't even Force sensitive, who taught you—"

"Mom can do it too," Anakin had cheerfully added. "They figured it out."

At least that got Obi-Wan to shut up. It wasn't much later before Master Billaba was asking, "I'm sorry, did you say you were carrying Master Kenobi on your back?"

"Not a lot of other ways that were convenient," Leia gestured to herself and Master Billaba's mouth moved a few times before she waved for Leia to continue.

It was Padmé that demanded, "No, how did you get away from Fett?"

"I got lucky," Leia sighed. "I pushed his son over and he got distracted long enough for me to knock him down and trying running off."

"With Master Kenobi on your back," Master Billaba's voice was trying to be inviting, but it was wavering a lot.

"I knew it was possible to enhance my body with the Force, I'd just never tried it before," Leia admitted. "It was hard. Hence the bruises. Sorry," she added for Obi-Wan's benefit. "It wasn't that nice for you, I know."

"Pain is temporary," Obi-Wan was oddly fervent as he said it. "Freedom is worth it."

And that made Anakin twitch a bit, which had Obi-Wan looking down at his apprentice with a new sort of understanding in his features that made Leia wish they had a moment to talk privately.

But she had the rest of her escape to outline, and no one seemed satisfied with her version of events in the hangar.

"I'm sorry, did you say ‘quippy?’”

"No, she said, 'Aren't you a little short for a Sith.'"

"I was right there. It was not a little lightning."

"You tried to get a Sith with a blaster?"

“Did you say you pushed him based on where you sensed him?"

"The lightning was that bad, you screamed!"

"That was Obi-Wan," Leia protested. "Because I landed on him when we dropped onto the ship."

"It was both of you," Anakin was moving past adamant to livid. "I was right there, I heard it."

Maybe she had screamed. It had been hard to tell. Luke had been worried and present and Obi-Wan had been a red and black wave beneath her after that landing. It was a little bit hard to remember.

"Fine, maybe I screamed. I don't remember. It wasn't a big deal."

"You have," Master Billaba's words tiptoed out of her mouth in careful order, "a very unusual threshold for what most would consider to be a big deal."

"There was an entire army stationed outside," Leia snapped, "and more being built inside, and someone is doing that without the Republic or the Separatist's permission, which means someone's trying to incite a civil war. That," she snapped, "is a 'big deal.' Dooku," she half laughed. "He’s just a man. A very angry, stupid one."

"Count Dooku is not stupid," Obi-Wan said quietly, waiting for Leia to meet his eyes. "But he is very angry. And you've managed to personally provoke him."

It was probably supposed to be a warning, but Leia couldn't summon the enthusiasm to be afraid. She'd been the target of a madman before. She'd gotten used to it.

A sad, heartbroken wave echoed in the back of her mind. She didn't give. Luke had had to get used to it too.

Chapter Text

“I’m sorry,” Leia wasn’t sure how her tongue was working, or her lips. They felt as numb and thick. But it was her voice that said, flat and even, “What do you mean ‘emergency powers?’”

Eirtaé was blinking, Dormé shuddered, and Sabé and Padmé exchanged a look that Leia couldn’t quite interpret. It was Dormé who answered, “So far, the right to assemble an army in the name of the Republic, and to assign the Jedi to lead it.”

“Technically,” Padmé added, watching Leia’s every move, every breath, “he’s been given the power to organize military bodies of the Republic from Jedi forces. Since the clones were purchased by the Jedi.”

“Senator Onaconda tried to suggest that the powers should be limited to mobilizing a Jedi force that could include the clones they had purchased, but Senator Aak made enough snide comments about the dangers of Jedi acting independently that it didn’t catch traction,” Eirtaé added. “There were a fair number of no votes for any emergency powers at all, but I think in the end no one wanted to be responsible for figuring out what to do with a bunch of clones. So they risked handing it all off to the Chancellor.”

There was a long stretch of silence before Anakin asked, “But now he can make decisions. How’s that a problem?”

Something behind Leia shattered. She jumped with the rest of them, having felt the fracture internally, still not ready to see—

Three of the wall lights in the corner had shattered, broken fragments glittering on the floor and embedded into parts of the wall. Two more of the illuminated oval insets were fractured on either side of the three that had exploded.

“What are you—“ Leia heard right behind her just as someone, Anakin, grabbed and yanked her around. She punched him, half on instinct and half in fury (he did not get to touch her), or at least tried to. He caught it, half staggering as he did. But still holding her, eyes wide, teeth gritted. “Stop!”

He shook her, and Leia would have kicked him if Padmé hadn’t said, “Ani, don’t—“

“What was that?” he demanded. “Why did you do that?”

Leia wanted to say, “I didn’t,” but it came out as, “I don’t know…”

She couldn’t be sure if it was her or Anakin who was shaking. She just knew the tremors were threatening her knees. If he let go, she wasn’t sure she could stay standing.

(But he shouldn’t be touching her.)

“I—I don’t—“ Anakin stumbled over his words, squeezed his eyes shut, took two long, slow breaths, still holding onto her. Grimaced, looked sideways, looked up, saw Padmé angry and worried and Leia didn’t know what to do, couldn’t fix this—

Dropping one hand and spinning, Anakin took off, dragging Leia along and announcing, “We’re going to see Obi-Wan.”

“He’s sleeping,” Leia protested. At least he was supposed to be.

“You’re mad at Master Billaba,” Anakin said, stopping as abruptly as he’d started, and Leia nearly ran into him. “Master Allie is with Mom. So it has to be Obi-Wan. It can’t—I’m no good at this one.”

“Good at what?” Leia demanded, refusing to look back to the others for support. She had this.

Anakin jerked a finger towards the broken lights. “Teaching control.”

Oh. She really had done that.

She wanted to protest. To offer a half-hearted, “I didn’t mean to.” To do something, anything, to save face. She tried, “We can ask him later.”

“You’re losing control now,” Anakin said, his hand tightening around her arm. “You can’t be around other people if you’re going to lose control.”

“It’s never happened before,” Leia tried, and Anakin rolled his eyes.

“Of course not. Not if you weren’t using the Force. Come on.”

She didn’t budge when he pulled, but she couldn’t look back either. Padmé spared her by walking over, putting a hand on her shoulder and asking, “Do you think it will take long? We need to finish getting her up to speed before she leaves this evening.”

“Maybe?” Anakin answered, shuffling now, staring at Padmé for a moment, then dropping his gaze to the floor. “It depends on how good she is. And stuff.”

Like, probably, what was bothering her. And how well she could process it. Or ignore it. Or…anything.

“A timeframe would really help,” Padmé prompted, calmer than Leia expected. Kinder.

“I…” Anakin floundered, looked at Leia. “If she’s never done it before? If this has never happened? I just don’t know.”

But he did know that it was serious, and Leia had to accept that. She was using her power. She was getting more dangerous.

And the last thing she needed right now was to be out of control. “I—I can be here first thing tomorrow. If it takes too long.”

Which wouldn’t work, but was the best she could offer. Padmé’s lips compressed, she glanced to Sabé and must have gotten some signal. “If we need to, one of us will drop by your house tonight and finish the updates.” There was a sparkle of amusement in her eyes as she added, “I’m sure you can get us set up pretty quickly for a short meeting.”

Leia tried to smile back, but things were fluttering in her chest that she couldn’t swallow back down, couldn’t explain. “I can.”

Sliding her hand to the back of Leia’s head, pushing their foreheads together, Padmé whispered, “Take care of yourself. I still need you.” A blink and a crooked smile. “And I need you safe.”

Ignoring (to the best of her ability) the sharp and extraordinarily unpleasant wave of jealousy that rolled off of Anakin, Leia managed a cheeky smile and a quiet, “I’ll do my best.”

“I know,” Padmé answered, pulling back. “You always do.”

This was not a conversation Padmé had been looking forward to. She’d been avoiding it all day and all of yesterday. Her first excuse had been she needed to talk to Leia. Then she’d had to take Leia to medical. Then she’d had to explain Leia’s terms to Captain Panaka and Captain Typho. Then she’d had work with Bail and Mon and on calls and reports to all hours of the morning. Sleep had happened, somewhere in there. Then there had been Leia’s follow up exam, more updates, talks with Master Billaba, Anakin’s debriefing. Padmé’d had plenty of reasons to avoid talking to Artoo.

He’d technically left Naboo’s Royal Forces and joined her senate team when she’d been appointed. For clarification purposes. He did whatever was needed, same as the rest of them. Padmé just had to pay for his repairs any time he got singed or shot or needed an upgrade or a diagnostic from her own budget now, not the palace’s.

So she got to be the one to try and negotiate with him.

“Try” and “negotiate” being the operative words.

Since Threepio was back to check up on Leia, who he couldn’t see until she was done with Anakin and Master Kenobi, it was the perfect time to do this.

Unfortunately.

“Do you understand the new parameters?” Padmé asked after she had outlined them. “Especially in regard to Leia?”

There was a warble and some choked beeps. Threepio translated, “He is aware of what the new parameters mean, but is not sure he can act accordingly.” Some more beeps and whistles were, “He says he was brought to the team to improve safety and maintain functionality. Leia has highly specialized programming and requires additional observation for maintenance and safety purposes. He does not feel comfortable having her removed from his designated tasks at this time.”

That was…not the objection Padmé had expected. “You—What?”

Artoo’s response was almost cheery this time as Threepio voiced, “He was essential in observing Leia’s current status since you were separated. Obi-Wan’s capture impeded her optimal functioning. Retrieving Obi-Wan was essential to fix it. Leia could not go alone with Anakin. Anakin impedes Leia’s optimal functioning. Anakin makes Leia execute defense measures at unpredictable moments. Like Senator Organa. And Senator Mothma. And Padmé. But Padmé needs Leia functioning optimally. So Artoo has to help.”

It was a dizzying amount of information crammed into simple statements. Padmé hesitated before she could say, “You know that the Security Forces want to wipe you if they can’t be assured you’ll stay within parameters. That would make Leia—“ somehow “very sad” seemed less appropriate than, “function not— well, not function really. Your safety, Artoo, is also essential for Leia.”

The droid rocked in a nod, and Threepio also translated, “Yes, he knows. She arranged their ambush so that he would be safe, and left him near an exit so he had an optimal route for escape. But Leia cannot function optimally without him, so Captain Panaka will have to make angry noises and then nod, like he is supposed to.”

Padmé laughed. She hadn’t expected to laugh during this conversation. Artoo was hers, and she’d hated having to choose between him and Leia.

Nothing had sat well, really, since Leia had decided to take off. Everything had felt…fractured. Broken. Like pieces of Padmé were being yanked in every direction and she couldn’t keep up with them, couldn’t hold them close, keep them safe.

More than that, every decision since the shooting on the steps had been Padmé trying to juggle who she was willing to kill, to ask to die for her, so she could keep working. She was startled to realize she was growing numb to it.

Or that she had already picked her most expendable targets. And the ones she couldn’t live without.

It was a scary thing to know about herself. And she was ashamed.

“Can you accept these parameters for now?” she pleaded. “I know you don’t like them. I don’t like them, and Leia doesn’t like them either. But…” and this was hard to accept, hard to rationalize now that Padmé had to think about it, not leave it to some distant future, “you’ve got a lot of state secrets in you, Artoo. Years’ worth. Even if you wanted to leave the team, because you couldn’t accept the parameters, I would have to let them extract those memories from you.”

The fastest and surest method being a full reset. The most likely compromise she could get from their digital security team being a wipe to Artoo’s first assignment to the royal cruiser. Which, Padmé was embarrassed to realize she didn’t know, could constitute his whole life.

There were a few moments as Artoo processed this, swaying back and forth. Finally, Padmé got, “He says he will cooperate. He does not want to be reset or terminated. But he must be allowed to observe Leia, even if he cannot take orders. Someone has to make sure she is functioning optimally.”

“I’ll see what we can do,” Padmé promised, reaching out and brushing the top of his dome, hating how her fingers trembled. “Now, can I ask a favor?” She didn’t need Threepio to translate that affirmative. “I’ve heard Anakin and Leia’s versions of what happened on Geonosis. What did you see?”

Long-suffering was an expression Leia had always associated with Obi-Wan Kenobi, mostly because it was the expression Luke usually made when talking about the ghost.

Seeing it on Obi-Wan’s face as Anakin dragged them into the room and started pointing and rambling twisted the context almost on its head.

“I heard you the first time, Anakin,” Obi-Wan was still looking at Leia as he said it. “You were right to bring her here. My nap can wait.”

Propping the hand that wasn’t still held captive on her hip, Leia asked, “Would Dr. Leor agree with that?”

“I’m recovering perfectly,” Obi-Wan had a slow cadence that quirked up with his half smile. “I’m sure she’d be very happy to see me sitting around and doing nothing strenuous.”

Meditating. Leia had known it would come to that. “If it’s just sitting, I can—“

“Please,” and this time Obi-Wan had no humor, just earnestness. The shift left Leia ungrounded. “I’ve made plenty of flippant comments, but really, I’ve been very curious about your Force training. It’s not—I had no idea—“

Taking pity on him, Leia said, “It’s not something I tell people about. Or use much. I try and hide it, it’s much simpler that way.”

Glancing at Anakin for a moment, Obi-Wan said, “It must be a very painful way to live.”

“No,” came out before she could think about it, but didn’t have the conviction Leia had hoped. She hadn’t known most of her life that this was a part of her. Not using it hadn’t been nearly as painful as realizing she could. As knowing that if someone had trained her, had helped her, she maybe could have faced Vader on the Death Star. Could have run from or fought Tarkin. Could have helped find Luke on Hoth, or done anything on Bespin other than let Han cover for her and make snippy comments at the troopers that dragged her around.

Jabba, Endor, those years of the fledgling New Republic. It would have been awful being one of two Jedi trying to be the hope for the whole galaxy, but then Luke wouldn’t have been alone. Wouldn’t have—

(Don’t think, don’t act, don’t breathe…)

“I didn’t know,” she added as she saw Obi-Wan ready to challenge her. “For years. Most of my life. You can’t miss something—“ No, that wasn’t true. “I didn’t need—“ But she had. Anakin was still a tight knot of anxiety, but there was so much compassion pouring out from Obi-Wan, Leia almost didn’t know what to do. “I’m not trained. Because I didn’t know, and when I did know there wasn’t really anyone to teach me. I’d like to know more than I do.”

“Then let’s see what we can do to help,” Obi-Wan said, stroking his beard and grimacing at the length of it. “Anakin, can you get another chair?”

“Can we go outside?” Leia asked as Anakin let her go. “I think it would be better…”

Her eyes darted to the equipment in the room and Obi-Wan nodded. “If you’ve already damaged some lights,” he looked at the counterparts on the walls in his own room, “outside may be better. Although, hopefully this will help you avoid losing control.”

The wave of chagrin that rolled off of Anakin was not reassuring.

Since Leia had taken the opportunity of Anakin loading Obi-Wan into his hover chair to have a brief conversation with Rani, there was a seamless separation as they found a spot in the garden. Rani sat at a reasonable distance, within sight but offering privacy, while Leia and Anakin found seats on a bench across from Obi-Wan. Who looked down at his legs with a sigh as Anakin pulled his up onto the bench to cross them.

“Why’s she following you?” Anakin asked as Obi-Wan got comfortable, and Leia noticed the moment of hesitation, the quick glance in her direction from the master Jedi.

“She’s my security,” Leia offered flippantly, pulling one leg up and propping her elbow on it.

“But we’re with you,” Anakin said.

“Ah, but you suddenly might not be when they aren’t looking,” the teasing tone was easy, she’d been waiting for this question all day. “Then who would watch me?”

Anakin rolled his eyes, but Obi-Wan made sure to hold her gaze for a moment when she looked at him, something like an apology in his expression.

Leia just shrugged. She was getting off very, very, very easy in light of what had happened.

Obi-Wan’s meditation was not easy.

“You’re trying to let things go,” he repeated, eyes still closed, tone mild and even. Maybe slightly stressed. “Not linger in them.”

“You can say it a million times,” Leia grumbled. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

There was a small chuckle from Anakin who was at least still if not very calm beside her. Leia pulled away from his presence, annoyed when he seemed to take that as permission to ooze out more.

It took all of her self-control not to shove. Which was probably a good sign for her control in general, but not helping with what was going on in the present moment.

“What were you talking about when you lost control?” Obi-Wan asked, and Leia did not want to revisit the moment.

But she would. “I missed a senate vote.”

“You don’t vote in the senate,” was Obi-Wan’s immediate reply. “Why did this upset you?”

Her feelings flashed from irritation to anger so quickly it surprised even Leia. The word “Emperor” swirled around in her mind, cloaked in cold, black superiority, dripping with disdain and condescension. Reaching with a withered hand, white as death—

“Stop!” Obi-Wan didn’t shout, but it came out quick and sharp. Leia’s eyes shot open and she could see and feel the worry wrapped around Obi-Wan. Felt an oppressive weight on her left from Anakin, as if it was trying to smother her, bury whatever she was feeling.

“Cut that out,” she snapped, shoving his arm. Not enough to overbalance him, but enough to make him pay attention. “It’s not helping.”

“What?” Anakin demanded. “I’m just sitting here, meditating.”

But he wouldn’t look her in the eye as he said it, and he wouldn’t look at Obi-Wan either. His master seemed more annoyed than angry or worried though. “You can get a bit…intent when you meditate.”

This wasn’t going to work. “Walk me through it again,” Leia sighed, rubbing her forehead. “And maybe… explain it like to a baby Jedi? Like I don’t know anything.”

“You understand the basics of meditation,” Obi-Wan objected. “This isn’t really a ‘baby Jedi’—“

“Oh come on, Master, you know how important crèche lessons are. You made me memorize all of them, even when I wasn’t a baby Jedi.” It was hard for Leia to decide if Anakin’s smug look was amusing or made her want to punch him.

“It was different circumstances,” Obi-Wan looked very tired. “You were training to be a Jedi. Leia wants to learn control of her abilities. She needs something that fits into the context of her world.”

Not wanting any more snide remarks from Anakin, Leia turned and asked him, “How would you explain it?”

Anakin looked startled. “I told you, I’m not good at—“

“Teaching this, yes I heard you. But I’m not getting it, so try.”

“It’s like,” Anakin looked at Obi-Wan, then focused on the ground. “It’s like, you can’t be controlled by your feelings. You can break things, or hurt people. So you have to—to—pull them in. Get them all into the same place. And then throw them away.”

Going by the expression on Obi-Wan’s face, that was not the lesson Anakin was supposed to have learned. Which was good. Leia could do the pulling everything in bit, but damned if she was just going to throw her feelings away.

“It’s a bit more nuanced than that,” Obi-Wan said. “Anakin is…quite powerful in the Force, so the incidental effects of his emotions were more…pronounced when he started training. We had to improvise a bit, to manage that.”

That information should not be such a surprise to Anakin, Leia decided. The atmosphere around them was starting to make her nervous, her skin tingle. “Doesn’t interacting with the Force have an impact on the physical world?” she asked, confused. “How could he just throw away his feelings without hurting something?”

“Because that wasn’t what he was doing,” Obi-Wan stressed. “Although it may have felt like that,” he raised a hand, stopping Anakin before he could protest. “Have you ever been caught in the rain?” he asked Leia.

“Yes,” she answered, trying to lean on more recent memories and not the wild thrill of mountain storms from her childhood. “I got very wet.”

“I would imagine,” Obi-Wan grinned. “Did you want to be getting wet?”

Sometimes yes, Leia thought. But she thought she understood where this was going, so she said, “Not always.”

“How did you deal with it, emotionally, when you got wet from the rain when you didn’t mean to?”

It occurred to Leia that this was not the best example for Anakin. Not because he wasn’t familiar with rain now, but because he still probably saw it differently than Leia or Obi-Wan did, even if he didn’t want to be wet at the moment. “Swore sometimes, shrugged others. Laughed and danced in it once or twice.” She smiled. “It was rain. It happens.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan agreed. “Feelings are obviously more complicated than rain, but they do just happen. Learning what to do with them, how to face them, how to release them, is one of the major focuses of a Jedi’s training.”

“Rain happens,” Leia supplied, “but you react differently if you’re caught in a drizzle than in a thunder storm.”

“Storm” seemed to catch Anakin’s attention. Deserts had storms, even if they didn’t have rain. Maybe this was a good direction.

“Exactly,” Obi-Wan agreed. “You got caught in a thunder storm this afternoon and weren’t prepared for it. This is…”

“Storm chasing?” Leia suggested.

Obi-Wan’s mouth twisted and Anakin looked appalled. “Not the best metaphor,” Obi-Wan sighed. “We aren’t really out for a thrill. More like, we’re trying to remember the storm, to see if we can recognize another one coming. To be where we need to be so that we’re safe when it gets here.”

And that Anakin latched onto. Leaned into Obi-Wan’s words with an intention in his focus that just hadn’t been there before. “We’re not dragging it in to lock it up,” he said, words running together. “We’re putting us inside so it doesn’t eat us.”

Obi-Wan hesitated, but said, “It’s a little bit of both. Leia is right, our emotions impact our will, which does touch the Force. We need to be in a safe place so that we aren’t carried away by them. But if we just fall into ourselves, just let those emotions move around us, they may still touch things.”

“But we use our will,” Anakin protested. “You just said—“

“The Force connects everything,” Leia jumped in, leaning on the one lesson she could be sure of. And with the words came an awareness of a warmth in the back of her mind. Still kind, still present. “Will is important, but some things just are. Even feelings.”

“In a sense,” Obi-Wan nodded, intrigued. “Things that are already touching, already bound in the Force, they can be more susceptible to emotion that isn’t theirs. Or will. But shields aren’t quite the lesson we’re getting to today.”

Anakin groaned. This had to be boring for him. Whatever it was that Leia was supposed to be doing, he had to have learned it well enough that Obi-Wan wasn’t pushing him to practice with them. The theory was interesting to her, but she hadn’t spent the better part of the last decade hearing it. Who knew how many times Anakin had had these lectures.

But more than that…

“Do you want to see if Shmi is here yet?” Leia asked, feeling a twist from Obi-Wan. “She’s supposed to come and get me soon.” She nodded at Rani. “I’ve got my security. Obi-Wan and I can stay and practice a bit more. We’ll meet you inside?”

There was a quick look to Obi-Wan, who nodded. “We’ll be finished here soon.”

“You sure?” Anakin asked. He seemed perfectly ready to hover. “I can stay.”

“Leia will take good care of me,” Obi-Wan smiled. “And if she doesn’t, our guard can rescue me from her.”

There was a half bow before Anakin took off, looking over his shoulder as he rounded the corner for a last glimpse of his master.

Obi-Wan sighed once Anakin was out of sight, the tight coil contained around him diffusing into an atmosphere of worry and exhaustion.

“We can just go in,” Leia said. “I didn’t realize this would make you so tired.”

He shook his head. “No. Anakin may be overzealous, but he is right. You’ll be better off if you can learn this. And I doubt you need any more trouble with the palace right now.”

His voice was low, his expression not only contrite but almost grim. Leia held out her hands, twitching her fingers when he didn’t immediately come closer. He hesitated, his eyes shifting to Rani while his focus stayed on Leia. But he came, and slid his hands into hers.

“How right am I in thinking we both need this right now?” she asked, and knew he immediately understood her. When he didn’t answer, she chanced, “I’m very angry at the Chancellor. And a little bit at Anakin. The vote in the senate was to give Palpatine emergency powers related to the clones. Anakin doesn’t see what’s wrong with that,” which was as confusing as it was horrifying, “and maybe even thinks it’s a good idea.” A deep breath. “The fact that it existed even as an idea, much less a successful one makes me furious.”

“Anakin is a bit stubborn when it comes to the Chancellor,” Obi-Wan admitted, and Leia’s heart sank. But it didn’t plummet until he added, “His Excellency has been very attentive to Anakin’s progress since they met on Naboo after the invasion, when the Chancellor was first elected. He’s kept up Anakin’s education in the more…refined aspects of Coruscant life.”

What the—“You said Anakin doesn’t like politics.”

“He doesn’t,” Obi-Wan agreed. “We can barely talk about them. He’s convinced that the Chancellor is a good man, not motivated by a politician’s usual assortment of greed and lust for power. I know,” Obi-Wan added at the look on her face. “He hasn’t committed the more egregious sins of the politicians I know,” Leia was very grateful she didn’t twitch at that, “but I can see why you would be worried. And angry.”

The lightest sense of his thoughts swirling around them told Leia he was remembering the dinner, Cordé, the MCA matter. He did understand.

“I wasn’t expecting to be that angry about it,” Leia admitted.

“It might not just be anger at that,” Obi-Wan suggested. “You’re under a lot of pressure right now. You survived a dangerous mission and didn’t come home to the welcome you may have deserved.”

Leia snorted. “I very much did not. And I’m very thankful for that.”

His worry spiked again, his hands twitching in hers before he said. “You may also be frightened by other things.”

Which was the opening Leia had been waiting for. “Dooku doesn’t scare me nearly as much as he scares you.”

“I’m not afraid of Count Dooku,” Obi-Wan’s words were too quick.

But Leia knew. “Maybe not directly,” she conceded. Made sure he was looking her in the eye. “I know what I said to him about Qui-Gon Jinn upset him, but I think it upset you too. I’m sorry if provoking him hurt you.”

“You mean aside from the lightning and being thrown across the room?” Obi-Wan was good, Leia had to admit. She might not have recognized the expression behind the sarcasm if she wasn’t looking for specific signs.

“Yes, aside from that.” She briefly considered admitting what she’d seen of Jinn’s death from Obi-Wan’s saber, then tossed it aside. Too dangerous. “Bonds can be susceptible to emotion that isn’t theirs,” she repeated his words. “Maybe especially if it mirrors their own? His student, your master,” she felt him trying to pull back, tightened her hold. “He knew he could use that against you.”

And they both knew why.

Obi-Wan drew in a shuddering breath, the barest hint of tears in his eyes. “I didn’t think you would come. I thought that message was my last.”

“As a Jedi,” Leia whispered, and the ache in his eyes and around them was almost a physical wound. “But it wasn’t, Obi-Wan. You trusted me, you trusted your friends. You didn’t give up.”

He wouldn’t tell her. He wouldn’t say how close he had come. But she could guess. She’d walked that line, staggered trying to keep her balance on it, aware it was a long drop on either side, into being swallowed up by something that wasn’t her, just to escape. Good or evil.

“You’re my only hope.”

“We should get inside,” he said, pulling back again, and this time Leia let him. “We’ll practice another time.”

“Together?” Leia prompted, and was relieved when Obi-Wan managed a grin with his nod.

“Yes, we can practice together.”

Chapter Text

She’d been in this room hundreds of times and Padmé still had to wipe the sweat from her hands and take a deep breath before she knocked.

It was Miré that opened the door, bowing her head and sweeping her arm to invite Padmé in. The quiet bustle of bedtime rituals drifted from the back of the suite. Padmé took a seat on one of the couches, shaking her head when Miré asked if she wanted any refreshment.

When Jamillia did finally come out, she was dressed for bed, her hair rippling in a dark wave around her face and down her back, her tired lines more obvious, unobscured by her makeup. Padmé remembered the robe the queen was wearing, the formal lines of it to cover what underneath was probably very comfortable nightwear.

And a blaster.

At least, Padmé had had one.

“You were able to finish your meeting with Leia?” Queen Jamillia asked, gently folding herself onto the seat across from Padmé, a handmaiden on either side.

Nodding, Padmé said, “I’m sorry I’m so late. We were interrupted—“

She stopped at the look of open amusement on the queen’s face. “Rani did mention the training with Master Kenobi.”

Training Padmé didn’t know nearly enough about. “Yes. But Leia is up to speed now. And I got word from Bail on the way back. We have numbers for the first batches of troops that are arriving. They should be on Coruscant within the next few days.”

All important matters that the queen had a right to know about. But not what Padmé was here for. Still, Queen Jamillia asked, “Do you know when you will be returning to Coruscant?”

“It’s likely they’ll open a full emergency session of the senate once all the troops are on planet and Master Yoda and Master Windu have had a chance to update the Chancellor. I expect I’ll be needed then, so I’m planning on staying until we have dates since I don’t know when I’ll be able to return after that.”

“Will you be taking Leia with you?”

It was a simple question, but not one that had a simple answer. At the hint of hesitation, the queen raised a hand and her handmaidens bowed themselves out, heading to the back and closing the door. Padmé noticed the panel shift on the wall that indicated the room was now completely secure. And then noticed the queen noticing Padmé noticing.

“It’s odd to be in here like this,” Padmé confessed, trying to smile.

“You’ve avoided it since my coronation,” the queen agreed, no censure in her words. “To respect the space as mine now. To keep it safe. But that doesn’t mean that you forget.”

“No,” Padmé agreed, thinking of the days, weeks, years that she had spent living here, making this room in particular her special fortress. “You don’t.”

Queen Jamillia allowed Padmé a few moments to reminisce before saying, “We agreed, when you took the position as senator, that because you would be a representative of Naboo in the Republic government, there would be times that our needs did not entirely align. And we would have to navigate those waters together.”

“To maintain alliances and to address the needs of the galaxy at large,” Padmé recited, remembering the conversation. “If there was conflict, we would clearly state our needs and make sure they were brought into harmony.”

There was still no condemnation from the queen. One of the things that had appealed to Padmé about Jamillia, that had made Padmé vote for her when considering a replacement, was the woman’s calm understanding. Her kindness. Coupled with an almost playful practicality. The playfulness was absent right now, but the practicality shone even in those tired eyes. “Captain Panaka has made a rather extensive list of permanent changes he would like to make to palace security,” she said. “I found some of them reasonable, some of them amusing, and some of them intolerable. We are still negotiating.” And there was the humor. “He needs me to be safe. I need me to be safe, and for my palace to be a place where the people in it are safe.” Tucking her hair behind her ear she asked, “What do you need?”

“Leia,” Padmé answered, so quickly she almost caught herself by surprise. And then, almost bitterly, “Leia to be safe.”

That earned a chuckle. “I don’t imagine you will find her cooperative on that point, but I also don’t know what you’ve negotiated with her in terms of contracts.” The queen waved aside Padmé’s answer. “Leia needs access to this building and networks to the extent that any member of your staff may have them, so that she can be useful to you and do her job. If the palace is a safe place, which is also one of my needs, Leia should be safe in it, which addresses both of yours.”

“Yes, your majesty,” Padmé murmured, feeling that something else was coming.

“The only problem,” Queen Jamillia said, and she didn’t seem disturbed as she said it, “is that Leia may be capable of changing both those circumstances, no matter how neatly we try and arrange them.”

Padmé buried her face in her hands. “I’m so sorry.”

“Captain Panaka says they still aren’t sure exactly how or when she arrived in the hangar. She seems to have navigated the palace without attracting any attention.”

It was on the tip of Padmé’s tongue to say Anakin had managed the same thing. But it seemed unwise to suggest Leia, who was supposed to be untrained, had the skills of someone who had been with the Jedi for ten years. “They don’t know?”

“No,” the queen sighed. “Her appearance on camera doesn’t neatly coincide with what would have been expected.” A pause before, “Miré suggested she may have scaled the outside of the hangar at some point.”

What? “I really don’t think—“

“I enjoy the mystery,” Queen Jamillia was really smiling now. “As much as it worries my protectors. And I do believe she meant us no harm.” A more serious look. “She would never have put you at risk.”

Which was why Leia was still allowed in the palace at all, Padmé realized. Not because it was practical and she was needed. Not because the Jedi and Security Forces needed to see her. Not because she wasn’t dangerous. Because the queen felt that Leia’s actions wouldn’t have led to Padmé’s harm, and by extension the palace was still safe.

A flawed logic, but not one Padmé was going to argue with. “You really believe that?”

“You have more experience with her,” Queen Jamillia was soothing and composed. “But she was here almost all day, every day, immediately after Cordé’s death and before the MCA vote.” The queen actually looked away as she added, “She is an incredibly valuable ally. And her suspicions, though never proved in full, did allow for us to keep you safe and accomplish our goals.” She turned back to Padmé, held her gaze. “I will not forget that.”

“But we need her to agree to keep you safe,” Padmé said, not wanting to revisit those days. She was too tired, too drained to stay rational in the face of them. “To cooperate.”

“I’m afraid she does need to be…grounded,” Queen Jamillia sounded honestly sad. “And I can’t promise an exact time when that can end. Captain Panaka has informed me that if I allow her to keep ‘running loose,’ he may be compelled to bring criminal charges, against her and the droid, to circumvent my disregard for my safety.”

Padmé paled. “Even if she were found innocent—“

“She would be banned from work in the palace for about a year,” the queen nodded. “Or however long the case was open.”

It wasn’t fair. But Padmé should have suspected it. Panaka did have to take his orders from the queen as far as security measures. But his one recourse to balance that was the courts. They were slow, careful. Thorough. It was usually easier for him to negotiate, problems were so immediate. “And it would be on her record.”

Leia didn’t have much of a record to begin with. They didn’t need that at the top of it. Not to mention Artoo’s inclusion in the charges, even as a droid not a co-conspirator, would take him out of Padmé’s control. There was no way she could prevent a wipe at that point, even, again, if Leia were found innocent.

“I’d prefer to avoid that,” the queen said, standing. “I’m going to have to be careful enough around her as is. I would hate for her to get the impression that I was spiteful as well as upset.”

“You’re neither,” Padmé rose in a curtsey, accepting the hug when Queen Jamillia stepped forward, her arms open. Returning the embrace in relief and comfort. “And I’m so grateful.”

“You gave me large shoes to fill,” Jamillia said, stepping back and squeezing Padmé’s fingers. “I hope to do it well.”

Politics were real, Padmé knew. Leia would never have gotten away with this on Coruscant. She might not have gotten away with it if Padmé hadn’t once been queen, if Jamillia didn’t understand the implicit trust one had to have in their handmaidens. If she didn’t see Leia as part of that circle, regardless of her actual title.

“You are twice as gracious and compassionate as I was,” Padmé said, thinking of years of court battles against the Trade Federation. “Everything you do helps our people to heal. To be greater.”

“I was given a good foundation,” Jamillia insisted. “It would be unconscionable to not build beautifully on it.”

It was a dream. One of her better ones, Leia had to admit as she looked up from her desk to see Han lounging in the doorway, his mouth moving and no distinct sounds forming.

It wasn’t a memory. It couldn’t be because she couldn’t pin it down and when she reached him to hug him the scene seamlessly shifted from her office on the cruiser to their quarters on the Falcon.

She could kiss him, but the sensation was muted, distant.

She caught a, “Hey, your Worship,” between the quarter doors and the bunk, and a half desperate, “Leia!” once they’d collapsed into a tangled heap. Everything else was like chasing the wind. There for a moment, the sensation of his hands on her back, the next slipping away. Another breath and she could feel the softness of his hair, then gone again.

All a dream. Just a dream.

But she chased it until morning.

Mace cut the call with Depa, rubbing his face and trying to maintain calm. “Did you catch all of that?”

“Here, I was,” Master Yoda actually poked Mace. “Not that old yet, I am, hmmm?”

Mace nodded an apology, frowning as he thought about how they were going to tell the other Council members. “He’s only supposed to have one apprentice…”

The mutter earned him another poke. “If fearful to destruction, Leia was, responsible Obi-Wan is in taking her in hand. Cautious, she is. Trust, there must be, if trained in the Force she is.”

It grated. Mace trusted Depa far more than he trusted Obi-Wan.

No, that wasn’t fair. Obi-Wan was very trustworthy. Even if his handling of Anakin Skywalker was often unorthodox. Skywalker himself was unusual, so it had to be a testament to how stable and steady Obi-Wan was that the boy had gotten so far in his training.

“She’s too old to be taken as a pupil,” Mace continued, and that earned a look.

“Said the same for Young Skywalker, we did,” Master Yoda noted, his eyes traveling to the window, watching another warship land in the far distance. “Too old to learn? To train? To be obedient?”

“The Order has it’s reasons—“ Mace tried.

“Not too old, Master Windu,” Master Yoda said, looking back. “Too new, they are. Changing. Troubled, the Force is. Lean on our traditions, should we? Keep us stable, will they?”

These were not flippant questions. They were the sorts of things masters faced, day after day, as their strength grew in the Force, as their understanding of the world shifted. But to be on the Council was to ask them not just for one’s self, but for the whole Order. And a shift such as Master Yoda was implying…

“If we lose track of who we are,” Mace asked, “will we survive this conflict? Even if we live through it?”

Questions without answers. The Council would discuss. Mace would meditate. But until then, “When would you like the Council to meet the clones?”

“Immediately,” was Master Yoda’s firm reply.

Leia skipped every other stair as she trotted down to breakfast. There was a warm glow around her this morning. She’d had a good rest, good dreams, and—

Her first sight when she turned into the kitchen was Han Solo, seated at Shmi’s table, playing with a spoon while his feet kicked back and forth, his toes not reaching the ground.

Damn the Force. Really?

“Hey,” and that was Anakin, plating up food behind Han, not fully dressed for the day yet, the loose sleeves of his shirt rolled up and out of the way. “Are you supposed to sleep this late?”

No, she was supposed to have gotten up hours ago, run through some drills, checked her schedule and her notes for the day, helped Shmi cook. But Leia wasn’t going to be able to get into the palace early, and after yesterday’s catastrophic slip, she’d figured at least trying for sleep had to help.

Joke was on her. She’d spent most of her night clinging to dreams of making love to a dead man to wake up to his baby face at her kitchen table.

Maybe she should just call today a wash and go back to bed.

“Dr. Leor said I should be resting and letting my body recover. I work, and live, with a dozen people that will compel me to follow those instructions if I’m not proactive about it.”

She wasn’t looking at Han. She hadn’t said anything to him yet and she could tell he had noticed. She could hear him squirming, waiting for her to ask what he was doing there. She should. It would be smart.

“You do seem better this morning,” Anakin said, sliding a plate in front of Han and putting another down for Leia. He pointed at Han, smiling. “You afraid of kids?”

“No,” Leia growled, almost stomping into the room and throwing herself into her seat. “I was just surprised.”

“This is—“

“Han,” she supplied, making herself look at the boy and smile. “Solo. He came here with his mom a little while ago.”

Here being Naboo, but the ambiguity would hopefully stop both of them from asking more questions.

No such luck. “You know him and Jaina?” Anakin was probing around her, trying to find something.

Leia pushed back, then pulled in on herself. Twisting more than she normally would to get the feelings all under her skin, behind her muscles, tucked into her bones. “I met them once. I assume she dropped him here this morning? Shmi didn’t mention it.”

“Jaina got called into work early,” Anakin was frowning, his arms crossed. “I told her Mom wouldn’t mind, we could watch him until he had school.”

“Did you tell her Shmi wasn’t here?” Leia asked, a little irritated, but more concerned. It wouldn’t have been fair to hide that.

“Yes.”

His tone was getting sharper and Leia could see that Han hadn’t started eating yet, was looking between them anxiously. She pointed at the last plate on the counter. “You eating?”

There was an odd moment where Anakin almost turned to get his food, then noticed Han. Instead he sat and called his plate over with the Force, grinning a little at the look of awe on Han’s face.

Leia almost buried her face in her food as she scrambled for the next bite. She was intimately familiar with that smile.

Anakin was staring at her when she made herself look back up, confusion etched on every line of his face.

“Mom said you went on a spaceship,” Han mumbled around a bite of food. His eyes were fixed on Anakin. “Was it cool? Did you get to fly it?”

Anakin relaxed back into his seat a bit, smiling. “Yeah. It was pretty cool. I may have crashed it a bit though. We had to get a new one.”

This was a bad idea, Leia tried to tell herself. Anakin should not be sharing this story with an impressionable child. She should interrupt it before they got carried away.

But that would mean supplying a new topic of conversation. Engaging in it.

Leia shoved food into her mouth and interrupted every so often, but only to encourage the boys to keep eating.

“You’re looking better this morning.”

Leia stopped walking and both she and Obi-Wan grinned at their in concert greeting. The look on Anakin’s face was slightly horrified. Shmi, checking the haircut she had almost finished, just smiled.

“My helplessness seems to have won me unintended kindness,” Obi-Wan added when no one else spoke, shifting his shoulders. “She won’t even let me apologize for the inconvenience.”

“Of course not,” Leia said as Shmi replied, “You are family. There is no inconvenience.”

Anakin practically glowed in the Force at the comment, and Obi-Wan was actually blushing. Leia bit her lips on a giggle, traipsing over to ruffle Obi-Wan’s hair. He scoffed and Shmi tutted, but Leia didn’t apologize. “Don’t worry. Shmi always has room for more family.”

“I—I don’t.” Obi-Wan cast a helpless look at Anakin. “I appreciate the—“

“Say ‘thank you,’ Obi-Wan,” Leia told him, starting to dust off the table next to him. “And then we can have breakfast.”

“We already ate,” Anakin objected.

This time it was Shmi and Leia who mirrored a, “He didn’t,” pointing at Obi-Wan.

The Jedi was looking almost aggravated. “You don’t know that I didn’t eat,” he told Leia.

“Shmi just said so,” Leia threw back, moving to go and grab some chairs. “And it was obvious.”

“There’s a bench,” Shmi nodded the opposite direction Leia was heading, towards the railing of the porch. “I moved it.”

She’d moved two benches, probably that had sat on either side of the stone table. But Anakin could grab a chair and sit next to Obi-Wan, so Leia just started moving the one bench back while Shmi asked Threepio to see if breakfast could be brought outside.

“How was it obvious?” Obi-Wan muttered, giving a pointed look to Anakin, who was just watching Leia. His padawan scampered over, tested the weight of the bench, then waved Leia off to move it with the Force. “No, don—“

“Shmi hadn’t had breakfast, and she wouldn’t have been cutting your hair if she had already eaten and you hadn’t,” Leia answered, trying to observe what Anakin was doing. He finished too quickly for her to get much. She gave Obi-Wan a sidelong glance. “You’re still hoarding your dark secrets. I have to get creative.”

"What dark secrets?" Anakin demanded. “Why does Leia get to know them?"

"She doesn't," Obi-Wan protested. "And I don't have any."

Leia hummed as she took a seat on the bench, holding an arm out to give Shmi a hug as her grandmother joined her. "Wrong on both counts. But you'll learn," Leia told Anakin. "Nothing stays secret forever."

Not even from a certain point of view.

"Does that mean we get your secrets?" Shmi asked mildly as Threepio returned with a palace servant and food.

Leia blushed. "What makes you think I have any?"

The tone was good. She knew it because Obi-Wan's eyebrows shot up and she felt him sliding around her in the Force, polite but investigative as the food was set down. When the servant left, he asked, “How did you do that?"

"Speak? I've been practicing for years," she went for dry this time, but not too dry. Shmi didn't like conflict at her meals, even if it was just for fun.

"Lie," Obi-Wan corrected, his presence seeping away from her. "So…casually."

Obviously also practice, but Leia just said, "I didn't lie."

"Your face said otherwise," Obi-Wan accepted a plate, eyeing his options. "The vocal training I'm sure is habit, but—" His expression caught between hesitation and gentleness. "You said you never had any training. But I can't sense you in the Force."

"At all?" Leia asked, fairly certain she wasn't doing anything special.

"Not 'at all,'" Obi-Wan added, looking away to start loading his plate. "Just…you don't register as Force sensitive. Not obviously. But you clearly have the potential to do…much."

Accepting a cup of tea from her grandmother, Leia countered, "So does Shmi."

"Yes," Obi-Wan agreed as he also accepted a cup from Shmi. "At least, probably. Her presence in the Force is muted similar to yours. You could both have similar potential if the two of you do really regularly communicate mind to mind." He added quickly, "Which would be less surprising if the two of you were related. Biologically," he tacked on at whatever look Leia hadn't been able to completely suppress.

"That would make sense," she sipped from her cup, making sure not to lose eye contact. "So what's wrong with what I'm doing?"

"Nothing," Obi-Wan said, frowning as Anakin dropped more food onto his plate. "But I'm very curious where you learned it."

"Well," Leia kicked Anakin lightly under the table and pointed at a butterfly that had just landed on his shoulder, which made him jump, "that makes two of us."

Chapter Text

Anakin hugged his mom, picking her up off the ground until she affectionately murmured for him to put her down. She was still smiling when he looked at her, even if he could feel the sadness and worry just under her skin.

But there was hope there too as she cupped his cheek and brushed a tear away with her thumb, “It was so good to see you again,” she told him. He wasn’t sure anymore how many times she’d said that today. “Be safe on your journey back.”

“We will,” Anakin promised, looking down at Obi-Wan, who seemed more resigned than irritated.

He got flustered though, when Mom stepped away from Anakin and leaned down to give Obi-Wan a hug. At least he had the decency to offer a half one back. “And you,” Mom said, pointing at Obi-Wan’s nose. “Listen to your healers. Do not over exert yourself. And stay safe.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he’d promised before he could think to object. Anakin grinned at the pinched look around Obi-Wan’s eyes. It wasn’t a pain look, it was self-recrimination. But the good kind, Anakin thought. The one that came with the smallest smile hidden in Obi-Wan’s beard. “I’ll try not to cause any more trouble.”

“Good,” Mom was crossing her arms as she stepped back. “Because next time, I will come after you too.”

Master Allie chuckled, and Anakin looked over to her, glad she was honestly smiling. Master Billaba seemed almost amused but mostly chagrined on Obi-Wan’s left. Mom worried her, and that worried Anakin.

“We need to get going,” Master Billaba said, bowing to Mom. “Thank you for all your help while we’ve been here. It has been greatly appreciated.”

“And thank Leia,” Master Allie added, grinning wider as Master Billaba looked over at her. “She helped too.”

The carefully blank expression reminded Anakin of Master Windu, but Master Billaba’s voice wasn’t nearly so stern as she said, “Since she is not here, that might be difficult.”

They’d said goodbye to Leia that morning, just for a minute, before she’d disappeared with the handmaidens to work on something. It was hard to tell in that muted swirl around her if she’d been upset they were leaving, or that they were bothering to say goodbye.

Leia was…difficult. Sometimes. Still.

But the thought was enough to have Anakin reaching out, gently calling to that tiny spot of light in the palace, almost grinning as he felt it startle at his presence. It turned prickly and cool, but he didn’t draw back, just offered, “Thank you.”

A moment’s silence stretched before some of those prickles pulled back in and there was a rippled murmur of, “Fly safe.”

There was a note of something beyond sincerity to that message, but Anakin couldn’t quite catch it as he pulled back.

“Are you ready?” Obi-Wan was looking at Anakin, unsettled.

Obi-Wan was still adjusting, Anakin decided, to Leia being part of their family. Maybe because he liked her too much? Anakin wasn’t really willing to think about it too hard. “Of course, master.”

He watched out one of the windows as they took off. He’d meant to keep his focus on his mother the whole time, but his eyes drifted back to the palace as the ship angled upward and Anakin felt parts of himself being left there.

Captain Panaka was glaring less than Leia had expected. Possibly because she’d been adhering to the rules he’d laid out. More likely because he was looking as grim faced and worried as the rest of them, listening to Padmé’s update from Coruscant.

“—Two hundred thousand now, and another hundred to hundred and fifty thousand in the next three months.” The senator had to pause before finishing, “There should be about a million more across the next three years. Unless the Republic increases the order and requests additional increases to the aging effects.”

Leia made sure to catch a look at everyone’s face in the silence. The aura of unease in the room had been suffocating from the start, but now there was a more subtle energy to it. A desire to escape, to flee. Advisor Brandes looked especially ill, but Master Zapalo had the deepest underlying tension. Leia wondered if he was thinking about his sister, or about the diminishing resources for his planned projects.

It was Governor Bibble who asked, “But that’s enough, isn’t it? Enough troops to face the Separatists?”

“Our count from the Skywalkers’ trip to Geonosis,” there was the glare from the captain Leia had been waiting for, “suggests that the Separatists have prepared somewhere around three to four times as many droids. In comparison to our first batch of clones.”

“Which isn’t necessarily accurate,” Padmé added. “We have order numbers and due dates from the factory, but not confirmation on if all the batches were finished on time. Or if this is representative of their whole fighting force. There may be other foundries.”

That ratcheted the fear in the room up several notches. A general din started echoing across, concerns about what were the nearest Separatist systems, would the Republic start recruiting or drafting member’s citizens or security forces, how soon would there be trade blockades in place?

Padmé tried soothing concerns, insisting that the Senate and Jedi Council were aware of the details and working on solutions. But the vagueness of her replies wasn’t helping, just revealing how much the Senate still had to decide on and how much more the Jedi needed to do. Which led to more questions and more panic.

When the volume started crawling uncomfortably high Leia tried to clear her throat, to at least catch the attention of those nearest her.

No such luck.

But Queen Jamillia noticed something and actually stood, making a sweeping gesture for silence. The hall drifted off into quiet murmurs, Governor Bibble’s fingers twitching slightly as his lips moved in an undertone.

Leia ignored it. Queen Jamillia offered her the floor.

“Is everyone here aware,” Leia said, finding her feet sliding to attention, her hands locking behind her back almost on instinct, “of the differences between droids and clones?”

“I think we’ve all wrapped our minds around that concept,” Advisor Vancil sounded testy, his gaze narrowing on her.

Leia smoothed her tone to something benign and mild as she replied, “From a strategic perspective? In terms of troop efficacy?”

The resulting silence was only reassuring in so far as it showed Leia had their attention, not that they understood. Although the look on Master Zapalo’s face was encouraging. Leia continued, “Droids are constructed. They are, for lack of a simpler word, stupid. Unless programmed otherwise. They are not efficient soldiers.”

“The Trade Federation has made good use of them,” Governor Bibble objected. “As we are keenly—“

“The Trade Federation primarily, personally, uses them as a defense force for moving their own goods. That isn’t to say that they haven’t taken advantage of having weaponized droids in certain environments to bully unarmed populaces, but having a weapon isn’t the same as being efficient,” Leia repeated the word, making sure everyone in the room had noticed it. “They carry droids on their transports to conduct space battles and to board enemy ships when necessary. The droids are controlled by command stations and relays, which was partly how Naboo was so successful in overcoming the force that landed here. Yes?”

She looked to Padmé, got a quick nod, and continued. “Command relays like that can be interrupted, by brute force or by signal jamming. So droids made for an army, that has to expect regular, organized sabotage attempts, have to be able to move independently. Which means they need to be built with different components. And upgraded.”

“Completely reprogrammed,” Master Zapalo added. “Learning is a quality that has to be built into a droid. It’s expensive because it requires better memory and processors. Those parts are made of alloys that are harder to find and mine. Or synthesize.”

“And an army is huge,” Leia added. “Already almost prohibitively expensive to build from scratch in the short time that the Confederacy has been active. They’ll be cutting corners anywhere they can. Some of their droids may have more advanced programming; they’ll be marked as command droids. But more likely the droids will be programmed for the quickest response to direct orders, and will have to be managed by sentient, organic field commanders. Probably no more than ten in any given system at a time, because that’s risky. If the droids efficacy drops so quickly without a laterally thinking commander, that makes those commanders just as worthwhile a target as a command station.”

“So they’ll just reprogram…” Advisor Brandes started, trailing off at Master Zapalo’s shaking head.

“It’s not that simple,” and he was actually smiling at Leia now. “We know they are making different models of droids, each equipped with different weapons. For the droids to be completely independent they have to be taught the exact makeup of all the other models, historical and modern military strategy and formations, what different weapons do, what they won’t do. How to recognize enemy weapons and tactics. How to recognize who is a friend or enemy, and if that changes mid battle. How to adjust their strategies in real time without becoming too predictable.”

“Which is where we come to the biggest advantage the Republic got when it sacrificed its values and bought a bunch of sentient soldiers,” she probably could have left off that part, but Leia wanted it clear how she felt about the situation, in spite of the good news. “Every single clone is military trained and has a working brain. Individually, they can think, they can plan, they can improvise.” Leia smirked. “And there’s nothing more dangerous on the battlefield than your enemy doing something…creative.”

Flying into Coruscant was disorienting. Massive battleships hung around the planet, spaced in an organized orbit, disrupting the usual flow of traffic in and out of atmosphere. Anakin was almost pressed against the window, trying to figure out the propulsion systems and shields based on his knowledge of much smaller ships.

You could fit a small army on each of those.

They had.

“I’ll give the Kaminoans credit for making quite the impression,” Obi-Wan murmured, stroking his beard as he leaned forward in his chair.

Anakin reached a hand out to clasp Obi-Wan’s shoulder, uneasy with how his master was tightening and folding in on himself in the Force. Obi-Wan was always careful and proper, Anakin remembered. But he’d been so at ease on Naboo, so curious and open around Mom and Leia, it was a little concerning to feel the difference now, as they made their descent towards the Jedi Temple. “Well, master, you do know a thing or two about making an impression.”

It was the smile that Anakin had hoped to win, and it lightened the atmosphere slightly. “A lesson you’ve learned well, my ostentatious apprentice.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Anakin grinned.

“The gold ship?” Obi-Wan lamented. “With the solar sail?”

Alright, maybe he had a point. “I knew you’d want to travel in style, master. Really make a statement.”

“I’ll admit,” Obi-Wan’s smile was rueful now, “it did obscure the ‘Please save me, I can’t even crawl my way out of here,’ impression I was giving.”

“I only want to be helpful, master,” Anakin ducked his head and looked up with just his eyes, biting his lips to keep his expression earnest. But he couldn’t stop his smile at Obi-Wan’s eye roll and the mixed chagrin and happiness in the Force.

Then the mood shifted, turning more serious as Obi-Wan actually reached out for Anakin, grabbing his arm and squeezing. Not hard or painful, but steady. “I am glad you came for me.” An even more sober look. “I wouldn’t have made it without you.”

Anakin wasn’t sure if it was terror or hope that had him grabbing the hand on his arm, squeezing it even tighter. “I never would have left you there,” he promised. “Never.”

All traces of fun and amusement were gone, the Force humming with…something. Something Anakin could only feel, not explain. “I hope you would have,” Obi-Wan said. “If I were…lost. I hope you would—would save yourself. Escape.”

Be free hung unsaid, but somehow as clear as if Obi-Wan had pressed it into Anakin’s mind. He hadn’t, but that unwordable taste in the air was too familiar. Like Mom had felt the day Qui-Gon had taken Anakin away. That hope-for-something-better and I-love-you and—

“Don’t look back.”

“I won’t waste what you’ve given me,” Anakin promised, because it was the best he could do. “But I’ll never leave you. Not when there’s a chance—any chance—I could save you.”

Obi-Wan did not look especially reassured, but he nodded. And tried for a smile. “A little too attached to me, Padawan? Are you sure you’re ready for knighthood?”

“Master,” it was Anakin’s turn to roll his eyes, “what makes you think I’ll have to stop saving you once I’m knighted? Look what kind of trouble you get into without me around.”

Obi-Wan’s face was priceless. “That…is an uncomfortably fair point.”

“So we have a superior army,” Governor Bibble was looking too relaxed for Leia’s tastes.

“No,” she countered. “We have superior soldiers. And if the Jedi capitalize on that correctly, they can use the weaknesses of the droid army to balance that difference in numbers. At least some. But that’s no reason to get complacent.”

“More importantly,” Padmé slid in, as if she sensed Leia was done making her point, “while we have capable soldiers on our side, we are working in a very grey area as far as the legality of using them. Senator Organa is already working on legislation to manage trying to get the clones citizenship, or at least some semblance, as soon as possible. I’ll be supporting that bill, as well as certain others regarding funding the army.”

“Oh we don’t want them, but we have to pay for them,” Advisor Vancil tsk’d.

“They need food,” Padmé shot back, leaning forward in her seat. “Housing, medical care, sanitary supplies. They aren’t being paid. They can’t just get those things for themselves.”

“And if it comes to fighting, we aren’t doing them any favors by denying them weapons and equipment,” Advisor Brandes seemed to have calmed down. It was a hopeful sign that the woman, familiar from having to fight for music and arts funding, was starting to sing an old tune with this defense. “It would ultimately be self-sabotage, and pointless. Although, we’ll want to be careful of who we’re buying from.”

“I’ll make sure we ask the Jedi if the Kaminoans are building the weapons in-house and if not, where they’re sourcing them,” Sabé made a note as Padmé spoke. “I know the troops arrived armed and with their own ships and gear. I’m assuming there was a limit to how much of that could have been done on Kamino.”

“To say nothing of where the materials were sourced from,” Master Zapalo noted. He glanced to Leia. “Would the shipping trails you’ve been studying be of any use here? For confirming that we’re getting good information from the Kaminoans?”

“Yes,” Leia said promptly. “But it may take me a little while to try and reorganize what I have.”

He nodded. “I assume the data we pulled from the factory can also be used to help see if we can find the Separatist’s suppliers.”

It was hard not to smile in a way that was all teeth, but Leia managed. “It most certainly can.”

Chapter Text

Six days was far longer than Obi-Wan had hoped to spend in the Halls of Healing, but he had to admit that making the journey to his and Anakin’s quarters still didn’t sound appealing. And if he couldn’t handle that trip…

“The healers say you’re doing well,” Master Windu took a seat at a polite distance, his expression suggesting he wasn’t sure of the healers’ assessment.

Master Yoda, his hover chair lurking closer to the bed, showed as wrinkled and solemn a face as Obi-Wan had ever seen. Since even a half bow was still beyond him, Obi-Wan opted for a gracious nod, not sure how to address Master Windu’s comment. “Apparently my legs have finally caught up to where they hoped they would be two days ago,” Obi-Wan tried for a certain amount of levity, relieved that Anakin wasn’t here at the moment. “Malnourishment is not the most cooperative of ailments when it comes to healing.”

“Time, it takes,” Master Yoda nodded, some of those wrinkles smoothing. “And deeply harmed you were, by your experience, hmm?”

If he wanted Obi-Wan to answer that implied question, Master Yoda was going to need to be much more straightforward. “It was arguably a starvation diet,” Obi-Wan didn’t want to discuss his physical condition, but he knew the masters would have already heard this much. “Meant to keep me docile. I have to say, for the most part it did work.” Before they could press, he slipped in, “I did get out a message.”

“It was extremely helpful,” Master Windu promised, and Obi-Wan wished he could be honest about how terrible a liar Master Windu was. “As was your report.”

Now that might actually have been the truth. “I’m sorry it took me so long to piece it together. I expect I may remember more pertinent details in the future. Master Ti and Master Gallia were able to tease some out when they visited.”

“Before or after your session with the mind healer?” the dry resignation in Master Windu’s voice told Obi-Wan all he needed to know about their dubious claims of permission.

“You know,” he said, leaning back, smoothing the features of his face into something tired, “I’m not sure I honestly remember.”

Master Windu’s eyes pinched, but Master Yoda looked almost willing to smile. “Enthusiastic they are, for your return. Curious, they have been.”

They weren’t the only one. Most of the curiosity had been fed by the bones of the report that Obi-Wan had compiled, fleshed out slightly by Anakin’s report and a few very, very small comments from Leia. But the Council wanted details, clarification. And with the mess that was going on in the Senate, Obi-Wan couldn’t refuse Master Gallia. “I hope they are satisfied.”

“Have you been cleared by the mind healer?” Master Windu asked, which had to be a trick question. There was no way that hadn’t made it into a report.

“I have six more weeks of visits scheduled,” Obi-Wan admitted. With twice weekly sessions, and Anakin of all people had sworn he would drag Obi-Wan to them if he tried to even be late. “But by then I should be ready for field work again.”

With more follow-up visits, most likely. But hopefully Anakin wouldn’t be around to hear about those.

“You’ll need to be sure,” Master Windu said. “It’s…unlikely we’ll be able to send you on simple assignments.”

No, they wouldn’t. And speaking of “simple” assignments, “I hear you’ve already assigned my padawan to a fighter squadron.”

“He misled you,” Master Windu immediately replied, but it felt like Master Yoda had at least noticed the humor. “He’s been helping us coordinate training programs for field commanders and various battalions. Compiling and participating in activities to lay groundwork for later organization…”

He trailed off as he realized Obi-Wan had been teasing, the amusement seeping into the room too thick to ignore.

“He’s a menace,” Master Windu finished, leaning back into his seat and scowling. “I can’t think where he learned it.”

It was tempting to say, “From his sister,” but Obi-Wan knew Anakin’s precociousness predated Leia by at least a decade. So instead he said, “Master Jinn’s influence is potent. The slightest exposure can scar you forever.”

It was the wrong word and the wrong joke at the wrong time. Neither master had to so much as glance at the other before they leaned in, everything in the room becoming suffocating intent, pressing against Obi-Wan’s mind. Even without trying to be intrusive. It was impossible to miss the raw edges of his own psyche under the scrutiny.

“I understand Master Jinn came up during your escape,” Master Windu said, the words slow and careful, but no less purposeful for that. “Can you explain why that happened?”

When the door slid open, Leia was trying to locate a particular file in a long list of data, and she didn’t look up. This was Padmé’s Naboo office and only the handmaidens had been coming and going, so the silken call of, “Leia Skywalker,” around sharp teeth startled Leia so badly she forgot what she was supposed to be doing.

“Senator Darsana!” she was smiling and standing before she’d noticed the two other people that were with him, offering a formal bow and then coming forward, her hands outstretched to him.

He seemed happy enough to take them, once he’d finished his own bow, as he said, “It’s been some time since we’ve spoken. And I hear you’ve been on quite the adventure.”

“Just a small one,” Leia promised, still smiling. “I hadn’t realized you were planning a visit.”

“Say rather that I stole out an opportunity from under Senator Sadashassa,” his grin was a slick line on his face, carving victory and amusement into it. “Someone needed to come and evaluate members of the RRM to staff the new refugee relocation committee. I assume you’re up to date on that matter?”

Leia gestured for him and his aides to take the chairs Rani had helped move, dragging her own around from behind the desk. “I know they’ll be borrowing the structure and methods the RRM has been testing. And the network it has already developed. I didn’t think that Senate bureaucracy had progressed to a point where that was more than a dream though.”

“Master Allie dropped a request to Master Gallia,” Senator Darsana said, sliding into his chair. “Possibly a few, but both Jedi like to keep things close. It was a bit of luck I heard about the one.” They both knew he was understating, but Leia kept her skepticism to a small smirk rather than interrupt. “With the senators already in such turmoil, in some ways it is easier to get certain things through right now. And of course the Chancellor’s support of the commission helped.”

Leia didn’t frown, but she did feel her expression freeze slightly. “Does he plan to be directly involved, do you know?”

“I doubt it,” Senator Darsana said. “There are very few senators who do want to jump onto the committee, what with all the other budgetary concerns swimming about. It’s hoped that since Senator Sadashassa is involved, and her usual cohort, whatever is organized will be mostly self-sustaining.”

This time Leia did let herself make a face. “On what basis?”

“Naive optimism, as far as I can see,” Senator Darsana shrugged. “Donations are unlikely to scale up properly as planetary and sector wealth gets absorbed into costs of sustaining trade, or making diplomatic trips and overtures. And that’s before we get to the idea that there might still be military conflict.”

It was the tone he used for “might” that had Leia worried. “People honestly believe it won’t come to fighting?”

Even Padmé wasn’t that naive at this point.

Another shrug with a fatalistic twitch of the fingers. “Some people can read currents. Others…can’t.”

That was certainly true. “So you have a meeting with the RRM today? Or with Senator Amidala?”

“Neither,” he admitted freely, and Leia blinked. “I came early in the hopes that I could see you.”

“Oh.” Leia felt small.

It wasn’t that she hadn’t thought of Senator Darsana at all in the past weeks, but it hadn’t occurred to her even once that he might have heard some of what she had been up to. That he might be concerned enough to want a personal update.

Sometimes, even Leia was still naive.

“It looks like you are busy,” he supplied, nodding to the work on the desk behind her.

Leia was busy, but the data was old and could wait at least a few hours. She could even work on it tonight, at home, if she needed to. It wasn’t proprietary to Naboo. And Senator Darsana had planned his trip to leave deliberate time for her.

She was not going to ignore that. Not after everything he’d risked. Was probably still risking. “I like to maintain that illusion,” she offered, making her posture as relaxed as possible and avoiding looking at Rani so she wouldn’t have to react to whatever the guard was expressing, “to avoid getting recruited to boring projects. I certainly have time now.”

He was as skeptical of her mistruths as she was of his, but she could feel his pleasure at her being so willing to make time. “Then I shall request a claim on it,” Senator Darsana leaned forward slightly. “If it isn’t too much trouble.”

“Not at all,” Leia promised, digging around in her head for something to do. A tour of the palace was likely to get her unwanted attention, but the anselmi weren’t going to enjoy wandering around the city in the middle of the day. Unless, “Have you ever been to Theed’s public gardens? They feature the different biomes on the planet, and they recently finished a gungan water garden.”

His expression shifted from distant to interested as she spoke and he said, “That sounds promising.” He glanced at Leia’s guard. “I’m afraid our transport only has room for one more.”

“I’m sure Senator Amidala would be fine with me under your escort,” Leia said, still avoiding looking at Rani. “Just let me make sure she knows where I am and we can head out.”

“I can inform the senator,” Rani offered. “She may wish to greet Senator Darsana as well.”

Shaking her head, Leia said, “It’s fine. I’ll need to give her an update before I go. Can you make sure Senator Darsana’s party has an escort to their transport? I’ll join you in a few minutes,” Leia directed at him, offering another bow with a wave of her arm, a twist of her wrist, and an uncurling of her fingers.

He moved as though catching the gesture, bringing his fist to his chest as he offered a return bow. “At your leisure.”

It was an interesting dance, keeping Rani in sight while she made arrangements for the anselmi and Leia trying to find relative privacy. But she got Padmé’s permission for the trip (not that Leia needed permission for anything) and made a promise to behave.

She even mostly meant to keep it.

The chatter in the room stopped as the door hissed open and Anakin stepped in, but he took it as a sign of progress that it started up again right away. No one waved at him or smiled or invited him over though, so he was still losing to Master Koon.

Time to fix that.

“You mind if I join you?” Anakin asked, indicating an open spot of floor between two makeshift crate seats.

There was a careful back and forth of glances around the circle, all silent opinions getting directed to two men in particular, one of whom turned to Anakin and said, “You can do whatever you want.”

“Well, yeah,” he agreed, pulling a very old smile onto his face. One he hadn’t used since (Kitster and Wald and smiles that had to mean more things than happiness)…not in a long time. “But I asked a different question.”

When that didn’t get an immediate response, Anakin shrugged and turned to go, ready to try with the next nearest group. He felt the prickle of attention from everyone who’d been in earshot, but made himself ignore it. Sometimes people just looked, you couldn’t stop them…

“Hey! Sir?”

Not the group he’d been aiming for and not the one he approached. Another, further to the left. He made eye contact with the man who’d called out to him and waited, trying to be still, to be calm.

Obi-Wan would probably think this was hilarious.

“We have space,” the man continued. And that was the hardest part of all these…people. Clones. They didn’t have names.

At least, not ones the Jedi were privy to.

“Thanks,” Anakin said, coming over and dropping onto the ground, ignoring the stares of some of the troops. There was an empty seat in the circle, but Anakin didn’t even glance at it as he looked around. “Waiting for your turn on the practice floors?”

“Second round of vaccinations,” the inviter corrected, grunting. “Apparently, Kamino ones aren’t good enough.”

“Not for Coruscant,” Anakin confirmed, bracing an elbow on his knee and plopping his chin into his hand. “They gave me a mess of them when I got here too. Some of the stuff that gets bred on the lower levels is awful.”

There was still some prickly offense, but understanding and interest too. Especially from the one that had invited him. Anakin could make out a CC- on his armor, but wasn’t sure if he wanted to memorize that or not. Better or worse since he didn’t know a name?

“How awful is awful?” another asked, leaning forward.

“The better part of a million people living in the dark, all on top of each other, generally malnourished with enough similar and mixed species to allow for really quick spread and mutation?” Anakin answered, frowning. “Just about as bad as you can get with the medical research as good as it is on planet. It’s not unusual for whole sections to go on lockdown for months of the year. Some of the residents call it part of the ecosystem, how the population stays just low enough they don’t run out of supplies. The Jedi have to be careful about who they send to help with treatment and research so it doesn’t get back to the Temple. Or off the planet.”

There was a stretch of silence before someone said, “Okay, that’s…really awful.”

“The vaccines help,” Anakin promised. “All the worst stuff I’ve caught has been from off planet, on missions. It’ll probably be that way for you too.”

“If they let us off this rock,” that voice was next to the trooper that had invited Anakin over, and got an elbow for the whining. “What? It’s not like they want us.”

“I do,” Anakin said, before he could even think about it. Before he knew if it was even true. It came out as easily as it had for all his old friends, for anyone he had met in that desert wasteland, flickering lights so ready to let someone snuff them out. And then, because it was familiar in a way that hunger had been, or thirst, or longing, he added, “I like you. I want to be friends.”

And even if that was based on nothing, no shared hopes or dreams or ambitions, no shared past or traditions, it was true.

And he thought at least some of the people around him knew it.

A hand was extended, the man who’d invited him, and Anakin reached out for it, accepting a firm shake, “CC-2224,” the trooper said.

“Anakin Skywalker.”

CC-2224 (someday, someday he’d learn their names) gave him a half smile. “It’s nice to meet you, sir.”

Chapter Text

The gentle archways lining the walk provided grossly inadequate shade for her guests, but Leia knew if they followed this path they’d wind back towards the trees again, which would drop the temperature and provide good cover.

They’d liked the ponds near the entrance, she thought, sprinkled with colorful flowers and whispering with grasses and reeds. She’d steered them away from the open beds of wildflowers, detecting no similar interest in that spectacle. Hardly a surprise, especially since Senator Darsana insisted on keeping her tucked close, her arm through his as they wandered. His comments were frequently made in an undertone his companions would not hear, interspersed with hand movements Leia only half knew. He was patient with her, recognizing when he’d strayed outside her knowledge, and cheerful as he noticed she was willing to learn.

He studied her, Leia knew. When she wasn’t watching him she could feel the pressure of his attention on her, like poking a bruise. Even with all the attention after her adventure, Leia hadn’t felt this much scrutiny. Only an attentive wariness that hovered around her, like waiting for the next bolt of lightning.

“You seem tired,” Senator Darsana commented as they moved under the trees, his eyes shifting in the lower light. “Should we rest?”

“I’m fine,” she insisted, ignoring the skepticism. “This has been an ideal break.”

No talk of politics beyond the local and mundane. A slight testing of wills, but nothing too strenuous. Questions about the RRM structures, but none about the people he would be meeting, so Leia didn’t have to worry about pre-shaping his opinions. Mild. Relaxed.

Peaceful.

“Has it?” he seemed more than a little amused at that, and Leia felt off balance. “Then we should continue.”

It wasn’t until they made it to the gungan garden that Leia realized her mistake. The trees grew denser, the scene more wild, as they approached the edge of a much darker pond, a walkway gilded in gold with soft lamps marking the path to a liquid shield entrance that tunneled down in a transparent tube, ending in a spacious bubble that gave full view to the colorful fish and plants that darted and waved below the surface.

It was breathtaking, even before the senator’s aides broke off, lingering by the entrance to deter other visitors.

Leia wondered if Senator Darsana could feel the slight shift in her pulse with her arm held directly against his.

Probably not. That was a bit too fanciful.

But he had to notice her discomfort when he suddenly turned, staring down into her face and bringing his fingers up to brush under her eyes, frowning as deeply as he’d been smiling earlier. “You are tired,” he rumbled, turning her face this way and that. “Your color is wrong and that is not just the difference of the water.”

“You’ve never seen me in water,” Leia protested.

“No,” he agreed almost cheerfully. “But I have seen you in darkness. And with such shadows under your eyes. And I still say your color is wrong. And your voice is.”

Swallowing to test if there was any sort of irritation or pain, Leia asked, “Wrong how? I don’t feel any different.”

“Muted,” Senator Darsana said, breaking eye contact and stepping away, gazing into the pond. “Softer, more quiet. Unsure,” he added with distaste. “And I worry,” he added mildly, still not glancing in her direction, “that you do not notice because this is always how you are here. Or because it is a change, but so subtle and so easily adjusted to that you didn’t even notice.”

She’d literally been speaking less, Leia thought. Even when it was just Padmé and her handmaidens. Leia’s confidence when matters of military possibilities came up dimmed as they turned to the other work that was going on, efforts to handle the clones and Palpatine’s emergency powers.

Or not handle them, but work around them. Leia felt herself scowling as she watched the nearest school of fish, giving herself a moment, just one, to be angry again about that failure.

“There you are,” Senator Darsana was humming with contentment when Leia looked at him, studying her expression with fondness. “I’d hoped they hadn’t wrung it out of you.”

Meekness. Complacency. Silence. Those were qualities she hadn’t relied on in years. They were the tricks she’d played in Palpatine’s world, under his nose to avoid his attention. And now she was using them here, where she should be safe. In this space that was just the two of them, Leia let herself step into Senator Darsana’s shoes for a moment and realized what he must be thinking.

She was being trapped. Separated. Tamed. Kept away from him.

So he’d come to her.

The warmth that flooded through her brought with it so many other feelings she was lost in them for a moment. Especially when Luke’s voice, so silent these past weeks, asked, “Why are you surprised? Of course he likes you.”

“There aren’t that many that do,” she retorted, thinking of the collection of people up in the palace who were at least angry at her.

She could feel Luke rolling his eyes, and something like what would have been him bumping her shoulder. “How many do you need?”

“None,” she insisted, because some things just had to be done, regardless of how you felt. But she added at his silent irritation, “But I have you. And that’s enough.”

“You don’t just have me,” he corrected, and Leia accepted the warmth coming off of Senator Darsana, melding it into her memories for what would likely be hard and lonely days ahead.

“No,” she agreed. “Not just you.”

It felt like Luke wanted to add more, but Leia knew she needed to speak before she looked like a complete idiot. “I’m an exceptionally resilient creature. No one’s broken me yet. And the Naboo are hardly trying.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Senator Darsana stepped close again, offering her his arm. “They do not deserve the honor.”

Before she could think of a reply, he was pointing things out to her in the distance, making her strain her human eyes to catch his point of view.

“Padawan, why?” Obi-Wan demanded, realizing which way they were headed. “I’m supposed to be resting.”

“You said you didn’t want to rest,” Anakin directed the hover chair forward in spite of Obi-Wan’s efforts. “You said you were bored and it might kill you. This won’t.”

He could feel his master’s conflict, writhing around him. It wasn’t a mind healing day, and Anakin knew Obi-Wan wouldn’t do better in their quarters alone. Anakin had practice in an hour, flying with the newest squadrons that had landed, so he had to leave Obi-Wan somewhere safe. Where he wouldn’t get himself into trouble.

“No,” Obi-Wan hissed, “but I might kill you.”

“Master, if you haven’t managed to kill me in the last ten years, hale and more experienced and bigger than me, what makes you think you’ll manage now?”

“I’ll have you know—“

“It’s just one of the battalions. I’ll leave you with CC-2224, he’s basically in charge of half of them.”

“I’m absolutely positive you’re wrong—“

“And which one of us has been working with them, hmm?”

“What’s his rank?” Obi-Wan demanded smugly and Anakin winced.

He always forgot this bit. “Thingy?”

“Padawan…”

“I outrank them!” Anakin protested. Which was hilarious. Aside from flying the ships he had no idea what he was doing. “And I just tell CC-2224 what I need and then it happens. So he’s in charge.”

“Of translating at least,” Obi-Wan sighed. “You do realize—“

“Yes.”

“I didn’t fini—“

“Yes!”

Bickering wasn’t always Anakin’s favorite, and letting Obi-Wan win was the worst. But his master needed it to recover and Anakin wasn’t going to neglect him. Mom would be disappointed if Anakin failed Obi-Wan.

“You’ll be meeting the whole battalion,” Anakin told him as they got closer and his master tensed at the sight of the sea of black and white forms milling about. “That’s over five hundred people, and you’re going to be helping them get their base assignments.”

“For here, yes? We aren’t sending them off planet yet?”

“Not to combat,” Anakin confirmed. “We don’t have orders to deploy against the Separatists. Apparently they’re waiting or something.”

“Thank goodness,” Obi-Wan muttered.

“We’re just getting them assigned somewhere off ship for deep cleaning and maintenance, and deployment practice, then they’ll reload and go into orbit for a while and other ships will take a turn down here.”

People were starting to notice them, to stop and stare. Obi-Wan was going still, retreating.

“They’re good people,” Anakin said, making sure there was weight on each word. “They’re kind and clever and funny and I’ll bet you’ll really like them.”

“You’re attached,” Obi-Wan sighed, sounding more resigned than irritated.

Anakin wasn’t going to apologize. “They’re our friends. We need them, and they need us. And they’re pretty cool.”

A group was marching down in careful formation, steps perfectly in sync. They executed a sharp turn, the sunlight rippling over their armor.

“They are certainly impressive,” Obi-Wan agreed.

Which was good enough for Anakin. “Come on. Let’s go show off your amazing first impression skills.”

“I hate you,” Obi-Wan grumbled.

“Bet you can’t memorize at least half their names.”

And that worked like a charm. “Who exactly do you think I am?”

Padmé took a moment to watch Sabé and Eirtaé before she asked, “So?”

There was a rushed sigh from Eirtaé and a grim chuckle from Sabé, who answered, “How long have you been sitting on this?”

“Two days after they got back,” Padmé admitted, feeling the pressure of the work they weren’t doing pressing on her shoulders and head. “When I had to tell Artoo about the new work conditions.”

Sabé hummed and Eirtaé asked, “Why so long?”

“What do I do about it?” Padmé demanded, her hands out wide in front of her, the appeal coming from much deeper than she had planned. “How do I tell her—“

“We knew she was a killer,” Sabé said, her voice calm and almost cheerful. “She’s too precise to not know exactly how dangerous she is. Given that, it was a very clean getaway. She even kept Skywalker on a tight leash.”

“More to the point,” Eirtaé added, “we should be asking her for training. Or something. It would increase the queen’s confidence—“

“Panaka’s,” Padmé corrected at the same time Sabé said, “Typho’s.”

Eirtaé shrugged. “It would convince all of them of her being on our side. And give us a better idea of what all she’s capable of.”

“We know she’s a spy,” Sabé agreed. “But we don’t know what kind. We’ve had training in political espionage, but Leia…“

“Military training,” Padmé said, tapping her finger against her chin. “Not small conflict either. Full scale war.”

“Most likely,” Sabé agreed. “Which begs the question of where.”

“And when,” Eirtaé added. “And why.”

“Odds that we’ll get her to answer?” Padmé asked, almost ready to go back to budget reports to get away from this.

That earned a poke to her cheek from Sabé. “Padmé,” she sighed, “what do you think we are? We may not have Leia’s skills at military base infiltration,” and that was a terrifying realization to keep coming back around to, “but we do know how to handle people.”

“Even difficult ones,” Eirtaé’s lips were twitching and Padmé scowled.

“I’m not—“ She couldn’t finish, not with that look in their eyes. “So what’s the plan?”

“You,” Sabé thrust a datapad Padmé’s direction, “keep working with the Loyalist Committee and figuring out how we’re going to work around the Chancellor. You’re too tired and angry to try and handle Leia.”

Eirtaé was nodding and Padmé found herself agreeing, even though she would rather die than say so. “That doesn’t mean I can’t help.”

“Help with what?” Padmé hadn’t missed the door opening, but had expected Dormé, not Leia to be the one coming through it.

“Where’s Senator Darsana?” Eirtaé asked, craning to see if he was still in the hall.

Leia gestured towards the guest wing. “Settling in. I think I wore him out.”

“No surprise there,” Eirtaé grumbled, and Leia actually blushed. Which had all three women in the room focusing on her much more closely.

“Nice outing?” Sabé asked, throwing an arm over the back of her chair as she turned to see Leia more clearly. Her expression was mostly neutral, but there was a flick of Leia’s eyes that suggested she was catching whatever Sabé was trying to conceal.

It was much easier to remember that Leia was Force sensitive now, Padmé thought mildly. And easier to spot the cues, after seeing her and Shmi around Anakin and Obi-Wan. It was almost embarrassing that they’d all been missing them.

Not that Leia wasn’t achingly subtle. But with a large enough sample size…

“I think Senator Darsana is concerned with how little we’ve been in contact while I’ve been on Naboo,” Leia’s voice was clipped to a reporting tone, her posture shifting to almost mirror Sabé’s. “I’m not sure if it’s because he thinks I’m being mistreated, or that he isn’t trusted, or both.”

Straightforward answer. Covering for something, Padmé recognized, not needing the flick of Sabé’s fingers to know to let the handmaiden take the next line. Diffuse the line of authority, let Leia deal with someone with whom she felt equal. Well, if she didn’t just see herself above them all sometimes.

“You let him think we’re mistreating you?” Sabé didn’t do wounded nearly as well as Dormé or Versé would have, but she could use it for humor well enough.

Leia was almost smiling as she said, “I guess he mistrusts meekness.”

“He should,” Eirtaé answered, shaking her head. “From you? It’s practically an omen.”

“I’m not that bad.”

“You say that a lot,” Sabé noted. “Have you ever wondered why no one believes you?”

“They believe me,” Leia protested.

“Did Senator Darsana?” Padmé asked, unable to avoid teasing. Thankfully it didn’t make Leia tense, didn’t undo Sabé and Eirtaé’s work.

There wasn’t exactly a pause before Leia’s, “Of course not.” But it wasn’t clear what the break in flow had been for, especially given her answer.

“Do you think we’re mistreating you?” Sabé asked, tone suddenly low, chin dropped, eyes glancing up. She was gentler than Cordé would have been, which was a pity. Leia had frequently responded well to Cordé’s almost aggressive bluntness. The gentleness had Leia stiffening where the teasing had only pushed the conversation along.

“I don’t think you’ve asked for anything from me that hasn’t been completely justified,” Leia answered after moment, her posture so deliberately relaxed Padmé almost ached looking at it. “If I have a penchant for picking jobs that are high stress and demanding, that’s hardly the same thing as being mistreated. It’s not like you work any less than I do.”

Untrue, Padmé thought, remembering those first months they’d taken Leia to Coruscant. When things had seemed so simple, just stop the MCA and all would be well. Even as they’d watched Leia flitting all over the place, digging her hands into different systems, churning up different and unexpected problems. But all related ones. Ones that had made their job more difficult, but more meaningful as Padmé had had to ask herself harder and harder questions. Had had to reevaluate who were reliable and trustworthy allies. They may have occasionally spent more hours in the office, but Padmé didn’t think Leia had really had any downtime while they were on that planet, her unexpected acquaintance with Obi-Wan being the most obvious hint of that.

“He thinks we mistrust him?” Padmé asked, not sure if the abrupt change would be helpful, but wanting to move away from the defensiveness Leia was giving off. “I don’t mean to give him that impression. I trust his values, even if I don’t always agree with him.”

“Really?” it was embarrassing how surprised Leia looked. “I didn’t think your values aligned with his almost at all.”

“He’s constant,” Padmé shrugged, aiming for a casualness she wasn’t sure she could manage while this tired. “Even if I don’t align with his values, I at least know what they are. And that he’s honest about them.”

There was something in Leia’s hum of acknowledgment that Padmé couldn’t quite pin down, even though she knew it was important. “So what do you want to do?”

Tapping her chin, Padmé glanced to Sabé who looked to Eirtaé, who would know more about the senate. Eirtaé didn’t have many personal signals, but her crossed arms were a clear enough refusal to deal with this problem. Apparently this was a negotiation between Leia and Padmé, no one else.

“You don’t need permission to contact him,” Padmé began. “Not about personal matters. Aside from the refugee committee matter, is there something we’re working on you think he should be aware of?”

There was a long moment before, “How many people have you told that Dooku is a Sith?”

The unsettled flop in Padmé’s stomach didn’t show on her face, but that flicker in Leia’s eyes said she’d felt it. Or at least, felt something. “No one. The Jedi didn’t seem to want to discuss it. Since it’s a Temple matter, I thought—“

“No,” it was almost stunning how crisp and clear Leia’s tone was. So sure of being obeyed. She did this sometimes, and it was like— “We may not want the whole Senate privy to the information yet, but if it gets out that Naboo knew and didn’t say anything, to anyone, we’ll be massacred.”

“And we’re already in trouble for the MCA down vote,” Eirtaé agreed. “In light of the droid army.”

“You want to tell Senator Darsana?” Padmé asked, very willing to avoid that potential nightmare.

Leia nodded. “And maybe a few others. People that we trust. And probably some that don’t completely align with all of Naboo’s positions.”

“Aside from Senator Darsana,” Eirtaé said.

“Yes,” Leia stretched. “You probably have a better idea of who you want to tell than I do.”

Mostly likely, but, “It’d be nice to have your initial reaction,” Padmé suggested. “Given how much exposure you’ve had, you’re as good a reference as Eirtaé for guessing who we might want to trust but has leaks.”

Maybe better, but no need to get into that right now.

Glancing at the others in the room, Leia said, “Are we going to include Dormé?”

“She’s running errands,” Sabé said. “But we can start a list before she gets back. Get your impressions and then see if she has any recommendations.”

“Anyone aside from Senator Darsana you want to suggest?” Padmé asked, getting ready to take notes.

There was almost no hesitation before Leia offered, “Shea?”

Anakin was singing when Obi-Wan became fully conscious. It seemed like the right thing to do after the night his master’d had.

“Your mother sings that,” were the first words out of Obi-Wan’s mouth, and Anakin felt his mouth stretch into a smile.

“Where do you think I learned it?”

“Did you always know it? I don’t remember it.”

From Anakin’s childhood in the Temple, Anakin realized. He passed a cup of water over with a half shrug. “It wasn’t a Jedi thing.”

Obi-Wan paused in the middle of sitting up, his hand holding the cup trembling slightly. Anakin got ready to catch it as his master asked, “Did you think it had to be?”

Anakin couldn’t make his mouth form an answer, but from the look on Obi-Wan’s face, he’d guessed.

Chapter Text

Everyone had agreed that Senator Darsana, Senator Organa, and Senator Sadashassa would need to be told about the Sith, if only because they were currently the ones most involved with helping the refugee committee start working with the RRM. The Jedi knew, so there weren’t military disadvantages Leia was concerned about. But moving civilians across that landscape… Someone had to know how vicious their opponents might be in picking targets. What they were really risking.

Senator Dio and Senator Mothma were suggested, but as much as Leia liked and trusted them, she wasn’t sure how far she wanted this conspiracy to spread. And Senator Dio was very outspoken about systematic corruption. She might call for an investigation into the Order over how many of their own were considering following Dooku. Not unreasonable in Leia’s opinion, but not something she wanted the Jedi to be able to trace back to Naboo.

(At least not through Padmé. Through the Chancellor though…)

They decided to keep an eye out for two others when they returned to Coruscant. It would be Padmé’s first order of business when she returned to tell Senator Organa.

Leia would get to tell Shea. Probably over dinner, since there was no way in all hells she was having that conversation in either of Palpatine’s domains. That could get sticky.

Senator Darsana, visiting with Leia after his meeting with the RRM, was imminently practical about it.

“You say the Jedi know?” was his first question, and Leia only had to nod. Which was good, because he knocked her almost speechless with, “And you faced this monster? By yourself?”

Because she’d had to give him at least some details of her encounter to explain how she knew. But apparently she’d been unclear. “Oh no. Master Kenobi was present, if not fully functional. And An— Padawan Skywalker was there.”

“Your brother,” Senator Darsana supplied, and Leia had to wrench her tone into something even.

“Shmi’s son,” she clarified. “Anakin—I met him less than a year ago. We barely know each other.”

“And yet you went on this adventure with him,” Senator Darsana was far too interested in Leia’s behavior and not nearly enough interested in Dooku being a Sith.

“He was an easy ride,” she suggested. “And I wanted to save Obi-Wan.”

Which was significantly more information than she should have given the senator, even if he took it only in the most logical, misguided way. But Senator Darsana only said, “You take surprising risks, little one.”

The diminutive was annoying (she wasn’t that small, dammit, and she wasn’t a child either), but Leia just said, “I don’t think you know Padmé that well if my behavior surprises you.”

“I don’t,” he admitted freely. “But I’m quickly becoming much more interested in correcting that.”

Well, small victories.

Physical therapy was annoying, Obi-Wan thought as he stretched his leg out and back. Especially when he knew he only had more of it too look forward to until the braces were off. At least he was out of his casts now, though. The delayed healing as his body had tried not only to mend bones but reorient to having enough nutrients to support basic levels of functioning had been hell.

“You’re doing just fine,” Healer Che told him, noticing Obi-Wan now flexing his fingers and forearm. She quickly added, with a sharp jab in his direction, “No saber practice.”

“I’m sure a cold run wouldn’t—“

“No,” she repeated, no room for argument. “One more week, with the exercises I’ve given you on your own time and two more sessions here. Then you may try doing the forms. Without holding your lightsaber,” she added. “At least the first few times.” Her eyes narrowed. “Slowly. No matter what your padawan thinks.”

Obi-Wan snorted. “Oh, he’s putting even you to shame with this hovering.”

“Hovering is pointless,” Healer Che said, then frowned. “Unless his concerns are for things other than your physical health?”

“I’m seeing my mind healer,” Obi-Wan promised, deftly sidestepping that morass of unpleasantness. “Anakin has been exquisitely insistent about it and Master Windu made it abundantly clear I’m not authorized to leave the Temple without those issues being resolved.”

The deeper frown from Healer Che didn’t bode well. “Either he doesn’t understand mind healing or you don’t,” she grumped. “You can get clearance for missions without things being resolved, Master Kenobi. If they are being managed, and are progressing, that is enough.”

Oh, well in that case, “Then I’m coming along quite nicely.”

He wasn’t sure if Healer Che got to see the reports from his mind healer or not. Medical privacy was a privilege that only partially existed in the Temple, given the nature of the work the Jedi did and of the Order itself. The Council might have more access than the head healer to Obi-Wan’s updates. Although, if he’d just botched his test badly enough, that could change he was sure.

But instead of probing, she just said, “Back in the chair. And give your legs a break for at least an hour.”

“Yes, master,” Obi-Wan agreed, sliding off the bed. It was an awkward shuffle to get to his chair, but he didn’t have to be loaded and unloaded anymore, and that was no small blessing.

“It’s about time you got here.”

It hadn’t been Leia’s intention to catch Shea as the senator was heading out for lunch, but the timing of Padmé’s party’s arrival was absolutely perfect. Leia slipped out of the speeder to greet her friend, a little surprised when Shea took Leia’s proffered hand and pulled her in for a hug instead of a handshake. The overwhelming sensation of relief that crashed into Leia had her wincing a bit, hiding the expression in Shea’s shoulder and offering as much strength as she could in returning the hug. As she stepped back, Leia noticed something like the start of tears in Shea’s eyes. “I did try to get here earlier,” Leia promised. “But we couldn’t leave home without being presentable, and we landed later this morning than we had planned.”

Shea didn’t roll her eyes, but the flicker in them suggested the gesture. “Senator Darsana said you would be here days ago.”

“He may have thought so,” Leia said. “Or he may have been teasing. He seems to be in a mood. He said something about stealing your spot for the RRM evaluation.”

Shea greeted Padmé with a clasped hand and a flutter of a kiss by her cheek, then turned back with a scowl. “He did steal it, and I’m still trying to figure out how. I am not happy.”

“You wanted to visit Naboo so badly?” Leia asked, leaning against the speeder and trying not to smile too much.

Shea’s eyes narrowed. “You took him to see flowers. Leia, why did you take Senator Darsana to see flowers? Do you like flowers? Does he like flowers?”

“The Theed gardens are a very popular site for visitors,” Padmé said, her brows creeping up, her tone enthusiastically even.

There was a snort and almost chuckle from Shea. Trying for a peace offering, Leia said, “I would have taken you if you’d come. I’ll still take you, if you ever visit.” She tilted her head. “Unless you want to go somewhere else.”

There was a complicated wave of emotion before Shea asked, “The gardens aren’t special to you?”

It was harder than expected to keep her face straight as recent memories flitted through Leia’s mind, but she managed a pretty neutral, “I like them. I enjoyed sharing them. I think they’re beautiful. But I took Senator Darsana to them because I thought he’d like certain of the gardens, not because they were ‘special.’”

Shea’s finger tapped against her arm as she noted, “He says he’s your favorite.”

“I don’t have favorites,” Leia countered, the words coming so naturally she didn’t have to think about them (a hundred different arguments with Luke and Han and Chewie, and how was she supposed to pick one she loved most?). “And he didn’t say that.”

“He didn’t,” Shea agreed, smiling again. “But it was worth a shot.” Another hesitation. “Will you be here the rest of today?”

Her gaze swept not just Leia and Padmé, but Eiraté and Sabé too, her brows dropping a bit as she noticed the last.

It was Padmé who answered, “Yes. We’ll be busy all of this afternoon, but I’m locking us out of the office by dinner time. We were working most of the time we traveled, and it will be better for us to have the evening off.”

“Busy with what?” Shea asked lightly, but there was a weight behind the levity and Leia wasn’t the only one that noticed it.

“Discussing priorities,” Padmé admitted, her eyes shifting around the echoing chamber to see who else was coming or going, who might be listening. “We’ve got all of the new issues with the clones troopers to deal with, but we’re still hoping to make progress on some of the regulatory matters we had been discussing earlier. I assume you’re still interested in those.”

“Deeply,” Shea nodded. “Join me for dinner?” she asked, her question taking in the whole group, but her eyes coming back to Leia. “I may be able to help with matters that you can’t afford to prioritize right now.”

There was a moment of uncertainty where Padmé looked to Leia and Leia wasn’t completely sure what Padmé wanted. If it was confirmation that Leia wouldn’t mind, or insistence that Leia should take this job.

Either way, this would be the best opportunity to discuss private matters with Shea, so it wasn’t hard to be sincere as Leia answered. “That would be lovely. Thank you.”

It was later than Padmé had intended. Sabé was still going over matters with Senator Mothma and Eirtaé was playing hostess until Padmé could greet Uncle Ono. Which meant they’d had to send Leia alone to dinner with Shea, and Padmé wasn’t sure she was comfortable with the incidental implications of that move. But this was something that needed to be done now, and Bail had been busy all morning and afternoon, helping smooth over hurt feelings at the Naboo delegation being absent these past weeks while matters came to a head. Padmé and her people had needed that.

Now, he carefully reviewed the list of refugee committee recommendations and Padmé knew when he got to the good part because his eyebrows went straight up. “Shmi Skywalker?”

“Senator Darsana likes her,” Padmé said. “And he knows she’s worked with Shea.”

“You didn’t bring her,” Bail noted, stroking his beard. But it wasn’t an accusation.

Padmé leaned back against the couch. “Senator Darsana is in charge of this, and we weren’t bringing anyone until they’d been approved. I’ll admit, he’s probably biased,” Bail coughed and Padmé arched a brow, “But he’s also a stickler, and knowns Shea well enough to be familiar with what she’ll put up with.”

“You’re okay that he didn’t pick your father?” Bail asked, and his tone was too neutral.

Padmé’s wasn’t. “Stars, yes. We’ve had enough catastrophe for a lifetime this year. The last thing my mother needs is for two of her family members to be directly in the line of fire.”

He seemed appeased, but Bail still said, “He has more experience.”

“Klara Zapalo has almost as much tenure as my father,” Padmé said, only exaggerating slightly. “And Shmi doesn’t have any experience at all with the senate, but she does with refugees. With people. Her role in the RRM has been to be a voice of reason, someone to represent the needs of those who feel voiceless. Between them and the two others we pick, I think we’ll have plenty of organization experience plus Shmi’s ground expertise.” Padmé had to swallow before she could say, “You should see her with the families. The children. Sometimes she knows what they need before they do.”

Bail nodded, smiling. “I trust you. But I had to ask. Naboo’s system of governance and class is different than Alderaan’s. I know you care for your people, but as far as their opportunities…”

Connections. Padmé knew. She wouldn’t have gotten nearly as far in her elections if she hadn’t had previous experience, hadn’t been taken in hand by Senator Palpatine. Hadn’t reached out to the right people, peeled them away from the previous monarch.

Hadn’t gotten very lucky. “Alderaan’s education systems are more inclusive and progressive,” Padmé agreed. “We could use more of that structure on Naboo, once things are more financially stable.”

“On a large scale, yes,” Bail agreed. “But I think Shmi’s been putting what we’ve offered to good use.”

There was a slight feeling of the world tipping. “You’ve talked to her. You’ve worked with her.”

“I didn’t realize she hadn’t mentioned it,” Bail said, only partially apologetic. “I wondered, though. Just now. Yes, we’ve spoken a few times. About refugee matters. I’d meant to speak to you about getting permission to send some teachers and trainee teachers to Naboo to help with things. I wanted to have your approval before I asked Senator Sadashassa if she wanted something similar for her test groups.”

Something like relief was flowing through Padmé. “You think your people would be interested?”

“Oh yes,” Bail smiled. “I’ve already got several groups ready to leave as soon as I get your permission. But things got so hectic and…” He held out his arms in a helpless gesture. “Shmi has been bothering me about it, though. She doesn’t want her people falling through the cracks.”

“You wanted her for the committee,” Padmé accused, crossing her arms. “Even before Senator Darsana suggested it.”

“I did,” Bail admitted. “But I, too, am biased.” He was serious as he added, “I’m hoping her presence here might make Leia more comfortable. It’s likely we’ll be working more closely together with these new projects.”

“Like Senator Organa.”

Padmé thought about Artoo’s observations, frowning. “At the very least, Leia is a professional,” she offered.

“She is,” Bail agreed. “And I like her. And trust her. But I don’t think that trust is mutual, and that worries me.”

That, Padmé had to concede, was a fair concern.

“He stole it off the Sith Lord?” CC-5576-39 was going to lose his food, Obi-Wan thought, watching it slide towards the end of the fork. “In combat?”

“He must have,” Obi-Wan said, tossing his lightsaber up and catching it, tamping down anger as he almost fumbled, his fingers not completely cooperating. “He refuses to give me the exact details, and I’m pretty sure it’s because he got knocked back by lightning just then—“

“Lightning?” one of the other clones demanded, almost hissing. “What lightning?”

“Sith trick,” Anakin said, sliding into a spot next to Obi-Wan, stealing the rest of the bread on his tray. “And it sucks.” He glanced at Obi-Wan, who was debating if it was worth the effort of scrabbling to get the bread back (would look stupid in front of the clone, but they seemed to like silly things?), and Obi-Wan nodded.

“Doesn’t lightning mess you up?” CC-2224 would be worried about that, Obi-Wan thought, considering the question.

“It does,” he agreed. “And it did. But Master Allie was on planet when we were getting treated, and the Naboo had access to bacta and plenty of other medical treatments. Also, I don’t think Sith lightning works the same as the real stuff.”

“Doesn’t,” Anakin agreed. “Not the right kind of scars. No scars,” he added, frowning and looking down at his chest.

And now everyone was looking at Obi-Wan’s padawan, including Obi-Wan. “When did you—“

“Sandstorms,” Anakin mumbled. “Sometimes they have lightning. Sometimes people get hit.”

“Ah,” Obi-Wan said, watching the open curiosity on the clones’ faces and wishing Anakin would expound a bit more. If he didn’t say anything, there was really no justification for Obi-Wan to start digging and blabbing Anakin’s secrets. But it meant Obi-Wan had more things he had to avoid saying. “Well, more or less damaging, I wouldn’t recommend either experience.”

There was a chorus of agreement and some rote phrase that got repeated in under voices a few times. Obi-Wan desperately wished he remembered more Mando’a. Or that he’d bothered to learn more of it in the first place. That wasn’t a prayer, but maybe a ward against evil, or ill luck. Or just a condemnation of a bad thing.

It had been so many years.

“Why are you telling them I got electrocuted?” Anakin asked around a bite.

Obi-Wan glowered, unwilling to demand Anakin chew with his mouth closed in current company, but hoping his padawan got the message all the same. From the deliberate messy chewing, he definitely had, the pest. “Because you threw my lightsaber at me in a junk yard and if I’d had to catch it with my hands you might have killed me.”

Which had been terrifying almost as much as it had been a relief. Obi-Wan hadn’t looked forward to building a new lightsaber, especially since he’d rebuilt his old one to hold both of his saber crystals when Leia had returned his padawan blade. It had felt like such a waste.

“You know how to catch a lightsaber,” Anakin protested, then looked down at the strengthening exercises Obi-Wan was doing while he sat. “Oh.”

“You didn’t wonder why I caught it in the Force?” Obi-Wan kept his voice mild, more curious than offended.

“I thought you were showing off for Han,” Anakin explained around another bite, earning another scowl and just smiling.

“That,” Obi-Wan griped, “was you. Not me.”

“Who’s Han?” CT-307 asked, leaning forward.

“Kid on Naboo,” Anakin answered. “His mom is friends with my mom, I helped watch him a couple times.”

“In a junkyard?” CC-2224 asked in tandem with CC-5567-39’s, “They trust you with kids?”

“Mom does,” Anakin answered. “And Jaina was fine with it. Han’s mom,” he added for everyone’s benefit. “And we were in the junkyard because Mom needed parts for a holoprojector and I had time to look. And I can fix things.”

“What kinds of things?” CT-307 asked.

“Anything,” Anakin and Obi-Wan answered, and Obi-Wan felt the rush of warmth from Anakin at the recognition.

It had been…longer than Obi-Wan would like to admit since he’d felt a simple pleasure like that directed at him from his padawan.

“Can you fix helmet displays?” CC-2224 asked. “Someone decided to test his armor’s durability against—“

“Hey, hey, no!” CC-5567-39 cut in, jabbing his fork at his brother. “You do not get to make up stories—“

There was a host of bickering even as the helmet was turned over and Anakin started poking at it. Obi-Wan let the conversation roll over him, content to be under an open sky and surrounded by good people.

It was very nice to be around good people.

Shea leaned against the railing, her arms crossed, mouth opening and closing in wordless horror as she stared. Leia gave her a full minute to have that reaction before asking, “Are you really surprised?”

“Yes,” Shea breathed, rubbing her face with her hand. “Leia, the Sith are a myth—“

“Not nearly as much as we’d like them to be,” Leia wanted to be kind, but had to be firm. She’d expected more anger than disbelief. “What do you know about them?”

“They’re evil Jedi?” Shea suggested. “No, no, I know. Not Jedi. But evil, yes?”

“Yes,” Leia agreed. “Very evil, very dangerous.” She hesitated before adding, “They like to destroy things.”

Propping her hip against this balcony couldn’t be comfortable, but Leia appreciated Shea offering her full attention. “And that’s what they want? To destroy the Republic?”

“It’s probably a good place to start,” Leia said, wishing she could meet Shea’s eyes. But staring out over the city was one of the few things keeping Leia together at this point. Keeping the memories at bay, helping her remember where and who she was.

“To start?” Shea was moving from frightened to furious. “If they destroy the Republic, what would be lef—“

She stopped as Leia did turn to face her, eyes hard, the image of Alderaan as dust pressing against her mind. “Everything,” Leia whispered. “Everything else.”

Chapter Text

The setting sun filled the room with an orange glow so familiar it made Padmé nauseous. The long shadows and tense posture of everyone present didn’t ease the feeling either, even with addition of Leia and Sabé. The low hum of the lights and the creaking of Typho’s uniform as he shifted made everything surreal and two faced, like Padmé was standing in the past and the present all at once.

“He’ll be here soon,” Sabé reassured, and Padmé smiled, knowing it was weak. Knowing that the comfort too closely matched Dormé’s words when they had been waiting on a couple of Jedi.

Dormé who wasn’t here because she was still unsettled. Still trying to find her place in this new world that didn’t have Cordé in it. That had people like Leia instead, who chased danger instead of mitigating risks.

They hadn’t meant to bring Sabé to Coruscant when this plan had started, but it had been Leia’s unflinching, if sympathetic, “She’ll freeze,” that had made last minute adjustments to their arrangements. Having Sabé here was easier if Padmé needed a double, but it was inconvenient too. She would have been more useful on Naboo, reaching out with the RRM.

Some things, Padmé mused darkly, just couldn’t be helped.

Like the careful non-rigidity of Leia’s posture. And the worried looks Sabé and Eirtaé made when Leia wasn’t looking.

It also hadn’t been the plan originally to have Leia with them tonight, but in the end Padmé didn’t feel confident making assertions about Sith Lords when she hadn’t seen one and still couldn’t get Leia to give a detailed rundown of her encounter. Anakin hadn’t been present for nearly enough of it to out Leia, and Obi-Wan hadn’t been conscious enough.

Although, what he had admitted to remembering…

All of that aside, watching Leia as Bail was invited into the room was almost painful. It wasn’t anything obvious, maybe an extra blink, a slight twitch of the fingers. She did better, Padmé thought, when she’d been given advanced warning.

“I’ll admit I’m surprised,” Bail said as he finished greeting Sabé and took a seat in one of the chairs. “I’d thought you’d been seeing enough of me at work.”

His gaze didn’t drift fully to Leia, but he’d noticed her presence and Padmé wavered. They were supposed to discuss the Sith after dinner, but if he thought she was meddling… “Oh, I was depending on you coming up with an excuse because you’d seen too much of me.”

He smiled, but there was no question that he was concerned. “I’m sorry to disappoint.”

“We wouldn’t have invited you if you were a disappointment,” Padmé promised, not sure what he would catch from the words, but hoping he understood that he was needed as much as welcome.

He seemed to catch something, but only said, “To what do I owe this pleasure, then?”

Sabé and Eirtaé were ready to move them to the food, but a glance at Leia told Padmé what she needed to know for this moment. The signal was early, but Leia nodded, shifted slightly and flipped her switch.

Sabé and Eirtaé, nervous and shaken, were a breath behind.

The lights dimmed slightly, the slight hum increasing just a touch. Bail’s eyes narrowed. “This is unusual.”

“We haven’t decided to bring this information to the full senate,” Padmé started, her planned cues slipping out of her head under that pinched gaze. “We wanted your opinion on it first. And possibly to delay it as long as we can.”

His formal posture relaxed into him leaning forward and Leia’s posture shifted too. Padmé didn’t have time to examine her expression though. Bail was already saying, “What’s so serious you went to all this trouble?” He nodded in Leia’s direction without looking at her. “I assume it has something to do with Master Kenobi’s rescue.”

“And our current focus and efforts with the refugee program,” Padmé tacked on. Then, because she couldn’t avoid it any longer, “Yan Dooku is a Sith.”

There was a moment of confusion, as if he’d misheard, the sharp intake of breath as Bail began to process what that would mean. Not everyone studied history or lore deeply enough to know much more than that the Sith were evil and powerful. Padmé’s understanding was only slightly more personal, Leia’s assumption that the assassin that had killed Master Jinn was a Sith being a strong impetus to find out more, as much as she could.

It was…not much. Much like the quiet practices of the Order, the Jedi didn’t like having random facts about Sith just lying around.

Padmé could almost understand. Almost.

From the expressions on Bail’s face, he had some idea what Sith really meant.

“Master Dooku was a member of the Jedi High Council,” Bail said slowly, starting to sit up. “His break from the Order was peaceful, if…unsettled.”

“Resentful?” Leia supplied.

“Perhaps a bit,” Bail allowed.

“Don’t underestimate resentment,” Leia murmured, softer than Padmé would have expected. “It can do poisonous, treacherous things to you.”

“The Jedi’s teachings—“ Bail started.

“Require willingness,” Leia cut in, stiff now, but determined. “Letting go. Resentment doesn’t want that. It’s a clinging little monster, and it sucks off and eats at your soul. It doesn’t leave so easily, especially,” she had to pause, to breathe, “if you’re denied justice.”

That was personal and Padmé had not been prepared for the addition of it. But they hadn’t predicted Bail would defend Dooku on his record of being a Jedi. Well, Padmé and her handmaidens hadn’t. Leia…

Leia’s respect for the Jedi Order looked increasingly as fragile as her emotions around Bail Organa. And that was something Padmé couldn’t figure out.

“And Master Dooku—Count Dooku,” Padmé corrected, emphasizing his chosen title, “may not have felt like he got justice when Qui-Gon Jinn died.”

This was the territory that Padmé was most uncomfortable with, no matter how reasonable Leia had made it sound. So when Bail asked, “What do you mean?” it was easy to let Leia answer.

“You’d have to see if the Jedi are willing to give you more details from Obi-Wan’s report. And if they’ll fully corroborate my assumptions. But from a passing comment—“ Padmé choked on a snort and Bail stared as Leia narrowed her eyes and continued, “I made about Master Jinn, I assume the issue is still an open concern, emotionally, for the Count.” She hesitated and said very, very carefully, “He’s clever enough to have avoided saying it outright, but I think you’ll find any of Obi-Wan’s comments on his time captured will show an obsession on Dooku’s part with his ties to Obi-Wan through Qui-Gon. My suspicion, based on what I know of the events and the lack of information on the Sith that the Jedi have offered the senate, suggests that the Jedi were aware that the man who killed Qui-Gon Jinn could have been a Sith, and have at least not publicly addressed it. Possibly because it’s a matter of internal dispute.”

“That’s quite a leap of logic,” Bail answered, frowning deeply. “Especially given your lack of experience with the Council or Count Dooku.”

And the lack of general knowledge on Sith, which didn’t seem to slow Leia down at all. Not to mention, “There’s also the matter of why the Count would have gone to the Sith,” Padmé added, trying to slide into the conversation gently. “It is a leap of logic, but whatever his reasoning, we’re confident that Dooku is a Sith Lord.”

At Bail’s inquiring look, Leia supplied, “I accused him, to his face, and he didn’t deny it.”

“And Master Billaba and Master Allie agree that he used techniques traditionally associated with the Sith,” Padmé added.

“Which isn’t proof,” Bail insisted. “No, I understand,” he raised a hand, and Padmé was surprised at how quickly Leia’s mouth snapped shut. “I’m even inclined to believe you. But I’m more inclined to agree with your choice not to share this with the general senate.” He sighed. “If the Jedi are aware of the possibility, they can make further inquiries. And if Dooku is only posing as a Sith, that is still important for us to know. Although he certainly hasn’t used that guise with the Confederacy.”

Padmé shifted uncomfortably, looking to Leia whose lips were pinched in a thin line, words clearly struggling to leap from her mouth. If she couldn’t speak, it was up to Padmé to offer, “We thought you needed to know, especially if Alderaan is going to be heavily involved in moving refugees. Ideology can impact targets, and imitating or actualized, if Dooku is acting like a Sith…”

“We need to know,” Bail agreed, shaking his head. He looked up at Leia, his expression almost mirroring hers for a moment. Then he asked, “Why are you so confident that he’s a Sith?”

How did you think to accuse him, Padmé thought she heard, tacked on at the end. Which was a question Leia had been avoiding with startling adroitness for weeks. Months, maybe even the whole time they’d known her.

But Padmé watched Leia waiver under Bail’s gaze, her lips open as if she was going to answer. Then there was a jerk, a twitch, and Leia squeezed her eyes shut, trying to control her breath.

When she did speak, it was an answer Padmé would never have guessed. “He didn’t try and kill Obi-Wan,” Leia said, her fingers tightening where they held her arms. “He tried to break him. Not for information. Obi-Wan had none. He kept Obi-Wan alive and he kept him dependent.” There was an odd sort of despair in her face as she added, “Jedi, Jedi masters make the best Sith. Because they already come mostly pre-trained. All you have to make them do is fall,” she whispered. And then she looked away, out into that burning twilight. “And never let them get back up.”

Bail looked to Padmé for some sort of guidance, but Padmé wasn’t sure where to go from here. How to acknowledge the implications of what Leia had said. What all the implications even were.

In the end it was Leia that looked back, her posture straightening, her expression becoming mild. “You don’t have to believe us. But I think some of the actions of the Confederacy, in contrast to the actions that their droid army will make, will be more sensible if you know that the Count isn’t invested in their best interests. Just his.”

There was an intensity to Bail’s expression that Padmé couldn’t quite pinpoint. Leia’s attitude remained calm, distant, maybe a touch wary. Maybe.

Finally, Bail said, “It will be good to have that perspective. And to have others around who don’t have it, so that we aren’t consumed by it.” He turned to Padmé, smiling. “Was that all, or are we actually having dinner?”

“Oh, we wouldn’t dare drop something like this on you without feeding you,” Padmé promised, as Sabé and Eirtaé slipped out to check the dining room. “Shall we?”

“That didn’t go as planned,” Sabé murmured, stretching, still watching the hall where Senator Organa had just been escorted out. When she turned, she must have noticed something on Padmé’s face because her next words were, “I’m for bed. We can review this in the morning.”

Definitely a silent cue, Leia thought, wishing she hadn’t missed it. Eirtaé was only a half breath behind.

Leia had small hopes when she was allowed to excuse herself that things were done for the evening, but a soft knock on her door after she’d finished changing for bed dashed those.

She didn’t bother with anything more than a, “Come in,” as she finished braiding her hair, working slowly as a healthy excuse not to look back.

“You surprised him,” Padmé said when she had taken a seat on the end of the bed, pulling her legs up so she could rest her chin on them. Her hair was a mess of curls down her back and Leia wondered if she should offer to braid it.

“He doesn’t know me,” she managed to say without breaking. “I imagine I’ll surprise him for years.”

Padmé waited until Leia had finished her braid and couldn’t excuse herself by watching Padmé from her mirror before saying, “He does like you.”

“He never said that,” Leia retorted, bitterly confident.

“He said he trusts you,” Padmé corrected. “And that he likes you.”

That was—that was not—

“You really need to stop being so surprised at this sort of thing,” Luke hummed in her mind, a compassionate brush against her senses.

“He doesn’t know me,” Leia argued, but it felt weak, even in her own head. To Padmé she only managed, “He…really said that?”

There was a sting of sadness as Padmé conceded, “He did, but I don’t think he dislikes many people, and he’s inclined to like most. He does trust you, though, which is more rare.”

And probably more valuable. But there was that lingering hurt that Leia might never be able to recover from, of wanting his personal attention and validation. Of wanting to impress and please him. To be just and proper and…well, royal.

But she hadn’t been a princess (not really) in years. And looking back, she wasn’t sure she’d ever been a good one.

“Did he care about that as much as you did? Or was he just glad you were his daughter?” Luke asked.

Leia’s snippy reply was, “I’m not his daughter.”

Which hurt a lot more than she had expected it to.

She could feel her brother’s objections to her semantics, but she answered Padmé with, “I’ll try to make the best of it.” And then, because after tonight Leia was not sure anymore, “Do you trust me?”

It was enough to get Padmé immediately off the bed and across the room, swallowing Leia in a fierce hug and a feeling of…of…wanting Leia thought, trying to encapsulate the sensation in a single word. When Padmé pulled back, she took Leia’s hands, met her square in the eye and said, “With my life. With our lives.” Her fingers were painfully tight around Leia’s, and there was no pulling away. “I believe you, about Dooku. I just…”

“You believe me more now,” Leia said after a moment. “Now that you’ve actually heard my reasoning and not just my assertions that the Jedi were willing to nod at.”

“You gave me reasons,” Padmé countered. “And from what little I know of the Sith, everything you said makes sense. It’s just…”

“What do they want?” Leia finished, sighing. “What are they going to do? Why?”

Nodding, Padmé added, “And why Dooku? Bail’s right, he was a Jedi. Even with resentment towards the Order, wouldn’t his resentment towards the Sith pit him against them? And assembling the Confederacy?”

“Those who stand against my enemy…” Leia muttered.

“Works both ways,” Padmé sighed. “Leverage the Jedi against the Sith, or the Sith against the Jedi. I guess, if the Jedi had given up on hunting the Sith?”

It was hard to want to tell Padmé all of Leia’s reasons for her beliefs. She’d come by them experientially, not from reading. And Leia knew more of Palpatine’s goals and ambitions than Dooku’s. Although Vader’s template for apprenticeship was probably perfected on previous targets, which gave Leia what was likely a more clear view of the current methods than even the Jedi might come up with. Depending on what their texts could tell them about Sith ideology, of course.

“Tell her,” Luke urged, patient but forceful. “Worry about making up excuses later. They need to know.”

Cringing, this was ultimately more Luke’s expertise than hers (although she had no trouble understanding it), Leia said, “Turning a Jedi into a Sith isn’t just about getting them angry, or violent. It’s about breaking a bond they have with a way of life, with a community. A family. Breaking it and putting those splinters in their hands as a weapon.” She noticed Padmé’s eyes widening, considering the implications. “It’s not any different in some ways than getting a normal person to commit treason. Either they wanted to do it all along, so they don’t look back,” she shuddered as she said the phrase, “or you put them in a position where they think they can’t go back. You make them do something so horrible, so counterintuitive to who and what they think they are that they just…”

“You think Dooku’s done this?” Padmé asked, voice hollow. “You think he’s betrayed…himself.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s a base line for anyone getting recruited to a one master, one apprentice agreement,” Leia tried to sound casual and knew she failed. “You try to make sure they aren’t tied to anything else. And what better initiation—“

“Than to make them destroy it,” Padmé had moved from horrified to horrified and thoughtful. “If he thought the Jedi had failed him, if he went to act alone…”

“Anything could have happened,” Leia said. “Best guess, given how touchy he still is about his dead apprentice. He wasn’t strong enough, and sold himself for revenge. Not realizing in the moment what would be the eventual cost.”

Padmé considered this. “You really think it’s that simple?”

“No,” Leia sighed. Then sighed again, “Yes. Yes, I really do.” At Padmé’s hesitance, she added, “Jedi are taught to fight the Sith. To fight them with sabers and the Force. If you confront a Sith and your techniques aren’t enough, how unreasonable is it to seek more, to finish the job?”

“That’s not about Master Jinn,” Padmé noted, even as she nodded.

“Power,” Leia shrugged. “He needed power. Power to kill his enemy, who had hurt him, by killing someone he loved. An enemy who would kill the loved ones of others. As a Jedi, as a mentor, he probably felt righteous and justified. Until he didn’t.”

“You’re really sure of this,” Padmé’s eyes narrowed.

Leia squirmed. “If the Sith have returned without attracting notice, they’re being subtle. If I were an evil monster, knowing I had to fight thousands of people with the power and will to kill me, I’d be really damn good at finding ways to get them to kill each other first. I’d enjoy it,” she added, the words scraping across her lips. “I’d find it poetic.”

“That,” Padmé was stiff, almost green, “makes a lot of sense. And I hate it.”

“Welcome to my life,” Leia’s mouth quirked on one side, even as her lips trembled. “It doesn’t get better.”

There was a moment of painful disquiet around them before Padmé shook it off, took one of Leia’s hands and said, “Yes it does. When you don’t have to face it alone.”

Ignoring Luke’s smugness poking at the back of her brain, Leia conceded, “Maybe that does help.”

Depa watched Master Windu mull over her words, his frown continuing to deepen as he considered them. When he looked up, there was a weight to his question of, “Do you think we should bring her in?”

“No,” was Depa’s immediate, gut answer. She reflected on it and added, “Compelling her to do anything would be counterproductive. It’s not clear how powerful she is in the Force, or how much training she requires to maintain adequate control. But if we are worried about safety, hers or others’, provoking her runs counter to our goals. And if we compel her,” Depa added confidently, “she will be extremely provoked.”

As might Senator Amidala, but that would be a secondary consideration. Master Windu didn’t need to be distracted by that at this moment. He was balancing enough.

“That doesn’t mean we can’t extend an invitation,” Master Windu prompted, watching and feeling around Depa, making sure he was paying attention.

Which was good, if it was also intimidating. And nostalgic. She answered with confidence, “We can invite, but we should be careful about the invitation. To make it clear that it is an invitation and not a summons. I doubt I can manage that balance. I’d trust Master Gallia, except she works in the senate, and by the very nature of her being the one asking, I don’t know how Leia would interpret that.”

“She can at least recommend someone else,” was the harried reply, and Depa agreed with a serene nod, ready to have this behind them. No more burdens for her master…

“Master Kenobi’s training went well?” Master Windu asked, and Depa felt obligated to answer an affirmative.

“They only practiced together a few times, no more than two or three. But the interaction seemed to stabilize both of them a great deal. She had no more incidents damaging property, and seemed to grasp the intent well enough to continue on her own.” When it looked like Master Windu seemed content, Depa felt compelled to add, “It’s the earlier incident that worries me more.”

He blinked. “Her reaction to the Code?”

Depa nodded, knowing by his blank look that she hadn’t explained it properly. “It wasn’t just a breakdown,” she tried again, calling up the memory, but at a distance, not wanting it to overwhelm her. “It was a fundamental rejection in the Force.” Knowing how pointed the word was, Depa still said, “It shattered things, like the Force around her had fractured.”

Like the lights had in the room when Leia had lost control, Depa thought slowly, and noticed when Master Windu reached the same conclusion. “Do you think Master Kenobi’s training might have helped address that issue as well?”

“No,” and Depa was sure again. Didn’t need to pause and check herself. “No, I don’t think it has addressed that matter at all.”

Chapter Text

“Leia!” Anakin seemed almost as glad to see her as he’d been when he spotted Padmé and Leia was stumped.

“Hi,” she answered, grateful that mild reply slowed his steps and aborted what looked like a crushing hug. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“I was visiting the Chancellor,” Anakin said, looking between her and Padmé, eyes sparkling.

Leia felt her gut twist in fear. “Learn anything interesting?” she asked, hoping she’d concealed most of her feelings. (Or all of them. All of them was fine.)

“No,” Anakin said. “Not today. I’m…” He fidgeted, “We didn’t talk about much.” He squirmed again before asking, “Are you getting updates on the Council’s plans for the troopers?”

Some caution, Leia noted. Which was nice. But it only took a, “No, but you can tell us if they aren’t classified,” to get Anakin cheerfully informing them about all the things he didn’t think he was supposed to keep secret.

Which was quite a lot. From a certain point of view.

Padmé met Leia’s gaze and they shared a moment of concerned amusement. But Padmé didn’t ask Anakin to stop.

“…and we’ve been rotating the cruisers every five days. So it’s really hectic and the 212^th is flying right now, so Obi-Wan is lonely because they’re his favorite. They don’t tease him as much about his legs.”

“How’s he recovering?” Padmé asked before Leia could get to it.

Anakin was all smiles and a bright corona in the Force, which was more telling than any of the loose hints he was dropping about Obi-Wan’s recovery. “He still has nightmares,” Anakin confessed in a low voice, when there wasn’t anyone near them in the hall. “But those never really go away, so…”

“Does he know that?” Leia asked, skeptical.

Anakin’s look was confusing until he said, “He should. He still dreams about Qui-Gon dying. Not as much now, but…”

Right. That. Leia should have remembered. But she was more interested in, “Does he know you know about the nightmares?”

It was obviously not a question Anakin had confronted before. “Yes? I mean, we don’t talk about it, but it’s kind of obvious. He’s extra grumpy in the morning and always makes bitter tea when he has them.”

“Just a guess,” Leia suggested as they got ready to part ways, Anakin lingering closer to Padmé, looking like he was trying to find something to say to her, “but if he hasn’t said it outright, just done a ritual, he might think you haven’t noticed.”

“But he does it every time,” Anakin protested.

And Leia wasn’t going to fight about it. They had work to do today. “You know him best,” she conceded. “Tell him we said hi? And that we hope he’s doing well?”

“Sure,” Anakin nodded. Then paused. “Your comm number is still the same, right? He’s trying to make sure he can reach his old contacts.”

“Yes,” Leia said. “And we’re on planet, so he can call any time. I’ll call him back if I’m busy.”

“Any time of day or any time?” Padmé asked, the hint of a smile on her face.

“Any time,” Leia clarified, making sure to face Anakin. “I can always zone out during boring meetings if I need more sleep.”

He grinned and nodded. “I’ll let him know.” He turned to Padmé. “It’s good to see you. Maybe we’ll run into each other again?”

“That’d be nice,” she smiled. “And when Obi-Wan is well enough you should come to dinner. Maybe we can call Shmi afterwards.”

That blinding presence sparkled and Leia had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep her composure. Anakin just said, “Yeah. Yeah, that would be great.”

Oh lovely. Well, nothing Leia could do about this, except hope terrible things happened and the Jedi sent Obi-Wan and Anakin off planet.

Which was a terrible wish. But maybe Leia was a terrible person.

Anakin turned, was going to move past her, but he paused, held out his hand so it hovered just next to hers. Leia blinked, but swallowed her pride and reached back, accepting the tiny squeeze he gave her fingers and offering a tentative one back, hoping her face was benign.

It couldn’t have been perfect, Anakin wasn’t smiling as broadly anymore, but he nodded, his fingers trailing down hers instead of just pulling away.

Leia ignored Padmé’s look. She did not want to know what it meant.

Senator Darsana twirled a glass in his hands, glancing up every so often and smiling in a way that made Padmé nervous. It didn’t seem to bother Shea, but she’d been dealing with him directly a lot longer and didn’t have as much to prove.

Padmé was still struggling with whether or not she should imitate Leia’s behavior more, or less. Because it worked, but probably mostly because it was authentic. And Padmé wasn’t sure what it was about Leia that let her like Senator Darsana so much.

No, that wasn’t true. Padmé knew. She just didn’t want to admit it.

“Your suggestion, while not technically treason, comes much closer to it these days than it did before,” he said at last, done leaving Padmé in suspense.

“The chancellery doesn’t get to dictate the negotiating power of the systems,” Padmé asserted, knowing it was flimsy ground to walk on. “So long as we aren’t negotiating to leave the Republic—“

“Or to undermine it,” Senator Darsana almost sounded sympathetic. “Or to do anything that might provoke military action. Or interfere with trade routes…”

The weight he put on the last made Padmé’s blood boil. “The Trade Federation—“

“Is evil,” Senator Darsana shrugged, looking over to Shea. “But their monopoly is firm. And those of us without the proper alternatives, or leverage, must bend to it.” He took a sip before adding, “I am well aware of the trap they have made for us. I only wish more had seen it—seen to it—sooner.”

“We tried,” Padmé said, but it felt weak. The weight of that failure was enraging most days, but sometimes. Sometimes it was just crushingly sad. “They barely lost any profit for what we paid in blood.”

Not as bad as it could have been, the Chancellor had said, over and over. There hadn’t been mass executions, just deprivation. Minimal casualties to the gungan army, who hadn’t even been citizens with voting rights or an obligation to help them. In his eyes, that seemed to excuse their loss, justify the courts minimizing those costs, reducing the compensation. To Padmé, that only made it a greater sin.

But what was she but a young queen then?

Realizing he hadn’t answered, Padmé looked up, surprised at the smile on his face. At her inquisitive look, Senator Darsana said, “Leia told me I didn’t know you well, if I found her behavior surprising. I’m beginning to see what she meant.”

That had Shea snorting, and Padmé leaned back, blushing and not sure how to take his words. “I’m not…“

“You are,” Shea countered when Padmé didn’t continue. “How do you think you convinced me to be a part of this scheme in the first place?”

“Which scheme?” Padmé asked, almost smiling. “There’ve been a couple.”

“All of them,” Shea conceded, polishing off her glass. She stood to refill it, making a gesture to take her guests’ drinks as well. Padmé accepted, but Senator Darsana declined. “But let’s get back to talking about this one.”

Bracing herself with a slow breath, Padmé said, “If we can contact the Separatists—“

“Mina’s a good friend, but she’s not in charge,” Shea said bluntly, handing Padmé a full glass and taking her seat. Senator Darsana was nodding. “My contacts are the same. For all they speak of freedom, of how they’ve escaped from the bureaucracy and the corruption, they’re pretty comfortably sitting in Count Dooku’s hands.”

Seeing some slight thing change in Senator Darsana’s face, Padmé asked Shea, “Did Leia talk to you about the Count?”

A grunt from Shea, as she glanced at Senator Darsana and Padmé nodded. “She did. Folk tales comes to life aren’t my specialty.”

“The Sith are more of a legend,” Senator Darsana supplied. “True that they existed, but hidden as to what they were, beyond a massive, evil army with vicious power.”

“They aren’t an army now,” Padmé said, staring into her drink. “Leia thinks there’s only two of them.”

“Does she?” Senator Darsana frowned.

Shifting, Padmé added, “I think so. She said something about one master, one apprentice. It…I wasn’t able to find much, but I think the Jedi suggested something similar in one of the texts.”

“How inefficient,” Senator Darsana looked disgusted. “How…trite.”

The word seemed a weak descriptor, but Padmé noted the gesture he made with his hand, intending to ask Threepio about it later, hoping he might gasp in disgust. Then Padmé would know it was a really good insult. “Trite or not, they have an army again.”

“Of droids,” Shea noted. “You had some interesting things to say about that to the committee.”

And if “interesting” sounded like, “You got all that straight from Leia,” Padmé didn’t have to admit that out loud. “I’m hoping it means we have a short and easy conflict, if we have to have one at all, Padmé admitted. “But I’m not confident.”

“So what do we need to do?” Senator Darsana asked. “The refugee matter is moving along as quickly as we can manage. The list of members from the RRM has been approved, budgets for their pay should be finalized next week, maybe the one after. But that’s a reaction move, a bandage prepped for when we start truly bleeding. How are we fighting now?”

Pulling out her list, Padmé took a deep breath. “Bail’s got the preliminary list of planets that have the highest need given the Federation contracts and pilfering. We were hoping you could approach some of them, start making suggestions.”

“They won’t be easy to peel away,” he commented as he accepted a copy and started skimming through it. “Their entrenchment means what little they have, they have to lose.”

“That’s the other part,” Padmé looked to Shea, who nodded but only sipped her drink. “We may need to create an alternative supply route.”

“Infringe on Federation contracts?” Senator Darsana’s smile was all teeth.

But Padmé was prepared. “As senators, we would never encourage our members to break civil code and violate terms of contract,” she promised, eyes wide open and earnest. That toothy smile only grew wider. “But we do have an obligation, to our refugees and their caretakers, to make sure they don’t run out of supplies or other resources.”

There was a rippling sound coming from the anselmi senator, and Padmé was reassured. Shea added, “And if we can employ some of the refugees in being the pilots that move those supplies…”

“We’re only making efficient use of our resources,” Senator Darsana agreed. “Who else are we approaching?”

“Ryloth,” Padmé said, getting confirmation from Shea. “Christophsis, Felucia, Eriadu, and Kashyyyk. If we can manage those, Malastare, and maybe Mandalore.”

“Mandalore?” Senator Darsana’s eyes went very wide at that. “They aren’t—“

“In the Republic,” Padmé agreed. “But we’ve had more peaceable talks with them in the last few years, and if we develop trade systems that are safe and effective, they might be interested.”

“Better an ally as well,” Senator Darsana nodded, looking between the two women. “If we can keep them.”

“Small, reasonable promises,” Padmé insisted. “Options for free trade negotiations. When conflict does happen, if we can show that they’ve been allies, or at least not enemies, we might be able to use them to undercut the Trade Federation directly, especially if there’s need.”

It was a few moments before Senator Darsana said, “Your staff member is a bloodthirsty young lady, isn’t she?”

“It wasn’t all her idea,” Shea objected. “Everyone contributed.”

“Mandalore was her idea,” Padmé offered. “Partly because the clone training was Mandalorian. We don’t know how they’ll react to that, but nice overtures now could smooth things over, or really open doors if they are flattered.”

“Flattered is unlikely,” Senator Darsana was looking distinctly uncomfortable.

“Take it up with Leia,” Shea countered, smiling over the edge of her glass. “But do yourself a favor and don’t mention Jango Fett.”

Senator Darsana perked up. “Oh?”

“And definitely don’t say he corrupted the clones,” she added, almost shifting to a frown. “She’s very touchy about that.”

“I didn’t think she’d seen them,” Senator Darsana suggested, looking to Padmé for confirmation.

“Not in person,” Padmé agreed. “But…”

It was hard to pinpoint what exactly bothered Leia about the situation, beyond the clones being purchased sentients and Jango Fett being Cordé’s killer. But there was definitely something there. You could see it every time Leia deliberately did not look up at the sky.

Digging through old notes wasn’t too hard, but trying to make the numbers add up to Leia’s rough estimates of what the Separatists would need for their droid army wasn’t turning out as well as she’d hoped. Even with Eirtaé there to help.

“We’re either completely off about the alloys they’re using, or they aren’t actually getting them through these paths,” the handmaiden grimaced after four hours of laborious mathematical comparison.

“Or we’re not looking in the right places,” Leia suggested. “The totals are low, but not so low it couldn’t be contributing.”

“What are you working on?” Eirtaé demanded, noting a list of items that was not droid components.

Leia only half glanced up. “Things Geonosians might want, aside from droid bits.”

“And?” Eirtaé prodded, pointing at several items on the list that didn’t fit that requirement.

“And stuff they definitely shouldn’t want, but might be getting and using to trade for components elsewhere,” Leia admitted. “It’s a long shot, but—“

“One thing at a time,” Eirtaé insisted. “We don’t even know if we’ll find something.”

Leia grunted. “We have to. The Republic has allowed the Trade Federation to grow into a monopoly inside its jurisdiction. Even outside, that gives them a lot of power and leverage. And most of the Separatist systems are defected Republic ones. Which means their contracts are still intact, or at least that replacing them will be the work of decades, without another large competitor to use.”

“Pity we can’t access the Federation’s insurance records,” Eirtaé sighed. “Or their piracy reports to the Senate. We could at least rule out them running some of their goods through the Hutts and other syndicates. No,” she added, when she saw Leia’s expression. “One thing at a time.”

At least she wasn't arguing about the legality of Leia getting that data. Though if they were going to use it, Leia would need to find ways to get at least some of it through official channels. Her hands getting dirty was fine, but Padmé’s office needed to be free of corruption. Officially speaking.  “There are two of us. One for each?”

Luckily for Leia, since it looked like Eirtaé was about to offer more protests, there was a chime at the door. Leia was a little surprised when the guest that stepped in was Master Gallia, then deeply suspicious.

But she still stood and offered a small bow, Eirtaé only a breath behind her. Master Gallia offered polite greetings as well, before saying, “I was wondering if you have some time this afternoon, Leia. Master Windu was hoping to speak to you.”

Straight to the point, which was concerning enough, but there was a deliberate openness to the tholothian Jedi, her intent seeping out as welcoming and inviting.

It probably said poor things about Leia’s life experience that this only made her more suspicious.

Her brother agreed.

Hoping she hadn’t delayed to the point of awkwardness, Leia said, “Is it an urgent matter? I actually am quite busy right now, but I can be at the Order’s disposal if there is an immediate need.”

“Not immediate,” Master Gallia offered, though she seemed reluctant. “But sooner, I think, would be better. He may not be the only member of the Council who wishes to speak to you.”

Given her last, brief and uncomfortable, encounter with the Jedi High Council, this wasn’t exactly encouraging. Leia said, “It might help to know what he wished to discuss? If I can’t meet with him directly today, I may be able to answer any questions through you.”

It was a long shot, and no surprise when Master Gallia shook her head. She smiled though, as if she understood Leia’s reluctance to approach the Council. “He wasn’t specific. He may have some questions about your additions to Master Kenobi and Padawan Skywalker’s report, or it could be something completely different.”

Leia didn’t know Master Gallia’s personal tells well enough to be positive, but that shift of eyes suggested she’d just stretched the truth and “could be” was actually “is definitely.” It seemed like the sort of thing Obi-Wan would do.

“If Master Windu has time tomorrow,” Leia hedged, wondering if she could plan an emergency to occur, “I might be available then. As long as any urgent meetings don’t pop up.”

It was clear that Master Gallia knew Leia’s “might” was as reliable as the Jedi’s “could.” Her, “I can speak to Senator Amidala, if that would make you more comfortable,” was a sloppy move, and Leia saw Master Gallia recognize it the moment the words had left her mouth. There was an odd flash in her emotions before she added, “If it would help, I could also arrange for Master Kenobi or Padawan Skywalker to be there.”

That was not something she’d been authorized to offer, Leia was sure. But as cover for the slip up, it probably would have worked. If Leia didn’t have the exact relationship she did with those Jedi. As it was, Leia knew Anakin’s presence would only make things worse, and she wasn’t confident of how Obi-Wan would react in front of a member of the Council.

But.

But Obi-Wan would feel sufficiently guilty and protective if Leia got too uncomfortable around Master Windu. And even if they weren’t close enough for her to communicate with him directly (she had no interest in being inside his head), she could probably get him to shut up if he said anything too compromising, by panicking in the Force in ways he was familiar with.

It might even be a good way to confuse him about her weaknesses.

“We’re moving past ‘trust issues’ and paranoia into outright insanity,” Luke commented dryly. “Why not just tell her you’re from the future but you don’t want to talk about it?”

“Shut up,” was all Leia could manage in reply to him. To Master Gallia, she said, “If Master Kenobi could be there, that might be helpful. He’s an excellent communicator and can help things go smoothly if there’s something I miss.”

Let the Jedi take that how she would.

“I’ll let them know,” Master Gallia promised, recognizing this as a sort of dismissal. Or at least a chance to get away with that promise. “Thank you.”

The look on Eirtaé’s face when the Jedi had gone made Leia sigh. “What?”

“They aren’t allowed to steal you,” Eirtaé said, deadpan. “Padmé won’t allow it.”

“Noted.” And it was a sort of relief. “Back to work?”

Eirtaé groaned, but slid back into her seat.

Chapter Text

“You’re not getting out of this,” Padmé said, pushing Leia towards the door. “Especially since you stayed late last night working on your project. You aren’t behind, you need a break. Go dance with the Jedi a bit and then come back to tackle this problem.”

“You’re a wretched friend,” Leia complained, letting herself get shoved to the door, but stopping just inside it. “And what if they kidnap me?”

“I’ll have Shmi come and rescue you,” Padmé said. “She can have Anakin help her storm the Temple.”

Grateful beyond words that Padmé had no ability to feel Leia in the Force, Leia dragged her voice away from bitter, aching sarcasm to light amusement as she answered, “At least I know Shmi loves me.”

“We’ll help too,” Padmé promised. “If they kidnap you. Which they won’t.”

“You don’t know that,” Leia grumbled, but scuffled the rest of the way out of the room, the opportunity for general hall traffic to now listen in effectively cutting off Padmé’s retort. Padmé shook her head and waved, letting Leia descend two floors to another gallery alone.

When Leia got there, Master Gallia was speaking with Senator Orn Free Taa, and Leia hung back, not willing to play polite. Until she recognized Master Gallia’s furtive glances and realized a rescue was in order.

Well, nothing better in pocket than a Jedi in your debt. Leia crossed the room, sliding her arm through Master Gallia’s with an apologetic, “I hope you haven’t been waiting long. I’m ready now.”

Her gaze flicked to the senator as he sputtered, but Master Gallia dexterously made her excuses and almost pulled Leia down the hall in her flight.

Leia managed not to giggle until they were safely in a lift. “Was I interrupting something?”

“Yes,” Master Gallia admitted, wry humor pulling at her mouth. “Thank you.”

“If I’d known you were under assault, I would have come sooner,” Leia said, letting go of the Jedi master and putting polite space between them. “I’m sorry.”

“I misjudged,” Master Gallia said. “I thought he was distracted by Senator Aak and didn’t realize he too needed a convenient interruption.”

Wincing in sympathy, Leia considered asking what the senator had wanted, then thought better of it. Instead she asked, “Is this really a good time? I know my schedule is a little odd.”

“Jedi hardly keep normal hours,” Master Gallia answered, waving Leia ahead out of the lift. “And Council members are even worse. We are busy, but Master Windu asked for you especially, so it’s no trouble. At least, it’s his job to bear the burden if it is trouble.”

Thinking of exactly how busy the Order had to be right now, with over two hundred thousand troops to move, house, and feed, Leia couldn’t help but feel sympathy for Master Windu. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t be evasive, but she’d try to make this interview quick.

He probably wished it so. He had to be juggling a lot.

It was a bit uncomfortable watching Master Gallia slide into the pilot’s seat of the speeder, but Leia swallowed her pride and took her spot on the other side. Master Gallia was a Jedi. She was at least safe to fly with, even in Coruscanti traffic.

The relative safety of the flight would have put Leia at ease, but the sudden turn around a corner twisted her seat so that she could see above the horizon to the pale gray triangle of a cruiser hanging in orbit. She had to swallow down so many immediate reactions at that sight, then process the unnaturalness of the shape, how it wasn’t quite right. Not like in her memories.

It should have soothed. It didn’t.

At least the troops weren’t being housed in the Temple complex.

Approaching from the air, Leia took the opportunity to look over the Temple layout, noticing the rigid simplicity of it, marveling at how light and open it felt as they descended.

(Another jarring mismatch with her memories.)

Without an abducted Jedi distracting her, Leia was able to pay closer attention to her surroundings this time, and took advantage of Master Gallia’s moderate pace to study not just the shape of the halls and galleries, but the fine and subtle details tucked into the mostly plain architecture. Light spilled in through arched windows and flooded through open halls, but the ceilings crept so high, it got dimmer the further up Leia looked. She wondered if that was deliberate, supposed to mean something. Or just an accident no one had thought to remedy.

She also noticed more of the Jedi around her, most solemn and focused, especially when they spotted Master Gallia at Leia’s side.

Winding through the halls, Leia only kept casual track of their path, especially once she realized they weren’t headed for the central tower where the full Council met. At least she wasn’t going to be subject to that catastrophe again.

The final hall they turned onto had more youths roaming about in small groups, many with a padawan braid and Leia frowned.

“Something wrong?” Master Gallia asked.

Leia had been assuming the Jedi wasn’t paying close attention. Mistake. “There are a lot of students down here.”

“This is one of the study floors,” Master Gallia said, and Leia felt tension ripple up and down her body. “Master Windu is over here.”

They’d reached the middle of the hall and the Jedi led the two of them through a door. Leia almost fled when she saw what was inside.

It was an open room, dim, lit mostly by the glow of a dozen holos on tables spread through the room. Two to four Jedi stood at each table, some consulting with each other, most hunched in deep thought, eyeing the partner across from them warily. Projected on the tabletops between them were battlefields, constructed on neat grids but with various terrains and troop formations.

Battle simulations, Leia realized, slightly faint. The Temple had resources to provide simulation training to over fifty Jedi at once, with a unique battle setup at each station. The battles seemed to run in fits and spurts, some responses being made in real time, others during pauses that allowed the commanders to review their current condition more carefully and critically. They probably had a library of historical battles or constructed scenarios to pull from, and her brain hurt imagining how many uses she could put that to. Almost as much as her heart hurt, thinking how useful even one of these would have been to the Rebellion.

“Master Gallia?” Master Windu’s voice was quiet, but it cut across the short distance with no resistance. Leia’s attention snapped to the right, catching the frustrated look on Master Windu’s face, and the carefully neutral one on Master Gallia’s.

“You said to bring her as soon as possible,” Master Gallia remarked, stepping closer. “This was the earliest she was available. And I knew Master Kenobi would be here too.”

Oh lovely, Leia had been roped into some sort of petty in-fight. Or maybe, she thought, noticing the rigid stiffness of Master Windu’s shoulders, the way he blinked several times before he answered, the slow carefulness of his gaze around the room, maybe this was an intervention.

She wasn’t sure which would be worse.

“I’m very grateful that you were able to bring Lady Skywalker so quickly.” Leia hid a wince at the address. “If you could escort her to…”

There was a shift in the room as those closest to the door realized what was going on and their attention drifted away from their tasks. Most were too clever to be caught looking, but the probing feeling around Leia from so many directions made her skin crawl. She was dimly aware that Master Windu and Master Gallia were still talking, but her eyes roved the tables, taking in the various teams and positions, and she moved almost without thinking to the nearest one.

A nautolan Jedi was smiling as he moved small units around the board, driving his lannik opponent to distraction by the look of it. Most of the boards seemed to have the troops kept in close clusters, large formations marching in tandem. The provocative mobility of the nautolan’s setup was trickier than it had first looked. Especially his use of air forces.

But then, it was probably more natural for an aquatic Jedi to think in terms of depth and height as well as front and back.

“You are amused?” he murmured as she stepped closer, and Leia noticed the lannik’s already wrinkled expression crease further.

“Fascinated,” she offered instead, though amusement she felt aplenty. “What’s the objective?”

There was a brief pause before he answered, “Winning, I should think.”

Leia glanced over the table again. If this was a historical battle, it wasn’t one she was familiar with. The terrain didn’t hold any significant landmarks. “By what margin?”

“As large as possible,” the nautolan nodded to his board. “These lives are precious. Even if they are fleeting.”

She didn’t offer anything more than a hum, but her eyes drifted back to Master Windu and Master Gallia at the front of the room, who watched her but didn’t indicate she should return.

With languid casualness, Leia made her way around several more tables, noting clever ideas while also growing more concerned. It wasn’t until she slid up behind Obi-Wan, draped casually across his seat, watching him contemplate the tiny remaining force he had on the board with a disinterested air, that she said anything.

“Giving up already?”

He’d noticed her coming, didn’t so much as glance backwards as he answered, “I’ve lost more than three quarters of my forces. I’m afraid I fell for a ruse rather clumsily and never quite recovered.”

Leia looked at the board, at the remaining units and their current formations, at the controls in front of the Jedi and asked, “If I win for you, what’s the prize?”

His opponent, a cerean she thought she remembered from the Council, blinked across the table at them. “Master Kenobi has not been assigned a partner. This lesson is to test his independent abilities.”

“And a good general wastes the arrival of an unexpected ally?” she tossed back, resting an arm on Obi-Wan’s shoulder and letting him take some of her weight. She didn’t look, but felt his annoyance. Especially when his opponent nodded, gesturing for Leia to continue. Then she looked down. “What do I win?”

“The increasingly insignificant honor of having rescued a Jedi,” Obi-Wan answered, his voice crisp and dry. “Again.”

Grinning, Leia queued up a series of instructions on the screen in front of him and said, “Think you can manage with this?”

He reviewed them, the furrow between his brows slowly deepening. “What in the—Oh.” He glanced up at her. “I’m not sure it’s enough.”

“Get creative,” she suggested. “What would Anakin do?”

That brought a pained look to both men’s faces, but it was Obi-Wan who answered, “I’m not sure—“

“What do you have to lose?” she asked, crossing her arms.

He hesitated. “My remaining men.”

Leia let her gaze drift back to the front of the room, where Master Windu was still watching her, frustration etched onto his face, but a sense of curiosity swirling about him. She looked around the rest of the room, at the careful, methodical play the Jedi were engaged in. Looked back to Obi-Wan. “They don’t live if you don’t win.”

“I can surrender,” he suggested, looking at his options. “It ends the lesson, but—“

Leia poked him, shoving her finger into his temple hard enough to make his head jerk. “You surrender, they’re captured. You want your men in the enemy’s hands?” Dirty trick, but she made sure the last bit was dark and weighty as she said it, threatening. “Is this a game, Obi-Wan?”

She felt him recoil from her in the Force, his posture stiffening. The cerean was frowning now, leaning forward. Leia ignored him and pointed at the board. “Being a general is different than being a Jedi. You’re going to ask men to die for you. They’re going to do it. You don’t get to stand in front of them and block all the shots anymore.”

“I know that,” Obi-Wan ground out, glancing around at the audience they were starting to accumulate, his irritation starting to scrape against her senses. “That’s why I’m here. Practicing. It’s why we all are.”

Simulations were good, Leia thought, but they weren’t doing what she thought Master Windu hoped they would, on top of giving strategic experience. She leaned down, bracing her hand on the back of Obi-Wan’s chair and letting herself get right up into his face, until all she could see were his eyes, determinedly not blinking in front of her.

“It’s all a waste if you can’t win,” she told him, her voice devoid of any of the emotions churning around inside her, detached from the memories that drove the words out of her mouth with a silent howl. “Break the rules. Change the game. But don’t waste this.” She pulled back, feeling her heart pound beneath her ribs, her lungs ache as she forced them to take deep, slow breaths. “Win.”

Instead of giving him time to answer, Leia spun, stepping quickly to the next table and looking over the array. The Jedi there watched her bashfully, waiting for comment. She only asked, “What’s your objective?” and nodded when she got a brief answer.

She took that question, and her stony silence, on her tour around the room.

Mace glanced down at Master Gallia, whose expression had shifted from barely concealed amusement to sharp focus.

“Her posture,” she murmured, and Mace nodded, having already noticed it. Almost languid as she moved, but still efficient, her hands rested comfortably clasped at the small of her back, her feet braced apart when she stopped to watch.

Except when she was with Obi-Wan, of course. Her comfort and casual ease around him were even more stark in comparison to this proud composure.

“What have we wrought?” he asked, but wasn’t surprised when he didn’t get an answer. Master Gallia had been outspoken in her disagreement with the suggested methods of training they were currently using. She didn’t think teasing out people’s preferences and habits would be effective with such an uncertain timetable.

Mace agreed, but…

But they’d trained to be Jedi, not soldiers. Not generals. No one had stepped down yet, refused the possibility of command. But some of them shouldn’t be handed it. From the state of the room, probably most of them.

And Leia had noticed.

“What is your objective?” she kept asking, if he was catching it correctly. Which made horrible sense. And Mace didn’t know how to answer the question in Leia’s eyes as she kept looking to him as she traversed the room. They couldn’t change everything right now, they might break someone. Fracture the already fragile trust that the Jedi were extending to the Order in these chaotic times.

But the question wasn’t nearly as terrifying as watching her step in, point at things silently, and then walk away from a table. Always when someone was grossly outnumbered. Always when they were about to fail.

And the tide turned.

Most of them still didn’t win. Master Kenobi and Master Unduli seemed to take the best advantage of her aide, recovering to victory. Master Krell still crushed his opponent though, even when Leia stayed by their side, continuing to make suggestions. The expression on her face almost worried Mace.

Almost.

“I’m sorry,” she said as she came back some time after Master Gallia had left, glancing back over the room. “I seem to have interrupted your lesson. And you wanted to talk to me?”

“I do,” Mace said, making sure to catch Master Kenobi’s eye and gesture for him to come. “If you still have time…”

He didn’t want her to leave, but he hadn’t expected her to step into the lesson so easily. To take so much time coaching people through certain steps. To be so good at it, when the odds were at their worst.

Mace really did not like the implications of that.

“I can stay,” she said. “At least for a little longer. Senator Amidala wouldn’t want you to think I can’t be made available if you have need.”

There was something twisted and convoluted about that, but Mace would run it by Master Gallia later for translation. The tongue twisting of politics was not his strong point. Master Kenobi wandered up, and Mace said, “If you would both follow me.”

“I have a—“ Master Kenobi began, before Padawan Skywalker’s voice cut in with a, “Master, you’re going to be late!”

The almost exasperated look on Leia’s face was something of a comfort. Mace turned to glare at the padawan, who was glaring at Master Kenobi, who was looking helplessly between Mace and Leia. “I have a PT appointment,” he said apologetically. “Right now.”

Mace could feel Leia retreating, even though she didn’t move. Master Gallia had made it very clear it would be difficult, if not impossible to get Leia to come if she didn’t have an ally. He was still trying to scramble for a plan when Padawan Skywalker said, “Leia? What are you doing here?”

“They want to practice interrogation techniques,” she quipped, her expression flatter than Mace would have hoped, but her tone almost suggesting humor.

Maybe.

Padawan Skywalker seemed to have missed it. “What?”

Leia laughed, sort of. “Don’t worry. I’m extremely resilient. I doubt they can manage effective torture.”

It was hard to imagine what she thought was funny about that. Unless she considered being in the Senate a form of torture. Mace sometimes did. If that was the joke…

Only, by the look on Master Kenobi’s face, it might not be. And Padawan Skywalker was getting tense.

“How long can you stay?” Mace asked, still without a plan, but knowing he needed to act.

Leia gave him a considering look, then turned to Master Kenobi and asked, “How long is your torture session?”

“Thirty minutes,” he said, and when it looked like Padawan Skywalker would object, he added, “They adjusted my schedule. Since I’m adding back in saber practice.”

“Are you supposed to be?” Leia asked, something keen and familiar in the question.

Master Kenobi grimaced. “Yes. I have permission.”

Leia leaned towards him. “Proactive or retroactive?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Master Kenobi said primly. “I’ve been on my best behavior, as Anakin will tell you—“

“Sometimes,” Padawan Skywalker smiled.

“Thank you,” Master Kenobi clipped, “for that glowing recommendation.”

“Only the best for you, master.”

“I can stay,” Leia cut in before Mace could interrupt their banter. “As long as Master Kenobi doesn’t have any other plans for today. I don’t mind waiting.”

She did mind, but she was willing, and Mace didn’t think she had been before. Interesting.

Padawan Skywalker scowled as Master Kenobi said, “I don’t have any further plans, at least not until this evening. I’d be happy to join you for…” he quirked a brow, “your interrogation.”

“I’ll take good care of him,” Leia promised before Padawan Skywalker could say anything else. “Now, didn’t you say he was going to be late?”

Padawan Skywalker gave a tight nod, turning to follow his master before stopping and look back, his hand half raised. Mace frowned as Leia offered her own hand, accepting a brief touch before the duo started own the hall. He watched her flex the fingers a few times, a meditative look on her face as she watched those retreating backs. Then her gaze shifted to Mace.

“Is there somewhere special I should wait?”

Running through his options, Mace said, “This way,” and gestured the opposite direction down the hall.

Chapter Text

It took all of ten minutes in Mace Windu’s company for Leia to be found and kidnapped by Master Plo Koon. It would have bothered her more except that he seemed glad to see her, and his abduction meant she would have a much easier time avoiding a pre-interrogation interrogation.

“I see you’ve been having quite the time here,” he said as they made their way to the Room of a Thousand Fountains.

Not sure what had brought on that observation, Leia only said, “Master Gallia may have failed to mention that we would be interrupting Master Windu’s training.” She added thoughtfully, “I think I overstepped my bounds.”

“Oh?”

There was something about the simplicity that Master Koon offered. His interest was clear, but by refusing to directly ask any question he deliberately left Leia an opening to avoid it.

She didn’t. “I may have taken an interest in the exercise and voiced some opinions.”

“The Temple is a place of learning. Knowledge is welcome here.”

A ripple in her mind startled Leia. It wasn’t a voice exactly, but the impression of the memory of one. As if his words had tugged something to the forefront, invited it to her focus. “There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.”

The words tased bitter on her tongue.

“An interesting phrase,” Master Koon supplied. “One of many complicated truths.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Leia demanded, unsurprised when he met her irritation with that gentle, lapping calm.

“There are many aspects to the Code,” Master Koon said. “Some are taught to us when we are children, in a simple and memorable way. Sometimes we outgrow them. Sometimes we grow into them. Other times,” he took a moment to look at her as he waved her into the room, “we do not.”

Which was almost reassuring, Leia thought as she looked up and into the foliage around her.

“Oh,” she sighed, knowing what to expect and still not expecting it.

The room was a riot of life, rolling away from the entrance in greens and browns, speckled with other colors. There was the rustle of plants, the ripple of water flowing, the hushed hint of voices lurking about. Streams of light dappled their way through the growth, brushing across the flora with gold and white caresses, casting cool, lingering shadows around the room. There was a smell of moist earth, tinged with floral hints.

Leia breathed and stared, not yet daring to step further into the room.

After a few moments, Master Koon rumbled, “It pleases you.”

“This,” Leia managed to get out, “is the most beautiful place on Coruscant. I wish Shmi were here.”

“Shmi Skywalker?” Master Koon asked, and Leia found herself tensing as he started walking them inside, their footsteps scuffing along the stone path.

“Yes.”

He nodded, looking up and around. “My understanding is that Tatooine is a desert planet. She is enjoying the more diverse climate of Naboo?”

“She loves the gardens,” Leia said, hesitant, but not sensing any ill intention. Not that she could get much of anything off of Master Koon, but she couldn’t help suspecting that the calm he radiated required unnaturally low levels of malice. “I think she would be amazed by this one.”

“We shall have to show her someday.”

The reply provoked Leia to say, “I thought only Jedi were welcome inside the Temple.”

“Hardly,” Master Koon answered. “The Halls of Healing are open to those who need care. They’re renowned for it. We don’t choose to conduct political matters inside the walls if we can avoid it, but we do invite guests. From time to time.” He glanced down. “You are not a Jedi.”

“No,” Leia agreed, swallowing the usual wave of bitterness that prompted. “I’m not.”

“Do you think you could be?”

The question was doubly surprising given who was asking it. “I thought it was patent that I couldn’t.”

“You are not alone in that thought,” Master Koon sounded like he was smiling. “But it may yet be proven wrong.”

“I doubt it,” Leia retorted, biting her lip once the words escaped. When Master Koon’s presence loomed curious, not offended, she added, “I’m not sure I could swear to a body so at the mercy of the whims of the Republic and its fluctuating values.”

It was a test, and Master Koon seemed to realize that. His careful answer was, “There are many Jedi who face that question. An oath may be sworn once as a formality, but it must be renewed in action constantly. Those who fail to do so fail themselves. And those to whom they have sworn.”

Since members of the senate were also technically required to swear an oath upon entry to that most august body, along what Leia was sure were similar principles to what the Jedi proclaimed to uphold, she let that answer lie.

They’d moved to a winding path that curved slowly upward. Leia paused every so often as they progressed to take in the views, calm and peaceful in a way she hadn’t been in weeks. The Temple exuded a stern sort of quiet and repose, but this…this was as far from the toxins and poison of Coruscant as Leia could have dreamed.

No wonder the Jedi felt so disconnected here.

She pondered that as they crossed a walkway, taking in a view that captured most of the ground floor. The scenery changed as they continued up and around, different clusters of plants nestled in spaces most suited to their needs, almost mimicking their home territory. From time to time she’d catch a glimpse of others also wandering, but no one strayed close to them. No matter how much open curiosity danced in their eyes.

“To whom do you swear your oaths?” Master Koon asked, breaking the silence in a low rumble.

Leia almost flinched. “To anyone that hears them,” slipped out, more honest than she would have liked. Followed by, “To the dead.”

(Never again, never again, never again…)

“An interesting choice,” Master Koon noted, “given that they are beyond our reach and cannot hold us accountable.”

“Cannot be failed,” seemed to be implied in that statement, and while it grated, there was such kindness around her, Leia mostly only felt sad, instead of burningly angry. Mostly. “Do you really believe that?”

There was an actual flicker of surprise from him at her words, just for a moment. He leaned his arms against the balustrade, his elbow not quite touching hers. “You don’t.”

“Not an answer to my question,” she murmured, looking down instead of at him. Not that she would have been able to read much in his features anyway.

“We cannot save our dead,” Master Koon said, sorrow and understanding in his voice. “They belong to the Force, and no matter how much we wish, we cannot serve them any further.”

There was an uncomfortable squirm from Leia’s brother in the back of her mind, but she could have this argument without bringing him up. “If we build the world they wanted to see, the one they taught us could exist, the one we wouldn’t have fought for without their input, are we not serving them?”

She’d been fighting for that world, her mother and father’s world, long before ghosts had been an option.

“That,” Master Koon sounded like he was smiling again, “is a very fair point. If we live and we are what they made us, do they not, in some way, still live too?”

“Something like that,” Leia hedged, not sure her parents would have wanted this for her. But, because it was bothering her, “I don’t see how Jedi can get away with claiming the dead are beyond our reach. Your ghosts are exceptionally pushy.”

Absolute, utter stillness. “Our ghosts?”

She did have to look now, and work to keep her jaw from hanging open. “You…haven’t seen any?”

“No,” Master Koon drew the word out, his gaze fixed on her. “Not to my knowledge.”

“You would know,” Leia thought bleakly. “You couldn’t not know.”

“How?” Luke added, his squirming pressing on the back of her senses. “Ben, Yoda, even Father became ghosts. I didn’t see Ben at first, but it only took a few years. Yoda and Father were right away.”

It was a mystery that tugged at Leia, but she couldn’t begin to speculate (no, she could, but…) on why the Jedi wouldn’t have ghosts around. Although, Obi-Wan and Anakin never mentioning Master Jinn showing up should have been a clue. Unless…

Ugh, Leia did not know enough to try and parse this out right now.

“You would know,” she said instead, thinking of the few occasions she’d seen one. Thinking of the last one she’d seen (substantial in his translucence, more sadness than tears could ever convey in his eyes…). “You can’t miss it, you would know.”

But she didn’t explain further and he didn’t press. Just watched her as her gaze drifted back to the gardens below, the life milling about beneath them, heavy and quiet and calm.

They were still like that when Master Windu found them, silently staring, meditation of a sort. Leia accepted Master Windu’s escort, not surprised when Master Koon chose to stay instead of following them, still contemplating the garden below.

As they left, Leia spotted a flash of white near some rocks. She slowed half a step, letting her fingers brush over the rough white petals of the lion’s paw, aching that she couldn’t smell it in the mists of the room. Master Windu had looked back, noticed, but didn’t say anything. And Leia didn’t linger. She could drown herself in sorrow and memories later.

Right now, she had work.

Padmé straightened the table, sat back on the couch, put her feet up, and scowled as the table shifted again. Even though she hadn’t really pushed it.

“It can’t help it,” Eirtaé pointed out, not quite grinning. “The floor’s too slick.”

“It’s carpet,” Padmé countered, moving one of her feet to poke at the floor. “Bad carpet.”

At the look from her handmaidens, Padmé relented. The whining was mostly a distraction anyway. “Any news from the Separatists?”

“You’d get the official brief,” Sabé noted, her eyebrows eloquently adding that Padmé was the one Mina would contact if they were assaulted on that front.

Mina hadn’t said anything since that call when Naboo had been attacked. It…worried Padmé. Especially now. “Anything—“

“You were the one that shoved her out the door. If the Jedi haven’t given her back yet, that’s your fault, not ours.” Eirtaé was oddly curt, and Padmé nearly winced when she realized why.

Sabé’s look, indicating she at least had been on top of Eirtaé’s official acceptance of Leia into their circle, was equal parts amused and concerned. “We probably should have gotten a return estimate. So that we could know when to start making calls.”

“We can call now,” Eirtaé pushed. “Say it’s an emergency.” Her tone shifted as she suggested, “We could send Artoo.”

“No,” Padmé sighed, glancing at the droid as he whistled willingness in the corner. “We’ve put him at risk enough recently.”

A ping had Padmé checking her messages, a smile creeping onto her face as she did.

“What?” Eirtaé asked, leaning forward.

“We got approval,” Padmé couldn’t help the glee that was in her voice. “The day we get funding, we can move Shmi to Coruscant.”

Eirtaé grinned, but Sabé looked thoughtful. “Do you think she can handle Coruscant?”

Padmé thought about Shmi’s last brief visit and knew her smile was all teeth. “I think the better question is can Coruscant handle Shmi Skywalker?”

Obi-Wan was looking a little pale, but mostly calm and composed when Leia and Mace arrived. Anakin had already left for training with the clones, and Leia couldn’t decide if she was glad or not.

The room they were in looked similar to the one she’d reported to Master Windu and Master Koon in last time. Obi-Wan was already settled crossed legged on one of the chairs, possibly in defiance of the pain she was sure he still had to be dealing with. But they had said something about Temple healers, so maybe…

“Thank you for making time to come and speak with us,” Master Windu started before Leia had quite taken a seat. Her mouth twitched at the faux pas, but she only nodded and finished settling. “I know you must be very busy with your work for the Senator, but there are a number of items in Master Kenobi and Padawan Skywalker’s reports that need clarification, if possible. And I was hoping to discuss some more personal matters with you.”

“Personal matters” got a slight reaction from Obi-Wan, and Leia made note of that. “I’d be happy to clarify what points I can, but I’ll confess I’m not sure what personal matters you’d be interested in.”

Lie and lie, but it didn’t look like the Jedi master caught that. Then again, Leia was almost telling the truth.

She wondered if Obi-Wan had noticed. He didn’t say anything, seeming content to watch. Was he here for a show? (Should she deliberately disappoint him?)

“I’d like to discuss those second, if that is alright,” Master Windu seemed…off. Leia’s vague impression of him from the first time she’d seen him, on a holo call, had him sterner, more assured. He seemed to be trying to make his way…not just carefully but gently, and she had the distinct impression it wasn’t something he was very good at.

Since his question felt mostly rhetorical and she didn’t want to start off too antagonizing, Leia answered, “Of course,” and offered an open, earnest expression.

By the narrowing of his eyes, he’d seen one like it before (and Leia’d borrowed it from Luke, and Luke looked like…). Master Windu’s posture straightened slightly. “Can you explain how you came to get Master Kenobi’s location? Padawan Skywalker said you’d gotten it from the message, but Master Kenobi didn’t say he was on Geonosis in that recording.”

Ah, so they had been paying attention. “I managed to trace it.”

“You managed to trace it?” Oh yes, he was very familiar with the wide-eyed stare. Pity.

Obi-Wan half snorted, turned it into a cough.

“I’ve had to track people using unorthodox methods before,” Leia suggested, leaning back slightly, switching her tone. Han was too much a smuggler, not enough a bounty hunter, for her to borrow that level of cockiness. But the casual dismissal in the wave of her hand, the slight twist in the curve of her mouth, the shift to make her holster more prominent suggested more than enough of what she wanted to imply. And made Master Windu’s eyes narrow even more. “I thought you might have wanted to know where he sent it from.”

“You didn’t tell us,” Master Windu’s voice was very tight.

“You didn’t ask,” Leia responded, and her voice was light. Light and cold.

Obi-Wan was outright frowning. “I don’t understand,” he said. “If you knew, surely it would have made more sense to tell them, even if they didn’t ask. Then they could have planned—“

He stopped, seeming to come to an uncomfortable conclusion at the same time as Master Windu, who said, “You didn’t want us to know. You were already planning on going yourself.”

“No,” Leia said, and it wasn’t even a lie. She hadn’t been planning on going. Not at first. Wishing, but not planning. But (“You’re my only hope.”) they didn’t need to understand. “But I did have slightly different priorities than the Order. Especially given that you had already received information about clones, and that hadn’t made it to pertinent members of the Senate. In spite of the matter directly involving Senator Amidala.” She let her tone convey exactly what she thought of that.

Master Windu said, “The Order has discretion over what information it passes on—“

“So it doesn’t have to be held accountable for purchasing an army of sentient beings?” Leia snapped, twitching as she held back her temper. It flared under her skin, burning hot inside her, but she kept it close. “When it knows they’re a trap?”

“They aren’t—“ Obi-Wan began.

“We don’t know,” Master Windu interposed, sending a glare to Obi-Wan, “all of the details surrounding the clones. We’ve been getting more information on their growth process and training, within proprietary exceptions, from the Kaminoans these past weeks.” He paused and made his next comment while staring at Obi-Wan. “Some members of the Order have a history of acting without the consent of the Council. It’s not only possible but likely that Master Syfo-Dyas intended them to perform a service on the Republic’s behalf.”

And wasn’t that “some” a potentially interesting story? But Leia could collect it from Obi-Wan later. Her bigger concern right now was, “Regardless of your opinion on the clones now, my concern at the time was returning to Senator Amidala and making sure she and her guard had the information they needed to take care of her. Since Obi-Wan had found a name for her assailant, and their profit source.”

And that made Master Windu uncomfortable. Did he know something about Jango Fett? “I can understand that we weren’t working towards the same goals. But that doesn’t explain your decision to leave with just Padawan Skywalker.”

“I thought I’d made my reasons particularly clear when asked to contribute to the report,” Leia countered, wondering if either Anakin or Obi-Wan had quoted her verbatim. Or if there had been obfuscating, from one or both, to avoid getting her in trouble (or themselves).

From the look on Obi-Wan’s face (or lack thereof), she could put good money on the latter.

“More to the point,” Leia shifted, “since I am not a member of the Order, my reasons aren’t relevant to your reports. Senator Amidala knows them and has discussed them with me. Your concern, should be, I think, why Anakin felt the need to steal a ship and run off in the middle of the night to rescue Obi-Wan. And I’m not the best source of information for that.”

She could feel Master Windu winding tighter with each word and decided against expounding on that matter further, although it was tempting. Especially given that some Jedi had records of moving without the consent of the Council. Her gaze slid for a moment to Obi-Wan before snapping back.

Master Windu took a couple of breaths. “It would be helpful if you could be more expansive about your motives, particularly since you were aware of what you would be facing when you arrived on the planet,” he leaned forward. “And you went anyway.”

It wasn’t an accusation, but Leia knew she had to step carefully. “I think my motives are simple.” She had to take her own breath before adding, “I’m invested in the safety and wellbeing of the people that I care about. Senator Amidala is high on that list, as well as Shmi. I knew it was likely Anakin would go after Obi-Wan if the Council took too long to make a plan, so I made sure I would be in a position to follow him if it came to that.”

“To confront a Sith,” Master Windu’s tone was patent disbelief and slight horror.

“And a renowned bounty hunter,” Obi-Wan added, his arms crossed, brow furrowed. “Who you at least knew had helped capture and hold me.”

No excuses for ignorance easily available, Leia just shrugged. It was Master Windu who pointed out, “If you went with Padawan Skywalker because you didn’t think that you could stop him, how did you plan on handling Dooku?”

She had to give him props for that one, especially when Obi-Wan added, “And you came after me alone. You left Anakin in the ship.”

Almost wishing she hadn’t invited Obi-Wan (he was supposed to be an escape and shield, not a trap), Leia struggled to find an explanation without delaying so long that it became too suspicious. She could feel Luke, brushing against her mind with reassurance and comfort, offering support. But he couldn’t give her any answers.

(He thought she should just tell them the truth, ha!)

“I wasn’t willing to wait on the Council either,” Leia admitted, carefully avoiding looking at Obi-Wan. Let them speculate why (they would never know). “Master Billaba struck me as very conscientious of her mandate and unlikely to offer support, and I didn’t meet Master Allie until we returned. I didn’t realize exactly what condition Obi-Wan would be in when I found him, so I assumed he would be able to take a more active role in his escape.”

“Having failed twice,” Master Windu pointed out.

Leia shrugged. “He and Anakin have a reputation,” no need to admit where she’d actually heard it. “It seemed as good of odds as any.” And then, to wrap this line of questioning up, “I had no expectation the Council would try and retrieve him. You seemed more concerned with matters here.”

She didn’t make Master Windu flinch, but his mouth pinched slightly. “It was…a matter of great concern. We don’t like leaving our people in danger.”

“But that isn’t always a choice you can safely make,” she offered, perfectly understanding. She didn’t blame the Council for its decision. But she’d had no illusions about Anakin’s…consent to it. “Given that your focus seemed to be shifting to a galaxy wide conflict, I made the executive decision to take the pertinent information to the Senator and see to her immediate safety. Then, when that was arranged to appropriate standards, to deal with the…loose ends.”

Obi-Wan made another smothered noise, and she thought she felt amusement at her classification of his situation. Master Windu looked equally frustrated and amused.

“You don’t have anything else to add to your report?” he asked, almost sighing.

“My contributions to the escape were given to Master Billaba and I trust the relevant details were included by your Jedi in their reports. I assume by now you’ve seen the data that Artoo was able to collect from the base.”

“We have,” Master Windu conceded, frowning. “It was fortunate that you thought to have the droid collect it.”

Not willing to touch that one, Leia answered, “I live to serve.”

The raised brows from both Jedi almost made her smile.

When Master Windu might have continued to silently study her, Obi-Wan asked, “What was the personal matter?”

Master Windu leaned back, his shoulders straightening. “De—Master Billaba mentioned an incident on Naboo, after you returned. You lost control in the palace.”

“I assume she also told you that I went to Obi-Wan for help managing that.”

“She did,” Master Windu’s tone was more placid now, his thoughts harder to read. “She said there weren’t any more incidents while they were on planet. Is that still true?”

Fighting not to bite her lip, Leia debated whether or not to push back. On the one hand, it was a reasonable question, especially coming from someone who could offer her access to more training if she needed it. On the other hand, “Is it a particular concern of the Order if I have?”

“I should think it would be of concern to you,” Master Windu had folded his hands into his sleeves. “Although you haven’t contacted Master Kenobi, to my knowledge, since then. So I suppose we could assume you are doing well.”

Probably the most carefully diplomatic he’d been since she’d entered. “My understanding is that overall the Order reserves its teachings and methods for those who belong to it. With the understanding that any who they teach they could be considered liable for, and those who would not swear to their Order but who have been taught by them could be…problematic for the Republic.”

“It’s not forbidden,” Master Windu almost seemed to believe what he was saying. “But you are right about the potential problems.”

“And you don’t take students as adults,” she kept her tone very carefully neutral, feeling her brother more active in her mind. He had feelings about that.

“As a rule, no,” Master Windu agreed again. “But we could also be considered liable if we found an individual with particular strength and ignored their need for guidance. As rare as that is.”

“It would be particularly harmful,” she suggested, “if that person were regularly on Coruscant, within the same district as the Order, and began to have such problems.”

She could feel Obi-Wan’s discomfort with the tension—no, the stiffness that was permeating the room. But Master Windu seemed more collected as he nodded. “Rogue Force users exist, and live and function within the Republic without attracting too much notice. Lack of formal training frequently limits what they are capable of, even in moments of…weakness. But it would be a different matter if one were working in the Senate and started causing incidents.”

“I don’t think—“ Obi-Wan began, but he stopped when Leia threw him a look.

“I can understand your concern,” she said. “But given that I’m not a member of the Order, and as such don’t have access to the benefits you offer to balance your restrictions, I’m not sure I’d like you to be formally involved.”

Obi-Wan actually winced when Master Windu asked, “And if Senator Amidala requested it?”

“She hasn’t,” Leia said. “And she would discuss it with me first.”

“But if she did?” he pressed.

Leia swallowed anger, clipping her tone as evenly as possible as she said, “That would be between me and the Senator, until she approached you with a formal request.”

The almost twitching Leia could feel from Obi-Wan calmed slightly when Master Windu nodded at this. “And you do understand we would become immediately involved if there was a public incident?”

“I would be concerned if it was otherwise,” Leia managed a half smile. “Was that all?”

He didn’t immediately nod, and Leia was surprised at the careful hesitation in Master Windu’s voice as he said, “There was… D—Master Billaba did mention one other incident. Not…not a physical manifestation, but a sort of cacophony in the Force.” He glanced at Obi-Wan before adding, “At Shmi Skywalker’s home. Regarding the Code.”

Ignoring Obi-Wan’s confused look (she didn’t have time or desire to explain), Leia shrugged as easily as she could. “I don’t think very much was said about it. I know Shmi had asked a few questions, but I don’t know if she got the answers she was looking for.”

Which was a complete dodge of what he was actually asking about, and Leia hoped Obi-Wan wouldn’t be smart enough to ask Anakin what had happened. Leia didn’t actually know what Master Billaba, what Anakin, what Shmi had seen. Leia had been too wrapped up in experiencing it, on the inside.

It didn’t look like Master Windu wanted to let it go, but he seemed unsure how to proceed. “Would you say,” he asked, each word precisely placed, “that your view of the restrictions of the Order is defined by what you heard from Master Billaba?”

“Hardly,” Leia was able to answer confidently. She’d barely heard anything at all from Master Billaba, and briefly repeating it to Master Koon had made it clear that while Master Billaba had been offering something simple in its conciseness to Shmi, it wasn’t remotely comprehensive. Which was a relief and a concern. “More based on what I have seen, and what I know of the Order’s obligations to the Republic.”

“You support the Republic,” Master Windu said, those brows dipping down.

“I do,” Leia said. “And I’m aware of its weaknesses, and flaws. You can love something and not want to be universally ruled by it.”

He nodded, but Leia didn’t think he completely understood. But then, he was Master of the Jedi Order. He must love, or respect or admire, the Order very much.

“Since you aren’t interested in formal instruction, I think we can leave things as they are for now. But you will let us know if you change your mind? So that we can…negotiate the terms?” Master Windu was standing, and Leia carefully ignored Obi-Wan’s grunts as he extracted himself from his seat.

“We can discuss this again if it’s needful,” she said, finding her feet. Then paused, “I did wonder…”

“Yes?”

“Are the Jedi you were training aware of what exactly it was they were supposed to be learning? With the battle simulations?”

Master Windu’s brows moved a great deal before he answered, “We hoped it would serve a different purpose for each master, depending on their need. We may need to clarify what some of the intentions are going forward.”

Nodding, Leia said, “You may want to adjust specific battle objectives. It seemed like everyone thought they were playing a game to remove as many enemy pieces as possible. I’m sure some of those battles originally had other purposes. It might be worthwhile to explore those objectives and make sure the participants are clear about them.”

It took a moment before Master Windu said grimly, “You mean they aren’t being taught how to prioritize objectives, or given the full aspects of the risk matrices.”

“I’m sure on a small scale they already know how,” Leia offered. “Their missions probably have tiered objectives all the time. But they need to scale that up, and they need practice on interpreting political objectives and working around them. If the Chancellor gets more emergency powers going forward, which there is good odds for given the circumstances, you may need to find ways to…dismantle unnecessary risks from your instructions.”

“You’re very confident of that,” Master Windu noted.

“Tell me they don’t already do it with the mission requests,” Leia probed, not surprised at his grimace. “Politicians have objectives, and the Republic writ large is important to the senators, but never as important as their domain and constituents. Unless you believe that the Chancellor is free from all political and bureaucratic influence…”

Rubbing his forehead, Master Windu muttered, “I told them we’re not soldiers.”

“They don’t care,” Leia could sympathize, but that didn’t change the facts. “If they can spill blood that isn’t counted against their reputation, they’ll offer up sacrifices as long as they can. Push for recruitment from the Republic, to supplement the clones. Make them put their money where their mouths are. Or,” she conceded, “their people where they don’t want to put their money. Make sure it’s clear how expensive more clones will be.”

“The base order—“ Master Windu tried.

“They’ll ask for more,” Leia said. “Maybe not right away, but the moment they get scared? We’ve already decided to use the clones, the morality of it discarded in fear. You won’t even have to be losing, just looking like things might get worse, or harder. And they’ll want more. Because as long as they’re already damned, they have to win.”

Obi-Wan looked slightly queasy and Master Windu rigid. “Thank you,” he said, his bow stiff. “I’ll…mention your concerns to the Council.”

Well, that was more than she had hoped for. “Let me know if there is anything else I can do,” Leia said, knowing she would regret it someday. “My primary concerns have to be the senator’s efforts, but I’m sure she would be the first to say Naboo will offer support however it can.”

“We may reach out to you again,” Master Windu admitted. He looked to Obi-Wan. “Can you see her back to her office? I need to…”

“Of course,” Obi-Wan bowed, gesturing to Leia to step out ahead of him.

She offered a last bow to Master Windu and said, “May the Force be with you.”

At least her sincerity was clear. Master Windu’s brows rose slightly, but he only said, “And you as well. I hope we can all find the wisdom we seek. And peace.”

The last was said so heavily Leia almost wished she could offer him a hug. But it would definitely be unwelcome, so she just exited, pausing to let Obi-Wan step up beside her as he led them away.

“Well, that was exciting,” he murmured, his arms folding into his sleeves as he walked them slowly through the halls.

“Think he’ll actually want me back?” she asked, aiming for as casual a tone as possible.

Obi-Wan’s eyes darted towards her, his lips quirking up. “Oh, I think you left quite the impression. He may even be grateful for it.”

“So, no then.”

“I don’t know,” Obi-Wan admitted, his steps starting to lengthen as he got distracted by his thoughts. “I hate to say that he’s a traditionalist, as if that means something particular. We’ve accumulated quite a few traditions as an Order, and given how long some of the masters live, based on skill and species, there are certain branches of behavior that are noticeable among teaching lineages but aren’t as broad as the full Order. To your question,” he added as he noticed her open her mouth to interrupt, “Master Windu is aware of the weight of stability in maintaining the Order, and also the concerns regarding our reputation, which you laid out so neatly. Let us say, I think he hopes you will never need the Temple or the Order, but is ready to invite you if you do.”

But not if the Order needed her, Leia mused. Though, given those criteria, Leia was easily more a liability than help. “Any particular reason he thinks you might be a destabilizing, consent dodging influence?”

“Master Jinn,” Obi-Wan’s answer slid so smoothly off his tongue Leia knew he had been waiting for it. “He was notorious for scorning the, ah, traditions of the Code as he felt the Force willed.” Leia kept her thoughts on that to herself for now. “It may have rubbed off just a bit.”

Anakin, Leia thought. This was all somehow about Anakin. But she’d probably have better luck pumping him for information, so she let it slide. “Is it one of those branches of behavior you’ve passed on?”

“I honestly couldn’t tell you,” Obi-Wan’s grin was infectious. “I think he may have come with it preinstalled.”

That Leia could believe. “Do we need to tell him you’re escorting me? Or are you just taking me to the front door?”

“How did you get here?” he asked.

“Master Gallia flew us.”

“Ah. Well, I could escort you to the door, or we could collect my padawan and brave Anakin’s flying, if the rail lines aren’t dangerous enough for you.”

He was smiling, but she had a guess which he preferred. Unfortunately for him, it was no contest. “Can you requisition a speeder that has decently responsive controls? He owes me a ride.”

Confused, but accepting his fate, Obi-Wan grimaced and nodded. “Let me call him and have him meet us at the docks. He should be landing there after his training.

With the clones, Leia remembered. Thank goodness they wouldn’t meet Anakin there. “Think you can make it that far?”

Obi-Wan’s expression was delightful, especially since he’d already started calling Anakin and couldn’t reply. When he’d explained the plan and hung up, Leia was expecting a rebuttal, but Obi-Wan just kept walking.

She should have been suspicious. She wasn’t, and so she wasn’t prepared when Obi-Wan asked, “What did you think the clones were?” as he stroked his beard. “I don’t remember that I said in my message.”

Leia blinked, staring straight ahead and scrambling. “I think Anakin mentioned they were an army.”

She was pretty sure. She hoped. And if she was wrong, she hoped that Anakin didn’t remember if he had said anything about it or not.

“Ah. I see.”

Leia hoped he didn’t.

Chapter Text

Leia didn’t notice a perceptible difference in Anakin’s flying with the newer speeder, but then being within a hair’s breadth of another vehicle and maneuvering around it was a feat no matter how good your equipment.

Obi-Wan’s look of utter disbelief when Leia casually jumped out, smiling, was worth it.

“There is something wrong with you,” he muttered, wincing his way out of the speeder and stretching slowly. There were a few pops and cracks that almost had Leia giggling.

“Getting old, Master Kenobi?” she asked, leaning a hip against the speeder.

His withering look could use some work. “I’m certainly not as hale as I once was. All these Skywalkers. You’ll be the death of me.”

Anakin laughed, and Leia was glad because it caught Obi-Wan’s attention before he could see her face.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Luke whispered, but he sounded fragile as he offered it. And Leia wasn’t fooled.

“It was everyone’s,” she said back, pulling her face into something amused before her corporeal companions looked back. Trying to keep the smile plastered in place with Anakin now looming next to Obi-Wan, a dark shadow in the docking bay, almost made Leia shiver.

“Breathe,” Luke pressed against her mind and Leia forced a breath as Anakin and Obi-Wan seemed to catch her silence.

“You okay?” Anakin asked, stepping towards her.

She only shifted slightly, didn’t lean or step back. And her, “Yeah, I’m fine,” was as casual and light as she could have wished.

But it didn’t stop Anakin from staring at her.

After a moment where she didn’t offer anything else, Obi-Wan said, “Should we escort you inside, or would that be too much of a distraction for Senator Amidala?”

“She should be in a meeting,” Leia said, checking the time. “You can come up if you want to…” She changed her mind as she focused more on Obi-Wan. “You needed to rest after your PT, didn’t you?”

“I rested just fine while you and Master Windu spoke,” he hedged.

Leia rolled her eyes. “Get him back,” she told Anakin. “See if you can get this grandpa to take a nap.”

“Obi-Wan can stay here and I can take you up,” Anakin offered, and Leia blinked. She thought Obi-Wan might have too.

“No, it’s fine. Take him back and put him to bed. I’m sure I can make it upstairs on my own.”

But Anakin’s expression was tightening. “Master Gallia met you here, right? And brought you to the Temple?”

“For convenience,” Leia asserted, figuring it was a safe assumption. “She was already planning on being here.” As his arms folded Leia added, “There’s security in the building. We passed some as we landed too.”

There was no give as Anakin turned to Obi-Wan. “I’m going to take her up. You’re okay waiting here?”

“I did survive for over twenty years without you,” Obi-Wan pointed out, and Leia knew it wasn’t the same as before but still had to control a wince. “I think I can manage the next fifteen minutes.” At Anakin’s failure to be amused, Obi-Wan added, “I’ll do some more stretches while I’m waiting.”

“In public?” now Anakin was grinning.

“I don’t fall over anymore,” Obi-Wan pointed out, looking back to Leia. “Let him? He’s not usually this invested in diplomatic missions.”

“Oh fine,” Leia rolled her eyes, ignoring Luke’s smugness. “If you all insist.”

To her great relief, Anakin didn’t say anything as they made their way up, and he didn’t linger too close either. He nodded at people that acknowledged them and seemed flustered by Shea’s long stare as she stopped them to say hello to Leia, but he stayed silent.

He didn’t leave her at her door though when they made it to her office, but followed her inside, making sure the door slid shut behind them.

Casual reflex had Leia moving towards her desk, within arm’s reach of several heavy objects, before she’d thought the actions through and turned around to acknowledge that Anakin was still there.

“Thank you,” she said, hoping it was a clear enough dismissal without seeming rude.

It was not. Anakin shuffled from foot to foot twice before asking, “Are you sure you’re okay? You’re…quiet.”

Testing the pressure under her skin, Leia had to acknowledge she was more tense than she had been during the ride. And if she’d tightened up in the middle of their conversation, even if Anakin didn’t know what she was feeling, he was suspicious of the lack of feeling she now offered.

“I’m quieter here,” Leia admitted, hoping she wouldn’t have to make up too many excuses for why. “It helps me deal with,” she waved a hand indicating the building, the people, the atmosphere, the drama.

Anakin’s look was sympathetic. “As long as you’re okay.”

“As okay as anyone can be,” Leia said, ignoring Luke’s dissenting poke. “Politics aren’t always fun, but they always need doing. I’m sure using a lightsaber is easier…”

“Simpler,” Anakin offered with unusual astuteness. “I wouldn’t say easier. It takes a lot of training. And it’s not…fun to solve problems that way.”

That did surprise Leia. She had the impression that Anakin enjoyed barreling his way through issues. But maybe (precision was a talent and a corpse couldn’t argue, but the weight of all the bodies…) he wasn’t as simple as he let on.

Anakin was Shmi’s son, Leia remembered suddenly. He was also a child of Tatooine (like her brother, who fought for everything, but wasn’t violent).

(Not like her.)

“But you have to take care of people,” Leia offered. “Especially when they can’t take care of themselves.”

And “have to” was probably the wrong way to put it, but Anakin’s immediate, “Yeah,” and almost cocky smile told Leia all she needed to know.

And then he was all awkward again, staring at the floor, frowning, hunching his shoulders before he looked up and made sure to meet her eyes. “I’m sure you can call Mom if you need her, but the Temple’s closer right now. So you should call. If…if I can help.”

There was nothing deceptive about the offer, Leia realized as Anakin’s presence swirled around them. It was honest, earnest, seeking to be helpful. Awkward, but sweet in a way Leia had only known when she was first getting to know Luke. The nostalgia of it was almost as appealing as the sensation.

“I’ll remember that,” Leia said, surprised by the softness in her voice. “If I need anything.” Then, because her practical brain took over, “I only have Obi-Wan’s contact information. Should I go through him?”

There was a little hesitation before Anakin shook his head. They traded info, Leia only slightly tense as it occurred to her what exactly she was doing.

Once they finished, Anakin lingered close, his expression searching. For a moment Leia wondered if he would try for a hug, but he just lifted a hand, cradling Leia’s and squeezing gently when she offered it. There was a quiet, “May the Force be with you,” from him as he slowly let go, taking a step back.

“You too,” Leia said, almost moving forward. And then, on instinct, “Fly safe.”

He almost looked like he was going to object, but his mouth clicked shut and his head cocked to the side. “Yeah, okay. I will.”

And then he was gone.

He shouldn’t be having trouble breathing. He hadn’t done anything strenuous, wasn’t in any danger. His emotions were in a whirl, but not a powerful one that threatened to sweep him away. Just a mild storm, spinning in his head until he was almost dizzy and Anakin had to stop in the hall to try and figure out exactly where he was.

He was going the wrong way. Towards the Chancellor’s office.

Maybe…

Leia had gotten tense once she was back here, and she said it was because she worried about what was happening. Anakin thought he understood what was going on, but he couldn’t be sure because every time he turned around it seemed like someone was talking about something else. He couldn’t ask the Chancellor about how Leia was doing because that was a family matter and Leia wouldn’t want to look weak in her work place (and Anakin didn’t think she trusted the Chancellor yet), but he could try and understand what was going on. To see if there was something he could do, even if he couldn’t help Leia directly.

He’d almost stepped forward when he remembered Obi-Wan was waiting. Sighing, Anakin turned back around. He’d have to find time later to come back.

“Anakin?”

He spun back around immediately, smiling. “P—Senator Amidala,” he bowed.

The crowd around her was small, two of her handmaidens, another senator (Organa?), and the Chancellor himself. Maybe this wouldn’t be a waste.

“What are you doing here?” Padmé asked, but she was smiling so it wasn’t an accusation.

“Obi-Wan and I brought Leia back,” he said, realizing after the first few words he didn’t know who knew she’d gone to the Temple. He should probably be ambiguous.

“Where is she?” Padmé asked, moving almost as if she was trying to look behind him.

“Her office,” he admitted. “I uh—habit. I came this way instead of heading back out.”

And he couldn’t look the Chancellor in the face, it was too embarrassing. He wished he didn’t have to look at Padmé (almost).

The other senator (it had to be Organa, right, from the MCA vote?) asked, “And Master Kenobi?”

“Waiting downstairs,” Anakin admitted. “I should go. He’s probably going to scold me for getting turned around.”

Tease, more like, but…it felt awkward to say that in this crowd. He wasn’t sure why.

Padmé looked to her right, one of her handmaidens seemed to shift a bit, and Padmé sighed. “Could you tell him we said hello? I assume he’s doing well since he managed a trip out.”

“Yes,” Anakin promised, half nodding, half bowing. “I’ll let him know.”

“Did everything go well with the Jedi’s interview?” the Chancellor asked before Anakin could step away. “I understand Leia Skywalker has been difficult to get a hold of.”

It was said with a smile and meant kindly, but Anakin thought it was a bit rude. Although, apparently these people did know about Leia’s visit, so he could talk about it. “I wasn’t at the interview, but I’m sure the masters got what they needed.”

“You weren’t?” the Chancellor looked very surprised. “I would have thought they could have used your input, since you were on the mission. Or—was it only for Leia? I supposed Master Kenobi was also absent.”

“He was there,” Anakin said, and things twisted inside him. He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to add, “But I live at the Temple, so if the Council needs anything else from me, I’m easy to reach.”

“I would have thought, given the concerns, they’d have wanted you there to verify her statements.”

“There aren’t concerns,” Padmé almost snapped. “Leia reported to Master Billaba on Naboo, with Obi-Wan and Anakin present, submitted statements for their reports, and visited the Temple today. Her account has been consistent with itself and the the records of the Jedi assigned.”

Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything. Anakin looked between Padmé and the Chancellor, the storm in his mind starting to twist harder. Larger.

The Chancellor looked at him, blinked, and smiled. “Well, as long as they have what they need. Still, a pity they didn’t include you. Or was that at your sister’s request?”

There was a tension in Padmé and Anakin felt awkward. “I don’t—Leia’s not—No one told me about the meeting today. We just brought her back. I assume the Council asked for her and Obi-Wan. I had training, so maybe it was a scheduling conflict?”

He looked to Padmé for support, but she was oddly blank. “Leia only mentioned that Master Gallia had invited her, and that today was the requested time. I assume if they need to speak with her again they will ask.”

“Of course,” the Chancellor nodded. Smiled at Anakin. “Well, it was most fortuitous getting to see you. Hopefully your master won’t scold you too much.”

Not really sure how to reply to that in front of these people, Anakin just nodded and bowed again. He stared at Padmé for a second, but couldn’t think of anything to say, so turned as quickly as he could and started moving away.

Who was he kidding? He wouldn’t be able to help Leia with politics even if the Chancellor could explain what was going on.

Adi Gallia leaned against the pillar, watching the careful avoidance Mace was trying to hide as Master Koon wandered in. She felt her lips twitch, which caught Shaak’s attention, but at the inquiring expression her friend made, just shook her head minutely and tilted it slightly towards Mace. A side glance with only the gentlest shifts let Shaak observe the dance.

“He doesn’t normally act like prey,” Shaak murmured, her own lips ghosting towards a smile. “I wonder what could have so discomposed him.”

“Leia Skywalker,” Adi whispered back.

That did make Shaak grin. “You would think—He had a female student.”

“Depa always went easy on him. And she’s so dutiful, like he is.”

“A good match,” Shaak agreed, turning more obviously to watch. “And she’s done very well since.”

Adi had to bite the inside of her lips to keep them straight as Master Koon went back and forth past Mace, greeting Master Mundi and Master Yoda. “We don’t discompose him,” she noted.

Shaak was still grinning, but the mild sense of humor around her deepened. “Oh, we do. He is just very polite about it. And more subtle.”

That surprised Adi. “Really?”

Shaak nodded, but her expression had shifted to thoughtful. “Not because we are female,” she said. “But because we think differently than he does. And we are often right.” Her grin returned. “Master Windu does not always deal well with things that surprise him, or that he did not think of himself.”

“Now that’s true,” Adi acknowledged, watching Master Koon carefully approach Mace, offer a deep bow, and extend rather formal greetings.

Mace’s scowl was as impressive as ever. “Did you have something you wanted to say?” he asked Master Koon, loud enough to get the attention of the small assembly. Master Yoda’s look was part amusement and part long-suffering.

The informal, pre-meeting gatherings often sparked speculation or debate, and Master Koon was a known source of both, along with Adi. But there seemed something especially mischievous about him today.

“I wonder,” he asked mildly, standing to better include the audience Mace had invited, “have you ever seen a Jedi’s ghost, Master Windu?”

There was an especially unamused look as Mace answered, “No. We don’t have ghosts. All aspects of spirit return to the Force at the end of life.”

There was an unnecessarily long hmm from Master Koon, one that even seemed to prick Master Yoda, before Master Koon said, “Leia Skywalker does not seem to think so. She finds Jedi ghosts…pushy.”

There was a silence so thick and raw Adi almost couldn’t breathe. She could feel the deliberate non-reaction of every person in the room, and almost missed, through that stillness, Master Koon’s smugness.

He added, “It seems reasonable, given the nature of the Jedi we know. That they would be pushy, even in death.”

Next to Adi, Shaak choked on what was probably a laugh.

Master Yoda didn’t seem amused. “An interesting claim she has made. Impossible to prove, or disprove, I think, hmmm?”

Master Koon respectfully turned his attention to the Grandmaster. “It has long been a matter of debate, whether impressions seen in dreams or familiar voices heard are actually the manifestation of an individual’s spirit, or the voice of the Force taking convenient and familiar shapes in one’s mind.” He paused. “I do not think this is what Leia has experienced. She seemed adamant, not only that she had seen multiple ghosts, but that they interacted with her in such a way as to garner her loyalty and reverence, as well as her irritation.”

“You suggest they manifested will,” Master Mundi mused, having recovered the quickest. “And perhaps this abundance of will is what allowed them to manifest.”

“I have heard the voices of the dead,” Master Koon said solemnly. “In my dreams and meditations, but also in my waking hours. Infrequent, quiet. Non-intrusive. I believe we may all have,” his masked gaze swept the assembly, resting heavily on Master Yoda.

“Heard many things in dreams and visions, I have,” Master Yoda allowed. “Never a ghost I have seen. And quite pushy I should think they were, if I did.”

“Why Leia?” Master Gallia asked, directing the question mostly to Master Koon. “She’s interesting, I grant you, as a sort of relative of Padawan Skywalker.” Another Force user who carried that name and had been missed by the Temple, and that was something Adi would be investigating later, “But you seem to think she is special. Particularly trustworthy in her odd experiences.”

“She’s not especially open,” Mace added, more thoughtful than accusatory. “It’s difficult to know what exactly she’s thinking and feeling. Even Jedi aren’t immune to lies.”

“She would have to be quite powerful or immensely talented to slip them past a Council master,” Master Mundi suggested. “Impossibly so to manage more than one.”

Adi wasn’t so sure about that, but she wasn’t about to bring it up. It would ruin some ongoing experiments she was running.

“I doubt her skills fit so neatly into our expectations,” Master Koon said, folding his arms. “For all her reticence, she is almost…artless in her assertions about the Force, as if she is working from a familiar framework that has been tested and tried.”

“Aside from that, there’s her knowledge about the Sith,” Mace added dubiously. “She had to come by that somewhere, and it wasn’t here at the Temple.”

“What does she know?” Master Mundi asked.

Mace hesitated. “I haven’t asked for a bulleted list. But it’s hard to believe she had a plan to infiltrate a location where a Sith was known to be present with her being ignorant of what that meant. She was too careful, too studied, about everything else. Depa was also surprised by Leia’s reaction to Count Dooku’s use of Force lightning, or rather lack of reaction. Master Kenobi and Padawan Skywalker corroborate that she was dismissive of any injuries she might have sustained from it, reluctant to seek medical help, and flippant when recounting it being used on her.”

Adi froze and Shaak swore under her breath. That detail hadn’t been in the report. Or hadn’t been clear. Master Yoda didn’t look surprised, and Master Koon nodded grimly.

“Used on her?” Shaak demanded, stepping forward. “Why hasn’t she been brought—“

“Master Allie was on Naboo and oversaw both Skywalkers’ treatment,” Mace interrupted. “We would have insisted on her being brought to us otherwise.”

“We still should,” Shaak almost snapped. “Padawan Skywalker is still being examined for those injuries.”

“And hasn’t been manifesting any symptoms,” Master Mundi pointed out. “Either during testing or at other times. Else he wouldn’t be allowed to train with his saber on his own, or fly with the troops.”

“She’s half his size.”

Adi hadn’t realized Shaak had seen Leia, and was a little concerned by her adamance. But Adi could sympathize. It bothered her that Leia was beyond their reach, especially when Master Kenobi’s report included how quickly Leia had picked up Force augmentation.

Which may have protected her from the lightning, Adi realized. If Leia was already drawing on the Force.

“We can follow up on that matter,” Adi said. “I’d be happy to talk to her again, and to Senator Amidala if we feel the need. Though I would prefer,” she made sure to look at Mace, “to work with Leia directly as much as possible. Having the senator leverage her influence may drive Leia away from government work, and we can’t afford to lose her from the senate right now.”

“A staffer?” Master Mundi questioned.

Adi looked at him. “You were there when she helped Master Kenobi. Who won that round?”

He nodded, accepting that assessment and her experience in the senate.

They’d moved away from the ghosts, Adi realized, watching Master Yoda start to make his way towards his seat. Was that deliberate?

“Master Gallia,” Mace said, bringing her attention back to him, “would you please contact Leia again?”

“In a few days,” Master Gallia said. “This trip wasn’t what we promised her. And she’ll be leery about being asked back.”

Since Mace didn’t argue about that, Adi upped asking him about their interview on her priority list. What had he done now?

Master Rancisis’s arrival marked the end of the free conversation. The others would be arriving soon and the Council took its seats. Adi kept one eye on Shaak, not liking the weighted look on the other woman’s face. Adi also spared a moment to study Master Yoda, but the weight on his face was less scrutable. He’d been looking like that for the last few weeks.

Chapter Text

Anakin looked over the troopers below and sighed, refusing to pinch the bridge of his nose. He wasn’t adopting that habit from his master.

“Daunted?” Obi-Wan asked, also surveying the latest arrivals.

“They still won’t give us their names,” Anakin mumbled. “Not most of them.”

Obi-Wan considered that. “They haven’t been given solid assignments yet. Their trust is pretty strong for not knowing who they’ll be answering to and where they’ll be going.”

Or if they would. Obi-Wan was mostly recovered and there still weren’t marching orders from the Senate. No one had brought up peace talks, but the Separatists hadn’t started mobilizing to planets outside their control. And the Chancellor insisted on not moving troops into neighboring systems for risk of provoking an attack.

The clones…disagreed with that. Having seen some of the masters’ battle simulation trainings, Anakin could see why.

Leia disagreed with it too, he thought. But she was harder to pin down on the subject.

Speaking of, “Are we on escort duty today?”

“Master Koon volunteered,” Obi-Wan was almost smiling. “I think he’s trying to stake a claim.”

Anakin started. “On Leia.” He liked Master Koon, but that was just…

“As a student,” Obi-Wan added, smirking.

Anakin thought about it and wasn’t sure that was much better. “Leia doesn’t like the Order.”

“Really?” Obi-Wan snarked. “I hadn’t noticed.”

It made Anakin smile, but only for a moment. He looked back down over the troops. “She won’t meet them.”

“I’m fairly certain Leia has met any number of Jedi each of the times she’s been brought to the Temple,” Obi-Wan chose to be deliberately unhelpful and Anakin scowled.

“I mean the brothers.”

It didn’t flow quite right. They were all brothers, of a sort. But they were different ages and had different personalities and were raised in separate groups. There was an underlying unity to them, a willingness to accept that bond. For the most part. But some were more brothers than others.

Obi-Wan frowned. “No, she won’t meet them. And I’m really not clear on why.”

“She says she shouldn’t interfere,” Anakin admitted before he could think better of it.

His master scowled. “I told you to stop asking her.”

Anakin shrugged, guilty but not regretting it. “I needed to know.”

“No, you wanted to know, and you didn’t temper that when Leia told you she didn’t want to tell you. That isn’t fair, Anakin.”

And where Anakin would once have pushed back against Obi-Wan, he took one look in his master’s eyes, saw that creeping darkness that curled there sometimes, and swallowed his excuses. Well, most of them. “I want to help her.”

“Then maybe,” Obi-Wan started acidic but sighed into resignation as he spoke, “you should have asked what she needed. What she wants.” He looked over at Anakin. “Maybe what she needs is time.”

Anakin wanted to say that time wasn’t helping Obi-Wan. That when he took walks with Leia, after her check-ups, in the privacy of the gardens or wherever they wanted to explore, when they talked about what Obi-Wan had experienced (Anakin knew they talked about it, and he was sick of the pity in Leia’s face when she realized Obi-Wan didn’t trust him), that was when things got better.

For a little while.

But, since Anakin had a good target, he could test his master’s advice. “What do you need?”

Obi-Wan winced. “I don’t know,” he admitted, but he wouldn’t look at Anakin. “I don’t…know.”

“You didn’t make it home last night.”

Leia groaned, pulled the blanket further over her head, and tried to pretend no one was in the room with her. She’d gotten to sleep maybe an hour ago.

“Security is on in shifts,” Padmé added, taking a seat next to Leia’s curled form on the floor, her hand starting to tug at the blanket near Leia’s face. “That means someone is always awake late enough to come get you.”

“Tired,” Leia mumbled, rolling to protect the edge of her blanket. “Sleeping.”

There was a shift as Padmé leaned over and peeled the blanket off from the other side. “You didn’t make it home the night before either.”

Yes, but that hadn’t been Leia’s fault. “Blame Shea.”

“Oh, I did. She laughed.”

“Nothing funny about it,” Leia grumbled, now too awake to drift back off easily. “Do you know how many kinds of alloys build droids? All of them. All of them…” She rubbed her face into the floor, not sure it was to help her get up, or anchor herself down.

Padmé’s hand stilled, settling on Leia’s shoulder. “If you leave now, it’s early enough most people won’t see you.”

Dammit, that was a good point. And also, “You’re early.”

“Typho told me you weren’t back yet when I got up. I’ll eat here.”

Food sounded nauseating. Flying sounded worse. “I can lock the door and someone can bring me clothes. Later.”

“Do you need me to call Anakin?”

Leia actually looked up at that, scowling. “Why would I want you to call Anakin?”

Padmé wasn’t exactly smiling. “He has repeatedly told you to call him if you need help with anything. I’ve been there. Heard him.”

“He said it to you too,” Leia hedged, and Padmé shook her head.

“No, he—“

“Too tired,” Leia groused, pulling the blanket back up. “No arguing.”

“You’ve been arguing with me this whole time,” Padmé relentlessly pointed out. Leia sniffed, then coughed. Padmé stilled again. “Where’s your comm?”

Leia refused to answer, but Padmé just hijacked the small holoprojector on the desk. It was only a minute before a muzzy, “Wuh?” answered.

“Can you come to the Executive Building?” Padmé asked in a clear, crisp voice, and Leia heard a yelp from the other end. “I need help peeling Leia off the floor.”

“The floor?” Anakin sounded only partly coherent.

“She fell asleep there and she won’t get up. I can’t move her unless I drag her, and it’s a bit beneath the dignity of my office.”

Leia snorted as more incoherent sounds came from Anakin. Then he said, “It may take me a bit. I’ll have to get a speeder.”

“I’m tired, not dead,” Leia tossed across the room. “I’ll be up before he gets here.”

“Is that you promising to get yourself off the floor in the next fifteen minutes so that you can leave?” Padmé asked, and Leia knew one of her brows was up even without looking.

“Fine,” Leia grumbled, wiggling out from under the blanket. “Monster.”

“I’m sorry for waking you, Anakin. Looks like Leia is getting up.”

“No trouble,” he answered, much more awake and eager. “If you still need me to come…”

“I can send her back with Eirtaé,” Padmé said apologetically. “But thank you for answering. I appreciate it.”

There was a moment before he said. “Yeah, no problem. Call again. I mean, if you need to that is. Um.”

Merciful woman that she was, Padmé didn’t so much as giggle. “We’ll do that. Thank you.”

It was another moment before she hung up. Took a deep breath. “You missed Anakin.”

“Heard him just fine,” Leia said, contemplating what would be the next step in her fight against gravity.

“He has a projector in his room.”

“Doesn’t surprise me.” He would. She really needed to get him Shmi’s contact information. But if Shmi was coming here soon, and leaving that setup at home…

“He sleeps shirtless.”

Not an image designed to get Leia off the floor as she found a sudden new desire to melt towards the center of the planet. “I am aware.”

“Oh right, he stayed at Shmi’s.”

“Now you know what time to call him,” Leia mumbled, trying to redirect her discomfort to Padmé.

It didn’t work. “I don’t have his conta—“

“It’s right there. Copy it. He just said you could call him.”

There was more silence as Leia scooched in a shameful, wincing fashion into a crouch on the floor. She didn’t look, but she was pretty sure Padmé had discreetly just done exactly as Leia had told her.

Good. Leia was tired of being in the middle of this.

Whatever it was. Or wasn’t.

Luke chuckled in the back of her head and she swore at him. He had no idea how tired felt anymore.

Two days and a sufficient number of sleeping hours later, Leia lurked in the back of a dark conference room, watching the computer-generated collision on the screen in front of her. The footage from the deck had finished twenty minutes ago.

“They’re saying four thousand casualties, if not more,” Master Mundi reported, Master Windu a silent and grim lump next to him. “The ship made it back into hyperspace and should arrive in a few hours, but it won’t be combat worthy, and the men on board will need immediate relocating. We are already loading one of the grounded cruisers a day early, so we’ll have space for it, but we may need to redirect some of the injured to the Central Medcenter.”

“We’ll make sure they’re prepared,” Senator Organa promised, waving at one of his aides who went to make initial contact. “What else to do we need to know?”

Master Windu answered, “We don’t have secondary confirmation, but one of our contacts says there’s movement from Geonosis. They may be heading to Christophsis, to get control of the hyperlane intersection.”

“And one other source suggests movement near Raxus Prime,” Master Mundi added. “But that is even less certain.”

“Both close to Hutt space,” Leia murmured to Sabé. “Give or take.”

Sabé frowned, but worked on getting that bit to Padmé. The senator’s posture straightened a moment later. Message received.

“Raxus is less of a concern,” Senator Aak said, waving a hand. “If we lose that part of the Corellian Run, Ryloth suffers.”

And Dac and the Mon Calamari if they lost the end of the Perlemian route. Senator Dowmeia was still trying to reunite his planet after Senator Tikkes defection, and it was not going well. This could be the leverage that Tikkes and the Separatists needed to take the system, and Senator Dowmeia didn’t have enough allies to speak for him.

Unlike Ryloth’s representative.

Leia had to hide a scowl.

“In any event, we need to mobilize our troops,” Palpatine cut in with a decisive voice and Leia had to bury her nails in her arms, she held them so tightly, so that she wouldn’t start scaling the walls, howling. “It’s time.”

(She hadn’t realized this would be the hardest part of being involved. She should have known.)

The looks from some other people in the room, not in the least Master Windu and Senator Darsana, suggested they knew it was long past time to mobilize. If the Separatists were heading for Christophsis, they were going to beat the Republic there. By a lot.

A siege, right from the start. She hoped the Jedi had been training for those. From the outside and in.

“We have our first group of Jedi generals prepared, and their battalions assigned,” Master Windu said. “We can start deploying immediately, and use the intervening time to plan what areas we want to bolster with more defenses.”

“Surely we should send all of our forces to Christophsis immediately,” Senator Taa trembled. “We can’t lose that hyperlane!”

Leia ignored the efforts to sooth the senator, focusing instead on the screen in front of them again. Impossible to say for certain whether the Republic cruiser, carrying a new batch of clones from Kamino, had instigated the attack, or whether it was begun by the droid transport. They needed more news out of the Confederacy to confirm for certain, but Leia suspected it could easily be framed as a Republic maneuver. It certainly hadn’t been hard to convince everyone here that the Separatists had started it. In spite of no clear timeline on first shots fired.

Just two ships, dropping out of hyperspace almost on top of each other. Big, slow, minimally maneuverable. Badly grazed by their opponent, both taking significant but not inoperable levels of damage.

Leia’s hands ached from holding their pressure, but if she let go…

She might strangle someone. She might even do it with her actual hands.

Sabé bumped lightly into Leia, a question in her eyes once she had Leia’s attention. Her gaze dropped for half a second to where Leia’s sleeves had indents of her fingers being pressed into them, then back up. There was a message there, a question, beyond, “What are you doing?” Possibly trying to offer help. Leia wasn’t catching it accurately enough to risk answering. She just let her eyes drift back to the table in front of them, filtering the sets of instructions that were being thrown around.

She made herself never look at the Chancellor. She wasn’t sure if she could prevent the consequences.

Chapter Text

“She’s not going to get here in time,” Senator Organa sighed, looking across the table, first to Padmé and then to Leia. “Our budget approvals are going to take at least one more week, and while Shmi’s been wrapping things up on Naboo, they don’t want to let her go. Once she’s gone, the central hub for refugee movement is officially shifting to Coruscant, no matter how much influence the RRM has over the committee.”

Padmé looked back over her shoulder. “Leia?”

Not liking where this was going, Leia nodded. “I know she wants to get here, and that she’s willing to be off planet, actually traveling the new routes. But even if she got here before the transports left, she’d need time to settle in and get comfortable on the committee. We can’t send her.”

Padmé was about to speak when the door to the office opened and Shea swept in, bringing a cloud of rage with her. “You will not believe—“

“The Trade Federation?” Leia asked, watching the door to make sure it closed before Shea spoke again.

Eirtaé moved, gesturing to a chair in front of Padmé’s desk and asking in a low voice if Shea wanted anything. Shaking her head, Shea took the seat, and a deep breath, before she answered, “Yes. You’ve already heard?”

“We’ve got confirmation that Nute Gunray was the source of the bounty on me,” Padmé’s voice was anything but neutral, “but Senator Dod is arguing that the Trade Federation isn’t at fault because the payment came from Gunray’s personal funds. He’s still Viceroy of the group, which is appalling—“

“Apparently they can’t reclaim the title because half of the board is with Gunray on Geonosis. Or somewhere else under Separatist control. No hard answer as to whether they’re there voluntarily to prevent a vote, or…less voluntarily.” Shea trailed, off, waving her hand.

Senator Organa said, “So Senator Dod is insisting that the broader group be considered part of the Republic?”

“They claim they’ve cut Gunray’s access to certain accounts and funds,” Shea rolled her eyes, sending a glance towards Leia. “As long as they are in financial control, they shouldn’t be punished. So they say.”

“And the droids?” Padmé demanded.

“Not illegal,” Shea shrugged. “As we already knew. If we could get Senator Dio’s new bill passed, that might help.”

“It would at least force them to get more creative about moving their money around to help fund and supply the army,” Leia agreed. “And more points of contact means more chances for us to find the money trail and tie both halves of the group back together.”

“Which would be wonderful, if there was any chance of the courts doing something about it when we caught them,” Padmé grumbled.

Frowning, Senator Organa pointed out, “They’ll have a harder time letting at least Gunray off this time, with Senator Dod nominally against him. And treason is a very different charge than…”

Padmé’s expression ended that thought, and Senator Organa offered an apologetic look. Sighing, Padmé turned back to Shea. “I assume you know about this because they’ve put Dod back on his committees?”

Nodding, Shea asked, “How did you find out?”

“Kenobi,” Padmé was smiling, and Leia kept her face blank. “Since his testimony was what initiated the investigation. Although I doubt they investigated nearly as much as they should have.”

“It’s hard since the Federation doesn’t actually belong exclusively to the neimoidians,” Leia said, tamping down her own anger. “So if they move any money or make any communications through Cato Neimoidia instead of through their trade channels…”

“It’s a different set of laws for investigation,” Shea nodded. “And different criteria.” At Padmé’s violent expression, Shea added, “We use that distinction too. Most trade groups do. It’s part of how the galaxy keeps spinning.”

Padmé already knew that, she and Leia and the handmaidens had gone over it multiple times after Obi-Wan’s report. Mostly Leia having to explain why it would be impossible to push legislation, especially right now, to close those loops. With the Federation monopolies still mostly in place, those back channels were how a lot of work got done outside of Federation contracts. Just on the shady side of legal.

And those would be the channels the Refugee Committee and RRM would use to lay their own trade lines.

That didn’t stop Padmé from being frustrated. But then, Padmé and her people had never gotten justice.

Leia could understand that.

But since Padmé couldn’t have a decent conversation about it yet, Leia told Shea, “We were discussing Shmi’s arrival, and who would be sent out with the second troop deployment to start setting up refugee lines.”

“I thought Shmi had volunteered,” Shea frowned, looking to Senator Organa. “She’s on the committee, she’s got experience—“

“She’s still stuck on Naboo,” Senator Organa said. “Padmé could request her presence, but the RRM wouldn’t appreciate her being called out early, and we’re out of time for getting her settled before she leaves Coruscant.” He looked around to the other women in the room. “I was going to ask who we thought we could send instead.”

“None of the senators on the committee,” Padmé rubbed her face. “And none of the other RRM people. They have some experience, but a most of the board members aren’t field personnel. That was Shmi’s unique contribution.”

“I didn’t think she had previous job experience,” Shea frowned.

Leia snorted, earning a saucy, inquisitive look from her friend. “She may not have worked for a formal organization,” Leia said. “But Shmi has been involved in high stakes relocation efforts for her whole life.”

It wasn’t clear enough Leia realized when Shea’s face stayed blank and open. It was Senator Organa who had to add, “She lived in Hutt space, Shea.”

And that got through. Leia could feel the emotional contortions that statement brought even though Shea’s face stayed mostly still. “Ah. Well, yes. She would be in a better position than most we could send.”

“Any of your team that would be willing to volunteer?” Padmé asked, lips twitching down as Shea shook her head.

“Not so much. We’re still getting the program up and running on our planet. I’ve got plenty of volunteers for that, but lots fewer that would step into a potential war zone. Especially one that could be expanding.”

“Herdessa isn’t that far from Christophsis,” Senator Organa noted.

“I’m aware,” Shea flicked her fingers. “It’s causing plenty of problems already. We’re one of the first major hubs that gets hit if we lose that part of the hyperlane.”

Leia leaned forward. “Do you think the Separatists will start exerting pressure to get the planet to secede?”

“They already have,” Shea said, her languid posture belied by the twist in her emotions. “We aren’t leaving, of course. Our people don’t have any interest in breaking our trade lines. It would interfere with too many aspects of business. And we have our population surges to think about.”

“They didn’t reach out to you,” Leia realized. “They’re working through your guilds and unions.”

“Trying,” Shea said, and her composure returned with a vicious smile. “They don’t seem to realize by sending Federation people first, they played too obvious a hand. We’re used to reading between those particular lines. The appeal of a ‘more direct government’ and ‘protection from corporate interests’ doesn’t get as far when you’re used to the industrial workarounds.”

“Not to mention you’re much more financially stable,” Leia muttered. “And can adapt to a wartime situation more easily without losing as many profits.”

Spreading her hands wide, Shea said, “The benefit of a life of greed and profits.”

She didn’t completely mean it. Leia knew from experience that Shea had her standards, that she pushed against the rising tide of that gluttony for expansion and exploitation. But the cynicism wasn’t a surprise.

“We’re fortunate to have you to help us negotiate with your people,” Senator Organa said, solemn in his eyes, but friendly in his smile. “Your skill and perseverance are deeply appreciated.”

He meant it too, Leia knew. Not that her fa—Senator Organa of Alderaan didn’t hope for a more generous, peaceful galaxy. For everyone. But for all that he lacked Shea’s sharp, cynical outlook, he was practical and polite.

It was fascinating to watch Padmé absorbing his example, studying her two colleagues and friends, something in her face and in the subtle movement of her feelings shifting lighter, more certain, as she listened.

“She burned brightly,” Papa had said, on one of the very rare occasions that he’d spoken of his friend, when Leia had snuck into his office to avoid lessons and spend time with him before he had to go back to Coruscant. “She kept us going, when we would have slowed down.” And then, with a wry smile, “I never knew if I was doing the right thing, trying to hold her back. She did so much…”

He’d looked at her then, Leia remembered, and she’d thought he’d seemed sad but so proud and also…

She couldn’t admit it at the time, but he’d also been afraid. And Leia couldn’t believe it, because fear wasn’t something that she associated with her Papa, and certainly not something he felt because of her.

But.

But…

If Padmé was Leia’s mother. If Padmé had been bright and valiant and aggressive. If Leia ever reminded Papa of Padmé Amidala, who had died in the shadow of the rise of the Empire, leveraged against her friends and the democracy she had loved, then maybe it made sense. Maybe Papa would have been proud, and also a little afraid.

“I’m kind of impressed that he let you join the Senate,” Luke commented, quiet enough Leia could have missed it if she was still busy focusing.

Biting her lips to keep from smiling at a deluge of memories, Leia only offered, “Oh, I worked him around.”

A brief cascade of images for her brother, sounds and fights and resignations on both sides.

And love. Because Leia couldn’t understand why both her parents tried to keep her locked away on Alderaan, and she wouldn’t allow it. But she knew they didn’t want it, and that they loved her and cared. And they knew if she did something reckless and crazy in defiance, it wasn’t because she wanted to be difficult, but because—

“She burned brightly.”

“What do you think?” Padmé asked.

Leia blinked, recycled what had just happened in the room that she hadn’t been focusing on, this time paying attention to it, and answered, “I think those are good points. Obviously more experience in the Outer Rim will help, and we always knew whoever went had to have previous experience with evacuations.”

“Military experience might not go amiss,” Sabé said, adding her first comment to the meeting.

Padmé frowned. “They won’t be fighting.”

“But they will be in contested space,” Pa—Senator Organa agreed. “So being used to coordinating with military units would be helpful. Although, on that qualification alone, I don’t know if we can find anyone.”

Padmé’s previous frown was explained as Sabé caught the senator’s eye, then let her gaze slowly drift to Leia. Padmé took a deep, slow breath in response, trying to be quiet.

But Shea noticed. “You have someone who might have that experience?”

Her head didn’t so much as twitch in Leia’s direction as Padmé said, “I’ll need to confirm. I can’t say for certain—“

“I do,” Leia answered, knowing it would get her in trouble and also realizing she should have seen this coming. Especially once she realized Shmi couldn’t go. “Not on the scale of the Republic forces, but I have done evacuations and transport before, and I’m used to coordinating with various groups, including armed forces.”

“Where the hell did you pick that up?” Shea demanded, looking almost pale. Senator Organa didn’t seem any more enthused.

“Oh, here and there,” Leia shrugged. “Security forces help with civilian evacuations sometimes, if they are available.” Then, trying to balance the risks, “And even if they aren’t heavily armed, organized rescue groups, like the ones Alderaan sends out for emergency requests, have similar hierarchies to militaries.”

She couldn’t look at Senator Organa as she said it. She couldn’t see his face and not remember the missions her father had given her, how some had overlapped with Rebel assignments. How all her knowledge and life experience made her almost perfectly qualified for this.

But that meant looking at Shea, meeting her gaze and making sure to not even hint at a flinch.

“Would one of your people be a good substitute?” Shea asked Senator Organa instead of answering Leia’s challenge.

He may have looked between the two women. Leia couldn’t be sure because she was still avoiding his eyes. “I wouldn’t recommend it, even though I have some people I would consider mostly qualified. Most of our work has been in the Mid Rim, or parts of the Outer Rim closer to the Hydian way, or out towards Dantooine and Mygeeto.” (Leia did not flinch.) “I wouldn’t say they were experts on Hutt space.”

“Leia’s not an expert on Hutt space,” Padmé countered, her tension reaching a crescendo that Leia wasn’t sure she wanted to try and break. A full out fight here would be…disastrous.

“I have a decent amount of experience with the region,” Leia offered. “I could at least help evaluate substitutes for obvious flaws.”

The immediate relaxing of Padmé’s shoulders was a bad sign. Leia should have seen this coming. Padmé’s insistence on monitoring Leia’s movements had seemed reasonable as an extension of the royal house’s concerns. This…This was getting to be too much.

Leia had to be able to travel. Too much of what was coming would require it.

Shea looked ready to push, but thankfully Senator Organa said, “We don’t have to decide today. Soon, yes, but not immediately. Shea and I will ask around, as I’m sure you will,” he nodded to Padmé who offered a tight lipped affirmative. “We can reconvene in two days and compare candidates.”

“Of course,” Padmé said, getting ready to stand and escort her guests to the door.

Senator Organa followed her lead, but stopped before moving away. “If we can’t find anyone else, Leia does seem to be a good alternative.”

There was a moment of silence before Padmé said, “We’ll discuss it.”

“So you have your assignment,” the Chancellor smiled. “At least they knew better than to separate you from your master. He’ll certainly need you.”

“He’s doing very well,” Anakin said, torn between pride and the gnawing worry that he was missing something any time someone suggested Obi-Wan wasn’t quite well (there were still the dreams, but he’d always had bad dreams, everyone did, right?). “And the 212^th are familiar with him. They’ll make sure he’s alright.”

“You’ll be heading out past Christophsis, won’t you?” the Chancellor asked, his brows rising. “That’s an area of space you’re more familiar with than your master, isn’t it? I expect you’ll be a great asset.”

Except that Anakin hadn’t left Tatooine to travel until he’d come to Coruscant, and yes he’d been to Geonosis with Leia, but they weren’t going there either, and if everyone was depending on him because he was supposed to already know things… “We’ll be closer to Herdessa and Radnor than Tatooine. But I’ll do my best.”

“I’m sure you will. We’re all counting on you—you and the Jedi—to bring this war to a quick end.” His face turned serious, solemn. “We don’t want our legacy to be the greatest loss of life, the greatest conflict, to crush our Republic in a thousand years.”

“No, Your Excellency,” Anakin said, not sure what else he could say.

The Chancellor smiled. “I know I can depend on you, my boy. You’re going to be a legend yourself one of these days. I’m sure of it.”

Chapter Text

The call ended and the holo went dark, neither of which distracted Leia from the twisted look on Padmé’s face as the senator carefully avoided looking at her friend.

The handmaidens were also quiet, but it was a different sort of silence. More resigned, bracing itself for the storm about to come.

And there was quite the storm in Padmé’s eyes.

“Are you going to tell me no?” Leia asked, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall, doing an instinctual visual scan of the room.

Padmé glared as she looked back. “Would you listen if I did?”

It was much more caustic than Leia had expected. She hesitated. “I might.”

That threw Padmé off, made her blink, almost stutter. “You know how badly we need an expert on this mission.”

“I also have to live with you when it’s over,” Leia said dryly, almost flinching when she realized how much her drawl sounded like Han. “Whether you like me or not.”

“I’ve always liked you,” Padmé’s exasperated tone emphasized the roll of her eyes. “You just like to do things that are stupid…”

“Tell me you wouldn’t have done them if I hadn’t beat you to it,” Leia allowed herself a smile, “and I might offer a bit more of my sympathy.”

Padmé’s fingers drummed once, twice against her desk. “I wouldn’t have made friends with the Jedi. Not like you have.”

“I happen to have an in,” Leia shrugged. “They’re curious and I’m an oddity. A good distraction so they don’t have to always think about the burdens they now have to carry.”

“You're useful too,” Sabé murmured, sliding onto one of the couches, her posture deliberately relaxed. “Kenobi says you’ve been to more of their training sessions.”

“Only a few,” Leia hedged. “If I came too early for my appointments. I was nosey, made casual comments.”

“I doubt,” and now Sabé was really smiling, “Master Kenobi would have talked about Master Windu wanting to kiss your feet if your comments had actually been casual.”

“Clearly you aren’t familiar with Master Kenobi,” Leia retorted. “I can safely assure you Master Windu has never considered having the thought of kissing my feet. He doesn’t even say thank you.”

“Should he?” Padmé asked.

Leia shook her head. “I walk into the room where they’re working, stare over people’s shoulders, making humming sounds, and walk out. Nosey, not helpful.”

“That’s not what Master Gallia said,” Sabé offered, and Leia had to fight a groan.

“The point,” Padmé dragged them back, knowing the conversation wouldn’t help her ultimate goal, “is that the people involved, including Shea and Bail, believe that we should be sending you to the Outer Rim to help the committee establish its new escape routes. And alternative trade paths. Because you do have a level of expertise appropriate to the situation, no matter how much you try and hide it. Which you do, until we need it, and then you throw your weight around while pretending it’s nothing and still expecting us to trust you with this assignment.”

Contradictory in the extreme, Han had called her. Not often, but then he hadn’t had to. He’d just wound her up, twisting her own words until she couldn’t speak because then she’d have to admit the truth (she was scared and she loved him and she couldn’t do it, couldn’t lose everything again…).

“Are you going to let me go or not?” Leia asked, hoping to break through on force of will alone.

It didn’t work. “If you’ll tell me why I should,” Padmé answered, taking a seat at her desk leaning back into her mostly queenly posture. “Beyond that everyone thinks you’re qualified.”

“I am qualified,” Leia said, irritated that it didn’t come out stronger. “I’m more than passingly familiar with that area of space, I know the Jedi decently well for someone new to Coruscant, I understand Shmi’s work for the RRM and I’m familiar with the protocols for how things will be running. I can handle a blaster and fly a ship. And recognize military coding and stay away from active war zones.”

The last one was a mistake, Leia realized, when one of Padmé’s brows went up. “Oh you can, can you?”

Plausible, Leia realized as she looked away, struggling for an answer. She needed something plausible and simple. Something she couldn’t screw up. Something that wouldn’t contradict what other people already knew.

Something nonspecific, so it couldn’t be verified. But close enough that it might count.

“I’ve been part of a civil conflict before,” she said, the words dropping off her tongue like dead weight. “Small scale,” she added, ignoring how flagrantly she was taking advantage of a certain point of view. “We were grossly outnumbered and severely undertrained. Passionate, guerrilla style conflicts, but up against a more organized, well-funded force.” She looked up and the faces in the room were still, but the undercurrent of emotions was a mess. “It killed my brother,” she said, before she could stop herself. “I don’t talk about it.”

The current of shock that swept through the room was painful, almost as much as the immediate sympathy and regret from her friends.

She didn’t want to talk about this. She really didn’t—

“You lost?” Padmé asked, and Leia would have seen it as an accusation, but there was so much sympathy there.

“We thought we won,” Leia said. “Not with fighting. We thought we’d removed the other obstacles. We thought we’d changed people’s minds.” A shrug. “We hadn’t. Or not enough. Our enemies regrouped. I left before I saw the end of it. I’d already—“ That flash of fire, that hole in her reality, that ghost that was all her pain and her only comfort. “I was done. They couldn’t give me what I wanted. Not anymore.”

Toxic, the words burned in her throat, boiled in her stomach. Leia thought of herself as a fighter, hadn’t believed she was capable of giving up. But she left that fight, trusted one of her greatest enemies and left.

All for a dream that would never come true.

(She’d never get it back. No matter how many lives she saved, she’d never save hers. Never save the people that really mattered to her.)

Maybe…maybe they shouldn’t trust her. Maybe she would just give up here too.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Luke’s tone was half tart, half fond. “As if you’d leave this galaxy with Palpatine standing at the head of it.”

“Probably not,” Leia acknowledged. If she did give up here, it would only be after she’d killed him. No sense in letting him become emperor again.

And maybe Tarkin. Just to be thorough.

“Is that how you found Shmi?” Padmé asked, and Leia snapped back to the present. “You were looking for somewhere to disappear?”

“Not exactly,” Leia admitted before she’d thought better of it. And then, because she was in too deep, so all that was left was being vague, “I was looking for home.”

And she’d found it. To her joy and dismay. Something gained, something to balance her. Something to fight for, to keep her on track.

Something to lose…

“What happens on the other side is all up to you.”

Padmé had walked up. Leia was so lost in her own thoughts she hadn’t realized it until a hand took hers and she was looking into her friend’s (her mother’s…) eyes. “Did you find it?”

He could have sent her to Luke. He could have sent her to Han and Chewie. Directly to Padmé, or (if he’d really cared) to the Organas. He could even have sent her back to any iteration of himself, to hoard her and hold her until he could have everything that he wanted.

Instead, Vader had sent her to Shmi Skywalker, who for him was at the heart of everything. Who was his joy and was his freedom.

He had nothing to give her, so he gave her his love. The love that had always been freely offered and left behind.

That he had betrayed.

Closing her eyes, Leia leaned forward, touched her forehead to Padmé’s, took a deep breath. Imagined her grandmother, their home. The warmth of the kitchen, the safety of their rooms, the kindness of their life.

The stability and hope. The choices.

“Everything you have is something you can lose,” Leia whispered, feeling the cavernous hole in her heart that still throbbed around the edges, where it had been sundered. Her hand tightened around Padmé’s. “Somehow, I just can’t live without it.”

Now if Leia could only figure out exactly how she had meant that…

“We don’t want to lose you either,” Padmé said, and Leia shifted back, opened her eyes. Felt the warmth of a hand on her cheek. “We don’t want to live without you.”

It tore through her. Leia almost couldn’t breathe for the pain those words brought. For the reality they represented. They had lived without her once. They’d lived and loved and fought and tried (and failed…) and none of that had required her. If Leia was a gift it was a backhanded one. Treacherous and a mockery. Selfish. Volatile.

“Do whatever is necessary. And don’t look back.”

Well, damn.

It couldn’t be undone, couldn’t be removed. So, “I know,” Leia said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make your life more difficult. I was just trying to help.”

“Maybe I can’t live without loving either,” Padmé smiled, and it trembled a little, but there was something soothing around them. Something strong, and binding. “Maybe I’m okay with that.”

Taking a deep breath, Leia asked, “Can you let me go?”

Grimacing, Padmé said, “I guess I have to.” She glared. “But you’d better come back.”

“That’s the plan.”

“It’s a promise,” Padmé retorted, her hands shifting to frame Leia’s face. “You come back to me, so we can finish this.”

Together. So they could finish this together. As…as a family. “I think I can do that.”

“Good,” Padmé tossed her head a little as she stepped back. “I can’t recommend someone to Bail that isn’t the best.”

Leia chuckled, blinking tears from her eyes.

The ship landed on one of the many platforms in this part of the city, wobbling only slightly as it touched down. Amateur, Leia thought grimly. Or at least, new to the traffic, probably distracted. They should have sent Shmi an official government transport instead of letting her borrow a vessel from the RRM. Leia tsked.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Padmé smiled as she whispered in Leia’s ear.

Leia was too dignified to answer that.

Eirtaé might have chuckled. Or Shea. It was hard to tell.

Klara Zapalo was the first one off the ship, Shmi exiting right behind her. Leia felt the buzz of excitement under her own skin and had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep still. Senator Organa was to her right, and princesses—

No fidgeting. It wasn’t professional. That was all.

“I didn’t think you would be here to greet me,” Shmi smiled, stepping into Leia’s arms and almost crushing her in a hug. When Shmi stepped back there was a tiny frown in her brows as she studied Leia’s face. “Have you been sleeping enough?”

The chorus of, “No,” from every female voice around them left Leia with no convenient single victim to retaliate against. Instead she said, “I’m doing about as well as everyone else.”

Glancing at Padmé, the handmaidens, and Shea, Shmi only said, “It doesn’t seem like Coruscant is good for the health.”

“Truer words have never been spoken,” Senator Organa agreed, smiling warmly as he offered Shmi his hand. Something in Leia constricted as she saw them greet each other, formal but affectionate in their own ways. Tightened until Leia almost couldn’t breathe.

“That wasn’t part of the job description,” Shmi said, humor and worry coiled around her. “I think you were holding out.”

Stepping forward, Shea offered, “We couldn’t afford not to get you. We’ll help with anything you need as far as adjusting.”

Shmi sighed as she shook Shea’s hand. “I suppose it’s a good thing that Leia is leaving. I will just have to set a better example while she’s gone.”

Not willing to spoil Shmi’s assumptions about the amount of sleep Leia was likely to get while moving through war zones with civilians, Leia just smiled. And made sure to get a seat next to her grandmother in the speeder, listening as Senator Organa outlined the afternoon’s schedule, her fingers clutching Shmi’s.

They landed back at the Executive building a little before lunchtime, and Leia was relieved to see Threepio when they made it to Padmé’s office suite. He reassured her that he’d taken care of her packing and everything was in order.

“Thank you,” she told him softly, watching the others enter the room, smiling when Threepio spotted Shmi and shuffled over, his arms thrown in the air, exuberant in his greeting. Shmi was attentive to his questions and asked several of her own, not the least of which included one about how Leia was doing.

“I’m quite concerned,” Threepio said honestly, ignoring the other guests, to Leia’s chagrin. “She most certainly isn’t sleeping enough and I don’t think she eats if someone doesn’t remind her. I’ve had to see to that myself most days since everyone has been so busy. Oh, but Senator Darsana is very good about having meetings over lunch and Senator Sadashassa at dinner, so it isn’t always terrible. But they’re going to send her away,” he complained. “To a war zone, if you can believe it. I am not pleased with the development. We are a diplomatic contingent.”

Moving to take a seat, Shmi offered, “I’m afraid that is my fault. She’s going in my place.”

Stopping at Shmi’s elbow, Threepio looked down. Leia imagined him frowning as he said, “Really? I’m not sure I would have liked that either. Surely no one needs to go into a war zone if they aren’t fighting.”

“To save refugees,” Leia countered, “we do. It’s an important diplomatic offering to our allies.”

“Yes, but we should be sending Jedi,” Threepio complained. “It’s the sort of thing they’re supposed to do. Master Allie says so.”

“Since they are already leading our army,” Senator Organa said, “we figured we should lend a hand.” He was looking at Shmi as he spoke, more than at Threepio.

She nodded, but addressed Threepio. “It would be nice if we could always avoid danger. But Leia has promised to take every precaution and look after herself. And,” Shmi was almost smiling, “there will be plenty of people to look after her.”

“Including Jedi,” Shea said, looking to Leia. “Are you going to be late?”

“Someone’s coming to get me,” Leia answered. “I don’t think they leave for another hour, and they know how involved I’ve been with Senate matters. They’ll grab me just before they leave planet.”

“You on a cruiser,” Shea muttered, shaking her head. “I can only imagine the damage you’ll cause.”

Acknowledging the comment felt like a trap, so Leia only shrugged. Besides, she was much more worried about what damage being on a cruiser would cause her.

(Although, enough and she might also become a danger…)

Senator Organa spoke, refocusing the conversation. “We’ll expect weekly reports, keeping us posted on how many navigation routes you have open and how many ships we need to be sending. But make sure to include us in communication more often if necessary.”

“I will,” Leia agreed. “And I’ll make sure to include profiles from refugees for the press releases at least every other week, if I can.”

“Since Herdessa is the current hub for processing,” Shea said, “make sure to include my home team on those profiles. We’ll be running separate public campaigns to explain why were sending people off from there, and managing resupply, and running secure communication to protect the routes and my people will want to know why.”

“Since it could make Herdessa a target,” Leia nodded. “Ideally most of the combat will be closer to Christophsis, and they’ll be able to reclaim it from Separatist control soon, so the Corellian Run isn’t too disrupted.”

“If not,” Shmi said, “we’ll need to find safe routes around the Run to use, especially for evacuees from Ryloth.”

“And we’ll need to convince Senator Taa and his citizens that evacuation is the best option,” Padmé’s eyes narrowed. “They seem to think even if combat breaks out they’ll be better off where they are.”

“For now,” Senator Organa agreed. “But if we lay down the routes quickly enough and have ships and destinations ready, especially temporary shelters not too far away, we might be able to change their minds. If need arises.”

Her sketchy memory of the Clone Wars didn’t tell Leia much about how badly Ryloth suffered during that conflict, but she knew more details of what happened after. Syndulla was likely to organize forces on planet if it came to that, but Leia wasn’t sure how that would fall out politically. Or if he would be any more likely to encourage people to leave.

Some of them might not come back. It was hard to know if that was a good or bad thing.

The door chimed and Anakin stepped in, already half bowing and saying, “I’m here to get—Mom!”

It was almost fun watching shock turn to joy on his face, as annoying as the pulse of emotion was to try and ignore. He was only frozen for half a second, but it was enough for Shmi to stand and get around the couch before he reached her, swallowing her in a hug. Leia couldn’t be sure, but she thought he might be trembling.

It was…a little worrying that he was still reacting so strongly to these meetings.

“You sound surprised,” Shmi said as she pulled back, touching his face and kissing his nose.

“I am surprised,” he answered, looking around, finding Leia, a question in his eyes. “Did you know she was coming?”

Shmi was too good to give Leia a scolding look or a worried one in this company, but there was a brush against Leia’s senses as their eyes met. Leia shifted, but managed not to look down. “I knew she was being invited to join the Refugee Committee with some others from the RRM. I wasn’t sure, by the time we knew she was coming, if you would have already deployed or not.”

“Leia, there are limits to paranoia,” Padmé rolled her eyes as she turned to Shmi and Anakin. “I’m sorry I didn’t mention it. With how often Leia’s been at the Temple, I had thought she’d brought it up.”

“You’ve been at the Temple?” Shmi asked, turning all the way around now, her arms crossing. This time Leia did look down for a moment, before glancing back up and shrugging in a way she knew she’d gotten from Han.

“Leia,” Padmé was pinching the bridge of her nose.

“I forgot to mention it?” Leia tried, earning narrowed eyed looks from Padmé, Sabé, Shmi, and Anakin. “There’s been a lot going on. It didn’t seem—“ She didn’t finish that. There was no way she could avoid trouble if she finished that. “I forgot…”

“But you knew Mom was coming,” Anakin said, his voice stiff. He looked at his mother. “You’re on a Senate committee now?”

“Helping,” Shmi said. “Advising. I was going to be traveling to the Outer Rim to help set up routes, but the delays with getting things in order mean Leia is taking my place.”

There was a mess and swirl around Anakin as he processed all of that, glancing between Leia and Shmi. Then he seemed to realize that everyone else was also in the room, and he flushed. “Oh. Okay.”

Studying her son for a moment, Shmi gestured for Leia to come over and Leia was not stupid enough to disobey. There was a long scrutiny before Shmi’s voice curled into Leia’s mind, “Is there something about the Temple I should know?”

“I was seeing Anakin,” Leia offered. “I probably should have mentioned how often. But it was… inconsistent. They invited me down to keep checking on me. Medically. To make sure I’d recovered from meeting a Sith.”

“The lightning, you mean?” Shmi’s internal voice was dry, and an eyebrow went up. Leia could see behind her that Anakin had realized they were speaking and was getting antsy, probably for being excluded.

“The lightning,” Leia agreed. Then added, “I saw Obi-Wan quite a bit too, off and on. Which is why I didn’t mention you coming. I thought springing you on him meant he couldn’t torment himself over how much he should…encourage Anakin to see you while you were here.”

And Leia hadn’t known exactly when her grandmother would be coming. It had seemed cruel to tease Anakin that Shmi would get there just as he was leaving. Leia had hoped, a little, that insisting on having the Jedi come and get her would mean if Shmi got here in time, there was the slightest chance Anakin could sneak in a meeting. With no one interfering.

It was possible that Shmi sensed some of that motive in Leia’s silence. Shmi nodded, wrapped Leia in another hug, and said, “I suppose you have to leave now.”

“It is time,” Leia said, glancing back to Anakin. “Right?”

Anakin blinked, nodded, looked down at his mother. “Sorry. I’ve got to go. We’re—“ He looked around the room as though uncertain as to what he should say.

“You’re heading out,” Shmi finished for him. “With Obi-Wan?”

Anakin nodded. “Yeah.”

A coy smile slipping onto her face, Shmi wrapped her arms around her son again, saying, “Give him this for me.” Anakin laughed a little as he accepted the hug. Shmi turned to Leia, said, “And this,” and kissed her cheek. Leia blinked, then felt a slow, easy smile creeping up her face.

“Well, if you insist.”

“I do.”

Staring at Padmé, Anakin said, “Sorry for interrupting. I guess…” He looked at Leia, torn.

She understood the feeling. Moving quickly, she made sure to hug Shea, Sabé, and Padmé, lingering for just a moment at each. It left her enough delay to whisper in Padmé’s ear, “Any message for Anakin?” just before the senator’s lips brushed Leia’s cheek. It had been for Leia, but she made sure Padmé caught a teasing look, pulling back slowly enough to enjoy Padmé’s hissed, “Don’t you dare.”

“Too late,” Leia whispered, regretting it as soon of the words were out of her mouth. She was the one who had issued the challenge and now she was committed, even though she’d sworn she wouldn’t be a part of this.

She could almost picture Luke rolling with laughter in her mind. Somehow, somehow, this had to be his fault.

Anakin was releasing Shmi from a last hug as Leia finished, bowing to the room. “I’m sorry for interrupting. I hope everything goes well.” Then, shifting a little, “Thank you for inviting my mother. I know she’ll do a good job.”

Smiling, Senator Organa offered, “We’ll take good care of her. Her willingness to come means a great deal to us.”

Something about the moment twisted in Leia’s perception, or maybe in her trying to fit it into her memories. Something about Anakin Skywalker and Bail Organa, in the same room, speaking to each other.

Anakin nodded, stiffer than he’d been before, noticing Leia had grabbed her things. “Let’s go.”

It was something. Something in the disjointed previous moment, something in the way he spun around to leave, in the set of his shoulders, the stiffness of his arms, the dark ripple of his cloak. Something in the feel of the planet, in the realization that they were heading to an Impe—a Republic cruiser. For a second ice sluiced down Leia’s spine, the past was completely present, she could almost hear that mechanized breathing—

She blinked. Anakin had stopped, everything was locked up, shut beneath her skin, laden in her bones. His eyes flashed, but it was an old question now. The why-are-you-hiding-this-time she’d come to accept would always be there.

“Yes, let’s go.”

Gritting her teeth, she couldn’t help but hear the echo, “And don’t look back.”

Chapter Text

“What did Padmé mean by appropriate supervision?” Anakin asked as the speeder was about to touch down.

Leia sighed, jolted out of the reverie from their flight. “Political stuff. Post us getting back from Geonosis. Don’t worry about it.”

Anakin had the nerve to stare at her, to glare, as he started bringing them down instead of watching what he was doing. “You just spent weeks not telling me my mother was coming to Coruscant. And I’m supposed to trust your judgement of what I need to worry about?”

When he put it that way, “This one doesn’t actually have anything to do with you.”

“Us getting back from Geonosis?” he asked, looking back as they landed. “I’m pretty sure I had plenty to do with that.”

To Leia’s chagrin, there were a series of beeps from Artoo in the back. She followed more than half of it, enough to know why Anakin’s eyes were widening, his hands turning bone white as he gripped the controls, his mouth dropping open. Even before he said, “Factory reset?” in tones so filled with abject horror Leia winced. Or maybe that was a spike in the Force around him.

Staring at her, Anakin demanded, “Is he serious?”

“Padmé isn’t queen anymore,” Leia said as she hopped out, focusing to try and lift Artoo on her own. “It reflects badly on her when I don’t let her in on my plans. This was the compromise. Supervision.”

“And I count?” Anakin asked, flabbergasted.

Leia chuckled, pausing so she wouldn’t drop the droid who was only halfway over the side of the speeder. “Of course not. At least, I doubt Captain Panaka would approve. But Padmé was right about Artoo being more useful to you and I right now. Saying she’s passing him off to the RRM, saying that Jedi or troopers or RRM associates count as supervision, she can gloss over that being you for a few hours. It’s a neat workaround.”

“But you can’t take him with you,” Anakin countered as he watched her set Artoo down, slowly and carefully. The droid offered cheerful congratulations when all his wheels were down. “Unless…are you getting picked up directly by RRM people?”

“I don’t know,” Leia admitted. “But we were going to see if you had use for him first. I’d rather he stay with you, honestly. I think he’d have more fun in a fighter than running hyperlane projections for the next six months.”

A strong affirmative beep had them both laughing for a moment. Then Leia watched Anakin turn towards their transport, and she was glad he wasn’t facing her so that she could swallow. There were men in uniform boarding, sending nervous glances behind them to the Temple proper.

“They have commissioned officers coming?” she asked. Anakin looked back, blinking. “Officers with previous training and experience in the Republic,” she suggested. “Not just the clone troopers?”

It still felt wrong to say that. But she made herself do it so she wouldn’t accidentally slip, reveal an old habit. Even if “clones” was faster.

“Yeah, I guess,” Anakin frowned as he started walking. “They had volunteers from planets with standing militaries start showing up. To help even things out until the brothers have more field experience.”

Leia frowned too at that. She hoped it wasn’t temporary. It would be easier to manage political complications if actual citizens were participating in the war full time. Something at stake meant something to lose, something to leverage.

She didn’t share that with Anakin though. He was obviously not ready for that kind of stratagem.

Any more than she was ready to be sitting in a transport with a bunch of men in dull green naval uniforms. Lovely.

There was a bump at her knees and Leia looked down at Artoo, listening as he quietly beeped reassurances that he would keep her safe. She smiled, touching his dome, and worrying that he’d noticed…something off in her demeanor. She’d have to watch for that. “Thank you,” she said. “I’m glad Padmé decided to send you with us.”

It had been a last minute change when they were almost out the door and Leia had waved goodbye to the little droid.

It was a good choice. And a relief. She’d have someone nearby if she needed anything.

Walking again, Leia paid more attention to the set of her mouth, the length of her stride, her posture. She could feel the stiffness, the careful stuntedness in her limbs. Even if she had missed it, she would have realized that she wasn’t keeping up with Anakin, and it had nothing to do with her luggage.

Yes, she would need to be much more careful.

“Is it that heavy?” Anakin asked as he waited for her to catch up before boarding.

Leia shook her head, then nodded to the inside. “You know any of them?”

“Not yet,” Anakin admitted. “This should be fun.”

It was hard to tell if he was being serious or not. There was an excited tension around him now, and a reaching that kept leaping towards the Executive building. Leia doubted he was completely in the here and now.

Which was a problem, because neither was she. But maybe he wouldn’t notice?

Leia took her time to examine the men that were already on board waiting for them, not surprised but a little concerned by the coldness not just in their eyes, but their whole demeanor. The blatant skepticism on one face as he examined Anakin was understandable if rude.

Leia didn’t bring it up. She did lift her chin slightly and arch a brow when he turned that same look on her though. He didn’t blush, but he did look away.

Good enough for now.

“Is this everyone?” Anakin asked as he shifted, confronted by all the faces around him.

One of the older officers answered, “You’re the last.”

It took every ounce of Leia’s self-control to not be pedantic and point out she had been the last one to board, just behind Artoo (who was also getting looks from the officers, more confused than offended), but she managed.

There was another long, awkward moment when Anakin stood there, looking from face to face, and no one introduced themselves. He could have started it, she supposed. But he must have noticed the chilly atmosphere too, because he just nodded and stepped to the front, coming back a moment later to say they were taking off.

It wasn’t a question as to whether Leia would sit next to Anakin. At this point, it was the only right and reasonable thing to do. But she did wonder if she should take his hand or something to reassure him. He was starting to add to the stifled coldness around them.

The looks they were still getting made her more reluctant than she already was.

Instead, she settled for jabbing at his glum cloud in the Force, startling him enough that he jumped as the ship took off, which earned a muffled scoff from where the officers were sitting.

Anakin turned to glare at her, but Leia just gave him a blank, muted stare in response. In the Force, she offered comfort, and understanding. Softly, just brushing against that expansive mass that swirled around him. She wouldn’t have touched it if he had the least ability to keep it to himself, and made sure to only lightly graze it now.

But the moment she did, she felt him relax. When his hand twitched as if he would have reached for her, she sent, “No,” firm and steady, ignoring the sting of his rejected disappointment. Deliberately looking away from him, studying everyone else in the compartment, she offered her more gentle feelings again, folding her hands carefully into her lap and sitting up straight so there was no chance of them touching, even in these cramped quarters.

There was confusion and acceptance from him, and a push back, something like longing and seeking.

Need.

It pressed against a darker memory, where need had been searching, clawing through her mind. But Leia held that back, swallowed it as best she could, funneled it through her current irritation at their companions, and pulled from it a twisted sense of camaraderie, of like feeling.

“They don’t take us seriously,” she thought, only lightly projecting the words towards him. “So we’ll make them.”

He didn’t send words as an answer, but the bright, triumphant acceptance of her challenge was clear enough.

“Should you have sent Artoo?”

Sabé’s question shouldn’t have surprised Padmé, but the timing was a little odd. Shmi was still here, and Bail was present, if answering a call across the room. “If she’s going to find trouble, I’d rather she had someone with a track record of helping her out of it nearby.”

“The queen won’t like it,” Eirtaé suggested, but her tone lacked conviction.

“Jamillia will love it,” Padmé countered. “Besides, there’s a good chance Artoo will stay with Anakin.”

“Why?” Eirtaé asked, her glance darting to Shmi, who watched them openly and frankly, but without comment.

“Because Leia will probably assume we sent him to spy on her,” Padmé said, also glancing to Shmi, whose lips twitched at the comment. “And so would see pawning him off on Anakin as a better option. Especially if she can get him to spy on the Jedi and the clones.”

Sabé’s mouth only dropped open for half a second before a smile spread across her face. “Did she tell you that, or are you just successfully getting into her head?”

“I doubt anyone can get into her head,” Padmé said, watching the careful blankness of Shmi’s features. “But I hope I’m learning some of her habits. So she’s less likely to surprise me.”

“Unpleasantly,” Shmi said, features solemn but a twinkle in her eyes. “She’ll never stop surprising you, but you can learn to anticipate the unpleasantness.”

“How?” Eirtaé demanded, leaning forward.

Shmi’s smile was grim and sad. “Assume the worst and most devastating. Work backwards from there.” At the collective anguish on their faces she added, “We are Skywalkers.”

That was probably supposed to mean something, Padmé thought as they went back to running Shmi through their list of allies and supporters. Padmé would have to ask about it later. It had to be important.

There weren’t any windows in the passenger area of their transport, so Leia didn’t have to watch them slowly approach the cruiser. But the sounds almost drove her insane.

She remembered being pulled into a Star Destroyer. She wasn’t in the hall for the initial docking, where the Imperials had broken in, but she could imagine the noises were similar to what she was hearing now. She’d been in less fraught, similar situations for years, boarding ships all over. But what she knew she would find inside this one made her want to stutter, to gasp.

She’d kept a calm face to confront Vader. She wasn’t about to slip up now.

It took conscious effort to detach herself from Anakin’s emotions, still blurred around them, and was an almost painful exercise. She felt him twitch, lurch towards her both in body and the Force as she slid herself completely back into and under her own skin. It didn’t match the docking movements, but his jerk was noticed by their audience.

No scoff this time though.

“Leia?”

His voice was weak and wobbly in her mind, less, she thought, because he was trying to be quiet, and more because he wasn’t sure how to reach her. An odd thought. She was right there. “Busy now. No distractions.”

The intimacy of reaching back out to him almost made her shudder. It had felt so normal, so natural to offer him comfort when he was in need. Now, this close to her past, there was a raw unease to everything she felt about him.

About herself.

And then the doors opened.

The first few moments weren’t so bad, where they all stood and shuffled to make their way out. But the moment her head cleared the edge of the ship as she descended the ramp, the view opened up to a hangar, stuffed with fighters and teeming with men in white armor, some carrying blasters.

She’d blame Artoo’s descent later for her brief pause, for the moment she took to exert conscious effort to see what was in front of her, not what she expected to see.

It almost helped. Mostly.

“Commander Skywalker.”

Oh fuck. She could not handle this.

One of the troopers approached Anakin, who smiled as he saw their escort, stepping forward to greet him. “They left you down here near the ships? Brave of them.”

“No sir,” something that sounded like a smile came from the voice in the helmet (shape was wrong for a storm trooper, but right for “enemy” because Mandalorian and Fett and how the hell had she gotten herself into this mess?), “just here to pick you up and take you to command. They have me supervising the training floor.”

“Thank goodness,” Anakin’s jokes were producing some interesting looks from the officers. The younger ones looked unsure or offended, one of the older ones had pinched lips, but the two remaining had open, curious looks on their faces. Looks that morphed into placid respect as the clone turned with a salute and said, “I’m to take all of you to General Kenobi so he can show you to your assignments.”

“Lead on,” the most senior officer (Leia thought she had spotted captain bars) said, checking out of the corner of his eye to see how Anakin responded to the order.

Either he missed the power play or didn’t care, Leia thought as they moved forward. She wasn’t sure which was better.

Walking through the halls was marginally better than her initial entry. They weren’t flanked by guards, which did a good deal for her paranoia. Or maybe her memories. Her paranoia still flared at the clomp of boots on durasteel floors, or the clack of armor for passing salutes, when white armor passed them in the halls or crossed their path. She mostly got through it pretending she was infiltrating the ship, telling herself she could be nervous, aware, but as long as they didn’t suspect her she didn’t need to be on high alert.

It helped. A little.

Sometimes.

“Leia,” Luke tried to get her attention, reaching towards her and trying to syphon some of her panic.

She pushed him back, not trusting herself if she had to balance two things at once. “I’ve got this.”

“Sure you do,” he threw back, but reduced himself to a hovering shade in the back of her mind, quiet and watchful, ready to act.

Someone at her back. Someone who understood.

She wasn’t completely alone. It would be okay.

Probably.

She was going to tell Luke off for bothering her again several minutes later when she realized the new pressure she was feeling was coming from outside, not in. Anakin was at the front of their group, not looking towards her, but a hint of worry and consternation brushed against her senses and Leia had to take a slow, quiet breath to make sure she didn’t shove him away. She wasn’t sure she wouldn’t accidentally hurt him at the moment. Which wasn’t fair as well as being stupid. He wanted to help.

It was annoying, in a sweet sort of way.

Luke did poke her for that thought and Leia scowled, glad no one was coming towards them to see it.

“I’m working,” she reminded her brother.

“You work too much,” he countered. “And these are your friends. You’re on the same side.”

For a given definition of “friends” and “side,” sure. That didn’t make the shape and color of the halls, the stiffness of the passing soldiers, the indistinct whispers, the chill atmosphere any more inviting.

Really, she thought as she kept walking, it felt like there was a slowly increasing hostility the further in she went.

But maybe that was her paranoia.

It didn’t help that aside from the generic grey aesthetic, the layout of the ship was familiar to Leia in ways she found a little concerning. She hadn’t been on many Imperial cruisers, but it looked like more than overall shape had been kept as the Star Destroyers had been upgraded over the ages. It added an uncanny unreality to what she was experiencing, as if she were caught halfway in a dream, teased flinchingly from her memory.

They were stopped once by a clone commander, who double checked their party, pausing slightly at Leia after reviewing her credentials to ask, “You’re from the Senate?”

The careful neutrality of those words, said by a mouth on a face hidden behind a helmet, may have fooled anyone else. Even the atmosphere around him was a mild fuzz of mostly apathy.

But Leia had grown up in the Empire. She’d heard that careful tone when people had talked about her father’s work.

Not imagined hostility then. Great.

“Representative for the Refugee Committee,” she responded succinctly, noticing her tone was clipped and not sure how he would take that. Softer would have been the better option. Even if it didn’t make him like her, he would at least underestimate her. Clipped at best was nervous, worst was pompous. “Traveling with the ship as far as Herdessa.”

Softer would have been better. Already rigid, the commander’s posture somehow found even more stiffness. “Yes, Representative.”

He’d already known that, she assumed as they continued their walk, her eyes trailing to follow him as long as they could without turning her head too much. What else did he know? Or assume?

A sudden worry crossed her mind, and almost without thinking she reached out, asking, “Do you know if the Chancellor has spent any time with the troops? Or sent messages to them?”

There was a start from Anakin and he almost looked back before a wobbly, “No, not more than in the broadcast, when he told everyone they were deploying. Why?”

The last carried a weight of not just confusion but suspicion that Leia was almost proud of. “Curious.”

He seemed dissatisfied by the answer, but surprised her by pulling back.

For a moment, Leia almost felt bereft.

The bridge doors sliding open were an entrance into another nightmare.

Not many troopers up here, and those who were didn’t have their helmets on. But the whole deck crew was in navy uniforms. And almost every person she could see was wearing Jango Fett’s face.

“You maybe didn’t think this all the way through, did you?” Luke at least had the decency to not sound smug. Which was good. Leia was trying very hard not to lose it, and if she’d had to reply, it might have been out loud.

As a scream.

“Breathe,” her brother urged, and Leia dragged a breath in, forcing it through her nose to draw less attention. It was a good thing she was already coiled tight inside herself. She might have gotten Obi-Wan’s attention otherwise.

That thought, that realization, brought her back to the moment in a swell of relief. There he was, at the central command station, there were friends here, she wasn’t alone. It could be…safe. Or close enough.

He finished his conversation over the schematic in front of him before looking up at the new arrivals. His eyes swept back and forth before he allowed himself a mild smile, stepping forward and saying, “Captain. Thank you for joining us. I hope my padawan proved a useful escort.”

“Master Windu saw us through the temple,” the captain said. “Your padawan was picking up the Senate’s…representative.”

That careful neutrality again. But Leia could see in Obi-Wan’s relaxing features that he might have a suspicion of what it meant. At his most urbane, he offered, “Then we’ll have to find him other opportunities to help. I see he brought an extra with you,” Obi-Wan looked down at Artoo even as he addressed Leia.

She couldn’t get him at her back, but having Obi-Wan within arm’s reach as Leia stepped forward pushed the sense of danger back. “Padmé thought you might find a use for him that would suit his programming better than running errands for us. If not, I can take him with me when I go.”

Eyebrows rising, Obi-Wan said, “We’ve been provided astromechs.”

“Are they as good as Artoo?” she asked, adding before he could get clever, “Have they survived Anakin?”

He didn’t quite snort, but his smile was real now and was dancing in his eyes. “Some have. But not Anakin and you.”

She sighed, almost embarrassed she’d given him such a clean opening. “There you go. A rare gift indeed.”

He was paying attention to her now, noticing whatever it was he could see, could sense, when she was all pulled in like this. He’d told her it didn’t register as tension, but he’d learned to be wary of that placidity all the same.

His, “Have you been introduced?” redirected her attention to the officers, and Leia shook her head. A rush of names to followed and Leia spent half her attention on putting names to faces and the other half in getting a feel for the room.

Most of the clones in the trenches were ignoring her, either in favor of trying to get Anakin’s attention or because they were busy at work. The ones at the command station were fairly stealthy about sneaking glances, but she could tell their attention wasn’t on the data in front of them. She’d eavesdropped enough herself at similar stations to have a pretty good idea of what it looked like on the outside.

Captain Block made affirmative noises as Obi-Wan explained how the officers would be working with select clone troopers, helping transition them into ship command. Obi-Wan introduced CC-2224, gesturing the man forward and shifting so that the clone was between Leia and Obi-Wan (less than ideal). The flicker of excitement from Anakin would have been a dead giveaway of favoritism even if Leia hadn’t heard both Obi-Wan and Anakin sing the man’s praises for the past weeks.

The half-lidded glitter of brown eyes she got from CC-2224 wasn’t especially reassuring. The way he angled himself between her and Obi-Wan even less so, although she could appreciate that Obi-Wan had another babysitter.

She made herself look at CC-2224, memorizing his features as well as his presence. She’d have to get over this some time.

A beep from her knees had Leia looking down, listening as Artoo complained that he needed an introduction. Leia glanced at Anakin, who was too caught up in Obi-Wan’s explanations to have noticed.

Gauging the conversation flow and taking a risk, Leia shifted so she could face CC-2224 and murmur, “Lieutenant.”

Half his attention shifted to her as he said, “Yes, Representative.”

“R2-D2 would like to introduce himself to you.”

For one second she got to see the complete surprise on his face, follow by a flicker of suspicion. She didn’t blame him, and was surprised when he gave a short salute to the droid. “You’ll be flying with Commander Skywalker?”

Leia did her best to translate the series of enthusiastic beeps that was an almost delirious yes. Followed by a question she had to get him to repeat before she could pass it on. “He wants to know when he can meet Master Kenobi’s flight partner, to make sure he’s qualified to fly with Anakin’s…operations overseer.”

The literal translation was worth the look she got from CC-2224. “Bossy little fella, isn’t he?”

There was a blat of protest, and that managed to get Anakin’s attention. But Leia still supplied, with a grin, “It’s not bossy. He has superior intelligence in the matter and a mandate to oversee the keeping of the Skywalker clan.”

Which was only a slight surprise. It was no surprise at all when CC-2224 demanded who had given him the mandate and Artoo said, “Threepio.”

“Anakin’s protocol droid,” Leia explained. “His mother and I have loaned Threepio to the Naboo delegation to help with diplomatic matters.”

“I don’t need a keeper,” Anakin protested, catching Obi-Wan’s attention. “Why would Threepio—“

“Padawan,” Obi-Wan was smiling, but it was a cool, neutral thing, “Leia’s teasing.” And before Anakin could call him on the lie, “Could you escort her to her quarters? She doesn’t need to wait on us to settle in. She’ll be staying on the officer’s floor, across from you and me.” As an afterthought, he added, “Take Artoo there for now. We’ll test him with your ship once we’re in hyperspace.”

Anakin gave Leia a questioning look and it took her a moment to realize he was concerned about leaving Artoo with her. She shrugged, then bowed to Obi-Wan. “I’ll stay out of the way. Let me know if you need anything.”

An odd mix of expressions passed over Obi-Wan’s face, and he settled on a polite look to offer a calm, “Anakin and I will be meditating before and after our sleep shifts. If you’d like to join us, you’re always welcome.”

“I may take you up on it,” Leia offered, realizing too late that she’d been too distracted to get a good fix on who might be Palpatine’s main informant while they’d been coming up.

No good. Palpatine already knew about Leia’s Force sensitivity, but she didn’t need him to get the impression she was in serious training. She’d done everything to avoid that, even with her repeated trips to the Temple.

Much better to be underestimated.

But she couldn’t pass up the opportunity to work with Obi-Wan some more, especially given her state right now. If he had any tricks, or even reassurances to offer, she was going to need them.

She was just about to turn for the hall when she remembered Shmi’s message. Taking a half second to weigh the consequences of offering it in public and private, Leia decided out in the open was her safest bet. Besides, if she wanted to confuse Palpatine’s intelligence…

“Oh, I have a message for you from Shmi,” Leia said, smiling as brightly as she could.

Obi-Wan’s embarrassed, artless, “What is it?” was a perfect opening, and Leia stepped into his space and brushed his cheek with her lips before anyone else could so much as blink.

He blustered a bit as she stepped back and Leia smiled as she said, “Anakin has one too.”

She turned to head towards the doors, giving Anakin space to make his own call. The unrepentant glee she felt was enough of a giveaway even before she heard Obi-Wan take a step back, growling, “So help me Anakin, if you kiss me—“

Anakin’s laugh and Obi-Wan’s, “Gurk,” as he was probably squeezed half to death had Leia chuckling under her breath and smiling up at Anakin as he dashed over to join her. “Thanks for reminding me,” he said.

“We’d be in trouble if we forgot,” Leia agreed. “Better not to put it off.”

The mess of emotions from the group behind her was promising in its own way. Especially the tickle of interest that seeped out. She’d like to look to see who it might be coming from, but she’d probably pushed things far enough for now.

She needed a break.

Chapter Text

The amusement of their shared joke faded as Anakin and Leia stepped into the hall and Leia spotted more troopers moving around, the faint haze of her feelings sliding out of sight as if they didn’t exist at all. Anakin wanted to protest, but wasn’t sure what he could say (especially in an open hall) that would make her less…tense.

Knowing she’d avoided it earlier, Anakin still reached out now, pressing the tips of his fingers against her palm, waiting as she looked up, studied him, and then took his hand for just a second before pulling back again.

“I’m okay,” she sent, and even if it hadn’t sounded fainter, almost breathless in his mind, Anakin wouldn’t have believed it.

But out of the hall seemed a better place to corner her on it, so he took off, glad that their rooms weren’t too far from the bridge.

“Did you like him?” Anakin asked, unable to bear complete silence for the whole walk.

Leia glanced up, asking, “Who?”

“CC-2224. What did you think?”

A moment of blankness, then a grin. “He’s very protective of Obi-Wan. A good choice to keep close if you can.”

“He says we give him too much responsibility for a lieutenant,” Anakin admitted. “But it’s kind of hard to help it.”

Another shift to blankness, a stare into the middle distance. “If he’s as good a soldier as he seems, that will probably sort itself out. Quickly.”

There was nothing pleased, nothing reassuring about how she said it. But it still took Anakin a moment to realize what she meant. “Field promotion.”

“Or formal,” she said in that same even, absent way. “But there’s likely to be plenty of opportunity. Either as more troops arrive, or…”

When he didn’t answer right away she did look at him, and her face was apologetic. But Anakin didn’t feel like talking anymore. Artoo’s gloomy beeps from behind them didn’t help either.

They reached the door to her room and Anakin passed her the codes she would need, struck for a moment by how she didn’t take so much as a second to study them, just triggered the locks and entered the room.

It felt…weird.

“Your luggage is here,” he nodded at it, observing how the space was a mirror to his own room, directly across from hers. Narrow bunk, minimal storage space, tiny desk built onto the wall between the bunk and the uncomfortably utilitarian refresher closet. Artoo took up a healthy amount of the limited space, and more as he rocked back and forth in displeasure. “You need anything?”

She was already opening anything with a door, testing the space inside and then the seals when it was closed, glancing into the refresher for a moment, and looking back out to say, “No, I think I’m good. It’s only for a few days. This should be plenty.”

Knowing it was a cramped space, so it would be uncomfortable even if it didn’t make her wary, Anakin still keyed the door shut, blinking in the dim half-light of the room. “You’re not okay.”

Maybe Padmé could have worked up to it. Or Obi-Wan around it. Or Mom past it into the cozy space where scary things felt distant and unreal, okay to talk about. Anakin didn’t have any of those skills and he knew it. But he couldn’t say nothing.

To his surprise, Leia didn’t immediately deny it. Just stared at the bed, her fingers tapping on her thigh, just above her holster. Her gaze slid to him, then away again as her jaw set. “I’m dealing with it.”

“How can I help?” He hadn’t meant to sound so desperate, but there had been moments when they’d been walking, moving, when he’d thought she’d felt threatened. Which didn’t make any sense. It was almost exclusively the brothers on board, and just because they were trained soldiers didn’t mean they hurt people. “What can I do?”

Pity was a new look for Leia to give him, and Anakin found he didn’t like it much. Even less than her condescension. “I’ll be okay. I may stop by while you and Obi-Wan are meditating, but I don’t need…”

Her expression was shifting, and something complicated was playing in her eyes. Anakin offered, “If you want to work just with Obi-Wan, I could ask to do my mediation alone. Mornings or evenings.”

Leia snorted. “I’d prefer to avoid the kind of speculation that might cause. I’m sure I’ll get enough comments as is.”

“Oh,” Anakin hadn’t considered that. Teaching Leia meditation made her Obi-Wan’s student. He wouldn’t take advantage of that sort of thing for—Nope. Not thinking about that. “People would think that?”

Cocking her head, Leia asked, “Not the kind of rumor that goes around the Temple?”

“Not for students,” Anakin protested. “At least, usually not. Not with their teacher. You fool around with other people, so if you get in trouble your master can get you out of it.”

Her voice shifted a bit as she asked, “Something you have a lot of experience in?”

“No!” Anakin hated that he could feel his cheeks heating. “I mean, that’s not—I don’t—Not a lot?”

She was giggling now, and as embarrassed as Anakin was, he could feel her again, and that was something. Maybe worth it. “You’ve been pining after Padmé this whole time, haven’t you?”

Or not. “I’m not pining. I—She’s a…friend.”

And maybe more someday, if he could stop looking like an idiot in front of her (or making her cry).

A complicated twist pulled at Leia’s mouth and she stepped forward, hesitating for a second before putting her hand lightly on his arm. Anakin didn’t dare move. “You care about her.”

That complicated look was still there, but Anakin could see Leia was also trying to understand. He just…didn’t know how to explain it. “She’s a good person,” he said, stumbling over the words. “She always was. I just…knew that.”

“You wanted her to admire you,” Leia said, sounding the words slowly, as if they were a suggestion. “Because that meant you were good too.”

“I—No?” His free hand came up, grasping, but words wouldn’t come. “I mean, yeah, I’d like that, but I don’t think—“

Leia watched his hand for a moment, before taking it. Touching him, on purpose, with both hands. If Anakin knew why this was such a big deal to him, maybe it would make it easier to thank her for it. Or ask.

“She does like you,” Leia said, in an even and light way, so measured Anakin knew she was trying to tell him there was nothing special about it, no particular meaning to it. Just niceness and liking. “And she trusts you quite a bit.” A thin smile. “You did save her life.”

In the grand scheme of all that had happened with the MCA vote, Anakin wasn’t sure how seriously to count hacking a couple of bugs in half, no matter how venomous they were. But he’d take points where he could get them. “I try?”

Smiling again, Leia reached around him to open the door, saying, “That’s what all of us do. What we can.” And then, her smile quirking slightly, “I did steal one message from Padmé for you.”

Her words didn’t make sense, but before Anakin could ask, Leia had boosted up on her toes and kissed his cheek. He didn’t think he made a noise, but he wasn’t sure because he did know his mouth was hanging open. He couldn’t muster the strength to stop her as she pushed him and he almost tripped two steps out of her room.

What the—

“Oh, that was a bad idea,” Leia groaned, rubbing her face, trying to get the image of a gobsmacked Anakin disappearing behind her door out from behind her eyes. She stumbled back and collapsed onto her bed, burying her face in the mattress. “Bad, bad idea.”

Artoo’s complaints about the illogic of organics only partly permeated her awareness as her brother said, “This is why you didn’t want to get involved. You’ll only feel guilty about it in the end, however it turns out.”

“Is it selfish that I want a world where you still exist in it?” she asked before she could think better of it.

She got her just reward, tears pricking in the corners of her eyes when Luke answered, “I do exist here. I’m with you, aren’t I?”

And he didn’t say it, but Leia did because she knew it was what he was thinking, “Even if they had a son, even if they named him Luke Skywalker, he wouldn’t be you. And that’s…probably for the best.”

Her whole body recoiled at the thought. Even Luke seemed uncomfortable. “I don’t want Anakin to fall to the darkside again,” Luke said. “I would have loved growing up with you, with all of us getting to be a family. But that doesn’t mean it’s inherently better if it goes that way.” She thought his pause was to let her digest that, but then he surprised her by saying, “You don’t want to be born again?”

So he had noticed that silence. “I’m sort of already in this world. Not sure it can handle two of me.”

“But she wouldn’t be you,” Luke pointed out, “even if she was ‘Leia.’”

It twisted and writhed in her, like the feeling she got when Padmé talked about how important Leia was to them, or when Shmi staked a claim on Leia. Part of it was a warmth, love and understanding. The other part…

“It’s not going to happen,” Leia sighed, “so it doesn’t matter in any event.”

There was a long silence from her brother before he said, “Do we know what will happen because you chose to be here?”

Squirming into a more comfortable position, Leia grumbled, “No…”

“It seems unlikely,” Luke offered, “but maybe you should think about what you would do if it did.”

If Padmé and Anakin…had children? A brother and sister? Twins?

It was sort of unfathomable to Leia. But then, her perspective of Anakin vacillated between a lanky man-child and an existential terror with the power to uproot and devastate the galaxy, so maybe she wasn’t the best judge. “She could do so much better.”

Luke laughed, but there was something sad to it. “Maybe. I guess we’ll just have to find out. Together.”

Together. From…a certain point of view.

It was a good thing Obi-Wan wasn’t in the room at the moment. Leia didn’t feel especially charitable towards him and wouldn’t have been able to explain.

The members of the Senate who were on the Refugee Committee were a mixed lot. Predominantly those who had been part of its forming, or interested in the principle, but a few overseers as well, less invested in the outcome and more on limiting the budget requests.

Senator Aak was the worst of the bunch Padmé thought, and had to bite her lips again as he addressed a remark to the RRM members who were being introduced.

“…limit ourselves to reasonable requests,” he murmured, “is how we’ll be able to do the most good.”

Klara looked ready to hit him, but Shmi’s expression hadn’t shifted at all. The placid blankness of it seemed to reassure Senator Aak, and Padmé’s frustration turned to a captured giggle.

She didn’t like remembering where Shmi had learned tricks like that, but they were useful.

“It sounds,” Klara’s voice cut through the silence, “like the budget expenditures of hiring us are about as much as the Senate was willing to commit to. And we’ll be expected to requisition funds and supplies and personnel, from volunteer systems.”

“We’re coordinators,” Senator Aak agreed, tone slick and satisfied. “Making it easier on those volunteer systems, in this time of great distress.”

Before Klara could make another comment, Bail interposed with, “Our charter mandate is fairly broad, but all political matters in the Senate do come down to the willing participation of member systems and sectors. Our hope is that if we can make good use of our time and talents now, if the battlefield expands, more Republic systems will feel safe turning to us, knowing we have a reputation for helping people. Should the matter escalate, and more systems be at risk, there are better odds of being able to receive more funding and staff.”

“Provided we are offering a needed and useful service,” Senator Aak reiterated.

Shmi, who hadn’t spoken at all beyond stating her name, asked, “What would this committee need to provide for you to consider, should the need arise, requisitioning our services for your people?”

He hadn’t been expecting that one, Padmé knew, and was glad to catch Bail’s eye and see the amusement lurking at the corner of his mouth.

“I hardly think…” Senator Aak began. “I’m sure that isn’t going to be an issue.”

“Unless I’m mistaken, Malastare sits directly on one of the major hyperlanes,” Shmi said, no malice or particular weight to her tone, just simple factual antipathy. “And is a major trade center for that region of space. I suspect, given that the Trade Federation moves much business through there, that it would be an ideal target if the Confederacy persists in taking military action against the Republic.”

“Perhaps the Federation would consider contributing to our cause,” Padmé hadn’t meant to speak much at this meeting, but couldn’t let this opportunity slide, “should their trade interests be threatened in such a way.”

The absolute refusal to contribute from the coalition, given the “grievous” and “unprecedented” financial struggles they were dealing with as half of their board defected to a seditious government, had made Padmé want to scream. They were requesting a bailout, of all things. And at such a moment.

“Regardless of their investment,” Shmi pressed, “what conditions would this committee need to meet, Senator Aak, in order to be of service to your people at such a time?”

Sinking into his seat, the senator answered, “I will have to consider the question. It is not a matter I’d previously entertained.”

“Please do,” Shmi said, making a note. “Many of the systems represented here are present because they feel they can offer aide, and don’t plan to request it. Yours would be the most likely to need such help, and we would want to build our network in such a way that it would be of use to you and yours. Should the need arise.”

“Herdessa,” Senator Aak corrected, “is currently the most at-risk system on this committee.”

Shmi blinked a few times. “Of course. My mistake.”

Chapter Text

Waking up surprised Leia. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep, so it took a moment for her to realize what was going on, that someone was at her door waiting to be let in.

It was Obi-Wan. She knew that before she opened for him. Only he would invade with enough politeness to make her struggle to move from sleep to full consciousness. Urgency was the key to her instant alertness skill, and he was as placid and unhurried as she’d ever seen him.

Suspiciously so.

She ran an eye up and down him, surprised by how much his Jedi robes in this environment irked her. There was just something about them…

(He died in them, she remembered. In clothes that looked like these, on a station that resembled this, by Va—)

“Did you need something?” It came out harsher than she had intended, and she would blame it on sleep if he asked.

He didn’t. Just quirked an eyebrow and bowed, the exaggerated formality of it making her lips twitch even as she offered apology in the Force. By the twist of his own mouth, he accepted. “I was just wondering if you would mind accompanying me to, well I suppose this will be my dinner. I’m not sure how the meals are being officially classified.”

“You’re not running on Coruscant standard?” she asked, gesturing to Artoo that he should stay behind. He beeped in protest, but she didn’t want him underfoot at the moment. “I would have thought, since you’re coordinating with the Temple…”

“We probably are,” Obi-Wan acknowledged, nodding to a group of soldiers as they passed (and if Obi-Wan in Jedi robes was a hard image, Obi-Wan surrounded by troopers…). “I’ll admit I hadn’t thought to ask. I assume Captain Block is used to running on that time, or in alignment with planet of origin. He hasn’t asked me yet.”

“Who would know?” Leia asked, a little baffled how that hadn’t been part of the deployment briefing. Or pre-deployment planning. Timing was crucial to running these sorts of things.

“The Council,” Obi-Wan said, “if they’ve even thought about it. On Jedi missions you tend to be responsible for setting your own schedule, in line with your assignment. Reports back to Coruscant are processed through our communications hub, which runs day and night on planet. They wake masters in case of emergency.”

“You should probably bring it up,” Leia said, easing into the suggestion as best she could. “It’s not… It could be really important.”

He nodded. “I can imagine.”

They were quiet then, and Leia turned her full attention to their surroundings, trying to familiarize herself with these new walls and floors.

And men.

The further they moved from the bridge, the more clones moved about without helmets on, or in partial armor, or varied uniforms. The percentage of engineers and deck crew to troops was heavily weighted towards white armor, but sometimes it was the dozen pairs of the same eyes looking at her that made Leia truly uncomfortable.

The hostility was banked, but present.

It took her two floors to realize that Obi-Wan was hovering especially close on purpose, not just to save space in the halls. His smiles to those they passed were friendly, as Leia would have expected, but his posture next to her was unguarded. She was so used to thinking of hands neatly tucked behind the back as professional military posture, she hadn’t stopped to think why Obi-Wan was adopting it here and now. It could be a new habit he was adopting. But given how close he was choosing to stand, how deliberately sunny his smile was when they passed particularly stiff groups.

It left him open to her, exposed. Suggested trust.

There weren’t words to express how much she appreciated that. But she hoped he felt it.

A gentle hum in the Force around her suggested he did.

When they reached the mess, Leia realized two things. First, it wasn’t the officers’ mess. She should have recognized that as they had traversed floors. Second, Anakin was not waiting for them inside.

But a host of clones was.

“Dare I ask where your padawan is?” Leia murmured as they moved to pick up trays and accept their ration allotment.

“Entertaining our new crew members,” Obi-Wan’s smile was more than a bit mischievous. “I wanted to give him another chance to make a good impression, since he seems to have been a bit tongue tied this afternoon.”

He made a face at the food that was put on his plate, but the shift was subtle. Leia looked down at her own tray and mentally shrugged. Hardly the worst thing she’d ever been offered, especially on a military transport.

“Should I be grateful that your distinct lack of authority over me means you can’t resort to petty revenge tactics when I embarrass you?” she asked as they started to move towards a table. The mix of expressions from the current occupants was telling. Obi-Wan was welcome. Leia was not.

“Revenge is not the Jedi way,” Obi-Wan said solemnly, indicating she move one row down to a table with a bit more space. “I would never—“

“You’re trapped on a ship with him,” Leia interrupted cheerfully as they took their seats. “You keep cornering him like this, he’s going to get creative about getting back at you. Petty revenge or not.”

That seemed to catch Obi-Wan’s attention. “I will…bear that in mind.” He looked across at the nearest clone instead of taking a first bite, asking, “Have you been introduced?”

The answer was obviously going to be a no, and the clone shook his head, only sparing a half glance at Leia before turning back to his food. Since being offended seemed like a waste of time and energy, Leia just took her own bite, only halfway noticing how it tasted.

“Leia this is CC-5576-39. Also CT-307, CT-8867, and CT-8868. They, ah, helped me get around quite a bit while I was still recovering the use of my legs.” She nodded, not sure what best oblique politeness would be appropriate here. When she didn’t speak, Obi-Wan added, “This is Leia Skywalker. She’ll be traveling with us until we reach Herdessa.”

There was a slight flicker of interest at her name, some more focused looks. CC-5576-39 asked, “You related to the commander?”

Swallowing (there was a tiny twist, and ache for when she would have unabashedly, enthusiastically, affectionately said yes), Leia answered, “His mother adopted me.”

And left it at that. One of the others asked, “Before or after he was a Jedi?”

So they had some knowledge of that, Leia mused. But by Obi-Wan’s sudden constraint, probably not much. Or was he embarrassed to be reminded of Shmi just now? “A little over a year ago. We met on Tatooine and traveled to Naboo together.”

The shift at the mention of “Naboo” almost had Leia narrowing her eyes. But she forced herself to look down instead and keep working her way through her meal.

It wouldn’t take long. Not at this rate. Unless she slowed down to Obi-Wan’s pace. He seemed to be contemplating each bite very carefully.

CC-5576-39 said, “That much better than what they serve at the Senate?” When she looked up, a question in her eyes, he nodded at her plate. “Would’ve thought they had fancier supplies.”

“Oh they do,” Leia agreed. “But I never eat in their refectory if I can avoid it. No one does.” At the curious looks, she added, “It has to cater to all of the staff for all of the delegations. Minding dietary restrictions, separating out things that are poisonous to some species, mixing seasonings and ingredients from different cultures and sub-cultures.” She paused before adding, “It’s like walking into a room that smells of wet marching socks, spring roses, and vinegar, and being expected to put that smell in your mouth.”

The wide-eyed stares and hanging mouths were exactly the reaction she had been going for. She’d even gotten Obi-Wan. With gleeful precision, she took another hearty bite.

“People eat in there?” CT-8867 demanded.

Leia nodded. “Average staffers don’t have a lot of choice about it. And for some it’s not as big an issue. The sense of smell of your species impacts how much it bothers you, and plenty of people get their food and take it elsewhere.”

“You’re not average staff,” CT-307 noticed.

“Central staff,” Leia agreed easily. “Most of the senators miss the midday meal, or arrange meetings around it. They’ll have local places they’re used to catering from, or personal chefs,” she added with a half frown. “Evening meals are taken at home, or are more formal, diplomatic meetings. Lots of ordering in food for those, catering to your guest. Which,” she pointed out, “is only better than the refectory depending on your guest.”

There was a long pause before CT-8867 asked, “If you’re central staff for the Naboo senator, how did you end up here?”

“Padmé’s on the new Refugee Committee,” Leia answered easily. “And Naboo is providing ancillary staff for it, since we’ll be basing the policies and procedures off Naboo’s Refugee Relief Movement. As an organization, it works with other systems, but it’s based out of Naboo, and most of the expertise is on our planet. Shmi would have come,” Leia added, “Anakin’s mom. But bureaucratic holdups meant they couldn’t get her to Coruscant in time. I was the next best option.”

There was more than a hint of curiosity coming from Obi-Wan at her openness. Leia knew she was cagey and secretive to the extreme. But it wasn’t doing her any favors here. She could see that she’d already unsettled the people within earshot with her demeanor. She wasn’t what they’d expected.

Good. Maybe they would think about that.

“What made you the next best option?” CC-5576-39 asked.

Leia met his gaze, shoved another bite in her mouth, chewed slowly and swallowed. Made sure she was collecting everyone’s attention. “My familiarity with the Outer Rim. And my evacuation experience.”

Shoving a last bite into her mouth, Leia stood before anyone could ask more questions, patting Obi-Wan on the shoulder. “You’ll want to learn to eat faster than that,” she admonished. “You’ve got maybe a week before any meal you sit down to is an open invitation for someone to call you for an emergency meeting.”

She wasn’t sure if his helpless look was for the food, or her prediction. “Surely not,” he almost pleaded.

Leia just smiled. “Interrupted meals aren’t so bad. You learn how to take what you can with you and eat on the run. Interrupted sleep’s always annoying though. And interrupted showers are the worst.”

She breezed off before Obi-Wan could voice an objection, dropping her tray off and gliding out the door.

Yes, she’d given them all something to think about.

Shmi leaned back in her chair, looking over the group still assembled and frowning slightly. “That was not what I had expected.”

Padmé forced herself not to shift, though guilt sat heavily with her. She and Sabé had discussed, over and over, how best to approach settling Shmi in. Her awareness of political matters had grown by leaps and bounds while she’d helped the RRM, and she knew even from Naboo’s council how hard it could be to get good people to agree to not just sit back but to do something. But Coruscant was always going to be different and Padmé had decided not giving Shmi too many built in expectations would be best for her.

If she’d been wrong…

“How was it different?” Bail asked, sounding interested but not concerned.

Shmi considered it for a moment. “You were all very quiet. I’m used to hearing you speak, and expect to be listened to. You let him do quite a bit of talking.”

Before Padmé could explain or defend their actions, Shea said, “You didn’t say very much either. Even though we weren’t speaking.”

It wasn’t exactly an accusation, and Padmé swallowed any defensive reply as Shmi nodded. “No. Because I am used to being quiet when others are more qualified to speak.” She quickly added, “But I suppose I’m supposed to be here because I am the most qualified to speak.”

“You are,” Bail agreed. “You and Klara, and anyone else you choose to bring in to consult with us. Senator Aak’s concerns represent real feelings in the Senate. Not just about our committee, but about all committees. We’re expensive to run, frequently create and lobby for restrictive legislation, and don’t serve the needs of every single system in the Republic. But we’re necessary, and we brought you because you are worth it.”

“Your opinions matter,” Padmé insisted. “Your voice does. Even if it doesn’t always feel like it.”

She should have kept the last to herself. She got looks from both Shmi and Bail that said they would be talking later. But it was Shea that added, “You did a good job handling Senator Aak. Those kinds of questions are important for stopping him from being a spoiler for our work.” A moment’s hesitation before she added, “You have good skills for dealing with people in power. We’ll try and sharpen them even further, so you have more space for your voice to be heard, not just when it’s crucial but when it’s lower stakes as well.”

“Aside from reigning in Senator Aak,” Klara spoke, “and from offering our procedures and contacts, what are you hoping we’ll accomplish by being here.”

“Stories,” Bail said firmly. “Leia will be collecting what she can from new refugees, and you’ve brought ones from people helped by the RRM. But your stories in particular are valuable. You were on planet during the Trade Federation occupation. You know first-hand what the greatest concerns for an occupied population are, what they need if they’re going to stay, what is enough to motivate them to go.” Turning to Shmi he added, “You’re familiar with longer term effects of deprivation and lack of assistance from the Republic. You know what would get the people you grew up with to accept help, even if they don’t trust us.”

He looked to Padmé, who added, “We know we’re ignorant of a lot of things, being not just in the influence of the Republic, but being sheltered at the heart of it. We have money, we have ships, we have pilots, we have supplies. We don’t know how to talk to people, to get them to trust us. We’re hoping you can help us be trustworthy, and the rest will sort itself out.”

Klara seemed moved by these speeches, but it was harder to tell with Shmi. She studied Padmé for a long moment before turning to the notes she had taken during the meeting. “Being trustworthy means telling the truth,” Shmi said firmly. “No matter how ugly it is. Politically risky,” she added, looking back up at the senators.

It was Shea who answered, “If you want us to have the power to help you, we’re going to have to still play good politics. Only Bail’s seat is safe enough on Alderaan that he can’t be ousted by short shifts in sentiment.”

“But we can create lines of communication,” Padmé said, thinking it through. “Isolate more political ones, make sure refugees know what our code words and phrases are, for managing our public facing reports. Make sure we distinguish between guarantees and we’ll-try-our-best offers.”

“We’ll need a better handle on what we can guarantee then,” Shea said, starting to make notes of her own. “Let me confirm with the guilds what stops on Herdessa will look like and we’ll start working on language, for the broader public and for the refugees.”

“We’ll need it done for Leia’s first call,” Klara pointed out. “They’re already starting to move people. The quicker we have a cohesive message, the neater it will be, and the less likely for there to be backlash later.”

“We’ll need it started,” Shea said firmly. “I don’t think we can finish a comprehensive long-term campaign on the Republic scale in one week. But we can have language for Herdessa well under way, and Leia’s good at improvising. She’ll keep us posted too, if she comes up with anything herself, as long as we can give her broad guidelines.”

“Clarify the role our committee will play, outline processing on Herdessa, put together a list of systems that have promised to take refugees and what housing and occupational options they are offering,” Shmi said, making a list. “To start with. Anything else?”

“Childcare and placement,” Bail said. “We’ll need to be very careful about the language, but we may be able to get some families to move their children, or part of their family, if not everyone. We’ll need good tracking for that though. Impeccable.”

“The system the RRM worked out has been great so far,” Shea said. “Not invasive enough people feel like they’re being tagged and sold, but detailed enough we’ve been able to sort things out with missing persons and runaways. And on Herdessa that’s no small feat.”

“What about troop movement?” Senator Darsana had been typically quiet the entire time, and his question now got all of their attention. “We of course can’t provide information that would compromise our military actions, but how many of these people are going to run into the Grand Republic Army while they are being moved? What kind of treatment can they expect if they do?”

“Our ships have codes and markers to signify not just allies, but transporting at risk civilians,” Padmé said. “Leia was adamant about that and harassed the Council until they created a code system she felt was not only thorough but hard enough to fake it wouldn’t end up being used as infiltration cover.”

“She will never cease to amaze me,” Shea muttered, shaking her head. “Where does she come up with this stuff?”

“Does it work?” Senator Darsana asked, ever practical.

“Security experts at the Temple were in love with it,” Klara offered, looking at Shmi who was smiling. “We had to go over it with them since the RRM hasn’t stopped operating and we needed to adopt a similar method for safe travel. There was that one—“

She stopped at Shmi’s raised brow. Padmé made sure to catch Shmi’s eye, hopeful she might share the full story later. The return look seemed promising.

“Which still leaves the matter of what the refugees can expect,” Bail said. “I know the Jedi approve of the formation of this committee, but I don’t know how that translates into what the troops think, or how they’ll act.”

“Can we ask them?” Shmi said, ever practical.

“They aren’t really on planet anymore,” Shea said, frowning.

“Except for the injured,” Bail noted.

“And the Coruscant deployment,” Senator Darsana added. “They’re being training by local security forces to reinforce Senate security if needed. But we’ve been asked not to interfere with that matter.”

“As a committee?” Klara asked.

“As senators,” Bail clarified. “I’m not sure I agree with all the reasons, but the Chancellor was fairly adamant. He didn’t want us…distracting them.”

There was a particular twist to his mouth when he said it that Padmé wasn’t entirely familiar with. She couldn’t catch his eye either, to see if there was more he was willing to share.

“What about the injured?” Shmi asked. “Are they well enough we could visit?”

“Some yes, some no,” Bail said. “And we can’t reach the ones at the Temple without special invitation from the Council. They’re unlikely to say yes unless we have a very specific reason to come, and can’t get help anywhere else. They’ve been…more protective of their space since their recruitment to the head of the military.”

“Would we have better odds if we visit the troops at Central first?” Padmé asked. “To demonstrate this isn’t about the Jedi, but about us and what we’re trying to do?”

“Possibly,” Bail agreed. “It’s worth a try.”

“When can we go?” Shmi asked, and there was something in the set of her jaw that made Padmé pause. It was subtle, but implacable, Padmé thought.

“Now, if I can arrange it,” Bail said, apologetic. “I know it’s late, but if you’re willing—“

“Yes,” Shmi said, and there was no hesitation to it. But she did look to Klara afterwards and say, “It does not need both of us. If you’d rather rest?”

It took Klara a moment to answer. “How many of us do you need?”

“I’ll need to be there,” Bail said, “But I think a smaller party is better to start. They haven’t had any visitors so far, aside from Jedi healers, making sure they are progressing well. I’m not sure how…vulnerable they feel right now. Fewer outsiders might be better.”

“I’ll go,” Shmi said, her glance to Padmé only loosely seeking permission. “Anyone else?”

“I would like to attend,” Senator Darsana said, standing.

Padmé hesitated, then looked to Klara. “We’ll take you home and get you settled. Bail, can you see Shmi back to us when you’re finished?”

“Of course,” he promised. “It would be my pleasure.”

Chapter Text

Leia lowered her blaster, glancing at her accuracy score and grimacing. Better, but still not what it needed to be. She’d been away from heavy blasters for too long.

And wasn’t that an irony.

Movement on her left caught her eye and she looked up to see CC-5576-39 watching her, frowning. When her eyes met his he offered, “Not bad.”

“Could be better,” she sighed, rolling her shoulders. “I’m out of practice.”

The space immediately around her filled with sharp silence. CC-5576-39 said, “You took to them pretty quickly. You’ve handled similar before?”

“Off and on,” Leia said, glancing down at the weapon in her hands. Similar in shape to ones from the future, the switches for certain features in slightly different places. She’d spent most of her first day in here acclimating to that, starting to retrain her hands to make adjustments by feel.

Most of the weapons weren’t equipped with stun settings. Something to keep in mind.

The men’s nerves had been high enough that day that she’d forgone shooting, but day two they’d been more amenable to her presence and she’d done a couple of practice rounds with training weapons. Similar shape and weight, fewer problems on a misfire.

Today there was more open curiosity, more interest. But only CC-5576-39 was willing to approach and ask questions. “Didn’t think you were going to be on the ground with us.”

“Intentionally, probably not,” Leia said, accepting that she was tired and that unless she was willing to pull on the Force, she wasn’t going to do herself any more favors staying here. She started to pack up. “But the odds of ending up on at least one planet where there’s active fighting is more than high enough for me to take the chance and practice now. Freezing up then will have consequences.”

“Wouldn’t have thought your senator would like that,” CC-5576-39 tossed out, pretending to watch the clone who stepped into Leia’s place. A clone that was pretending to prep to shoot as if he wasn’t just as keyed into the conversation.

“Padmé? She might be jealous that I’m getting more diverse practice than she is, but she’d kill me if I gave up my daily sessions just because I was out of town.” At his wide-eyed stare Leia added, “She and her handmaidens are fully trained in multiple forms of self-defense. Blasters are easiest to stay in practice with. Nothing as heavy as these though,” Leia nodded to the weapon she had just put down and its mates. “Needs to fit in her gala dresses.”

Another wave of silence around them. CC-5576-39 said, “I thought she was anti-violence.”

“Who told you that?” Leia asked, almost laughing. “She’s the reason Naboo has a standing army. She negotiated peace with the gungans so they could fight the Federation invasion.”

It was carefully calculated, and a lot of eyes were on her now, no longer pretending to not be interested. One of the other clones said, “The what?”

Frowning, Leia asked, “What do you know about the Trade Federation?”

“Member of the Republic,” CC-5576-39 answered promptly. “Trade organization, preeminent among the Republic systems. Had some…defections in regards to the Separatist movement. Still recovering.”

“They didn’t tell you about the invasion of Naboo?”

“The blockade?” one of the others asked, hesitance in the set of his shoulders. “About ten years ago?”

“Of course you—“ someone began, before he was elbowed into silence.

Leia considered her options. “You’ll get different versions depending on who you ask. General Kenobi was involved in helping resolve the conflict, so he can probably give you some of the best details. Or Anakin,” she offered. “He was there for part of it.” She saw faces twisting as a few of the clones did the math on that. “Short version, the Federation didn’t like their new taxes, and blockaded Naboo as an aggressive negotiation tactic. When that didn’t work, they landed battle droids on the planet and tried to convince Queen Amidala to hand over planet control. She refused, and when the Senate failed to offer adequate support, she begged the other local sentient population, who’d been actively hostile for several hundred years, to lend a hand since the Federation takeover was harming both groups. Their maneuvers worked, Padmé had the gungans integrated as full citizens, and they represent the majority of Naboo’s defense forces now. Padmé’s left control and management of their army in the gungan’s hands, and she never considered disbanding them.”

In the continuing silence, Leia added, “Padmé and her coalition stood against the Military Creation Act for many reasons, but it wasn’t because she won’t ever use violence. She was just furious that the Senate hadn’t done more peaceful and proactive negotiating with the Separatists before things became unmanageable.”

“They’ve been prepping droids for years,” the clone in Leia’s old spot said, disdain in his tone and posture.

Leia shrugged. “Sith plots. Not actually representative of the full Separatist movement. Most of them probably weren’t aware—” At the continuing blank looks, she felt fury rise. Rubbing her forehead she said, “Has anyone told you why you’re fighting these people?”

Over the mumbled yeses, CC-5576-39 said, “Don’t need to. We’re soldiers. This is our job. We follow orders.”

“Obedience bought and paid for,” one of them added, tapping his head. “Chips included to help make sure we don’t get too feisty.”

“What?”

Something constricted in Leia’s gut, twisting in painful ways. She felt rage, cold and sparkling at first, flaring into a burn like twin suns in the back of her mind. She wasn’t sure who was more angry right now, her or Luke.

Awkward looks were traded before the clone by Leia added, “We’re not forced or anything. We make our own choices and all that. Just…more amenable, you might say. To make teamwork easier as we transition between commanders. Build in some of that cohesiveness.”

“And keep us in line,” CC-5576-39 acknowledged. “We get made in large enough batches, they can’t catch all the faulty ones before we’re shipped out. Helps prevent divergents from getting scrapped.”

It was a pity, Leia thought distantly, that none of these men were going to be in the room when Leia told Padmé about this. They were going to miss a truly excellent display of exactly how violent the senator could get when she was provoked.

(There was a memory, not hers, burning in the back of her mind, of a middle-aged woman she shouldn’t know but was definitely Beru, shaking her head and saying, “We never got it out. Cliegg turned it off of course, once he freed her. But we couldn’t get a surgeon, couldn’t get it out. She’s buried with it.”)

“Scrapped,” Leia repeated, the word empty as it slid past her lips, echoing in the room. At the nods, she found herself grinding out, “You’re not things…”

But the fury had nowhere to go. This was the whole point, the whole purpose she was sure, behind Palpatine engaging clones on any side. Efficient, effective, human enough to provoke attachment, to start fights. Products, bought and paid for.

(She was going to kill him. She was going to kill him long and slow, and stars preserve her but she was going to enjoy every minute of it.)

Sucking in a breath before anyone could respond, Leia held up a hand and said, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t fully briefed on your circumstances. I need to talk to General Kenobi.”

And possibly rip his head off. If he knew about this (if he didn’t know about this)…

“You need an escort?” CC-5576-39 asked, still watching her carefully as the rest of the clones deliberately went back to their practice.

Leia let the new rounds of shots echo for a few seconds before answering, “No. Thank you. I should be able to find him by myself.”

Tension settled into her shoulders as Shmi stepped out of Bail’s transport, looking over the stark white lines of the building in front of her, frowning as she watched the sterile neatness of the figures moving within.

She had no particular objection to Core medicine practices. They had their practical purpose. But something about the atmosphere of this place disturbed her. Not as she looked into individual faces. There was compassion, kindness, determination there. But around the space, as if, as if…

“Overwhelming?” Bail asked quietly as he stepped out beside her, his expression open and friendly and earnestly concerned.

It was no mystery to Shmi why Leia liked this man so much. He had the usual blind spots for a man of his position and privilege, but like Leia (or Padmé or Shea), he seemed to be willing to correct them, where he could. And his affection and admiration for Shmi was entirely unfeigned, if utterly inexplicable. Shmi knew for a fact he knew dozens of people as intelligent or clever as she was, if not more so. Hard working too, or people that had struggled.

But he seemed predisposed to like her, and she did wonder a little if that was Padmé and Leia’s fault (especially Leia’s, did she know the effect she had on this man?), or some other quirk of his character. Or Shmi’s.

“This planet is quite a bit overwhelming,” Shmi said, glancing behind them back to the squares of traffic that crisscrossed in layers through the sky. “This place, less so. But I do not like it. It’s…empty.”

The impression stayed with her as they entered the building and were greeted by an escort.

“Not an especially welcoming place,” Senator Darsana commented, and Shmi wondered if he was commenting on her observation. “But then, its purpose is utilitarian. It doesn’t just house the ill and injured. There is a great deal of research done here.”

Why that required so many white walls and floors, such slick, empty spaces, and a faint tang of something almost acidic in the air, Shmi didn’t know. But then, she’d only been living in the Mid Rim for a year. Tatooine medicine had been…very homey in comparison. There was no other option.

“There is money built into the walls,” Shmi found herself murmuring, noticing the pristine sheen of things. “This is a temple to it.”

That was the trouble, she thought. An incongruence of intention. This was a hospital, supposedly a place of healing. But when Senator Darsana said research…

“An interesting perspective,” the anselmi waved his hand and it felt like some sort of acknowledgement. “Probably not entirely inaccurate.”

A sigh from Bail said he also agreed, and there was a slight slump to his shoulders as he looked around them again, his eyes pinching slightly. “They do a lot of work here. Developing medical technology, fighting diseases.”

“Exporting it,” Senator Darsana added, taking, Shmi thought, too much pleasure in prodding Bail’s sore spot. “Charging for it.”

“We do what we must,” Shmi interrupted, not wanting to bring more negativity to this atmosphere. It couldn’t be good for those who were healing. “Some of us even for the right reasons.”

Senator Darsana was politely silent at that.

Shmi wondered how many times Bail had already visited. When she asked, he said, “Once or twice, and early on. Most of the soldiers were sedated, or in bacta, so I haven’t had much chance to speak with them. I’m hoping we can do more this time to reassure them, if they need it.”

Two doctors met them as they approached a bustling hall, greeting Bail and letting him introduce his companions. There was the slightest hesitation when he presented Shmi, but it seemed more curious than hostile. She offered a gentle smile and was rewarded with the assurance she had soothed them.

“There’s no major change from our initial reports,” one of them was saying as the party moved along. “We lost the fifteen we had expected too, even with the Jedi’s help. There’s two more we’re less certain about. Even if they survive, we’re not sure they’ll be of much use in the war effort. At least, not any time soon. One’s missing a leg, the other may have too much deep tissue damage to his left side, no bacta early enough, to have the mobility he’ll need.”

“Are they upset at being kept on these premises?” Shmi asked, making careful note of both doctor’s expressions as the first answered.

“They are…displeased that their ship was the first casualty. Some might believe it dishonors them. But they’re pretty accepting of being kept here. They know if they don’t recover they won’t be of use to the army.”

“I see,” Shmi said, and while the doctor didn’t react in any particular way, she noticed Bail shift slightly.

They were led into a room with an open floor, bacta tanks at the far end, lined up against the wall, figures in each one. The rest of the room was filled with beds and other medical machines, crammed together in a way that told Shmi this floor normally held fewer patients. There were also a dozen staff scuttling about, checking the machines, poking at patients, two speaking in low tones to each other, heads bent over a datapad.

The patients were mostly unconscious.

Many had casts or braces, or were encased in equipment around areas of their body that made Shmi ache with concern. While the atmosphere around them was energetic, it didn’t seem overwhelmed or panicked.

Those men that were not asleep were mostly in their beds, reading from datapads or going through exercises while medical personnel watched and recorded data. Some of them silently watched the room, spines straight as they sat tucked under blankets, or with their legs over the edge of the beds.

One was an exception. He’d been standing next to one of his brother’s beds, listening to someone Shmi recognized, his posture tight and stiff, his eyes not moving, barely blinking. The man in the bed was asleep, half his body wrapped in what looked like very odd bandages to Shmi.

The standing brother looked up and caught Shmi’s eyes for a moment, then shifted his glance to take in her companions. He seemed to ease just the tiniest bit when he saw Bail, not with trust but registering a non-threat.

A subtle difference Shmi was intimately familiar with.

Master Allie, who had been talking to him, noticed his attention shift and spotted Shmi, smiling and waving.

After listening to the doctors explain how things had improved and settled, Senator Darsana wandered off to compare the notes they had been given to what he could see, and Bail asked for details on how the deaths were being handled.

It would have been interesting, but Shmi knew she could ask him for those details later. She had more important work to do right now.

Drifting from Bail’s side, Shmi moved to where Master Allie had gone, a new bed with a sleeping patient.

The faces were all the same.

Not exactly the same. There were plenty of scars and burns to distinguish this group now. But the nose, the shape of the eyes, the line of the jaw, the curve of the ear. The arch of the brows, the creases in the forehead that added age where there shouldn’t be any sign of it. Shmi pressed the tips of her fingers against the arm near her, feeling the uncanny smoothness of the sheet that covered the man in front of her and letting herself sit with the unsettled feeling that sensation brought.

“He’s not supposed to wake up until his next PT round.”

Looking up didn’t require Shmi to move her head, but she did it anyway, to make sure she met this face and these eyes directly. “I don’t intend to wake him. He should be resting. He is not well yet.”

It looked like the man would protest, but Master Allie shifted, catching his attention and smiling and he just nodded. “They’re trying to get us up and going as quick as possible. Can’t ship out until we’ve got the right numbers.”

Instead of answering, Shmi reached out with her other hand, not in a formal greeting but a gentle extension. It took a moment before he accepted it, a confused look on his face as he stared at their fingers. When it didn’t appear that he was taking any comfort from the touch, Shmi gently extracted herself. “My name is Shmi Skywalker,” she told him, offering the warmest smile she could. “What may I call you?”

“I’m CT-7567, si—Representative. Sir.” He didn’t seem to be able to help his fidgeting, kept looking to Master Allie, and Shmi was reminded strongly of Anakin as a child, waiting for a scold.

Her smile grew. “Shmi is fine. I am not an elected member of the Senate, CT-7567. I’m a consultant for one of their committees.”

He didn’t seem to notice that she didn’t name which one. Which concerned her. He either didn’t think he should be curious, or had experienced denial when he’d asked questions in the past. He glanced at Master Allie again before saying, “Shmi then.”

“I didn’t realize you were coming.” The Jedi took note of something from one of the machines, glancing at Shmi to add, “It’s good to see you.”

“Leia seems to have kept it quite secret that I was coming,” Shmi sighed, and was grateful for the sense of empathy she got from Master Allie. “She didn’t even tell Anakin.”

“Why?” Master Allie’s mouth was almost hanging open. She sounded almost offended as she added, “He would have been so happy to see you.”

“He was,” Shmi reassured. “We crossed paths before he and Leia left. But I hadn’t realized she wasn’t telling anyone who didn’t already know because they were part of the recruitment.”

Master Allie studied her patient for a few moments, exploring with gentle touches, before saying, “Her reservation is understandable. Given that distributing your travel plans…” Her eyes flicked to CT-7567 for a moment before saying, “She likely remembers what happened to the senator’s handmaiden. I don’t believe they’ve apprehended the bounty hunter.”

“I’m hardly likely to be a target,” Shmi started, and was a little surprised when Master Allie shook her head.

“Worry isn’t always dictated by reason,” she said. “And even if it were, the RRM has been a target of terrorism in the last months. You should talk to her, if you can, about those concerns. See if they are unmanageable. But don’t disregard them. Position doesn’t always dictate if you become a political target.”

While Shmi thought about that, Master Allie turned to CT-7567 and said, “He’s doing well, but let me know if he keeps having trouble with the dreams. Most of the others aren’t, in spite of the intensity of the incident. That may be coincidence, but either way we’ll need to make sure he gets proper care.”

CT-7567 nodded. “I’ll let you know right away if anyone notices anything.”

Not sure what Master Allie considered an intense situation, Shmi asked him, “Can you tell me a bit more about how all of you got here? I know there was some sort of fight, but I wasn’t on planet when it occurred and don’t know the details.”

He gave her a very short, thin description of what had to have been a very harrowing collision and race to Coruscant with a failing ship and dying men. The way CT-7567 kept looking around the room at his brothers, Shmi wished she knew what kind of comfort she could offer that would be acceptable to him, that he would recognize. “We’re here until they give us clearance to deploy,” he finished. “The Jedi want us to stay together and get moved in units, if we can. So I’m here until…until my men recover.” He paused to look around again before saying, “My commander, he covered for me, when the ship got hit. Told me to keep everyone together…”

She couldn’t offer him absolution, no matter how much pain was in his eyes, but she could offer understanding. She’d been the recipient of similar sacrifices on more than one occasion. “He must have trusted you very much.”

A short laugh. “I was the only one left he could reach. He couldn’t—didn’t see the others. Too far away.”

There was a pale white line arching from the right side of CT-7567’s head across his crown and back towards the left of his neck. Other scars and scabs looked like they would heal into invisibility soon, but that one would likely be with him for some time, Shmi thought. “Did you do as he asked?”

“Yes.” There was a slightest uncertainty to the answer, but Shmi opted to ignore it.

She asked, “What will you do now?”

He looked to Master Allie instead of answering right away, but she just watched him, as though she too didn’t know the answer. CT-7567 shifted before saying, “We’re waiting for medical clearance. Then we’ll join the Jedi. I think.”

“Do we know how long that will be?” Shmi asked Master Allie.

“Another few weeks,” the Jedi said. “Maybe quicker, if things keep progressing this well. But I don’t have explicit instructions from the Temple.”

“So I will have plenty of time to work with them?” Shmi checked.

Blinking, CT-7567 asked, “Are you taking command of us? Sir?”

“No,” Shmi shook her head, but didn’t tell him to use her name. “My job in the Republic, with the Senate, is to help people find their place in the galaxy, and to establish a home. While you’re here, I want to see what I can do to arrange that for all of you.”

A broad view of her position, she was sure. But these men would need a home someday, when Leia and Padmé and Bail had corrected the misstep the Republic had taken, buying soldiers to die for them. They were not going back to Kamino, Shmi promised herself. Not unless it was their deepest desire. She wouldn’t make them be neighbors with their older masters. That was always asking for trouble.

“Are we being relieved from duty?” CT-7567 asked in a hoarse whisper, looking between the two women. “I—We’re not that bad off. We can—“

“The Republic still intends to send you to war,” Shmi promised, hating that she had to use those words as if to offer comfort. They were wrong for such a thing. “The Jedi will ask you to fight with them. But when the war is over it will be my job to help see to things for you and your brothers.”

It was the right word. It straightened CT-7567’s spine and made his focus zero in on her, his breath catching. He felt hope. Master Allie was a gentle wave of amusement and curiosity, her gaze straying to Senator Darsana and Bail, a question in her eyes. Shmi shrugged. Bail would adapt. And as much as she liked Senator Darsana, Shmi wasn’t going to let her behavior be dictated by him.

“The war’s over for some of us now,” CT-7567 confessed, reclaiming her attention. “You’ll help them find home?”

“Of course,” she promised, not caring whether she had the right or the resources. Padmé would stand with her. “Do you know what they need?”

“Some,” he said. “But Master Allie knows more.”

“I can get you the details,” Master Allie promised. “But I do need to finish making my rounds. I still have to report to the Temple healers before I can call my day finished.”

“We’ll talk before you go,” Shmi promised, and turned back to CT-7567. “Now, can you introduce me to your other brothers?”

He saluted, and Shmi didn’t scold him for it, just fell into step beside him as he took her to one of his brothers that was still awake.

Senator Darsana had already left, not having made a particularly long stay. Perhaps he had realized that Shmi wouldn’t be reasonable with this visit, taking things easy when she had just gotten to the planet. Or maybe he’d simply learned what he needed to know. Whatever his reason, he had made his excuses to Bail some time ago, and Alderaan’s senator seemed nervous about her reaction to that.

“I expect he has business to see to for his people,” she said, not exactly pleased, but not surprised. “Thank you for taking the time to stay with me.”

“I did promise to bring you back safely,” Bail pointed out as they stepped into a lift. “What did you think?”

“Have we considered,” Shmi asked as they waited for their floor, “where we will be settling these men, once the war is over?”

She could sense more surprise from Bail than his face showed, and a deep wave of subdued pleasure, touched with grief. “As a committee no,” he admitted, gesturing for her to step out first. “But I can promise you that I’ve thought about it.”

“That,” she said carefully, “is a good start.”

“But not good enough,” he finished, his expression easy and open.

She was not used, still, to men in power looking at her like that when she suggested they might have done wrong. Might need to improve. It made her suspicious, but she knew that was unkind. Bail had never been less than honest with her. “No,” she said firmly. “Not good enough.”

“So, what should we do?”

“For starters,” Shmi said, “there are two troopers who will not be able to join combat. One of whom needs a replacement leg.”

“I might be able to help with that,” Bail smiled. Shmi smiled back. If felt so right to be able to do something.

Chapter Text

There was a long silence when Leia finished, and a chill in the room that made her shiver. Obi-Wan noticed, winced, moved as if he were to offer…something, and stopped when Leia shook her head, pulling in on herself.

Once the anger had passed, something frighteningly like shame took its place as Obi-Wan looked down as his hands, eyes locked on his fingers while he said, “I didn’t know about the chips. But I was aware that there were…obedience protocols.”

“Obedience protocols,” Leia repeated, her voice as calm as she could manage, trying to keep the disgust and anger turned away. She had to know. She had to know what he knew, and if she judged him now, he wouldn’t tell her… “They have obedience protocols?”

Like droids? (Luke was twisting in her mind, trying to keep his own anger away, not mixed with hers.)

“Lama Su described it as genetic modification to make them more loyal, apt to obey orders without question.”

Leia swallowed, “And this struck you as a good idea because?” and left it in the angry space in her mind, passed some of it off to Luke. It would likely fester until she took time to examine it, but the look on Obi-Wan’s face was enough to tell her the accusation could only be used to harm him, not serving any practical purpose. By the time that Obi-Wan had any say in how he was interacting with the clones, they had already been accepted by the Jedi and were on Coruscant.

Instead, she asked, “How many Jedi know?”

“None,” Obi-Wan admitted.

“Obi-Wan,” Leia groaned, burying her face in her hands.

“I didn’t include it in my initial report, from Kamino, and didn’t get around to offering it later,” he pressed on. “Once I met the men, I wasn’t even sure how true it was. Or how much of it was behavioral training verses ‘genetic modification.’ I expect the Kaminoans have every distributor’s desire to exaggerate the uniqueness of their product.”

It was, Leia thought lightly, a very good thing Anakin wasn’t in the room. Even with the ironic disdain dripping from Obi-Wan’s tone, that just wouldn’t have gone over well. “So we may be dealing with genetic modification, possibly to reduce emotions associated with rebellion like anger. And behavioral training, possibly over-coded obedience masked by military rigidity. And a chip in their head to help manage what couldn’t be done by the first two. And the Jedi don’t know.”

“It doesn’t change—“

“How do you make someone a slave?” Leia snapped, knowing part of it was coming from her brother and knowing neither of them could take it anymore. “You take away their choices!”

Flinching, Obi-Wan said, “I will need to bring this up to the Council. I’m not sure how we can study such things, but yes, on some level we do need to be aware of them. So we don’t…take advantage.”

More than they already were, Leia could see him not saying. And it made her furious, but she understood. They had deployed. The Separatists were moving into Republic space with an army. How could they just stop? Take it all back?

They couldn’t. That didn’t make it right, but the choice had been made and now they had to deal with the consequences.

Including the consequences for having bought a subservient army of sentients, damn them.

(They had been damned. The Republic fell, the Jedi died, the Empire rose, and she’d lost—she’d lost…)

“So they can start working on countermeasures,” Leia said, dragging her temper and pain under control. “Since we won’t be able to do anything for them after the war if they have to stay in military command structures to stay sane. And functional.”

Rubbing his face, Obi-Wan glanced up at her, scowling. “I was having a good day,” he groaned. “No complaints about you walking in the hallways, Anakin actually doing what he was told. Then you brought me this.”

“You’re welcome,” she snapped, no apology in her voice as she levered herself out of her chair, not waiting for him to stand from his seat on the bed. “Did you want to find that out after you’d already sent them into combat? After you’d started giving them orders to die?”

Blanching (he didn’t want to tell Anakin, but Leia knew he’d have to find a way to say something now), Obi-Wan sighed almost into a sob as the door closed behind her.

Being right should have felt satisfying, but she didn’t feel better at all.

“What do you mean they’re demanding exclusive access?” Padmé hissed, standing from her seat at her desk. “We bought the clones! If their care is proprietary, why wasn’t medical assistance sent with them?”

“We’re still working out the details,” Bail’s voice crackled slightly from the holo, and Padmé wasn’t sure if it was her connection, his, or anger actually seeping its way out, “but we’ve at least refused to remove the current battalions from Central and the Temple. And we’ve been offered medical stations and transport for purchase.”

“It doesn’t come with the army?” Padmé repeated, her disdain making even her own head hurt.

“I expect the Kaminoans don’t see free medical care as a…wise business model.”

It was disgusting to think about, but then Padmé couldn’t imagine growing sentients to sell to other sentients. “I suppose it’s going to the floor for a vote.”

“Ideally after we’ve established that we do have the legal right to also provide our own medical care,” Shea said, shaking her head. “We can’t afford a second army of Kaminoan doctors making themselves into giant flying targets, rotating around battlefields. Financially or strategically.”

“But we do need their expertise,” Shmi said, and Padmé was surprised at the addition. “The genetic modifications impact cellular growth on the clones. It affects healing, and how their bodies interact with bacta. It’s part of why they’ve had so much trouble at Central, and the Temple. Not to mention the mutations that some clones have.”

“We’ve been told only battle worthy clones have been shipped out,” Bail agreed, his frown clear even through the blue of the holo and the lines of his beard. “But also that battle worthy doesn’t mean uniformly identical. Aside from clones having divergent talents and being able and willing to specialize in certain skill sets, some of them come with other…quirks.”

“Halle Burtoni, our current contact, assures me that the quirks don’t make the soldiers unusable,” Shea offered. “But Shmi’s right that it might be better to have at least a few of Kamino’s people on hand to help sort out any unexpected problems.”

“Any more unexpected problems,” Shmi corrected. “And we had trouble with these even knowing they were coming with genetic modifications.”

“So their expertise is leverage,” Padmé said, absorbing that with a lowering sense of grief. “We can’t just tell them no.”

Senator Dio added, “They’re also applying for a seat in the Senate.”

“What?” Padmé snapped.

“We haven’t agreed, obviously,” Senator Dio said. “It will take the usual procedures and a vote on the right committees. But it looks like they got Scipio to sponsor them, as well as Ryloth.”

Her heart didn’t exactly trip, but Padmé ached at the mention of Scipio. She’d hoped Rush would do better once he’d settled into his role, take steps separate from the Banking Clan and more in line with the needs of his planet. But a move like this… “What does Ryloth think they can offer as far as sponsorship? We didn’t even know about this system until Master Kenobi found it. Ryloth doesn’t need cloners. They’d be—“ She stopped as she remembered Shmi was in the room, and flushed slightly.

“Competition,” Shmi finished, shaking her head. “Senator Taa is convinced that the clones will protect him, and maybe his people, from losing access to their hyperlane. If he feels there are not enough soldiers to do so—“

“He’ll request more,” Senator Dio sighed.

Shea snorted. “He’s going to have trouble getting that passed. There’re limits on what the Banking Clans can lend to the Republic. Even adding Kamino to the seats won’t tip the balance as far as the votes needed to change that. And once the main body sees the price tag on the clones? He doesn’t stand a chance.”

“We’ll need to keep it in mind,” Bail countered mildly. “If the Banking Clans need new revenue streams because some of their business with the Trade Federation diminishes, what better place to turn than to the government in the middle of a civil war? Expense has been a concern so far, but if trade routes get interrupted and planets start to feel the weight of occupation, that may change.”

“Even if it doesn’t,” Padmé added, “they’re likely to be able to get relatively small packages approved. Like the medical teams and equipment. We’ve already bought the clones. If senators don’t want to start offering their own people as soldiers, they’ll want to stretch what we have as far as we can.”

“Who,” Shmi corrected quietly, and Padmé winced, nodding.

“Who we have.” And when that still didn’t sound right. “Who we’ve conscripted.”

It was as close as she could get. The Chancellor had put out new orders to the Loyalist Committee about vocabulary they were allowed to use in relation to the clones, to “diminish internal conflict over the matter.” As if lying about it with pretty words somehow changed what it was.

“In regards to that matter,” Shmi said, making movements on her datapad, “Senator Organa and I have come up with a proposal for working with the Jedi on transitioning clones who can no longer serve in the military into civilian roles. Master Gallia should be looking at it today, and Master Allie was impressed with the initial outline. We only have two on record at Central Medcenter who will need to retire, and possibly three in the Temple. But it’s been agreed that the simplest measure will be to integrate them through the Refugee Committee and the RRM. That will give us the largest immediate pool of options for relocation. And with their training, they are good candidates for some of our work programs within the refugee efforts.”

Padmé glanced at her own datapad as the proposal popped up, skimming the section headings and smiling. “This is good. I don’t think anyone else has considered this matter yet.”

“We want to be thorough,” Shmi said, folding her hands lightly in her lap. “Reintegration into society as early as possible for permanent casualties will help our efforts as we try and sort out the clones’ status and citizenship issues. We’ll have examples of what the benefits might be for systems to volunteer as home worlds.”

“That needs to be a very high priority for at least one committee,” Bail added, “and it’s easiest for us to absorb it since our charter is so broad and the clones fit three of the ten basic conditions for refugee status. The longer we wait, the more people are going to realize how problematic sorting this out retroactively is going to be.”

“We don’t need incentives for the clones to be treated even less like sentient beings,” Senator Dio agreed. “But will this be enough?”

“Until we start getting more battle reports, we can only guess what the mortality rate of the soldiers will be in comparison to mild and seriously injury. The opening skirmishes on Christophsis haven’t been very informative so far. And I think Master Windu is being very cautious. There are still a lot of civilians on the planet, and the fighting is already moving into some of the cities. Not an ideal situation for the Republic to be in.”

“Part of the problem,” Shmi added, “is that we don’t know how many non-soldier refugees we’re going to have either. Absorbing the troops into our mandate will only work out if it doesn’t tip the scale too far, and doesn’t displace other citizens.”

“We’ll start by placing the troops we have on Coruscant that need to retire,” Padmé said firmly. “I think you’re right that even if they can’t be in combat, they’re likely to want to be involved and can help with transport for the RRM. If they can’t, or don’t want to, let me know. We can house them on Naboo temporarily or permanently if they’d rather not be stuck here. Queen Jamillia would like us to be as directly involved as we possibly can, given that the RRM is still supplying all the contacts and framework for the committee.”

“Will moving them off planet make much of a difference?” Shea asked. “It’s the same group they’re working with in the end.”

“They’ve never been off of Kamino before this,” Padmé stated. “Master Kenobi says it’s a planet completely covered in water, and they make artificial islands for their cities. They got moved from that to a pile of towers and cityscapes. The least we can offer them is more options before they try and settle down.”

“Something to keep in mind,” Bail agreed. “But we may want to consider other planets as well. Naboo will be busy enough as it is.”

“We’ll make it work,” Padmé promised, noticing how closely Shmi was watching her. “Naboo or anywhere else safe, we’ll make sure it all works out.”

There weren’t a lot of places on a ship like this that Leia could sit for observational quiet. Not meditative quiet. Her quarters worked just fine for that. But when meditating hadn’t sated her need to do something, Leia had taken to prowling the ship, and getting dirty looks wherever she went.

When that had rubbed down most of her desire to do something but hadn’t quelled the anger that was dancing in her, she’d started looking for a place to lurk that would be just distracting enough to keep her focus, but wouldn’t require anything of her.

Unfortunately, the best place she could find was in the hangar bay with the fighters. And Anakin arguing with one of the clones about whether he should have mostly disassembled the guts of his ship when they were heading into combat at any time.

No one was winning, but it was amusing to watch. Especially since Artoo kept adding commentary about Anakin needing “the best ship” since he was “the best pilot,” and Anakin would gesture and agree and the clone had no idea what Artoo was saying.

The effect was almost painfully comedic.

“Enjoying yourself?”

Leia looked down from the seat that she had taken on a crate, trying to gauge if the muted feelings around the clone were distaste, disinterest, or disdain. There was something tacky to them as she tried to examine them. Tacky and familiar. “More or less.”

He shifted and she saw something in the set of his shoulders, the focus in his eyes. Probably CC-2224. Very familiar then. His gaze traveled to Anakin, his features softened slightly, his lips twitched, and then he was frowning again as he looked back up. “You’re with us until Herdessa?”

“Tomorrow morning, if I’ve heard right,” Leia confirmed, keeping her attention mostly on Anakin. She’d rather speak to their faces, but she’d noticed they were calmer if she wasn’t looking directly at them. As if meeting their eyes was a challenge, one they had to consciously ignore. “Excited to be rid of me?”

“Civilians on board is weird,” he answered frankly. “It makes the men jumpy.”

“All civilians or just me?”

His eyes drifted to her empty holster on her thigh. She’d needed to get back into the habit of wearing it. She’d been at the Executive Building too long. But carrying a weapon when she wasn’t confident she wouldn’t round a corner and react before she registered the white armor was wrong seemed like begging for more problems than she was prepared to deal with. So she’d compromised. And it had been noted. “Couldn’t say,” CC-2224 offered tactfully. “We haven’t had any other civilian passengers.”

“So it could be just me.”

When he didn’t answer, she risked looking straight at him and was surprised when he did meet her eyes to say, “You said something to the general.”

Her gaze went halfway to Anakin before she could stop it, drag it back. “I wanted to confirm if he had information I was given while I was practicing on the shooting range.”

“You didn’t know about the chips.”

It wasn’t quite a question, and Leia couldn’t help lowering her voice as she answered, “No. And Obi-Wan says he didn’t mention any genetic behavioral modifications—or training ones—to the Council.”

She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or devastated when he didn’t so much as twitch in surprise as she listed those. He knew. They likely all knew. CC-2224 said, “It wasn’t supposed to be a problem. It’s part of the standard package. They should have known when they ordered us.”

Leia liked her secrets. Leia loved her secrets and might have worshipped the power that information offered if she hadn’t seen what it did to other people. She was a spy, but only of a sort. Not bred exclusively into it, just reborn in the fires of her trials, until it was baked into the layers of her skin where she was now also a soldier and a rebel and a murderer and a Skywalker.

Where once she’d just been a princess.

But the princess was still there, and felt a duty to her people. To any people, because Alderaan (as her mother and father had constantly, patiently, obstinately explained) was a very privileged system that had kept much of its culture and values, even deep into the reign of the Emperor. They were a people of wisdom and education, of overflowing abundance. Of power and honor and glory.

And they had every responsibility to share that with the galaxy, wherever and however they could.

So Leia kept her secrets. Buried them in her skin, slid them into the dark corners of her mind, burned them into her flesh and bones so that she would have to be unmade, unhinged in order to extract them.

But she didn’t keep secrets like this. Not from men who were going to die for a cause they might not have a chance to decide if they believed in.

“The Jedi master who placed the order on behalf of the Council died before explaining that he’d made the purchase,” Leia said very quietly, leaning down so she could make sure her voice wouldn’t carry. “The Council didn’t know, until after Obi-Wan had been to Kamino, that you were there waiting for them to collect you. They’d planned on taking more time to decide what to do with the information until Obi-Wan was captured on Geonosis and we retrieved him. It…escalated things.”

She watched CC-2224 absorb that, twist it around in his mind, examine it with a cautious, careful, critical suspicion. “General Kenobi,” he said very, very slowly, “is not a liar. And he cares very much about what happens to us.”

“Because he is a good man,” Leia immediately agreed. “And because he knows you’re good men and you’ve been stuck with each other.” And then, because she couldn’t help but say it, “But if the Council had told him his assignment was done when he got back, and they weren’t going to collect you because the Republic didn’t want you as troops, he would have left you there. He would have followed his orders.”

CC-2224 had been about to object until she offered the last line. Leia watched his face twist and hold, struggling to keep more emotion from leaking out. “He’s a good general,” CC-2224 said at last, the words grating out.

Leia nodded. “He’ll try to be. He’s not very experienced, but he cares, and he pays attention. And he is a good man. But don’t assume he knows things. And definitely don’t assume Anakin does,” she added urgently. “He’s smart and he’s careful about a lot of things, but politics is way over his head, even the Jedi’s politics. Run things past Obi-Wan if you’re not sure if Anakin knows them, or realizes. He may be being kept away from certain information so he doesn’t have to compartmentalize it as much.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?” CC-2224 asked. “That your brother doesn’t know what’s going on?”

Knowing it wasn’t going to win her any points, but a stickler about this truth (she had one brother, and it wasn’t Anakin), Leia said, “He’s not my brother. Shmi adopted me, and he’s Shmi’s son.” And then, because it was also the truth, “And even if he were, I can compartmentalize, and there are some things I wouldn’t tell him. Because I don’t think he could handle the truth.”

There was a long moment before CC-2224 said, “You underestimate him.”

“Oh I don’t,” Leia almost laughed, a shadow looming in her memory, the haunting echo of mechanized breathing feeling like it rippled through the room. “I really don’t.”

Chapter Text

“Leia!”

Only many, many years of similar behavior from a much loved individual stopped Leia from throwing an elbow as Anakin dashed over and threw his sweaty, greasy self across her back. She tried to ignore CC-2224’s very disappointed, almost scathing look as she groaned, “Anakin…”

“What are you doing down here?” he asked, his smile clear in his voice. She couldn’t shove him off without significantly more effort, and she wasn’t going to court the clones’ disdain by doing that. But she could twist so that she was tucked more under one arm and could glare up at him. “I thought you were doing something boring.”

His good mood was pervasive, trying to seep into her skin. Her sheer contrariness resisted, but couldn’t completely keep it out. “Have you,” she asked, arching a brow, “extracted all of the working bits from the inside of your fighter twenty-four hours before you will be arriving in contested military space?”

“Not all of them,” Anakin protested. “And it’s fine. Artoo and I already have the schematics drawn up for replacing them, and it should increase the speed of the ship by—“

Leia threw a hand over his mouth before he could get too far into the intricate details of his modifications. She knew that look in his eye. “While I have every confidence that you can put your ship back together, even if you can do it before your arrival, I would like to point out that you will be very sleep deprived at that point, and that’s just as bad as having no ship.”

“No it isn’t,” Anakin pulled her hand away, grinning. “I can pull on the Force to compensate. It’s only for one day.”

As tempting as it was to give a lecture about slippery slopes (the only reason Luke wasn’t squirming guiltily in the back of her mind was because she was just as bad about this as he’d been), Leia opted instead for, “I leave the two of you alone for two days…”

“Artoo’s great,” Anakin was still smiling, and it was a little odd to have him in such close proximity as he did. “We’ve got some other changes we want to make, but these should be the quickest and don’t require any parts we don’t have on hand, and—“

This time Leia grabbed his nose to stop him, ignoring his squawk of protest and managing to keep him trapped as she said, “I’m glad you two are getting along. But I do know something about ship maintenance and modification, and I’m not convinced that you’ll have reassembly finished and have run the appropriate tests to make sure it not only starts but won’t blow up on you at takeoff.”

She lost his nose as she finished, but she’d apparently gotten through to him because he frowned, thinking about that. “It should work. There’s no reason it will blow up. You can check the schematic.”

“I’m sure the schematic’s fine,” Leia conceded. “But what are the odds that once you’re in the middle of everything, sticking stuff back together, you won’t have one more really great idea that’s just super simple, only need to do one extra thing…”

He was almost blushing. “That…might happen.”

“And if you make changes that aren’t on the schematic?” she asked. “Will you have time to test them?”

She'd originally started this topic as a way to avoid answering Anakin’s question, but now Leia was glad she had said something. From the looks on the faces of the clones around them, no one else had realized what it meant when a Skywalker was let loose on this sort of project.

Pouting in a way that may have earned him points with others, but Leia had long become inured to (Tatooine boys might have simpering down to an art, but Leia lost to no one in a contest of wills), Anakin admitted, “Probably not.”

He looked to some of the other engineers around the hangar, but Leia saw reluctance all over their features. No help there. They hadn’t wanted him to start this in the first place, and since they hadn’t been able to stop him, Leia had no faith they would be able to keep him on track if worst came to worst.

Peeling a damp arm off her shoulder Leia said, “How about a deal? You go shower before we head to meditate with Obi-Wan, and when we finish I’ll come help you with the reassembly. And keep things on track.”

The incandescent joy at her offer was like a small fireball had been set off next to her. Leia blinked as Anakin calmed enough to complain, “But showering takes time. I could start working on the ship instead. And you’re sitting next to me right now.”

Waving her arm Leia said, “Do you see this massive, open hangar? With its high ceilings and space for dozens of sweaty individuals to walk around without touching each other. With its superior ventilation to prevent fumes from mechanical work and takeoff from accumulating.” He was grinning as he nodded. “Now compare that to trying to be still and meditate in the tiny room we use, while not being distracted by your own body odor.” Anakin’s face fell, and Leia added, “You know Obi-Wan will keep us longer if you have a hard time concentrating.”

His face scrunching, Anakin said, “Alright,” dramatically heaving his shoulders and sliding off the crate into something of a slump before straightening. “And then you’ll help me with my ship?”

“Is she qualified?” CC-2224 asked, looking between them, confusion and distrust thick around him.

Before Anakin could respond, and question CC-2224’s attitude, Leia said, “I am one hundred percent qualified to hand people things. Or hold stuff. Or kick Anakin if he starts departing from the schematic.”

“But if it’s better—“ Anakin protested.

“You can explain why, and also how it won’t make your ship blow up. With words,” Leia insisted. “Yes, I know that will throw you off and you’ll have to reorient afterward. But it will also prevent stupid mistakes.”

“I don’t make stupid mistakes,” Anakin grumbled.

Leia just lifted a brow. “Shower?”

“Shower,” Anakin agreed, starting to slink off. “I’ll see you it a bit.”

It was a testament to how well CC-2224 knew the Jedi that he waited until the door was firmly shut behind Anakin before saying, “Not your brother, huh?”

Leia rolled her eyes, hopping down and twisting to sniff her shirt, gauging how much it now smelled like sweat. “Nope. My brother knew better than to talk back to me.”

Luke was laughing, but Leia had to hide a wince at the slight widening of CC-2224’s eyes. She offered a salute and left before she could do or say anything else that would provoke unwanted questions.

Shmi was absolutely silent. Her eyes weren’t fixed directly on the floor, but they weren’t lifting to meet the Chancellor’s gaze, no matter how many times he addressed her directly.

She wasn’t confused by his questions, but he kept probing her about what Padmé and Bail had had time to update her on, always finding the gaps in Shmi’s knowledge with an accuracy so pointed it hurt Padmé to listen to. And she wasn’t even the target.

Shmi would nod or shake her head, or consult her notes and then do either. She hadn’t said anything since saying her name.

The Chancellor seemed almost wounded by her silence, continuing to coax her with more questions that she couldn’t answer, and offering effusive excuses for her lapse when Shmi admitted to another ignorance.

Padmé wanted to slap him.

She could see Bail was frowning, and he hadn’t been when they started.

“I’m looking forward to your observations,” the Chancellor stated, as the meeting wrapped up, standing and coming around his desk to offer Shmi his hand to shake. “Your son speaks very highly of you, and so does your daughter.”

“Leia told you she is my daughter?” Shmi asked as she stood to meet him, accepting his hand but retracting hers almost immediately as he took it in one of his almost fatherly grips using both his hands.

“Well, no,” he smiled, “but by what I understand—“

“Leia isn’t my daughter,” Shmi said, her voice gentle and firm, no other explanation offered.

The surprised look that crossed Chancellor Palpatine’s face was almost immediately replaced by something like sympathy. “It must be difficult—“

“No,” Shmi cut him off again, her expression almost the hint of a smile. “Leia is exactly herself, and for that I love her. Just as I love my son.”

“What fortunate chil—family you have,” Chancellor Palpatine smiled, his hands coming together at his waist. “It must be difficult, being so far away from them.”

Padmé resisted the urge to squirm, and wished the Chancellor would look over so she could give him a quelling look. This was not helping.

“I’ve had plenty of practice,” Shmi reassured him. “The Republic has given me plenty of opportunities to learn.”

Padmé felt her own eyes going wide as Shmi nodded an informal farewell, looking to Bail. “I will work on researching some of these questions while you finish here.”

“We shouldn’t be long,” Bail promised. “We’ll fill you in on any additional details when we get back.”

The accusation hung in the air as Shmi moved to go, her posture straight and her steps even, her chin level with the floor, her gaze fixed firmly straight ahead.

When Shmi and Sabé had left, the Chancellor sighed. Padmé looked to him, and he smiled before saying, “She’s a surprisingly resilient woman.”

“You’ve met her family,” Bail said, his voice drier than Padmé was used to hearing in the Chancellor’s office. “I don’t know why you’re so surprised by it.”

Chancellor Palpatine gave a thin smile and a quiet, “Well,” before turning back to Padmé and saying, “So, what do you think of our clones so far?”

Without the full committee in the room this was the question that Padmé had been waiting for, and she turned on her once mentor, more than ready to give him her opinion on the matter of the clones.

Stepping off of the transport left Leia with an odd sensation, her most recent memories of a space port on this planet (except for meeting Padmé…) not entirely pleasant. There was a low hanging smog today, but not low enough to curl around her toes or face. Just enough to twist and spin in the air as a dingy mist, forcing Leia to take shallow breaths to avoid coughing.

“Should’a seen it this mornin’” Mikail shook her hand, his toothy grin relaxing her slightly. “It was even worse then.”

“I have impeccable timing,” Leia answered. “I didn’t realize you’d gotten roped into this business.”

“They wanted enterprising souls to take a look at the routes and see if we might make a profit on them. I figure, now’s as good a time as any to face the war. It’ll get to all of us soon enough.”

“And Republic forces as a buffer are just good business,” Leia suggested as she fell into step beside him, pleased at his delight.

“You might say that.”

She’d expected to be greeted by one of the refugee ships’ pilots, but this was better. Mikail wasn’t intimidated by her armored guard offering a formal salute as they passed off her luggage. Just filled with a keen interest as he took in the white armor and narrow visored helmets. He didn’t offer to take her luggage either, which spared her the discomfort of having to refuse him.

She didn’t think her current contraband should pass through other hands. Even ignorantly.

“Paranoid,” Luke offered. “You like him, trust him, and he’s not going to steal your stuff. Not like this.”

“So reassuring,” Leia shot back, but she agreed. Mikail had enough Mid Rim and Core sensibilities to be leery of stealing from anyone who’d been a customer, especially on planet. If they’d met in the dark of space and she’d needed a hand, though? It wouldn’t come cheap. And her parts better be nailed down.

They worked their way out of one quadrant of the port, Mikail nodding to no small number of pilots and crewman as they walked by, his presence a nice deterrent of any unwanted attention. They chatted idly about his crew and how business was going. He asked a bit about her work and she tried to hand over the juiciest bits of harmless gossip, just to make him laugh. Interspersed with some of her work. He wouldn’t want all the details, but she knew she was being pumped for information.

The war was scary. No one knew what to expect.

They met with some people from Shea’s office as they neared the docks that held the RRM ships, as well as a few guild members who wanted to take a crack at Leia. She kept half her attention on their questions and most of her focus on the ships they were preparing, as well as the passengers that were getting on board.

“You don’t expect us to leave today?” she asked at one point, interrupting a banal question roundaboutly trying to pinpoint the source of her primary education. “Do you?”

“No,” one of Shea’s people sighed. “But there was some confusion over numbers and temporary housing. We recruited volunteers to stay on the ships for a few days, promised amenities provided, so that we could clear some more space.” A hesitant look to Mikail as she added. “We had an unexpected influx from Ryloth.”

“When?” Leia demanded. “And how did they get through Christophsis’s space? We haven’t plotted a course around the fighting yet.”

There was a slight hesitation before, “It wasn’t an official government transport. Some pilots…familiar with alternative routes through the area thought it was worth the risk to travel.”

And now no one was looking at Mikail, which was just rude. Even if he was from Ryloth (which Leia suspected he wasn’t), even if he was a pirate that didn’t meant he’d done slave trading. And Leia wasn’t convinced he’d ever claimed those sorts of associations.

She gave him a sideways look and his mild, innocent stare almost made her giggle. Well, at least he wasn’t taking offense. Or not much. “And they ended up here because?” Leia pressed.

It wasn’t entirely clear, but it sounded like there may have been some…insistence from the passengers, once the ship had accidentally provoked some meager Separatist attention and escaped mostly intact, if with a generously hampered crew, that the ship land on Herdessa. And once the passengers had realized what the large RRM ships were for…

“We couldn’t refuse them,” was the unhappy conclusion. “But we didn’t have the space for another two hundred on such short notice, so…” A helpless shrug.

“Out of curiosity,” Leia said, eyeing the number of twi’lek waiting to board the ship, “how many of the unexpected passengers volunteered to stay in the overflow?”

“Almost all of them,” one of the guild members admitted, fiddling with the studs on their belt. “Once they were informed that their previous ship’s crew wouldn’t be allowed on, since they wouldn’t be joining the passengers.”

Leia noted the extra guards that patrolled the platforms and nodded absently. “Well, at least we know you’re as adaptable as promised. Now,” she smiled as she turned, “what do you need from me so we can start moving these people?”

Obi-Wan waited at a safe distance, watching Anakin place the final panel back onto his ship and then hop in and turn it on. There was an ominous thrumming from the vessel that did not match the sounds Obi-Wan’s ship made, but nothing exploded.

It was a relief to hear the slow sighs from several clones around him as the ship powered down. He appreciated having company in his concerns.

“Got everything sorted to your liking?” he asked as Anakin jumped down, wiping his forehead on his sleeve. Obi-Wan had stopped complaining about Anakin’s dark colored shirts when he’d realized they hid the stains better and Obi-Wan could avoid pitying looks from other masters that way.

Nothing he could do about the smells though. Master Ti always had a knowing smile for Obi-Wan.

“As good as I can with what we have,” Anakin said, shaking his head as he looked back. “I’ll need to see if the Temple can send us on any—“

“Padawan, we’re at war,” Obi-Wan tried very hard to keep his tone light and firm. “While we will be receiving supplies as needed, asking them to ferry scraps for us so you can tinker is not going to go over well, no matter how fast you think it will make your ship.”

“We’re going to Radnor, not the front lines. I should ask now before they ship us someplace where it would be dangerous.”

The general humor that Anakin provoked from the men was tempered by a clearer sense of duty and protocol, Obi-Wan thought. He said, “Barter on Radnor for equipment, if we aren’t busy and it’s that safe. And no racing.”

“That was one time—“ Anakin protested.

“That I caught you in the act,” Obi-Wan countered, and Anakin only smiled. “I know you didn’t magic your projects out of thin air.” Another glance at the ship had Obi-Wan asking, “How was Leia as an assistant?”

“Dreadful,” Anakin sighed, and Obi-Wan tensed before his padawan added, “She kept interrupting me.”

Well, that was more than Obi-Wan had hoped for, actually.

“Wouldn’t let him change his plans on the fly,” CT-8869 said, pointing at Artoo. “Not unless he ran numbers with the droid.”

“I was always right,” Anakin grumbled. “And she kept making me do it anyway.”

“There was that one adjustment…” CT-8869 said, trailing off at Anakin’s glare.

Obi-Wan held up a hand before anything more hurtful got said. “I’m sorry she caused you so much trouble. You should have sent her back to me.”

That got a look from his padawan, and Obi-Wan couldn’t quite catch the feelings behind it before Anakin had moved past them. He was always more subtle in the Force after he’d been tinkering. “It was fine. Other than the complaining, she knows enough to help. I wouldn’t have let her if she hadn’t done such a good job getting parts for Threepio. Or on the speeder.”

“Speeder?” Obi-Wan asked, regretting that he needed to.

“Hers and Mom’s,” Anakin said. “The one we adjusted. On Naboo.”

Obi-Wan’s memories of that time were hazy at best. The dimness of their workspace had left him distant, lodged in recent, painful memories. Only the brightness of little Han’s voice as he’d asked Anakin questions, had kept the worst of it at bay. Well, and the warm glow that Anakin had exuded as he’d taken time to teach while he was working. The peace of it had been magnificently grounding.

But Obi-Wan had almost no memories of the speeder. “I’ll have to take your word for it.” And then, “What parts for Threepio?”

“To rebuild him,” Anakin said, frowning. Then, remembering something, “He got blown up, with Pa—the senator’s ship. Leia got me the parts to work on fixing him while we were hiding on Coruscant. Which was pretty lucky,” he added cheerfully. “It was something to do while we waited, and I actually had enough time to finish him.”

It was gut instinct more than logic that told Obi-Wan nothing about that had been luck. Not if Leia had arranged it. But he wondered if she’d just been taking advantage of Anakin’s skills, or if she’d known he’d need something immersive to keep him…not distracted by the senator.

With Leia, Obi-Wan just couldn’t ever be completely sure. And that was beginning to frighten him.

There was a series of chirps from Artoo and Anakin flushed. “I did not—“ He stopped, looked around at everyone, and smiled triumphantly at the droid. “Threepio’s not here. No one but me can understand you.”

Which wasn’t completely true. Obi-Wan had been around Anakin enough to have some tentative grasp on binary. And Artoo’s use of tone was always very illustrative. “Something tells me,” Obi-wan stroked his beard to hide a grin, “that it was a very near thing, you getting done on time. Run into trouble?”

He was surprised at the violent twist in Anakin’s emotions before they settled, an unusually somber look crossing his face before he answered, “No.”

It was a lie. Every single person around them knew it was. But Obi-Wan couldn’t press without hinting at Anakin’s infatuation with Senator Amidala, and he wasn’t sure how that would go over with this crowd.

He still remembered the looks on the clones’ faces as Leia had walked by.

“Well, clean up. We’ll be taking a small craft down shortly and I’ll need you to come with me and Captain Block to talk to the governor of the city where we’re landing.”

Anakin’s beleaguered, “Yes, Master,” didn’t so much a make Obi-Wan’s lips twitch in amusement. His attention had already returned to the ship Anakin had vacated, and the low toned conversation two of the engineers were having with Artoo, which shortly produced a projection of the ship’s new schematic. Obi-Wan would take a look at it later and confirm with Anakin what the adjustments were supposed to do. If they weren’t too exotic (and if his padawan didn’t crash on his first full test run), Obi-Wan might request Anakin to help him with similar upgrades.

Possibly.

“Worried she might have sabotaged it?” CC-2224 asked in a whisper at Obi-Wan’s elbow. The man’s face was grim, and his posture was as defensive as Obi-Wan had ever seen it.

To be fair, CC-2224 was the first person Obi-Wan had run into after his…conversation with Leia about the clones. And no amount of avoiding the details seemed to have deterred CC-2224 from trying to wedge more distance between Obi-Wan and his, he dearly hoped, friend.

They hadn’t spoken since that day, not privately. She’d been as reclusive as ever in the Force, in spite of continuing to come to practice. Which had given Obi-Wan less hope than he might have thought. She was impeccably discreet, and Anakin didn’t know they had, well not argued. Obi-Wan hadn’t substantially disagreed with anything Leia had said, no matter how painful it was.

But he felt like he’d disappointed her, and that—that was a feeling Obi-Wan had never adjusted to well. Failure was…not an option for him. Not as Qui-Gon’s apprentice. Not as Anakin’s master. He’d failed frequently and often, he knew, but quietly and privately when he could.

This failure (even more than failing his master) would have consequences. Consequences for people that Obi-Wan…cared for. Quite a bit.

People like Leia, who carried so much on their shoulders that they just…shouldn’t. She shouldn’t be managing their war. Their soldiers. Their training. His own emotions.

But no matter where he turned, Obi-Wan found Leia there, silent and distant most often, eyes weighing what was in front of her, finding it wanting.

Finding him wanting this time.

He never wanted to feel like that again.

It would take effort, but Obi-Wan would talk to the Council. Try and find a way to pass this information on so they could do something about it.

Before he found Leia slipping in to fix it herself. Again.

“Sir?”

His long silence had been a mistake, Obi-Wan knew. But he made sure not to wince, not to waver as he said, “Leia would never do something like that. She values our lives too much. Even if she is…difficult.”

CC-2224 looked more than a little skeptical, but offered a stiff nod, glancing away. “Still glad she’s gone, sir. She…disrupted things.”

And they didn’t yet have a rhythm, and their army so desperately needed one. But—“I’m glad we got to see her off. She’s a wealth of good ideas, and she kept Anakin from blowing up the hangar.” At CC-2224’s skeptical look, Obi-Wan smiled and said, “That is no small thing, Lieutenant.”

There was a long, silent scowl before CC-2224 said, “I still think she underestimates him.”

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan blinked in surprise. “Possibly. Although, I doubt it. Leia is very good at…observing people. And their skills.”

“If you say so, sir,” CC-2224 shrugged. “Still glad she’s gone.”

Obi-Wan shook his head, not sure how to manage the thought that, maybe a little, he was glad too.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t reality, but there was a warmth and comfort to the scene that jarred Leia as she woke and lost the feeling to the sounds of a ship in hyperspace and the cold dimness of something missing she had gotten too used to having around. She tried to settle back into the image of her dream, tucked up next to Han on the Falcon, Lando arguing with Chewie about some heist the three of them had pulled together, Luke laughing on the floor at Lando’s protests. Artoo and Threepio were there too, bickering in a corner. Leia might have been able to make it out, but she was too comfortable pressed into Han’s side, his thumb brushing the back of her hand in gentle sweeps.

It was the wrongness of the waking sounds that brought her back out again, her current ship not making the right clanks and buzzes to fit that sense of home in her memories.

The cold came back as the dream snapped, disorienting and unexpected. It took her a moment to parse that the feeling was the lack of other Force sensitives. No buzzing burning from the Temple in a nearby district, no glow of Anakin in the room across the hall, or Obi-Wan’s gentle thrum under that radiant light. No Shmi.

Nothing but cold space and the prick of the light of the stars. The low, steady thrum of other life, going about its business without reaching out to touch the insubstantial bonds that connected it to the rest of the galaxy.

She actually missed it.

“You shouldn’t be so surprised,” Luke’s interruption was gentle, luring Leia closer to sleep. Or just unconsciousness. “You missed me too, when I was away.”

It hadn’t been the same, Leia wanted to protest. Along with pointing out that her brother was still technically gone. But the void around her was unappealing, and as she let herself drift into her own mind, she found the phantom sensation of grass under her, the hint of warmth from her brother sitting at her side. She rolled up and over to tuck herself into the crook of his arm, cuddling against him and wishing she could make this world real enough to have the smell of him again.

Well, the clean smell of him, she thought as she remembered Anakin working on his ship. “I still miss you,” Leia admitted, to distract herself.

It was easier to say when she could almost feel him, hear his breathing, could almost imagine his heart beating under her hand. Even if it was only in her own mind. He kissed her forehead and Leia felt the love from that, not just the touch but the feelings he carried for her, burning warm and gold, resilient. Persistent. Unchanged. “You don’t have to.”

“Don’t I?” she asked, and was surprised by how serious she was. “How else am I going to remember?”

He hummed instead of contradicting her right away. “Remembering is a choice. And longing, wanting something you can’t have…Maybe that’s a choice too?”

“It doesn’t feel like one,” Leia objected. “Remembering does. Wanting doesn’t.”

She felt his arm tighten around her shoulders, his breath hitch in a sigh as his head fell back to stare at the translucent blue sky streaked with misty clouds. “Are wanting and longing the same?” Luke asked.

Leia considered it. “No. Probably not. One is worse.”

“Worse how? More painful? Or more bad?”

He didn’t ask which, but she had to think about that too. “Longing is more painful,” Leia decided. “Wanting…”

She watched the grasses sway around them, felt the memory of a breeze, listened to her brother breathe. In and out. In and out.

Wanting just happened. It was almost like a background noise to Leia’s existence, she thought. She wasn’t like Shmi, or her brother. Leia hadn’t had to struggle for simple things, or make do for survival for most of her life. Her pain hadn’t been hunger or sunburns or the exhaustion of muscles pushed to the edge and past just to complete basic daily tasks. It wasn’t the lash of a master or the itch and ache of a wound that could only be partially treated until it healed into skin stretched with scars.

She’d hungered for more insubstantial things (honesty, decency, justice, freedom), taught herself to sense the lack of them in the greater galaxy around her, until it came as naturally as breathing. So she wouldn’t be complacent. So she wouldn’t love the Empire.

Leia had taught herself wanting, believing it was the bedrock to the survival of her soul. Her brother, her grandmother (hell, probably even her fath—), had had to learn to live with joy in spite of it, because of the unavoidable existence of it.

Was that even something she could unlearn at this point? Was it right? Or would it just make her complacent, as she’d always feared? Unable to act because she didn’t care how the world was or what it was going to be?

“Do whatever is necessary. And don’t look back.”

The words echoed around them, and Luke huffed, part fondness and part exasperation. “He couldn’t do anything by halves, could he?”

“Do any of us?” Leia asked, trying to smile as she looked up at him.

Luke chuckled. “Not historically.”

“Maybe that’s our problem,” Leia mused, letting the thought carry her for a moment. “Maybe we can’t do anything less than all the way, no matter how stupid or reckless or dangerous it is. We can only be all of what we are.”

To want or forsake. To love or to hate. To forget or…to remember.

“Maybe we’re out of control,” she whispered.

“No,” Luke said, the sternness of his tone surprising her. “That can be our problem, but it isn’t always.” He pulled her into a tighter hug with both arms as he added, “That isn’t your problem.”

“I have a small army of people on Coruscant and Naboo who would disagree with you,” she said, trying to lighten the mood. “Some of them are even Jedi.”

“They’re wrong,” Luke insisted, keeping her close. “They have no idea…”

But he didn’t explain, and Leia wasn’t sure she could afford to be asking. She didn’t know if she’d believe him, and knew she wouldn’t want to hear his criticisms if he was right. Couldn’t stand to face the gulf of her guilt if she wasn’t doing everything in her power to make things right.

“Stop that,” Luke whispered into the top of her head, his voice fading, but also coming hoarse and strained. “I love you.”

But it wasn’t enough.

And that thought was terrifying. Broke Leia down to her bones, jolted her out of her dream and back into the waking world with a gasp and a groan, longing and wanting eating at her skin, pressing behind her eyes.

She could feel Luke still there, offering consolation and acceptance. Pouring out his unending love.

But Leia couldn’t accept it. Couldn’t live in a world where everything her brother gave, with all the sincerity and compassion he had, wasn’t enough for her. (She trembled with the ache of it, brought back to that day in the desert, where she’d reached and reached because he’d said, he’d promised…)

“Leia…”

“I can’t,” she gasped, because it was all she knew, all she could understand. The world wasn’t real if Luke wasn’t in it. She wasn’t real if he was really gone.

“I’m here,” he whispered, a weight keeping her grounded, even as she thought she might fly apart. “I promise, I’ll always be here.”

And that was the truth and Leia could accept it.

(Even if he was really, actually gon—)

Laughter and cursing broke out, leaking through the door to her room, jolting Leia from her wallowing.

The other crew members were getting up, probably heading down to eat. She needed to get going. They’d gotten the first batches of refugees off of Herdessa and out towards other systems, but they needed routes past Christophsis, they were running out of time and—

“You shouldn’t have left Artoo,” Luke grumbled, and Leia frowned as his image appeared in her mirror (where she was trying to fix her hair, honestly Luke), shaking his head. “You really need him.”

“Anakin needs him,” Leia countered, trying to see beyond his imagine, catching her own behind it and deciding she didn’t have time to wait as she starting shaking out her hair and running her hands through it. “And I know how to plot hyperspace jumps to avoid usual traffic routes, thank you very much.”

“Then you should have Threepio,” Luke insisted.

“What does Threepio know about hyperspace travel?” Leia demanded, starting a crown braid she could mostly do by feel. “He’ll be much more helpful on Coruscant.”

“I meant to keep an eye on you,” Luke countered, too smug for this early in the morning (and she couldn’t escape the look because he was right there). “To keep you sane.”

“As if he could stop me,” Leia half laughed as she started reaching for her clothes. “And besides, droids are no fun to hug.”

Her brother didn’t have anything to say to that.

The cockpit had three other people in it and Mikail wasn’t one of them. Leia was still disappointed, but she’d known better than to expect he’d volunteer for the search runs. He had money to make, and until they knew their jumps weren’t taking them past secret Separatist contingents, it was all risk no reward for him.

It wasn’t much better for the current crew, but they were being compensated by their local governments and the RRM, so there was some motive. Especially for the rodians.

“How are we doing?” Leia asked as she stepped in, finding a spot of wall that gave her a good view of the control banks.

“We’re slow,” Rax Tacha complained, but the twist of her snout suggested a smile. “Give us three more days and we might finally be competent at this.”

“Or three years,” her brother Creetz grumbled.

Leia didn’t laugh, but she did allow herself a smile. “What, no one told you this would be long, silent, boring work? Someone else would get all the glory and honors?”

“They might have skipped that part,” Creetz was still grumbling, but she could feel his humor now, beneath the irritation. “They just said be meticulous.”

With probe droids being more effective for planetary exploration and no viable substitute offered for exploring empty space, plenty of work scanning around the systems and planets had to be done in person. Finding ship trails, seeing if they were recent or frequent, noticing if signs suggested large vessels or smaller ones, those were finicky skills to learn, and still left a lot to the imagination. They were practicing right now on known pirate routes between Rodia and Tatooine, trying to guess how dense the traffic had been in the last week.

Leia was concerned with the results.

“Should we be getting these numbers?” Bohnc Zen, asked, waving her over. His nikto features were hard to read, but she could feel the unease around him as she approached.

Hard to parse, given how much overlay there seemed to be, but that told a tale all its own. “Yes and no,” Leia said, letting her finger trail down the readout in a slow, steady slide. “This doesn’t look like what we were expecting to find. But it’s probably accurate.”

“Separatists?” Bohnc asked, his tone curious, but neutral.

“Probably not,” Leia shook her head. “Let’s see if we can get you familiar enough with some of this to confirm sizes, but my initial guess is that these ships are too small. More likely displaced pirates.”

“I assume,” Bohnc turned to look at her, “this increases our odds of running into them while we are here?”

A risk they’d been taking, coming out here at all. But it was supposed to be familiar enough space that they could avoid notice fairly easily.

So much for those plans.

Creetz and Rax both froze, and Leia made her posture as easy and fluid as she could. “More likely, yes. But we don’t have anything they’d wa—“

Actually, this close to Tatooine…

The siblings were starting to quiver. Leia sighed. “I’ll start looking for where we want to jump next and let everyone else know to be on alert. You see anyone incoming, we’ll head out early. No need to confirm if friendly or not.”

“If we can jump that fast,” Creetz mumbled as Leia turned to go.

This time she did laugh. “Oh don’t worry. We can.”

The doors of the lift opened and Padmé was grateful to see this hall was mostly empty. It was usually pretty clear up near the offices, unless a private meeting was just getting out. But she was glad she didn’t have to pause her conversation for fear of being overheard. She didn’t want to lose her train of thought.

“We’ll need to bring in a few more systems, since Uncle Ono is heading back to Rodia,” Padmé said, sighing as she thought about it. Sabé gave her a compassionate look. They knew he had to go back. His seat was in danger as much as his people. But that didn’t make it any easier. Padmé would have to start making calls as soon as they entered the office. “Not members of the committee, but others who have a vested interest in limiting the Trade Federation. Preferably from near his system. We don’t want them to feel like—Dormé!“

Her friend was smiling as she accepted Padmé’s hug, holding tight for several seconds before pulling back to study Padmé’s face. “I heard Leia was traipsing about the galaxy,” Dormé said, her hands still tight on Padmé’s arms. “I figured you could use another set of eyes and hands around here.”

“We needed them before,” Sabé sniped, softening the words by also pulling Dormé into a hug. “Do you have any idea how hard she is to wrangle? It was practically a gift, pawning her off to someone else.”

“For now,” Padmé was smiling so widely it hurt. “I’m sure she’ll be back soon enough. Even away, she can’t leave things alone and keeps requesting updates.”

Sabé rolled her eyes. “So much for anyone reining her in.”

“Who is in charge of her?” Dormé asked as they took seats on the couches, Sabé next to Dormé, her hand brushing Dormé’s and squeezing gently as they settled. Dormé smiled and reclaimed her hand as her eyes drifted to take in the room. Reorienting herself.

“She reports to Shea’s people on Herdessa as far as moving the refugees,” Sabé said. “And to us, well, the committee, once a week, but that’s a progress report. There’s the captains of the ships she travels on…”

A shared uneasiness was palpable in the room as Sabé finished the list, and the three women looked between each other. “No one,” Padmé sighed, rubbing her forehead. “No one is directly in charge of her at all times.”

“At least she has Artoo,” Sabé suggested. Dormé frowned.

“She left him with Anakin,” Padmé said, remembering how relieved she’d been when she’d first heard. “I got confirmation from Shmi on that.”

“How did Shmi hear it?” Dormé asked, her gaze traveling the room again. “Where is Shmi?”

“Central Medcenter,” Sabé sighed. “She goes there during lunch, between her committee meetings and donation solicitations. And in the evenings before supper. They’ve got the better part of a battalion on site, from the initial collision. She’s looking after them and getting the ones who’ll have to be retired prepped to enter the RRM process.”

Dormé blinked before the hint of a smile crept out. “Well, that’s one way to get them citizenship.”

“Unfortunately it only works for the ones who can’t fight,” Padmé said, frowning as she thought about the various debates and proposals that hadn’t even made it to the Senate floor yet. “Since they have to travel to an adopting planet and claim asylum there before they can be integrated. We’ve had several planets offer to do the process remotely, but it keeps getting struck down.”

“Before a vote,” Sabé added. “The Chancellor is claiming the Jedi have responsibility for the clones and we don’t want to challenge that by giving them disparate rights based on the system of origin they claim.”

“Because some systems are corrupt, or because the better ones would give the clones a right not to fight?” Dormé asked, scowling.

“He won’t say either outright,” Padmé answered, knowing she sounded young and bitter. He’d criticized her, gently, for as much yesterday after their committee meeting. “He’s trying to keep the Loyalist Committee together, and their feelings on the clones are…not aligned.”

There was a moment where Dormé considered this, before she looked back to Padmé and asked, “Is it illegal to just start doing it?”

Oh the temptation. But, “Technically, probably not. But I’d have to get Jamillia’s permission, and with how quickly the RRM project has escalated, I’m…reluctant to ask her to make that choice right now. Especially since I don’t know if anyone else would be willing to follow our example.”

“Have we asked?”

Sabé shook her head, glancing at Padmé before saying, “We’ve discussed it between ourselves, but we haven’t even mentioned it to Shmi yet. We’re…really unsure what the consequences will be.”

“There are a lot of systems already suggesting we extend the Chancellor’s emergency powers, and I’m not comfortable if pushing the issue gets this brought into his direct control,” Padmé confessed.

“We don’t trust his judgement?” Dormé checked, her voice soft and eyes traveling, even knowing they were alone and isolated.

Sabé shifted. “On this? He’s…not clear what side he’ll come down on. Any decision he makes on the treatment and use of the clones seems to be ‘for the good of the Republic.’”

They all winced at that. It was a mantra that had followed no small number of seemingly petty decisions over the years of Palpatine’s Chancellery. None of which had aligned with the views pushed by his home planet’s representatives.

“But we think he’ll get more emergency powers?” Dormé asked, refocusing.

Padmé nodded. “He’s been excluded from a lot of the on-the-ground decisions that the Jedi are currently making and we haven’t set up strong enough protocols to have a committee the army reports to yet. They’re really concerned about security leaks, especially since so much of the Confederacy was once Republic systems.”

“If we filter out people based on personal Separatist contacts…” Sabé started.

“They can exclude us,” Dormé nodded. “And most of our closest allies. Senator Organa and Senator Mothma were both fairly close to Mina.”

“And that’s just her,” Padmé agreed. “Since we haven’t sorted out security clearances yet, the Jedi have excluded the Senate from detailed deployment updates.”

Which, unless Padmé was way off the mark, had been at Leia’s insistence. Although she couldn’t prove it. In hindsight, Padmé could see the value of it. With so many Republic systems on the Corellian Run at risk, information like that was a low effort trade for any defector, or even someone intending to stay in the Republic who was just at risk, to barter for security or goods. It was…painful to think of people she worked directly with betraying the Republic that way. But they had people to serve, and Padmé knew it.

She deliberately didn’t think of Uncle Ono.

“Do we know what the expansion of powers will include?” Dormé asked.

“Bare minimum, Chancellor has the right to all briefings, or details from them. Some have suggested he needs override authority to move troops, but that one is still less popular. Even less so is giving him authorization to draft citizens, but that’s mostly because some idiot suggested giving him open access to ordering more clones as needed.”

“Probably Rush,” Sabé said, her voice soft, but her eyes hard.

Padmé looked away at that. He was unreliable, she knew. But he wasn’t evil. “It could have been Scipio. But the Banking Clans have other voices they could use, ones to make the request less obviously about them.”

“They’d have to approve the Senate taking on uncapped debt to give the Chancellor the right to order clones at will,” Dormé said, looking between them.

“Which is why it’s not up for consideration,” Padmé agreed. “Just floating around. But the more emergency power the Chancellor has, and the more he’s given direct access to the clones—“

“The more they belong to the Republic through the Senate,” Dormé sighed. “The harder it is to split control of them.” She paused. “Even though they belong to the Jedi?”

“Technically no one is claiming ‘ownership,’” Sabé sniffed. “But the clones are brought in through the GAR, the GAR is under the command of the Jedi, and the Chancellor has the right to commission the Jedi to run the GAR.”

“That seems like a poor setup,” Dormé noted primly.

“We’re working on it,” Padmé promised. “But for now, can you make some calls? Uncle Ono is heading back to Rodia, and we need input to balance out trade oversight while he’s gone.”

“Of course,” Dormé said as they all stood, stepping back to Padmé for another hug. Her voice was thick as she added. “I owe you a lot of work.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Padmé told her, holding on as tight as she could.

Sabé didn’t join the hug, but put a hand on Dormé’s back, meeting Padmé’s eyes. It was so good to be together again.

Chapter Text

He was halfway through receiving a report on casualties from the last push against their line when Mace heard, “Please tell me someone has started sorting which citizens need to get out of here first. We’re only going to be able to take thirty thousand.”

Mace sighed, turning to watch Leia approach his field command post with a resignation that almost, almost resembled relief. Before he caught himself. “That isn’t nearly enough to evacuate the city. We have at least four million—”

“Well, you did only tell us two days ago that you needed almost half the planet removed,” Leia responded, hands on her hips as she surveyed the buildings around them. “Which was not in our original plans, by the way. You said you could handle this.”

Her gaze was firm, but Mace didn’t feel like Leia’d made a particularly vicious accusation, though he could feel that it made the troopers escorting her uncomfortable. It was just a statement of the actual facts. The Jedi had thought they could push the Separatist forces off of Christophsis and out of its orbit without displacing the citizens from the planet. And maybe they could have. If they hadn’t underestimated how many Separatist forces would arrive once Mace’s troops had been firmly entrenched.

They’d called for help evacuating civilians once they’d realized they were thoroughly pinned down, and Mace had been hopeful, even when the ships that had dropped out of hyperspace and landed on his approval hadn’t been as large as he’d expected. Or as plentiful. He could barely see them in the distance, jammed into a plaza loosely converted into landing zone.

“I don’t know if anyone has put together a list,” Mace admitted, turning to CT-411 and getting a shrug and a shake of the head. “You’d have to ask the mining council—“

“Did you order them to do it?” Leia asked, the almost pitying look on her face making Mace twitch.

“No. I don’t have the authority to direct…” He stopped as the look persisted, morphing slightly to include amusement. “They have no interest in taking care of it themselves, do they?”

“I’ll have to check,” Leia acknowledged, “but I’m guessing if they’ve thought about evacuating, it’s we have to get us off first, and then maybe a few others if there’s space and we won’t be uncomfortable. That’s usually the concern with these types.”

He knew that. He should have known that, and it was frustrating to have Leia Skywalker waltz in, clean and put together, poised and primed for a fight, and Mace hadn’t even realized there was trouble coming.

He’d been doing well. They’d grossly underestimated the combat spread on the planet, but he’d still scraped together a strong enough perimeter, on the ground and in orbit, to prevent massive civilian casualties. In spite of and utilizing the asteroid belt, which he’d been particularly proud of.

His first mistake. Pride was not the hallmark of a proper Jedi.

Which was why he made himself pause and study Leia carefully now, noticing how her hand stayed close to her blaster, even as her eyes took in the gleaming crystal towers around them. That gaze would pause for half a second every so often and Mace swore she was pinpointing his sentries. Maybe even his snipers.

She was grounded here. Almost…comfortable.

That was…new. And he didn’t like it.

“The Mining Guilds are hoping we can move everyone as quickly as possible so that our military forces have more space to launch a counterattack,” Mace said bluntly. “They want their mines back. I’ve told them we’re limited with how we can use cruiser fire from orbit with civilians on the ground.”

“Have you told them you won’t be using it often even if they’re out because it’s incredibly destructive and could level entire cities, making them uninhabitable for years? Never mind what it could do to the asteroid mines, moving the battle into orbit,” she said, smiling a little.

“I thought they might prefer that piece of bad news after I could give a good one,” Mace admitted, fighting a smile of his own. “But we do have maneuvers that will be easier if we don’t have to maintain the security line we currently have.”

Tapping a finger against her blaster, Leia said, “I’ll need at least two days to get the first groups off planet. And it will only be the thirty thousand,” her eyes were apologetic, but the set of her mouth was a stubborn line. “A lot of the vessels we have weren’t back from their last drop off when we got your call.” A sigh as she added, “We thought we had more time.”

Mace wasn’t sure if Leia was actually including herself in that “we,” but he didn’t push the issue. He had a bigger concern. “If you get them off planet, will they be safe?”

She cocked her head as she considered the question. “We’ve got to make it past the asteroid belt, same as anyone else. But with your cruisers and that natural barrier, there’s low value in the Separatists trying to come directly after us. Once we hit hyperspace, we should be fine. It’s a straight shot to Herdessa.”

Her eyes moved up and down the smattering of troops that wandered nearby. It was hard to be certain with the helmets, but Mace thought Leia was getting a lot of attention, and not especially friendly. He found himself gesturing an “at ease” and the clones near him visibly softening their stance.

When he looked back to her, Leia was smiling again in a sort of resigned way. “They’ll be safer with me than here,” she added, calm and collected. “But between you and me, I can’t make any promises. We’re assuming the Separatist commanders are counting costs when it comes to using their droids. We might be overestimating that.”

She frowned as she looked over the no man’s land beyond them, empty streets where his men were still searching for the injured, scattered with rubble and the remains of droid units that had been sent to harass their line .

But not break it. Not nearly enough to break it.

“How do you mean?” Mace asked, trying to spot what she was seeing. He’d made sure to review their full terrain schematics, to have eyes on the sky, and some monitoring underground. There were scanners to pick up electric signals in areas where it would be harder to spot droids visually, his men were spaced with care. He’d learned the lessons of the battle simulations (and her seemingly mild raised brows and soft comments) as well as any of the Jedi had. He’d done good work here.

“How often are you collecting the droid casualties?” she asked, gaze on a pile of metal in the distance, riddled with blaster shots.

There was some shuffling from the troops and CT-411 said, “We don’t take trophies, sir. Against protocol.”

There was an odd twist to her face at that, but she shrugged. “Not trophies. Plundering their broken units. Making sure they don’t pick them up.”

“They do pick them up,” Mace said, remembering the first few nights when low riding vehicles had crawled across the landscape, sucking up rubble and durasteel as they went. “It’s too far out for us to do large scale retrieval. We do grab units to study, to make sure they’re still vulnerable to our blasters, and to check their programming.”

He’d heard Leia’s, “Droids are dumb,” argument with Padawan Skywalker more than enough times to know how dangerous improvements could be if the Separatists managed anything like Padawan Skywalker’s indignant suggestions. It had been eerie to observe, mostly because Mace had known each of Leia’s arguments was baiting Padawan Skywalker for the exact rebuttals he offered, at volumes meant to attract attention, turning their fight from an entertaining spectacle unusual in the Temple to the most deviously clever use of Padawan Skywalker’s mechanical expertise Mace had ever witnessed.

She handled the boy as well as Obi-Wan, if not better sometimes. And what that said about her, Mace wasn’t sure he was ready to figure out.

“It’s not just an issue of them upgrading their units,” Leia said, coming closer so she could get a better view of everything behind Mace. “They’re fighting with droids, not people.” She looked around. “Your men get injured, they need medical treatment. They die, you’re down a solider.” Her voice was even as she said it, and the clones nearby shifted at that. But Mace felt her feelings withdrawing, sliding into a space where he couldn’t examine them, and wondered. “Droids can be rebuilt. Cobble together a working torso, some surviving arms and legs, instead of being down two droids, you’re down one.” Her head turned, but her posture was fixed now, legs apart, arms behind her back. “That fundamentally changes the expense of maintaining the army.”

Mace thought about that, about the hundreds of droids they’d already shot down. Heavy artillery turned some to piles of molten scrap and ashes, bombardment shattered some into pieces, but the rest…

“That’s going to be a long-term problem,” he agreed, testing the weight of that realization. Almost overwhelmed by it. “I don’t think we can stop it.”

Watching him closely, Leia said. “If you can’t access the remnants without putting your men in danger, that might be true. But if we can find ways to even just slow it down…”

“I’ll discuss it with the Council,” Mace said, turning to move further from their border. It occurred to him that in spite of an escort, Leia wasn’t outfitted to be this far out. “Care to help me let the mine owners know that they’ll need to decide who’s leaving?”

He was surprised by the brightness of her smile and the sharpness of her pleasure. “Let’s see if we can get them so busy bickering among themselves about who gets first slot we can sneak out a whole batch before they notice.”

Not Mace’s brand of pleasure, he thought as she fell into step next to him, but it might be entertaining to watch.

He noted her salute and polite, “Commander,” to CT-411 as they moved away.

The field hospital didn’t resemble any medical facility Mace was familiar with, but the sense of pain, hope, and healing from it was familiar.

The flickering, fading lights in the Force were too. But there weren’t many here. Most of his men were dead by the time they got here if they were that badly injured.

He tried to accept that and let it go. Some days, Mace did better than others. Today was…hard.

“That’s a cheerful look,” Dr. Lset chirped up at him, emotions a steady roll of calm and competence. “What now, Master Windu?”

He was distracted for a moment by a low groan from one of the beds and a spike of pain. The clone making the noise was missing half an arm, the right side of his face was a shredded mess where one of the clone medics and another doctor were trying to remove shrapnel, and both his legs were casted. Dr. Lset turned at the sound, her black eyes glittering for a moment before the medic gave the patient and injection and he collapsed into stillness again.

The other kept working through the disruption, pulling blood coated crystal shards out with a steady hand.

Mace sighed. “I meant to tell you that we’re hoping to get some of your civilian obligations removed in the next few days.”

“How many?” Dr. Lset asked, gesturing for Mace to follow her. She cleared most of the beds to her shoulders, but Mace tried to be mindful of the sullustan’s need to stop and perch on her toes every so often to get a better view of the care going on.

She didn’t have to be here. None of the doctors did. But they’d volunteered from the first massive casualty bombardment, and as long as his medics didn’t mind the company, Mace wasn’t going to reject their help. “I’m told about thirty thousand,” he admitted.

There was a light, half caught snort. “Oh dear. Well, we knew it would be a while before they could do anything useful. And a few camps out gives us a bit more to work with.”

“Will you want to talk to the volunteers?” Mace asked. He’d had a reason to come here and he wasn’t trying to waste the doctor’s time.

“Can they handle transporting some of these injured?” she asked flatly. “I know you said they’re working on getting you better field care, but until it shows up…”

Dropping his voice, Mace reluctantly admitted, “It looks like they want to transfer full care of the clones to a Kaminoan medical staff.”

Dr. Lset’s forehead wrinkled as her eyes went wide. “Oh they do, do they? Who are they?”

“Apparently since the technology and methods that created the clones is proprietary, the Kaminoans claim it is part of any contract that any medical work is done through their team.”

“And what, if you can’t afford that, they’re just supposed to—“ she cut herself off, shaking her head. “Of course they would. Never mind. Stupid question. Honestly, they’d better not be calling themselves doctors.”

Not willing to comment, Mace only said, “I can ask what our options are, for getting some of these men offloaded for treatment. It may be that even if we can’t get a medical transport out here soon, we can have them moved to,” he grimaced, “approved facilities.”

This time Dr. Lset didn’t bother to hide her snort. “Don’t they know how war works?”

It wouldn’t do Mace any good to tell her that most members of the Senate hadn’t seen real armed conflict for a thousand years, either by luck or deliberate ignorance. Didn’t know how crucial time could be to getting so many types of medical care because they’d never been in a position to worry about such a thing.

But apparently Leia knew. When Mace introduced her to Dr. Lset and asked about their options, her questions to the doctor were pointed, informed, and deliberate. And her answer that she could get them a hundred and fifty beds, just let her make a few calls, had Dr. Lset almost whistling in amusement.

Mace caved before he left and asked if they had anything for a headache.

The pilots were already asleep, waiting for sundown to take off. It had taken a day and a half instead of Leia’s predicted two to get things organized enough to move out, and she’d give Master Windu credit for that. His ability to silence petty arguments by standing around and looking imposing was a tool she’d leveraged often.

He’d been reluctant after the third time she’d brought him in, when he’d finally realized what she was doing. But he couldn’t argue that having civilians moving off planet was a high enough priority to use a bit of subterfuge on his part.

Not to mention the other favors she was doing him.

“We’ll be taking off soon,” Leia told Shea, half in the conversation, half trying to figure out if she could afford to sleep or if she should just meditate. “I should see you in a few days.”

“Good. I’ll rub it in Senator Darsana’s face, and maybe he’ll stop being insufferable to be around.”

“You aren’t around him,” Leia wasn’t smiling, but it was a near thing. “How are the unions taking everything?”

Shea’d been avoiding this question ever since she’d called and admitted she wasn’t on Coruscant. Leia couldn’t afford not to know the answer. The Refugee Committee couldn’t.

“Not thrilled. This is a lot more people than they were hoping for, even with us just doing a restock on planet instead of housing them for several days. It shuts off those ports for trade, and with the war going on, that cuts into profits and risks future relationships. People aren’t stopping here because they know there will be waits.”

“Ideally, once we get Christophsis offloaded, that will slow back down,” Leia sighed. “But I’ll talk to the pilots about coming up with other drop off points. We’ll need them anyway, if things keep escalating out on Dac.” She wanted to ask for an update, but the channel was dubiously secure as it was. She wasn’t thrilled that Shea’s location was being broadcast on it. But while they were here, “What kind of medical personnel are ready for our arrival?”

Shea’s expression dimmed as she asked, “Why?”

“I may have volunteered to transport some of the injured soldiers,” Leia admitted. “They can’t get the care they need here,” she added as Shea’s face pinched. “We—“

“Did Padmé update you on the medical care situation?” Shea asked, and Leia did not like the careful neutrality of that tone.

“No…”

Shea offered a summary of the situation. Leia cursed it to every hell she knew, and maybe a few she made up. Shea laughed.

When she finished, she managed a surprisingly sober tone as she said, “How many of them will be able to fight once they’ve recovered?”

“At least half,” Leia reassured, “maybe more if they get good enough treatment.”

Surprisingly, that didn’t enthuse Shea. She asked, “How many of them might be open to other options than fighting? If they weren’t…quite up to combat standards.”

The terms sounded a bit clumsy in Shea’s mouth, but Leia thought she understood where this might be going. “You would have to ask them. I haven’t had much of a chance to talk to anyone aside from one of the doctors here and Master Windu, who were mostly concerned about getting them needed treatment.”

“Then we’ll ask them once they get here,” Shea promised. “And I’ll make sure to have a medical team on standby. For how many?”

“Hundred fifty,” Leia admitted. It made Shea grimace, but she nodded.

“We can make that work. I’ll get in touch with Shmi.”

Leia was about to ask what that meant when someone knocked on the door. “I have to go.”

“Take care. I’ll see you soon.”

Leia ended the call and opened the door just as a second knock was sounding, “Sorry, I was just—“

“You need to take off now,” CT-411 was brusque, but with the door now open, Leia could hear the faint sound of blaster fire filtering in. “As quick as you can.”

Taking two seconds to be enraged, Leia darted out of the comms room and started jogging down the hall, CT-411 keeping pace easily.

She ignored the blaster out in his hands. “How long do we have?”

“Not sure. Their ships started closing with ours about twenty minutes ago, and about ten we caught sight of the first wave on the ground.”

Well, it wasn’t like the Separatists could have missed the incoming refugee ships. Frankly, it was lucky to have made it this long without any sort of challenge. “We’re only half loaded.”

“If we hold the lines you’ve got all night, but we could be talking less than an hour before the ground we hold shifts. They’re pushing hard.”

A flurry of light activity, whittling them down, forcing their hand with the civilians. Then a strong, coordinated attack. Great. Just great.

“Where’s the general?”

“Central command for now, but he’ll probably head out to the front lines soon.”

And she was getting a formal escort. Something else was wrong, but she didn’t have time to overthink it. She moved through the temp shelter that was functioning as a base, starting to make calls. They wouldn’t wake the pilots just yet, not if they were still loading. But someone needed to be on standby to do that as quickly as possible when the time came.

“Can you leave light?” CT-411 asked when she finished, as they started moving beyond the base, down the street towards the plaza. “If you don’t fill up—“

“You’ll have a riot behind you and droids in front,” Leia said, not mincing words. “We may have to make that choice, but we’re leaving you with enough civilians already. And if it’s hard enough to take off this time, we may have trouble convincing people to risk coming back.”

“You’re not exactly filling me with a lot of hope, sir.”

Urgency of the moment forgotten (or pushed aside, you couldn’t forget blaster shots as you heard them), Leia stopped and waited for him to face her. “I’m going to get as many people loaded as I possibly can in the next hour, maybe two. Let the general know that’s my timeline. If you can hold for that long, I’ll get fifty thousand off this planet for you.”

There was a brief pause as he said, “You can’t fit—“

“Under fire? Droids incoming? Just watch me. It’ll be ugly, but I’ll do it.”

It would be really, really ugly. But if they could handle two days of tight rations and even tighter quarters, people would volunteer. And right now, she’d guess she could get a lot of volunteers.

“That won’t start its own riot?”

“Only one way to find out.”

There was a series of impassioned swears and CT-411 shook his head. “I’m getting you to your ship. Then I’ll tell the general.”

At least now she knew what his orders were. “Get me close. I can manage—“

“You’ve got this whole operation,” CT-411 said, actually cutting her off. “We lose you, for any stupid reason, who takes your place?”

She could have given him a list of the chain of command, but it wouldn’t have been worth it. None of them had been tested in this kind of scenario, none of them knew what they were supposed to do. What was possible under these levels of duress. “Fine. Let’s go.”

They made for a narrower road than the main one to the plaza, Leia causally keeping track of wave after wave of clone troopers as they moved in the opposite direction, towards the fighting. There were shouts, and CT-411 kept updating their position, accepting commands with a, “Yes, sir,” or “Roger that,” without passing on any information.

Not what Leia preferred, but if she demanded he talk, it might slow them down, and she needed more time…

They were crossing an intersection at a run, back towards the main road, the front line far enough behind them that the sounds were dimming, when CT-411 threw himself against her with a shout, dragging them both down and into the half cover of the curve of a building. Something exploded nearby, kicking up a screen of dust and pinging debris. It took Leia a moment to catch her breath before she could gasp, “What?”

“Bomber,” CT-411 spat out, dragging her up. “Shit, which way…”

They hadn’t reoriented much, but the concussive effect of the bomb wasn’t pleasant. And might have messed with whatever helmet system the clones had. That and there was a lot of yelling around them filtering through the clouds of dust, men verifying positions, getting body counts. Someone almost screaming in pain, half weeping.

Unable to stay, to wait and listen to that sound (someone was with him, she’d only be in the way) Leia grabbed CT-411’s arm and started hauling, “This way.”

“Can you see—“

“I don’t have to.”

He resisted, but when she took off without him he had no choice but to follow. They cleared the dust cloud and Leia could see the refugee ships in the distance, and the dark spot of the bomber heading that way. “No, no!”

“Bomber from the south east,” CT-411 was shouting. “I don’t care how it got there, shut it the fuck down!”

There was a barrage of blaster shots from the upper floors of buildings as the ship kept moving. She couldn’t reach it, couldn’t stop it, but she had to try—

Leia threw up a hand, breathed, reached, faltered feeling pain behind her even as in front she brushed a speck of speed and metal, blurring, yanked, felt a slight jerk and wobble.

There was a burst of fire, just as a proton torpedo launched, the ship exploding only seconds before the nearest building shattered on one side, a plume of green-grey whooshing up and down.

CT-411 was screaming but Leia was already running.

Chapter Text

The limp was subtle. Ponds knew his was much more obvious than his general’s, but that only made Ponds more concerned, not less. They were all getting a much better idea of the stupid, borderline suicidal, antics their Jedi was willing to risk. Including, but unfortunately not limited to: jumping in front of blaster fire with only a tiny light stick as a shield, leaping off tall buildings with no jet pack, leaping off tall buildings with no jet pack while under fire with only a tiny light stick for a shield, and still going into active battlefields while not wearing any armor.

They were working on that one. Ponds was close. They just needed someone to approve the requisitions without looking too closely and once the pieces were here, it wouldn’t be too hard to get the general to at least try them on one time.

Hopefully.

Razor’s suggestion to glue the general in was sounding better by the day, no matter how insubordinate.

“Any update on when the medical supplies will arrive, sir?” Ponds asked, exaggerating his limp slightly as the general looked at him.

“You want more ships coming into the system right now, Commander?” General Windu asked, and Ponds was getting good enough to know it was part curiosity along with the disbelief.

Given the number of civilian injuries from the bomber getting through, on top of all the damage their army was sustaining, yes, Ponds did want more ships incoming. It was more than worth the risk if they could get any help.

Shrugging, he offered, “We got the last ones out okay. Didn’t break the Senate’s pet ambassador. Just thought we might have gotten a reward for it.”

He hadn’t meant the bitterness to creep through, and the raised brow from his general had his gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before he forced it back up. General Windu waited before asking, “You had a problem with Leia Skywalker?”

Besides the fact that she was even more inclined to do stupid things that would get her shot, crushed, or blown up than the general? Less than Ponds had expected. But the right answer was, “No, sir. That as a joke. Sorry, sir.”

There was another pause before the general offered, “If she did do anything, anything, that concerned you, I would like you to let me know. She’s…not always easy to get along with, and if she’s causing trouble I can request that she isn’t sent back.”

There was a flicker of silence immediately around them at that. As the general started to look around, Ponds quickly said, “Nothing to report, sir. She’s,” he struggled for a moment before settling on, “very professional. More than we expected.”

Another quirk of that stern brow for “we,” and Ponds wished he hadn’t slipped. She wasn’t directly in the chain of command, but no one would tell them, or maybe could tell them, where to insert the Senate into that chain. But all the clones knew. The Senate was in the chain of command. Somewhere. Probably above their Jedi. The Senate that had only grudgingly accepted the clones, that Leia Skywalker reported directly back to.

The Naboo senator, particularly.

So he just said, “I’d classify her as something of a lunatic, with no offense meant, sir. I’d like to put her in armor if we do ever see her again. She’s a bit,” he couldn’t say, “like you,” and offered, “field oriented. I’d hate to manage the paperwork if we did lose her.”

That moment she’d disappeared into the smoke of the collapsing building and Ponds had lost sight of her had been the most terrifying since he’d deployed. He’d had orders and she’d just kept moving. Even after she’d fallen through three sections of unstable rubble. All because she couldn’t ignore the screaming.

“She does take great risks,” the general conceded, not touching any other implications. “She may not be the only one. Do we even have armor that would fit her?”

“No sir,” Ponds said, his hands twitching behind his back. “Definitely too small.”

Nodding, the general said, “See if you can request some gear in a few alternate sizes. Just in case we have any more…active visitors.”

Fighting back a smile and ignoring the looks on his brothers’ faces, Ponds nodded. “Yes, General.”

Leia collapsed onto the couch, tucking her legs under her and burrowing into the corner as Shea offered her a blanket and a glass of water. “Thank you,” Leia breathed, forcing herself to take the water in sips, not gulps. She wasn’t completely dehydrated, but it had been a thin few days.

“That’s the fourth time you’ve said that in the last two minutes,” Shea mused, her lips smiling but her eyes narrowed. “I’ve hardly offered you anything at all.”

Absolute quiet, an actual shower, clean clothes, and water was more than Leia had been hoping for when they’d landed a few hours ago. She’d expected to be banished for bringing so many more people than had been expected.

Instead Shea had swooped in, dragged Leia away, and left a small army of other competent people to deal with the weeping, hysterical mess of sentients on those ships. It had been too much of a relief for Leia to even pretend to protest. “I’m hoping if I say it enough times you’ll pretend I don’t owe you an apology.”

“Saving people’s lives doesn’t require an apology,” Shea’s smile slid into her eyes. “Especially since you saved enough of the mining barons. Some of them have friends here, and more will by the time this is done. Just the sort of hospitality that makes me look good for suggesting this.”

“And here I’d been about to leave them,” Leia sighed, remembering those frantic arguments as overdressed, flailing bodies had tried to push past the guards by the ships. “Thank goodness they just couldn’t have that.”

Her water was gone. She hadn’t meant to drink it that quickly, and Leia frowned at her empty cup. Shea took it for a refill and Leia let her head drop onto her hand, propped on the arm of the couch. If she closed her eyes for just a minute, she could probably get the headache mostly under control.

Warm fingers rubbed at the tension in her neck as a glass was pressed back into her hand. “You seem to have handled them pretty well.”

“I told them we weren’t leaving anyone already assigned behind just because they got on too. They could live with the huddled masses for a few days, it wasn’t my problem.”

Shea worked small circles up Leia’s hairline and behind her ears and it was pure relief. “They just accepted that?”

When they’d first boarded, trying to flee from the dust and smoke and the sounds of blaster fire, so much closer than it had ever been before, yes. Later, in the quiet of hyperspace, it had gotten…contentious. “We worked it out. They didn’t want to be stuck in the middle of a firefight.”

There was a flicker of worry as Shea whispered, “This isn’t exactly what we’d expected to be dealing with.”

Leia snorted, almost choking on her water. “It was never going to be.”

The fingers stopped for a second, then continued as Shea asked, “You expected this?”

“This exactly?” Leia leaned into the touch. “No. I hadn’t picked Christophsis as such a messy battleground. I’d have thought the Separatists would’ve tried for the mines on the asteroids instead of landing. Would have made more sense.”

Shea hummed. “But the escalation. You expected that.”

“Two full sized armies on both sides, already bought and paid for? Someone had to justify them. It was only a matter of time. And if they couldn’t be justified, they had to be gotten rid of.”

“Padmé wouldn’t like to hear you say that,” Shea noted.

“She doesn’t,” Leia agreed. “But I remind her every time she talks about immediately dismantling the clones as an armed force. I don’t like the Senate using an involuntary army, but I don’t have any illusions about what will happen to them if the Senate doesn’t have to take responsibility for them.”

There were hardly any clones left in the Imperial army by the time the Empire had ended, hadn’t been almost any for years. But the Emperor had still found plenty of people to die for him.

“Why do you stay with her?” Shea asked. “If her optimism bothers you so much?”

“Are you going to offer me a job?” Leia asked, grumbling. “You can’t do that right now, Shea. I can’t be polite. I’m too tired.”

That earned a half laugh and a kiss on the cheek. “No, I won’t offer you a job if you’re too tired. But I am curious.”

Leia opened her eyes, stared across the mostly empty room, taking in the stark lines of the tables and shelves, the plush softness of the carpet, the gold and bronze figures that decorated the room. Organic and geometric shapes, but not figures of actual things. Simple. Practical. Eye catching.

“I don’t object to her optimism,” Leia said, her voice sliding past her lips more easily than she had expected. “I envy it. And the world she thinks exists. I remember believing in it too.”

Shea’s hand dropped to between Leia’s shoulders. “You wish you could go back? To believing in it?”

“I want to make it real,” Leia said, closing her eyes to picture it, like she’d used to. Peace in the galaxy. Hope for a better future. “I want to live in the world that she imagines.”

A world Leia’s father and mother had tried to create, in the midst of abject cruelty and despair. One they’d taught her to believe in, even as they’d watched what they’d thought was a good world tumbling into ruin. One that Leia had believed in, had held onto, even when her whole life had been destroyed in an instant.

And somewhere since then, that dream had faded. Had drifted into…

(fire and darkness and a void in her heart…)

Shea’s free hand found Leia’s under the blanket, curled around it. “It’s a nice world. Even if it isn’t a real one.”

It was a relief to realize Leia might not be the most cynical person in the galaxy. Paranoid possibly, but not cynical. “Would you want to live in it?” Leia asked, turning to look at her friend. “If it was real?”

“If you’re there,” Shea said, “where else am I supposed to be?”

Leia laughed, wincing a little as the movement jerked her, stretching her side. She tried to smooth her features, but Shea had noticed. “You are injured,” she half growled, standing. “Leia—“

“I’m fine,” Leia insisted, sitting up straighter. “It’s a graze, it’s patched, it’ll be fine in a few days.” When that didn’t help, she added, “It’s not the first time I’ve been injured.”

Which, in retrospect, would have sounded better if Leia had been smart enough to add that’s why she knew it was a light injury and not worth worrying about. But Shea was already trying to pull Leia to her feet, saying, “We’ll have it looked at. I’ll call—“

“I’m fine,” Leia insisted. “I got treated on the ship, the medic knew what they were doing. I’m too tired to go anywhere tonight.”

And that was true. Leia’d been wondering how she was going to haul her body from her spot on the couch back to her guest room and to a bed.

Shea released Leia’s hand, crossed her arms, and tapped a finger. She said, “You’ll let my doctor look at you in the morning?”

“Yes,” Leia promised. “If you insist.”

“Oh I do,” Shea offered her hand again and Leia contemplated it for a moment before accepting the support. “Come on. If you’re agreeing to be reasonable, you definitely need sleep.”

“I’m not that bad,” Leia pouted. “And you’re overreacting,” she added, as Shea pulled Leia up and looped an arm through hers. “Maybe I should get injured more often.”

“No!”

Leia blinked as the protest echoed in her ear and the back of her mind, her brother a sudden spikey ball of nerves pressing against her consciousness as Shea glared at her, almost seething. “S-sorry,” she managed, caught between inside her mind and out. “It was a joke.”

“Bad joke,” Shea grumbled, pulling Leia along. “More injured. Honestly…”

“I was kidding,” Leia protested, knowing only Luke could hear it.

“No,” he repeated, as grumpy as Shea was. “Don’t ever think that again.”

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Leia let Shea tuck her in, determined to enjoy what would probably be her only night in a bed this comfortable for some time.

“So we’re staying here,” CT-7567 checked, keeping his voice low. Odds were that two of his brothers could still hear him, but Shmi thought he probably knew that.

“Yes. Senator Organa negotiated that the 501^st will get to finish their recovery with the current staff, since most of you are only a week away from deployment. Your brothers in other units will be treated by Kaminoan doctors, stationed throughout the Republic. And some of those doctors will be sent here. But they won’t relocate you.”

“And Stretcher and Kneecap?”

Shmi smiled at the names, and that they’d wanted her approval before they’d stuck. “Bail is having them transported to Alderaan today. They’ll work on Kneecap’s mobility with his new leg there, and continue Stretcher’s physical therapy. Then they can process through the RRM on Alderaan, or visit Naboo and see if they would prefer to settle there.”

“Unless they can go back to work as pilots?” CT-7567 checked.

“Or whatever else they would like that they get cleared for,” Shmi agreed. “But they will be safe and taken care of. I promise.”

“I know,” CT-7567 nodded. “You already said.”

And every promise she had made him she’d kept. She’d wanted to make more, but had been brutally honest when she’d had to. There were some things she couldn’t do for these men, no matter how much she wanted. She had been relieved when Bail had at least been able to negotiate the unit staying here to finish treatment. They had needed the extra support she could provide.

“Will you need anything else?” Shmi asked, reaching her hand towards him, grateful that now he knew he could take it to find comfort in it. “Before you go?”

“Just the paint,” he said. “Word is in that we can mark the armor, as long as we’re not too flashy.”

And they wanted a symbol, to commemorate their loss, and also their survival. They’d debated it after the memorial they’d held here, for all their fallen brothers from the crash. Two circles, they’d decided, barely offset and slightly overlapping. For the crash, and for Shmi, mother from the two suns.

She hadn’t cried in front of them. Much. But she had accepted all their hugs and awkward thanks with as much reverence as she could manage.

The desert had given her Anakin and Leia. And Leia and Anakin had given her these sons. And the brothers promised they would keep an eye out for Anakin and Leia when they could, and Shmi promised she would see her children safe and home, when it was all over.

“We will all walk free,” she’d told them. “One way or another.”

She would make sure of it.

“I’ll make sure it arrives by tomorrow,” she told CT-7567. “Do you know where you’re going?”

He shook his head. “No orders yet, but that’s no surprise. They can’t send confidential information down here. I’ve been invited out to the Temple day after tomorrow to get an official update from our commander, with a couple of others. We should know then, but it’ll probably be secret.”

Frustrating as it was, Shmi made herself accept that. She’d heard enough of Leia’s concerns about what happened when important information like troop movements got leaked. This crash had been an accident, but Shmi wouldn’t want another to happen on purpose because someone had been loose lipped and careless.

She was familiar with that sort of danger. “I’ll talk to Bail and Padmé about how we can keep in touch. It may have to be through RRM or Refugee Committee channels, but I want to know how you’re doing, once you’re out there.”

His fingers tightened around hers as CT-7567 said, “We’ll be okay. We’ve got each other.”

Shmi pressed his fingers to her forehead and her lips, accepting the moment of shock and discomfort before CT-7567 leaned in slightly, waiting for her to speak. Her voice was thick as she said, “Tomorrow is never promised,” making sure to meet his eyes. “But today has been given, and I will always remember.”

“We’ll remember you too,” he whispered back. “We’ll never forget what you’ve done.”

Leia had been right about her injuries. Nothing was wrong with her a bacta patch or two wouldn’t solve in a couple of days. But being dragged out of bed early to see Shea’s doctor before Leia had to report back to the refugee ships had left her in a foul mood. Rather than take it out on her friend, Leia kept recycling her experience on Christophsis through her thoughts, trying to pinpoint what had gone wrong and what things she could correct in the future.

Luke was almost as bored as he was irritated.

“Given that you were the one hiding a series of lacerations and bruised ribs, I’m a little curious as to why I’m getting the silent treatment,” Shea said, leaning across to poke Leia’s knee. “Care to enlighten me?”

“I was thinking,” Leia offered, not the least bit sorry she wasn’t being helpful.

Shea rolled her eyes. “About?”

Debating how childish she was willing to be when she didn’t know how long it would be before she saw Shea again (and Shea had given her a bath, and bed, and water), Leia admitted, “Droid scraps. And how nice it would be if we had someone to collect them so the Separatists can’t just keep recycling them.”

“Like who?” Shea asked. “And what sorts of scraps?”

“Someone who’d be willing to go in after or between battlefield skirmishes. Most of the battle droids are gunned down by infantry. They’re remarkably intact, even when they get blown up. I think they’re meant to come apart pretty easily so they can be salvaged in bits.”

“That would make sense,” Shea said. “The Trade Federation is nothing if not cheap. Why between skirmishes?”

“The Separatists do their own collection during down times, as long as it is far enough away from Republic lines. So it’s not an opportunity that lasts forever. And it’s very high risk, especially the closer you get to the Separatist forces.”

“So it’s a suicidal entrepreneur problem,” Shea said, her tone and smile trying to coax Leia into a better mood. “I may actually know a small army of those.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize you had that many people you hated so much.” It was supposed to be funnier, but Leia was apparently still bitter about being conned into seeing a doctor thanks to sleep deprivation. Never again.

“You underestimate me,” Shea didn’t seem offended. “But really, plenty of people want to get in on the profits from the war. All they need is the excuse.”

While unsurprising, it was still a bit disheartening to hear. “How lovely.”

“And the money,” Shea added, ignoring Leia’s tone. “Most of what is scaling right now is manufacturing, with some people trying to get in on rations production. But you need infrastructure for those. What you’d need for droid harvesting is guts, ships, and guts.”

“I notice you didn’t list brains,” Leia mused, smiling a little now.

“Of course not.” Shea hesitated before adding, “What if we offered jobs to the refugees?”

Leia blinked, sat up straighter, blinked again. “The ones we just got off the planet?”

“Not those ones,” Shea shook her head. “The other ones, displaced before the war. And the new ones too, if they’re interested. Say it’s helping their homelands, aiding the clone army. While making a bit of money on the side.”

“We’re already strapped for ships,” Leia pointed out. “We can’t be handing them over for scrap collectio—Oh!”

Shea’s grin was triumphant. “Not our ships. Current scrap collectors. Freelance pilots. Smugglers.”

“Pirates,” Leia added. “Give them a target…” She thought about Shea’s comment on money. “Get the Republic to pay for—Shea, the Senate won’t do that.”

“We can finagle the finances,” Shea waved this aside. “Have the Republic hire third party contractors, make them take some of our unemployed, displaced patriots. Offer security codes to move safely around Republic forces. We ask for a small portion of their profits from selling the scraps, let them keep the rest as their wages, and put our portion back into the committee fund.”

“Or the clones,” Leia mused. “Their feeding, medical costs, training, transport…”

“Yes,” Shea breathed. “Yes. To offset the costs the Republic is accumulating. We’ll need more incentives for the pilots though.”

“We can have tiers,” Leia mused. “Some zones will be safer for collection than others. That could impact things.”

They bounced ideas back and forth as they approached the space port, arguing over protections for the refugee workers and what percentage they could request off the scrappers.

“There is one thing,” Shea said as they landed, stopping Leia with a hand on her arm. Leia raised a brow in question. “We’ll need to know exactly how much profit they can get from this. How much scrap is out there, how many droids on the average battlefield. How often they can harvest.”

“You need data,” Leia, seeing where this was going. “Visual evidence, on the ground knowledge.”

Shea nodded, reluctance a haze around her. “You’ll be passing near and through occupied territory—“

“Get the language put together,” Leia said. “Talk to your guilds and unions. See what we’d need to offer for this to work. I’ll get all the details that I can and bring them back with me once the new routes are up and running.”

“How long will that take?” Shea asked. “I’ll need some time to win the unions over, but it won’t take forever.”

“I’ll keep you posted,” Leia said. “I’d like to be there, I think it would be more convincing in person. But I can just forward the data if I have to.”

She exited their transport, watching Shea hesitate inside, seeing the dozens of people milling about. “I’ll only be in the way, won’t I?”

“Around here, probably,” Leia admitted. “Even I’m in the way. Now that we’ve got this first batch here and better exit strategies planned, I have to get those paths around and behind Rodia and Tatooine sorted out.” Too many pirates and Separatists around there and Geonosis. It was going to be long trips with lots of jump points if they needed to do much work in that region.

Shea stepped out to give Leia a quick, tight hug. “Stay safe. We need you.”

“You too,” Leia said. “Getting creative seems to get unwanted attention. Make sure your security is tracking any bounties on you.”

“I’m a senator,” Shea objected. “That’s hardly—“

“Padmé,” Leia retorted, perfectly serious. “She made enemies of the Trade Federation. There’s no way this won’t attract their attention at some point. And the Mining Guilds may not care enough about you personally to offer any sort of protection, no matter how generous Herdessa is.”

Crossing her arms, Shea mused for a moment before relenting. “Fine. I will. But who’s tracking your bounties?” she asked, half teasing, worry seeping off her in the Force.

“Me, obviously,” Leia threw over her shoulder as she turned to go.

Anyone else would be overreacting.

Molavar was a nothing planet in a backwater of the Outer Rim, a stopping point for those brave enough to try it. It had almost no Republic contact, an eyes down, you aren’t my business attitude in all of its ports, and while in Hutt space wasn’t especially valuable to the Hutts.

Leia and her crew had landed mid-afternoon, found the least sketchy place near the port to book a room for the night, and eaten ration bars so they wouldn’t have to worry about venturing out to find something safe for consumption. Rax and Creetz were next door, and Leia was glad they were sharing a room. If anyone tried to bother them, Rax would be able to keep her brother safe.

And Leia would probably hear Creetz shriek if Rax couldn’t handle an intruder on her own.

Their lodgings were quiet and delightfully anonymous, and Leia found that comforting, even if the few other guests she’d spotted looked…dubious. No one spared her a second glance, barely a first.

Leia didn’t question her sudden awakening in the middle of the night, hand already on her blaster, aimed at a corner of the room, but it was a surprise, and a very unpleasant one.

And then she realized what she was looking at and fought back panic. Habit kicked in and she gave an exaggerated sigh. “Do they really have nothing better for you to do?”

Jango Fett marched out of the shadows, ignoring her blaster following him and taking a stand in the middle of the room, arms crossed over his chest. “You don’t think you’re a high priority?”

“In comparison to the Jedi Council? The Loyalist Committee? The whole Senate?” She couldn’t see his face because of the helmet (the shape was throwing her, almost familiar and friendly, but not and wrong), but she could feel his lack of interest in everyone but the Jedi Council. Interesting.

“You think we don’t already know how to handle them?” he asked, and she had to listen past his voice, to actively remind herself this wasn’t CC-2224 or CT-411 or—

Reaching out with the Force, memorizing the jagged edges around Jango that were nothing like any of the clones she’d met, Leia lowered her blaster to her lap, but kept her hand loosely around it, still pointed in Jango’s general direction. “I’ll spare you my feelings on your handling of the Senate. You obviously think you have them in hand.”

Still no interest from him. “I don’t know what he’s after,” Jango said, ignoring her comment. “I think he’s damn stupid. But the Count wants me to talk to you, so here I am.”

“And what does he hope to gain,” she asked, “by doing this?”

“He says he wants to train you. Says you’ll make a good Sith.”

Chapter Text

Leia burst out laughing. She had to shove her hand halfway into her mouth to muffle the sounds so no one would hear through the thin walls. She hoped she stopped before it got to a point where she was wheezing.

Jango’s irritation and his slight confusion pulsed as a slow diffusing wave. “Not sure you’d make a good Sith?” he growled, his hands moving to his hips. Closer to his guns.

“Oh no,” Leia said, drawing slow breaths and trying not to snicker. “I would make an excellent Sith. Probably one of the best. I’m just not sure it would be in the Count’s best interest.”

That surprised him. One of his hands actually landed on a gun before he stopped himself. Leia just smiled. He asked, “What makes you so sure?”

Since, “Sithing runs in the family,” would have been wholly unjust to Shmi and Luke, Leia said, “Generally speaking, a Sith apprentice’s first objective is to kill their master. Which is, I assume, why Dooku is interested in training one. It will be easier to kill his with help. Unfortunately, it also just creates the same problem.”

“So he kills you first,” Jango pointed out, his arms crossing again.

Leia shrugged. “He could try. I doubt it would work out how he expected.”

“You’re good,” Jango said with a half shrug. “But you’re not that good. You’re lucky he wasn’t sending me to kill you, or you’d already be dead.”

He might not be wrong, Leia could admit to herself, but she wasn’t completely sure he was right either. More importantly, “I guess Boba’s okay then.”

Shock and anger, suspicion, whipped out from him. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“If I had killed him,” she said (or hurt him badly enough), “you’d have come to kill me regardless of what the Count wanted.”

There weren’t a lot of things Leia understood about Jango Fett. His past was a pretty closed book to her and his motives for being the surrogate for the clones went beyond anything she was willing to imagine. But even that passing interaction she’d witnessed in the hall on Geonosis had told her one thing. He was trying to be what he thought was a good father.

And (as she was intimately familiar with) good men and good fathers didn’t always come in the same package. To say nothing of what bad men and bad fathers were still willing to do in the names of their children.

Something about that statement grounded Jango, almost relaxed him. Even as bitterness and anger swirled around. “You weren’t trying to hurt him. It was just convenient.”

“As you may remember,” Leia said, avoiding her own memories of how it felt to hear that small body hit the wall, “I never said that I was kind.”

“Not a quality most Jedi are so proud to forgo,” Jango said, and Leia noticed the clip in his voice when he said Jedi. And proud. “Sort of their thing, I thought.”

“I’m really not sure who told you I’m a Jedi,” Leia answered, “but they did you a great disservice. Although,” she tilted her head, “you probably charge more for Jedi, don’t you?”

He ignored the question. “Are you interested in the Count’s offer or not?”

“No,” Leia said, focusing on her hand and the blaster slack on her lap. “So unless you have something to sweeten the deal…”

He wasn’t moving to shoot her. Interesting. She’d been very frank about turning him down, but his careful posture wasn’t shifting to anything more threatening. Either he was much faster and deadlier than she remembered, or…

“He said you might say that,” Jango sighed. “And he said he’d give you some time to reconsider.”

Risky, given that she’d (slightly) hinted she knew who his master was. But he might have missed that. And she hadn’t moved on Palpatine directly, so if he had caught it, Dooku could assume she was too ignorant or too scared to do anything about it. This offer was probably a worthwhile risk, especially since she wasn’t a Jedi, and if anyone found out she’d been approached it would be a…complicated look. “How generous of him. I honestly can’t believe he felt the need to send you for such an offer. Surely there were cheaper options.”

It was grossly beneath him, and Jango had to have plenty of money from templating for the clones. He wasn’t here to kill her, but he could have accepted to offset what it would cost to find her for his own reasons. Her death was probably still an option on the table, at some point.

When her bounty got significantly higher.

“I don’t worry about why my clients pay me, just how much, and how soon. Sometimes a simple run is a nice change of pace.”

Interesting that he’d answered, though it felt slightly hollow. “Think he’ll send someone else next time?” she probed.

“You’re a tough lady to get a hold of. I doubt it.”

Which was not what he’d implied a moment ago. But even if she was difficult to find, apparently Jango didn’t see her as dangerous.

More fool him.

“I am quite busy right now,” she said. “Since he’s dragged us into this war. I probably won’t be available for a follow up before he’s in Republic custody.”

Jango actually snorted at that. “Even if that were to happen—“

“It wouldn’t be effective?” Leia asked, reaching with her senses to try and sort through what few impressions Jango was letting off. “I’m sure he does have some old friends still in the Republic for just that purpose. But you should consider what will happen when the Jedi get their hands on him. He’s making them look rather bad right now, you know.”

“They don’t need his help for that,” Jango scoffed. “Although, he’s always been good at it.”

And there was that rage again. Something to look into when she got back, Leia thought. Although trying to get the Council to confess to historical missteps was going to be almost as impossible as getting Han to admit he had no idea what he was doing to his ship.

Almost.

Jango wasn’t turning to go. While she was sure he wouldn’t respond to any sort of dismissal from her with anything less than pompous refusal, Leia couldn’t guess what he was waiting for. Unless it was for her to put her blaster way so he could turn around.

Which wasn’t going to happen.

“Did you need anything else?”

It was a moment before he so much as moved. Instead of answering, he reached up and pulled off his helmet, resting it in the crook of his elbow and against his side as he watched her reaction. The light from her tiny window was enough to showcase the shape of his face, familiar after so many days on the cruiser. But this one was lined, etched with more creases from stress and weather, cut by the impression of scars she couldn’t quite make out in the dimness. A familiar face, but not too familiar.

This was…too much like certain old memories (Jango, not Boba, Jango…).

Her hand twitched on her blaster and she could see his eyes catch it, see them narrow, watch the corner of his mouth twitch just slightly. “Not many people out there have the guts to do what you’ve done.”

It didn’t sound like a compliment. “Maybe they’re content,” she said quietly, “bowing to lesser men. I’m not.”

If she’d had to read just his face, she wouldn’t have known how he’d taken that, but the surge of poisoned anger whipped around him again. Bitter, old, writhing. It was…dark. In ways that Leia hadn’t seen in many other people in this time. But not as frightening as it probably should have been.

“You keep walking down this road,” Jango hissed, “you’re only in for disappointment. The Jedi won’t save you, they don’t care. The Senate is useless, and your little queen won't help that. The Republic is a joke, ask anyone who lives beyond the Core. Hell, ask half the people in there. You don’t see—“

“It’s dying,” Leia agreed, angry and unable to fix it. Not without risking harm and unwanted attention. “Slowly, and less slowly, eating itself from the inside. I know that.” A deep breath, to fortify her mind, to let it go. “I probably can’t save it.”

Not as it was. And she didn’t even want to save the current Republic. Oh, she’d accepted everything her parents had said in her childhood about the days of the Old Republic, and the light it had been in comparison to the Empire had driven her, almost to the point of madness by the end. Even in the face of Luke’s life and Han’s childhood and everything she had come to know about those last decades of the Republic as she'd lived within the Rebellion.

She couldn’t save this. And she wasn’t going to. But…but, “I still don’t bow to lesser men, just because it would be profitable. Or convenient.”

This time she could see the twist of his frown, almost baring his teeth, could watch all the lines on his face deepen with a mocking scowl. “And you think you’d make a half-way decent Sith?”

“Sith apprentices bow to one man,” Leia said, “and they don’t think he’s lesser. Their master bows to no one. Unless you cut them down at the knees.” An image that delighted her more than it should. “I won’t bow to either, because their power is a joke.” She shrugged. “It always betrays them, sometimes before their own students do.”

“Sounds like Jedi nonsense,” Jango said, half turning to go. Stopping, glaring at her. “Don’t touch my son again.”

“Don’t touch my mother,” Leia shot back. And almost winced at her own stupidity.

Jango blinked. “If finding you’s below my pay grade, Shmi Skywalker’s never gonna cut it.”

Leia didn’t correct his assumption, and was almost relieved he’d misunderstood. Even if she did want to hit him for disparaging Shmi.

He’d learn.

“We’re down another twenty systems,” Shmi said, “since the last time we checked.”

“Which takes the total over four hundred,” Dormé sighed over her notes, glancing at Padmé. “We’re not going to be able to get citizenship through. They aren’t interested in generic Republic idents.”

“We can’t be surprised,” Padmé wasn’t snapping, but she was close. “If we say all members of the Republic can apply for citizenship, with specified rights, to the Republic itself…” she looked around the room. “It means all planets and systems would have to meet those standards. Their citizens could all apply, would have every reason to.”

“Not to mention what it would do to votes, and how it would wreck a planetary census,” Sabé pointed out, looking at Shmi. “Even if you allowed dual citizenship, it would have to be established which had preeminence for any given planet or system.”

“Which is where we lost the first three hundred,” Padmé noted, the bitterness sweeping through her. “Too many new legislative efforts, too much money, too many consequences on a local level.”

Setting aside the proposal, Shmi asked, “And we can’t ask for them to be made members of volunteer systems? Because it would take them out of Senate control?”

The Refugee Committee could almost exclusively thank Shmi Skywalker for their continued absorption of clone matters. Bail was supporting her efforts, but Shmi's quiet persistence, careful research and study of citizenship laws and regulations, and unshakable affection for the clones was a force unto itself. And with the senators almost throwing the matter as far from their own work as possible, to avoid the dubious moral and ethical questions that came with the clones, it hadn't been hard for Shmi to collect the responsibilities uncontested.

Mostly.

“We’ve run that one by multiple committees and the Chancellor, multiple times,” Padmé nodded. “We’ve mentioned that the Jedi have planets of origin, even if their current citizenship status is a bit vague. The problem is the Republic sees the Jedi’s role as permanent, so if we push too hard to show the similarities—“

“We end up with a full-time army, with no citizenship, that moves at the behest and whims of the Senate,” Shmi concluded. “With no Jedi Code or Council to even pretend to represent them.”

It was a moment before Sabé said, “The Council does—“ but she stopped at Shmi’s look.

There was a sense like gravity shifting as Shmi straightened in her seat, looking at all of them. “I do understand your limitations. Giving everyone a voice on a council does constrain you to the behest of the most or loudest voices. But I am…concerned that our voices are not being heard, and that the opinions of this council, the Senate, are moving dangerously fast in a direction that not only undermines our values but fundamentally threatens them.” The surety left her, an unease creeping into her features that made Padmé worried and proud. “What does Naboo plan to do, if the Senate does not retract their use of slaves as blood price against the Separatists?”

It spoke very well of Shmi’s education over the past year that she did not specifically recommend, while sitting in the middle of the Executive Building, that Naboo might need to consider retreating from the Republic. In the middle of a violent conflict with another nominally democratic governing body.

“I’ll…need to discuss it. With Queen Jamillia and the Advisory Council,” Padmé said, carefully. “We’ve always asserted, especially these last few years, that dissenting opinions in the Republic are important. To slow or reverse unwanted changes and show there can be unity, even in disagreement.”

“The Hutts,” Shmi said, looking down at her hands, now folded neatly in her lap, “never had room for dissenting voices. I don’t know,” she breathed slowly, carefully, “what it looks like, to have unity in disagreement.”

“On a large scale, maybe,” Dormé objected. “But you’ve lived with Leia for more than a year now. You know how it can work, at least between individuals.”

A smile slid onto Shmi’s face, her eyes warming. “Perhaps you’re right. But how many people in the Senate are as reasonable as Leia?”

“Was that a sarcastic question,” Dormé asked, “or a serious one?”

“With Leia,” Sabé smiled, “both.”

“That’s all of my updates,” Leia said, wishing there were fewer people on the call she was trying to impress so she could stretch. Her seat at the table was not entirely ideal for a two hour long meeting. “Do you have any questions?”

“How serious are you about sending more ships to Christophsis?” Senator Aak asked, and Leia had to fight a scowl.

“Master Windu has requested, multiple times, a significant reduction in the number of citizens near his most active combat zones. There is the risk that rescue ships will be attacked, again, but he believes it’s worth it. The sooner they can push the Separatists off the planet, the sooner people can return and start rebuilding.”

“I assume,” Senator Organa said before Senator Aak could reply, “given the nature of the ships you’ve selected, as well as the secondary transports, that you don’t mean to remove all of the people you are picking up?”

Leia wished he hadn't said anything. She was trying to keep this information from making it back to the Chancellor, and likely to the Separatists. It was their best plan to speed things up, but it had its risks.

“We’re considering moving people out of the cities and to other secure locations, if they can be found. It would be quicker than trips off-planet, lest costly, and would allow for easier returns when the option becomes available. But we haven’t confirmed with Master Windu or the planetary council if it will be an option. The secondary transports will be essential to pick up as many people as possible while flying in atmo as often as we can. The Separatist droid ships are much slower that way, and there are fewer dimensions that the pilots have to track while in combat, thanks to the ground existing. It’s to our advantage.”

Mostly. The droid ships were more maneuverable, and smaller. There wouldn’t be any losing them if they targeted the transports and there wasn’t enough air support.

“We’ll keep that in mind,” Senator Organa promised, and Leia knew he would. She was handling things out on this end, but they were starting to make preparations to assist Dac and she might not be back in time to organize that project.

Which was a problem. Shmi would be fine as far as dealing with people and keeping things organized. And the people Leia had trained to plot hyperspace jumps were doing exceptionally. They were already taking trainees of their own.

But no one was used to dealing with the GAR, the specifics of some of their coded language, their gruff terseness that belied strong feelings. The capabilities of their battalions and fleets of cruisers. Leia could push back if she needed to, insist on more help, or more space, as she saw fit. That was much harder to train someone on than monitoring old ship trails. Especially if Leia wasn’t there in person.

The members of the meeting were leaving, Shea discussing her return options and requesting Padmé to take over some meetings so Shea could stay on Herdessa a bit longer. Padmé was willing, if confused, and Leia was grateful Shea wasn’t mentioning their plan, even on this secure channel. Shea must have needed a bit more time to work her guilds around.

“Shmi,” Leia said, when it looked like her grandmother was leaving, “are you busy right now?”

“A little,” Shmi said. “What do you need?”

A little embarrassed, Leia said, “Can I call you back? On your personal number?”

There was a brief pause (and Padmé was there too, looking worried), before Shmi said, “Of course.”

Leia hung up, cleared her array of the data for the last call, and carefully programmed in Shmi’s number. The connection was slow, but she didn’t need much time. Just a few moments.

Shmi flickered back into view, her eyes wary, but her smile warm. “Are you in danger? Or is this just a kindness you wished to offer in private.”

“I figured we shouldn’t have a family gathering on the committee’s private line,” Leia offered. “Just a moment.”

There weren’t many doors in the Lars’s house, so she’d had to ask them to stay pretty far away while she’d made her call. They’d respectfully agreed, without any sign of resentment, and Leia was grateful.

She expected that the payoff had been a good sweetener. “I’ve got her,” Leia said when she spotted Beru, sweeping scraps from something she was carving off her worktable.

“I’ll get the others,” Beru smiled. Then, a bit more hesitantly, “Should we hurry?”

“No need to run,” Leia promised. She wandered back to the call, where Shmi was waiting with wide eyes.

“Leia…”

“Yes?”

“Did you—Are you—“ Her words, floundering already, trailed off as Owen stepped up behind Leia, almost tripping into view. “Oh…”

“Hi,” Owen said, and Leia knew his smile was tentative and soft, even though she wasn’t looking at him. She glanced at the doorway as she heard Cliegg and Beru approaching, then started sliding away to make room for them. “It’s…wow. Look at you. Where are you?”

In comparison to most other senate aides, Shmi's clothes were simple and reserved, but they flowed more than her farm work clothes had. Her hair was done in more elaborate Naboo style braids, and they lent a sophistication, or at least otherness, to what Owen would have been familiar with.

There was an almost exasperated sound before Shmi asked, “Leia didn’t tell you?”

“She said it was a surprise?” Owen said, fumbling a bit, his face relaxing as Beru came over and slid into his side, tucked under his arm. Cliegg lumbered over and loomed off to the left. “Or, I guess, she said we should ask you for the details. If…if that’s okay.”

“Of course it is," Shmi reassured, taking a moment to look at each of them. "I’m on Coruscant, and will be for the foreseeable future. Although we do have a home on Naboo.”

“You have two homes?” Cliegg’s eyebrows shot up. "On two different planets?"

“Is Leia still there?” Shmi asked, something between a sigh and irritation in her voice. There was a chorus of yeses. “Can you ask her how long you have to talk?”

Stepping back into the edge of Shmi’s view, Leia said, “However long you can manage. We’re inside for midday, so they have plenty of time now. And you can always call them again later. Anakin finished the array and projector when we were on Coruscant. It’s staying with them.”

It had been almost impossible to get Cliegg to accept it, even after explaining that it had been assembled from scraps (literally), cost virtually nothing (lie, but Leia didn't feel bad about it, cost was a matter of perspective), and was a gift from Anakin as much as Leia or Shmi.

Beru had worked him around, but it had been frustratingly difficult. As most things were Cliegg were.

Feeling the longing and loneliness that echoed off of him, Leia thought she was beginning to understand why.

Beru and Owen were enthusiastic as they chatted, gasping at Shmi’s confession of working in the Senate with the senator of Naboo, having been chosen off a board of directors for a planetary organization. It was all awe and impossibilities, with so many reassurances that Shmi deserved it and was so fortunate that their words were almost indistinguishable from each other.

Cliegg made appropriately congratulatory statements, but Leia knew his heart was also breaking.

Or had been broken. When Leia’d asked Shmi to go in the first place.

It didn’t show on his face though. Didn't sneak out in his compliments, or questions. Didn’t echo in his voice, except maybe in a touch of added gruffness. Whatever had been between him and Leia's grandmother, whatever else he might be feeling, Cliegg did offer Shmi his support, with all the sincerity in him. However painful the experience.

It was probably a good thing Shmi wasn't seeing him in person.

As the conversation turned to more personal topics, Leia slid out of the room. She didn’t need to be here for this.

Chapter Text

Leia snuck out into the courtyard, knowing it was still the middle of day, and almost melted, choking on the heat of the dry air. Even in her alcove, hidden from the direct light of the suns, she was more than wilting.

“I told you not to come out here,” Luke’s smugness was undercut with real worry.

Leia ignored it. “I have to acclimatize sometime. Can’t be weaker than you forever.”

His, “Ha ha,” came with the impression of an eye roll. He was getting uncomfortably good at that impression. “What are you hiding from?” he asked, but she knew he’d already figured out the answer.

“Who says I’m hiding from anything?”

His skepticism took in not just her fleeing from the Larses, but also her tucked away from the sky and the heat of the day. She wasn’t sure how he managed that, but it came through loud and clear. When she thought about stepping out into the middle of the pit, just to taunt him, she wasn’t surprised at his vicious response, yanking at the back of her mind. She’d have done the same if he’d tried something similar on Alderaan, if a storm was coming or as night set in during winter.

Leia folded herself onto the ground, contemplating the grit of the sand under her fingers and the soul sucking oppression of the air, her head resting on the rough stonework of the wall.

Her memories crept and then surged forward, bringing with them that blue shape in darkness, then the scratching, beating, writhing of the storm that carried her here.

“What am I doing?” she asked, not really expecting an answer.

Stupid of her. It wasn’t like her brother had any reluctance giving his opinion. “Trying to get yourself killed. By heatstroke.”

“I’m not reckless,” Leia grumbled, squirming and trying to get more comfortable. But the ground was still hard, the sand was still gritty, and the air was still baking. Luke’s disbelief seeping out made her add, “It would be an easier death than my other options…”

“Not funny, Leia.”

“Who said I was trying to be funny?” she asked, her mouth thick and dry from swallowing the heat with her words. “Why can’t I be deadly serious?”

“Stop,” Luke groaned, pressing uncomfortably at the back of her mind. “Leia, why?”

But he knew. They both knew what she was really avoiding.

It took a moment before she could bring herself to ask, “How many more lives am I going to ruin trying to save the galaxy? Now that I’ve ruined Han’s and Cordé’s and yours.”

Cliegg hadn’t even been close to her, hadn’t been invested in her causes or concerns. He was just collateral damage in her quest for doing what she thought was right. And she’d more or less forgotten him the moment she’d left the planet, like he was less than a memory to her.

At least the others she’d cared, even when they’d died. Remembered them.

“That’s not a fair list,” Luke objected. “You don’t know what would have happened to Cordé if you hadn’t come. And as for ruining mine or Han’s life, that’s bantha shit and you know it.”

It was a moment before she could make herself answer, “Han’s not here to defend himself, and you can’t answer for him.”

“You’re being…” she waited for her brother to find a word that was strong enough to convey his anger without being too insulting. “What about Han makes you think he was worse off helping us save the galaxy—being with people he loved—even when it risked his life?”

“Maybe,” Leia felt herself growling, the prickles of anger wanting to reach for that sense of her brother, “the fact that his life was what it cost him?”

It was a long moment before Luke answered. “You weren’t there. You don’t know how he felt then.”

Something like a chill (but not actually cold, because Tatooine) trickled down Leia’s spine, tingled down her arms and to the tips of her fingers. “You know,” she almost whispered. “You remember.”

Luke was silent, and Leia felt herself tensing, wanting to scream in frustration. He’d kept this from her. Those last moments, and he had them and she didn’t, and it wasn’t fair—

“I didn’t think it would help,” Luke said, solemn and earnest. “I didn’t think it would heal you, or make you stronger.”

Tamping down her frustration, Leia asked, “But you do now?”

“I don’t…know. But I think it’s more likely.”

Patience was a touch and go virtue for Leia. Her success with it tended to be directly linked to how competitive she was feeling, which probably wasn’t a great indication in the grand scheme of things. But when she wanted things badly enough, she was at least stubborn enough to make herself still long enough to get them. To wait, like—

(She hadn’t heard a krayt since she’d come back, but sometimes…sometimes she looked out over the dunes and remembered. The call of a hunter. The scream that brushed the tenor of her soul, like a caress.)

“He was scared,” Luke said, the words slow and heavy, bringing with them the haziest imprint of Luke’s memory of the moment, the actual sensation of the feelings. “We all were. But he was determined. Hopeful. This was his family. He was going to protect us, so we could all…go back.”

She wished Luke would add, “To you,” but now, she wasn’t sure if that was accurate. Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe that was why he hadn’t—

“Leia…”

It was like the sun peeking out inside her mind. Or love being poured straight into her senses, like fragrant gold. Like for a moment, the hazy barrier between her and Luke depleted, dropping her into him, to whatever he was now, until she was surrounded by his thoughts and feelings, almost drowning in them.

There was sorrow and pain, some loneliness, fear (for her comfort and her safety), anger at certain people and circumstances, grief and resignation over things that were and could not be changed. But beyond that—

Beyond that was a core of light so pure Leia couldn’t touch it. Almost couldn’t fathom it, even as she recognized exactly what it was. There was almost depth to it, or density. Potency beyond anything she had ever known.

Almost…(The pain she carried was deep and dense too, with all its darkness.)

She pulled back, surfacing, and Luke retreated, back into that ghostly impression in her mind, hovering as he waited. Searching for her answer.

For a moment, Leia didn’t know what to do. What to say in response.

“Counterbalance,” she thought, trying to drag cohesive ideas together. “You balance me. One of us is a mess, the other is—“

“Don’t,” Luke was angry, and it was impossible for Leia to miss it. To misunderstand when she’d seen him so clearly just now, could still feel him, under the veneer he had drawn around his identity, burned into the back of her mind. “Don’t you dare say that. You know it’s not true.”

He was right. It wasn’t like that love, that unyielding affection and acceptance had been alone in him. All the other feelings were there too. And yet…

“If anything like that is in me,” Leia whispered, her focus coming to her material eyes, soaking in the view of the pale stone and sand, grounding her back in the moment, “I’ve never seen it. I’ve never felt anything like it.”

To her surprise, Luke didn’t seem angry anymore, just curious. “Never? When you’ve been around other people, people that you love, you’ve never felt like that towards them?”

Her instinct was to say no, but… “Not exactly like that. Or…that isn’t how I imagine it. The things that I’m feeling.”

“But you are the light,” Luke pointed out, as if this was the most obvious thing in the universe. “Of course you don’t see yourself like that. You’re on the inside.”

“What?”

Almost laughing, Luke said, “I’ve never seen what you saw in me. I opened up and let you in. I felt you in there. But I was the inside, not watching. Not really.”

“I am so confused,” Leia groaned, thumping her head against the wall. “Why are Jedi like this?”

“According to Master Yoda,” Luke’s reaction to Leia’s irritation at that name was equal parts amusement and chagrin. “We’re luminous beings. Not crude matter.”

“Did he offer anything like a reasonable explanation of that statement?” Leia demanded, not at all surprised when her brother’s answer was a simple, “No.”

“Luminous, huh,” Leia sighed, blinking at the bright landscape beyond her sheltered awning. “Because of the Light side and the Dark side?”

“I don’t think so,” Luke hesitated, squirming like he was trying to settle back into himself, putting his thoughts in order. “I mean, maybe he meant it that way, but I just don’t see it. Not after Father came back.”

“To the Light side,” Leia pointed out.

“To himself,” Luke corrected. Feeling her confusion, he added, “We don’t talk about this. You get mad when I mention Father, so this isn’t something I’ve said anything about. Even when I’ve wanted to.”

“So what, you just lied to me when you were explaining it? Because it was easier?”

“No,” and angry as she was, Leia understood Luke’s defensiveness, caught the lingering echoes of, “a certain point of view,” that tugged at her brother’s feelings. “I was telling you the truth as I understood it.” A pause before, “I see it differently now.” A grin. “Kind of like you saw me differently once I let you in.”

“But you can’t see yourself that way,” Leia protested.

“No, but I don’t need to. I’m already a part of myself. You’re a pretty big part of me too, which is why it’s so easy to bring you close.”

And it was almost making sense. Something tickled in her mind, the impression of her sense of various Jedi, of Anakin, oozing all over the place in the Force. Of how much more real some people felt to her. “It’s connections. Part of that is feelings, part of it is choices, part of it is…memories.”

“Thing that are, things that were, and the possibilities of the future,” Luke’s somber tone nearly made Leia flick at him in exasperation. She almost thought it was an apology when he added, “There are a lot of things that I don’t know. Or understand how to explain. I didn’t learn all that much about the Force, theoretically speaking.”

But he had lived it, Leia thought. In defiance of what little he had been taught, Luke had reached out with his meager understanding, his great love and forgiveness, and his indomitable will and changed things. Had brought Darth Vader back. To himself.

“Luminous beings,” she whispered, wondering what Yoda had meant by that. And what he would say if she threw it out at him now. “Our sense of identity, our desire to reach out and change things, the ability to reach out and do it.”

“The Force,” Luke agreed. “And even if you can’t sense it, even if you can’t directly manipulate it…”

It was still there. It was the bond between her and her brother, strong not because of blood but because of adventures and choices and life-saving and forgiving and all the crazy things that they’d experienced when they’d both been full of so much pain and grief. Had lacked so much understanding.

“So where’s Han?” Leia asked, not really expecting an answer. “Or does he mean less to me than you by that much?”

“We are twins,” Luke pointed out. “I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean in the Force, but for all that we didn’t know, we’ve definitely accepted it.”

And Luke could use the Force, and there were probably other factors, and yet…

If she reached out, seeking for that familiar light that had brought her so much joy for such a short time, Leia couldn’t find it. Not even looking for the similar flicker that was young Han Solo on Naboo. There was nothing there, out in the galaxy, that resembled the connection she had shared, had depended on.

But if she looked in…

“Leia?”

She jerked up, already on her feet, hand half pulling her blaster before she realized she’d terrified Beru. “I’m sorry. You startled me. Is everything alright?”

Eyes carefully tracking Leia’s firearm, Beru said, “I was worried when I couldn’t find you inside. Are…you okay?”

“Yes,” Leia nodded, ignoring the dizziness that her brother promised was from her trying to ignore the heat. “I just wanted to be outside for a bit.”

Offering her arm, Beru said, “It’s still warm out. You should probably wait.”

Deciding to pretend it was just a friendly gesture, and nothing more, Leia accepted the arm, stepping close to Luke’s aunt. “I know. I remember.” And then, because she did not want to be interrogated any further, “Did the projector work alright? Did you have a good conversation with Shmi?”

A lift of the brows and a twitch of the lips told Leia that Beru knew she was being handled, but the girl just said, “It worked wonderfully. Will you tell Anakin we said thank you? I can’t tell you how much it means to us.”

“Of course,” Leia promised, knowing bringing the message was more important than arranging for it to happen quickly. “I’d be happy to.”

Mostly.

Padmé hesitated before walking back into the room, thinking Shmi would never have locked the door for personal business. Padmé was right and wrong. Shmi hadn’t locked it, but she had set it for the ten second delay that ensured time for a private conclusion to whatever business was going on inside.

When the door did slide open, Shmi was sitting in a chair in front of Padmé’s desk, watching the view outside. Or at least staring.

There was a moment before she turned around, and Padmé could see the tear tracts on her face.

“Shmi, what…” Padmé didn’t dash over, but she didn’t waste any time moving across the room, dropping next to Shmi’s side and taking her hands.

Shmi smiled as she answered, “Leia made it safely to Tatooine. She was visiting my family when she called.”

It took Padmé a moment to remember. “Your husband?”

“And our son and,” her smile grew, “my soon to be daughter.”

The open affection made Padmé smile, even as she contemplated the wet lines down Shmi’s face. “They’re doing alright then?”

“Yes, they are,” Shmi said. And then, still with a smile, but with a bit more wistfulness, “They miss me. Quite a bit. I’m…glad. That I got to speak with them.”

There was something more to that, but Padmé knew she wasn’t being invited to share it. She wished she were, but… “Do you know when you’ll get to speak to them next? Will Leia be staying long enough you can talk again?”

“Oh, we have that all settled,” Shmi cheerfully explained the gift Leia had brought, an almost wicked light in her eyes as she described Anakin’s role in it. “I’ll be able to speak to them often now, if I want.” The last bit caught Padmé attention, but before she could ask Shmi was squeezing Padmé’s fingers, almost frowning down at their joined hands. “They’re very close to Geonosis.”

Blinking, that hadn’t occurred to her, Padmé said, “Are you worried about them?”

It was such a bitter smile, but Padmé perfectly understood when Shmi said, “I doubt the Separatists are in a position to directly challenge the Hutt’s seat of power just now. No matter how much they might wish to.”

Which was good. But also, Hutts…

It was frustrating to realize how much Padmé still had to learn before she could reliably read Shmi’s expressions. Padmé was forced to ask outright, “What’s wrong?” and hope that she wasn’t missing something obvious.

Shmi shrugged before she answered, “Leia.”

Oh yes, that should have been patently obvious. “What did Leia do now?” Or not do, as was just as likely the case.

“She—“ Shmi brought her other hand to hold Padmé’s as well, her touch gentle and light. “I don’t know. I’m worried. But I don’t know why.” A frustrated sigh before, “She’s not like Anakin. I never know if she needs me. Or why. I just worry, sometimes. More than others.”

It took a moment for Padmé to swallow her questions about what Shmi knew about Anakin, and him needing her, to ask instead, “Does anything help? Make it better?”

“I thought seeing her would,” Shmi admitted. “It has in the past. Not because everything is alright, but there are some things she can’t hide on her features. Like if she’s too tired because she’s not sleeping. Or if she’s angry because of someone she’s talking about or someone nearby makes her want to commit violence.”

Padmé grinned, well able to imagine that particular face, and settled into a more comfortable position on the floor. “She does make it very difficult to find out what she needs. To offer to help her.”

The slight pursing of Shmi’s lips and the narrowing of her eyes seemed like she was contemplating something. Weighing the judgement of it. She said, “She’s very afraid.”

About to protest, a memory surfaced, interrupting Padmé’s train of thought. It was months ago, that day in the garden, when she’d watched Leia just break, scrambling for the pieces, trembling as Padmé had held her. Saying so little, but meaning so much with each word.

It hadn’t occurred to Padmé, until that moment, to think that Leia could be afraid. That she could care, not just about her secrets, but about what was right in front of her so fully and unconditionally that the thought of Padmé being angry and leaving was enough to shatter her reserve.

For all that Leia’d done, for all that she’d risked and sacrificed, it had been then that Padmé had realized how much Leia cared.

It was hard to remember, painful even, but Padmé made herself reflect on it. To think about that moment as she faced the look in Shmi’s eyes. A look that was softening as Shmi took in Padmé’s reaction.

“She can’t stop,” Padmé agreed. “She has to keep acting. She’s afraid of what will happen if she stops.”

“But she can’t continue forever,” Shmi sighed, staring back out the window. “No one has that much strength.”

“So how do we intervene?” Padmé asked, wishing she could bury her face in Shmi’s lap, let someone else handle this. There was so much they needed to do, and here was one more thing. “How do we make her stop? To take care of herself?”

There was a long moment before Shmi said, “We don’t.” Then, looking back at Padmé, her spine straight and her smile smug, “We make her want to do it. By tricking her into it.”

“That sounds,” Padmé’s cheeks stretched almost painfully as she smiled, “like you have a plan.”

“I might,” Shmi said, helping Padmé to stand. “Would you like to join me?”

“Of course.”

Chapter Text

“Why,” Mace Windu asked, feeling resignation in every line of his face, “are you back on my planet?”

He’d come to greet the refugee ships, to begin coordination. No one had told him…

“You own it now?” Leia shot back, looking up from her command table, her eyes catching the guards at Mace’s sides, and flicking up, probably picking out his other guards in the buildings. Mace mistrusted that. “I thought we were here because that was the point of dispute.”

She thought she was funny, Mace knew. Because she had Obi-Wan’s wretched sense of humor to go with being a damn Skywalker. And she was clever, even if she was obnoxious. “I thought you were helping plot other routes for hyperspace travel. That you were too busy to come back to this.”

“Sadly,” Leia waved at the mess around them, the damaged buildings and temporary forts that were starting to stick and settle into the ground, “we didn’t have a lot of volunteers for a second run. Some only promised they would come if I could make it.” When he had nothing to say to that, she added, smirking, “They think if the Senate’s willing to risk me, it must be safe.”

Her eyes held the same humorous gleam from her initial comments, and Mace had to wonder at how a woman who had walked on very few of these battlefields (by official report, at least) could keep pace with most of his troops’ gallows humor. He could feel CT-411’s amusement, and was grudgingly impressed. “Walk with me?” he asked.

“Of course,” she said, rattling off a stream of instructions to the people at the table, indicating with her hands targets that made Mace uncomfortable. She knew where he’d been moving the refugees. He hadn’t told her yet.

The overwhelming sense of grief, terror, and hysteria was setting Leia’s teeth on edge, but if Master Windu could manage stoic calm even with blaster streaks singed across his clothes (he had a few pieces of armor, also scorched, which was new) and the Force screaming in his ears, she could keep her complaints about the sentient inhabitants he was housing to a minimum.

They’d given him a military command and he’d ended up with secondary civilian safety objectives. It was impressive that he’d kept things as sane as they were.

“Please tell me you can take more than just a few thousand this time,” he almost begged when they were decently far from her staff.

She felt his surprise at his own tone, but was hardly shocked herself and so gave an even, “Ultimately, I think we can take twice as many off planet this time. But we’re also working on moving some of them to other locations on the ground instead.”

“You want to break my defense line,” Master Windu almost growled, “and make me responsible for more potential targets?”

“You don’t have the full population of the planet in this city,” Leia reminded him. “And the Separatists have stayed pretty close, in spite of having other options. Look at the equipment they’re sending. It works well in these streets, but if they tried to take it onto unpaved, open ground? The maintenance would shift completely, the tactics. It would create new drains on their resources. Setting aside that then they’d have to manage more fractured targets as well. You’d need not just competence, but more sentient commanders on the ground to manage that with droid troops.”

“They don’t seem to have many commanders aside from their general,” Master Windu admitted. “We’re not picking up many life-form signals at all.”

“Who do they have in command here?” Leia asked.

“General Whorm Loathsom,” Master Windu answered.

Leia laughed. Stopped at Master Windu’s surprised look. “No,” Leia responded, the word slipping from her mouth. “Absolutely not. You are not serious.”

The surprise didn’t fade as Master Windu asked, “You’ve heard of him?”

“That’s not a name,” Leia protested. “People call him that? He lets them?”

Master Windu only raised a brow, but the muted sound of snickering from one of the clones told her the barracks jokes had to be awful. It was the Jedi who answered, “That is how he’s introduced himself. Repeatedly.”

It was…physically painful to consider. Petty, perhaps. Leia didn’t know enough about his people or language to know if she was missing some important cultural significance. But it sounded Basic and she just couldn’t… “Really?”

“He’s a presiding member of the Retail Caucus and an adaptable general,” Master Windu almost sighed. “I’m not convinced he wouldn’t move against them if he thought refugee transports would be easy targets.”

Leia thought very carefully before asking, “The droids that he has, are they built just for killing or can they capture and hold very well?”

“They don’t take prisoners,” Master Windu answered, his eyes drifting into the distance, where she was sure many of his men had fallen. “Not in any sort of appreciable numbers. Not even for intelligence.”

That was worrying. “So they either have equipment that has powerful enough scanners they don’t need it, or they’ve got someone on the inside,” she muttered. “Lovely.”

She knew where her money was.

“The clones would never—” Master Windu started.

Leia cut him off with a raised hand. “I wasn’t saying that,” she wasn’t willing to believe him entirely (they would be hard to buy, but not impossible), but was sure in this case it was a moot point. “You’re sitting on an angry, frightened civilian population. That’s abandoned by their exploitative governors and stuck with an opponent who’s part of a massive, well funded, business conglomerate. You’ve got leaks. Which is why it’s an even better idea to start moving refugees. Get them away from your setup, they can’t betray you anymore.”

He stopped to examine her. “You really believe that?”

“You don’t?” she demanded, stunned. “Master Windu, you live on Coruscant.”

She watched him look around, taking in the tall crystal buildings, many fractured or scored by heavy fire and collisions. Noticed his eyes linger on places where there was nothing to see, but Leia could sense pockets of life, seething just out of sight and below the surface. Felt him reaching out, tugging gently on the anger and resentment that hovered in those places, alongside the fear and betrayal. Watched his slow, deep breath that almost rushed out in a sigh.

Before those dark eyes turned back to her, not hopeless, but determined and almost hostile. “I have no idea how to find them. To make them stop.”

Leia debated for a moment before saying, “You’d need a dedicated force. And it couldn’t be clones. It would have to be people who could blend in. I can’t offer the resettlement staff to help spy hunt. They need these people to trust them, so they can’t have split loyalties. Making them suspicious of the people they’re supposed to help…” even if she wanted to, Leia couldn’t risk contaminating the refugee effort like that. “I can ask around though. See if we can get something started. It won’t only be a problem under this command. You’ll need spies everywhere before this is over.”

There was a whirl in his mind, she thought, as he looked at her. Then he just nodded, and started moving again. “Not something we can solve today,” he said, laying the matter aside. “But you think moving the civilians around on planet will help?”

“Yes,” Leia said, allowing him to hand her over a pile of rubble, probably part of an old makeshift firing line. “We’ll need to be careful, but as adaptable as our general friend is, he is the head of a business caucus.”

“And?” Master Windu prompted, making a light jump over the obstacle, his clones scrambling up behind him with practiced ease.

“His biggest concern is profits,” Leia said. “If he wants the most out of Christophsis, he needs working ports, standing factories, and cheap labor.” She paused before adding, “I’m taking your word about them taking no prisoners. Our biggest concern with the refugees isn’t them being killed. It’s them being kidnapped. And exploited.”

It was impossible to be certain, on such a short acquaintance, but Leia was pretty sure the look she was getting was a special one that Master Windu reserved for people who always came to him to give him just one more problem. “How many can you take off planet?”

Shaking her head, Leia ignored the question and started listing the locations they planned on moving his civilians.

Moving the citizens of Christophsis was like being trapped in a glittering nightmare. With screaming children.

The first orders of business, choosing the relocation spots and arranging a preliminary takeoff schedule, had been simple if time consuming matters. Hastened some by Master Windu’s deep, blossoming desire to remove the citizens from the line of fire as quickly as possible. He’d given her not just his second in command to help arrange things, but also a dedicated workspace and access to some of their software to run simulations and stress test them.

Twenty-five hours after she’d set foot on planet, Leia’d handed her crew their orders and a small army of recruits, volunteers, and paid staff had descended on the now mostly underground refugee camps, sorting groups into manageable pods, quarantining the ill (as best they could), registering the populace, and handing out small treats to the children.

Leia had mostly stayed out of the way of that effort. She’d done ground work before in these sorts of situations, it wasn’t beneath her. But she was more useful taking the data that was being shared and coordinating with the pilots, making sure the young, the ill, and the light sensitive were prioritized for relocation.

By thirty-eight hours from landing, they had their first three groups loaded onto the land transports. Less than six thousand prepped and approved for take-off, but the point was that they were moving. You could feel the shift in those remaining, even if you weren’t sensitive to the fluctuations of the Force. It was in the mothers laying down next to their sleeping children to rest, the slight aisles of space between makeshifts shelters. It was a little girl who’d been sobbing for three hours straight when they got there laughing and playing with a new doll. It was the sound of packing, the occasional burst of song.

Leia luxuriated in it for twelve minutes before she forced herself to go and report to Master Windu.

Who was not impressed by their initial effort.

“You do better,” she’d half growled at him, blinking to keep her eyes open. “Tell me how many more you’ve gotten out when I wake up.”

He’d look sufficiently terrified that she was actually handing him command that she’d taken a moment to reassure him she had all the help she needed. Now, it was time to sleep.

“I think so,” he’d agreed, observing her from top to toe with a narrow-eyed speculation that made Leia want to hit him for no good reason. “How long is this going to take?”

“Days,” she admitted. “I can give you a more accurate number once the first group gets back. That will confirm if our turnaround time is accurate and if we’re evaluating the situation accurately.”

The eyes narrowed further and Master Windu asked, “Would you like an escort back to your ship?”

“No,” Leia waved him off, making sure to turn carefully so she didn’t wobble or trip. “I’ll be fine.”

There was the oddest twist in the Force around him before he responded, “I’m not sure that’s an…accurate statement.”

She didn’t blush, but Leia did shoot him a rude gesture. She smiled though, because she thought he was trying and it was kind of sweet. Or annoying. She’d figure it out after she’d slept.

It took her several minutes to realize he’d had CT-411 follow her.

She made it past three rows of stationed troops and almost to their front line before Leia heard, “Where the hell are you going?”

Not Master Windu, but definitely his second. Leia turned, watching the man almost stomp over to her. CT-411 was usually as staunchly professional as any of the other clones, but they’d fought and fled side by side the last time she was here, and it was no surprise that of everyone he slipped the most often when talking to her.

“Over there,” she waved absently, speaking in a quiet voice. “I won’t cross the plaza, I’m not stupid.”

“No,” CT-411 said, jabbing a finger. “Back to camp, if you want a pair of binoculars you can borrow one—“

“I need to record some things,” Leia said. “For the Senate,” she added when he crossed his arms, preparing to deny her. “They’ll be encrypted and only go to people with the correct clearance. You can check the security on the files before I remove them from the planet, if you’d like.”

He asked, “Can we check the contents?”

“Of course,” Leia agreed. “Nothing I’m recording should be things you haven’t seen.”

“We send our own reports to the Jedi Council. They’re supposed to report to the Senate.”

It wasn’t that Leia had to keep this a secret from the clones, but Shea hadn’t told Leia who else was in on the plan yet, and Leia did not trust the information channels in the GAR.

She knew who was really in charge of it.

“I report to different people than you do,” Leia said simply. “And our focus is different than yours.”

CT-411 uncrossed his arms. “The general sees everything before you send it.”

“Before I carry it out, yes,” Leia said, knowing Master Windu would probably quit partway through when he saw what she was collecting. There wasn’t going to be anything obviously interesting about it. At the shift from the commander Leia added, “I’m not clogging up your encrypted lines with my data when I can just as easily carry it out. I’m not here to make your life harder, Commander.”

She couldn’t see his features through his helmet, but she felt the blatant skepticism clearly enough. “Alright. Suit up.”

Leia blinked. “What?”

“Back there,” he pointed, feeling far too smug for Leia’s tastes, “is the safety line. Anyone who crosses it has to be in armor. And have a partner.”

Grinding her teeth, Leia pointed out, “I don’t have armor, and—“

“Lucky you, we’ve got extra.”

“In my size?” she challenged.

His smugness only increased as he said, “Yes, sir. In your size.”

Well, that wasn’t an accident. Leia was begrudgingly impressed. Although, “I’m aiming for stealth, Commander, so I’m not sure I want to be in whites.”

“You won’t be,” he promised, nodding for her to follow him and signaling at someone who took off in a light jog. “The point is to minimize you being a target.”

“Good,” she replied, her smile broad and sharp. “Then I don’t need a partner.”

“We’ll give you someone in stealth,” CT-411 answered, sounding almost cheerful. “If you’re trying to be sneaky.”

His head turned to capture the dozens of men she had been brazenly walking past only minutes ago. “I’m not trying to surprise your men,” she retorted. “Of course I wouldn’t hide from them. Then no one would know where I was if they needed me. Or they might shoot at me.”

There was a faint sound Leia chose to interpret as a snort.

They insisted on her wearing everything they brought, which was…less than ideal. She’d done helmets and vests and other assorted pieces of armor in the past, based on what was available and what kind of missions she was going on. But so many of them had been infiltration, not lending themselves to foot-soldier style protection.

She didn’t rush, listened patiently to each explanation, and made sure to get everything on the right direction the first time.

She rejected the helmet.

“I know it’s the most important piece,” she repeated. “But I have to record which means being about to see. This,” she indicated the full face covering with narrow visor,” is not conducive to my work.”

It took a bit of bickering and wheedling, but she agreed to go out with the helmet, wear it when she wasn’t capturing images, and have it on hand in case of emergency. She might have tried to argue further, but the sounds in the distance told her the Separatists were starting their sweeps for parts, and she wanted footage of that before she left.

“Let’s go,” she told CT-3423, jamming the helmet onto her head and verifying the comms were working. “I’d like to be done before dawn.”

“If you need the sleep—“ CT-411 started.

“Not for sleep,” Leia griped. “Sun starts coming up and the buildings will start glowing five times brighter. At an angle. I can’t film in that.”

Chapter Text

Sneaking about in the empty city was…odd. All the reports said that their enemy was back at base, aside from the rumbling machines that were inching their way across the roadways and bridges that constituted the battlefield. There were patrol droids, seekers and scanners, but they seemed to be holding to specific lines, avoiding what was likely the max range of the rifles Leia knew were positioned in the buildings above.

The only sounds were the hums generating from the buildings around her (had they seriously not cut the power, or was that the crystals of the structure?), the grind of the approaching trash collectors, the whumps and thunks of the pieces being scoured from the ground, the slight snick of CT-3423 following, and the sound of her own breathing getting caught in her helmet.

She really hated the helmet. It was as bad as Boushh’s, and that was saying something.

Using mostly alleys and breezeways between buildings (and still exposed too often by the light that emanated from the buildings themselves), CT-3423 actually got her past their front line and in a much better line of sight for what she wanted. They were three stories high, but the buildings had been damaged here, large chunks of wall and window scattered across the floor and the street below, shadows of black soot from explosions streaking and swirling on the floor, walls, and even ceiling.

More for practice than fear of being caught, Leia worked on making her steps light and placing her feet very carefully around the rubble.

Bonus of being forced into armor: when Leia knelt on the floor, she didn’t have to worry about getting stabbed by the debris.

It was harder to move though.

“How long do you think this will take?” CT-3423 asked, the noise soft even with his voice right in her ear.

Leia started setting up a shot, aimed at the far side of the street, adjusting the holorecorder’s magnification until she could pick out as many details as she could of the exposed wires and guts of the mangled droids. “Depends. Looks like we only have a couple of hours until the ground is stripped, at most.”

She got a soft affirmative, but only vaguely processed it as she slipped the helmet off, trying to figure out how slowly she needed to shift her angle to make sure she got all of the details in clear focus as she pulled down. There was a tense, incredibly boring, twenty minutes where she took shots, line by line, down the street, trying to map a complete picture with an accurate “body” count, highlighting the potential product that was being left behind.

When she finished with the widest section she could manage at this angle, Leia glanced up and down the street, peering out a hole in the wall and making CT-3423 swear and dash closer to her in a crouch, almost yanking her back before she pulled herself in. “Do not—“ he hissed.

“You,” Leia said as calmly and as quietly as she could, “are not in charge of me. I won’t ask you to get shot on my behalf if I do something reckless. But I will do my job and I don’t need your permission.”

She could almost feel him swallowing, holding back oaths, deferring to her ambiguous authority. But he did gesture to the window and her helmet, and Leia accepted that condition. Her field of vision was narrower in the helmet, but she could turn her head to compensate.

His growled, “If I don’t bring you back, alive, I have to explain to the General. Why you’re dead and I’m still here,” when she slipped the helmet back on was a fair point.

Leia started moving her holorecorder before she answered, “Tell him what I told you. I don’t ask good men to die for me.” She paused to take a moment to face him, “Though I do appreciate it when then have my back.”

She could feel him struggle, something almost like respect still mostly losing to worry and frustration. He wanted to be with his men, she thought. He wanted his backup, not some prissy Core worlder who kept removing her helmet and stuck her head out of windows when they might be close enough to enemy units to get herself shot.

At a guess, he knew she could throw around fancy words and was trying to decide if she was being honest with them or not. And in fairness to him, there was no way for him to know. Not like she could.

He was also clearly worried about exactly what this data was for. They had to regularly send updates of field maps, detailed for security, though not in painstaking high definition. And not of nonstrategic points, of debris and destruction.

She wasn’t trying to highlight their failures, but she could guess he was worried that that was her job.

It ended up being only an hour and a half total that they spent in the building. Leia recorded the retrieval vehicles, pondering as she watched what their weaknesses might be, and if they would be easy to intercept and raid. If determined civilians could do it.

She ran some of the ideas by CT-3423, leaning on his knowledge of other Separatist units. What were the odds the underside was armored too, how easy was it to surge them and halt them, what kinds of seals did they use on the hatches, were the pilots organic and needed to breathe or just more droids? It was a stilted conversation, with both of them trying to stay as quiet as possible, but she felt his hesitation morphing into curiosity and begrudging admiration.

Her final conclusion was these were probably not something even an impressively entrepreneurial civilian could take on. But maybe…

She was sure they would eventually find out.

Being stationed on Radnor was…worse than Anakin had expected. They had seen Separatist forces come into their space. Not with ground forces. Anakin had spent most combat time in space, leaving trails of droid fragments that he would have been more proud of if they’d been a challenge to deal with.

He knew they were doing important work. They were keeping trade and travel open. Mostly. But it was incredibly boring.

Added to that, the timing was awful. They’d only been in the system two days, just starting to get settled in, talking about landing some of the men, when Obi-Wan and Anakin had gotten their first notice that they had company incoming.

While they were on the ground.

The clones had handled the first attack just fine, taking orders from the officers left on board, who were good enough to get them through that round. And who were getting better, more creative, as more and more waves of the enemy dropped in for a quick skirmish.

But Obi-Wan and Anakin had come back to the cruiser and hadn’t really been able to get off it since then. Just when they would start to get comfortable, just when Anakin had convinced Obi-Wan they should take a break and let Anakin spend some money to help the locals (and finish fixing his ship, it wasn’t in peak condition yet), another alert would sound and something would enter the system.

It never overwhelmed them. Was never too much. They always won. But Anakin knew enough about desert raiders to know what harriers were.

And they were losing men.

It…hurt.

Anakin didn’t know what to do with that hurt. How to handle it, how to get rid of it so it wouldn’t creep up on him in the middle of the night, just as he was drifting off, throwing a memory up behind his eyes, showing him exactly where he could have flown, should have intercepted, and someone would be alive today.

Someone who he’d never learned their name.

This…wasn’t helping.

“Captain CT-7567, Commander Skywalker.”

He was being greeted with a salute. He was being greeted with a salute and Anakin wanted to sigh and maybe scream because he’d just trained most of the 212^th out of that. Most of the time.

The double circles on the left side of CT-7567’s breastplate kept catching Anakin’s eye though. He made himself stand tall and straight, his hands clasping behind his back (he’d thought he’d gotten it from Obi-Wan, but he wasn’t sure they hadn’t both picked it up from Leia…), trying to look down as little as possible as he met the brother’s eyes. “Welcome to Radnor, Captain. It’s good to meet you.”

And it was, even if…

But Anakin looked at CT-7567, and out over the troops he could see from the 501^st, who were eyeing their brothers scattered throughout the hangar. Reaching out with the Force, brushing against them, tentatively exploring, Anakin felt…

More. More than what he was used to from new troopers. It had taken weeks to get the 212^th feeling this…comfortable back at the Temple. And there was a spark in their eyes, these troopers, something more grounded and calm than Anakin had expected. All of the clones had always had a sense of duty. But there was…purpose here. Determination. Conviction even.

And Anakin…kind of liked it.

He finished his welcome with a smile, and there was a slight relaxing from CT-7567. A little hesitance too, and then he asked, “You’re Shmi’s son, right?”

It was like breathing and finding air. Anakin hadn’t even realized he felt like he was drowning. His smile got even bigger, his tone almost jittery as he asked, “You know Mom?”

Something warm poured off of him as CT-7567 nodded. “She looked after us while we were recovering. Got Stretcher and Kneecap settled someplace nice when they couldn’t come with us. It’s an honor to meet you, sir.” He didn’t blush, but Anakin felt his embarrassment and reluctant delight as he added, “She sends her love.”

Anakin blinked. “Oh. Uh, thanks.”

“We promised we’d bring any messages,” CT-7567 explained quickly, now actually blushing. “If we got assigned here.”

Still blinking as he processed everything (names, they’d—Mom—given—Mom!—him names!), Anakin latched on to their excitement. “I’m really glad you did. You’ll have to tell me about Stretcher and Kneecap—“ (he got to say their names!) “—while we start getting you settled in.”

He turned, gesturing for them to follow and the group started marching, CT-7567 falling into step beside him. “Shmi said they could keep the names since they were getting citizenship,” CT-7567 said softly, his tone almost a confession, “but the numbers are better here, right? Easier for order? And protocol?”

“Names are better,” Anakin said emphatically. “I mean, if you want to. I mean, if you have—we won’t make you. Have them. Or share. But if you want to…”

He was babbling. He was supposed to be over this, be a commander now. In charge, respectable.

But CT-7567 wasn’t laughing at him. He was maybe a little amused, but mostly relieved and happy and…friendly.

And it felt really, really good.

“Not all of us have them yet,” CT-7567 admitted. “But we’ll let you know.”

“Please,” Anakin said, and he was grateful it didn’t come out too much like begging. “We—I’m really looking forward to meeting all of you.”

CT-7567 didn’t say anything in response, but he did smile. And Anakin felt his bubbling relief.

Taking the afternoon update meeting had not been Obi-Wan’s plan (Leia had been right about all the interruptions, curse her), but someone had to greet the new battalion and Anakin couldn’t be left alone with the officers for any extended period of time yet. They were still…testing each other. In ways that made Obi-Wan more than a little uncomfortable.

His padawan wasn’t an ideal solider, but Anakin also wasn’t supposed to be. He was a Jedi, and his patience with being thrown into a new, rigid form of order was pretty remarkable, all things considered. There’d been…incidents when he’d been adjusting to the Temple.

Obi-Wan regretted now how he’d handled them. And feared, maybe more than he should, Anakin ever telling Shmi about them.

(He hadn’t been ready to raise a child, or take a padawan, no one should have expected—)

“Any other observations?” Obi-Wan asked, noticing Captain Block was not paying close attention anymore. He seemed to be checking his comms, which was annoying. They were all waiting for Anakin’s report, that he’d settled the 501^st without mishap (please, please without mishap), but Obi-Wan was professional enough to be focused on the meeting.

Mostly. But he could reach out with the Force without looking like he was distracted.

No mishaps materialized, but Anakin did forget to send notice he was bringing someone up until seconds before they came through the doors onto the bridge. Obi-Wan could live with that.

“We have new friends, Master,” Anakin called cheerfully, provoking a surge of annoyance from Captain Block. No surprise there. Anakin enjoyed needling the man just a smidge too much. “I thought you’d like to meet them.”

Obi-Wan let his eyes roll in exasperation at his student, but made sure to have a pleasant look for the two men that followed Anakin. The first thing that caught his eye was the image on their armor, the double circles not stirring any memories. Obi-Wan didn’t think it was a Mandalorian mark, not even a newer one. He’d been…loosely keeping track.

The second thing he noticed was the sharp scar that cut across the captain’s head, and then the careful reserve of the lieutenant behind him. Not mistrust, per se, just a cautious awareness that they were in a new space.

And that Anakin was only dubiously welcome by some of the members in it.

That was an interesting point of focus.

“I did ask you to bring them for that express purpose,” Obi-Wan made sure to keep his tone obviously light in its teasing, the kind of tone likely to earn another smile from his padawan. And yes, there it was, the lieutenant hadn’t missed that either. His reaction was hazy, but he was paying attention.

Fascinating.

Obi-Wan straightened his posture, letting his expression settle on Anakin for a long enough moment that his padawan did the same, still amused and excited in the Force though. There was the slightest quirk of the lieutenant’s expression, and a hint of amusement and contentment, possibly.

“Master, this is Captain CT-7567. We’ve got the rest of his battalion settling into their quarters, and they should be integrated into our schedule in the next two hours.”

Important details, but his padawan had missed one of their guests. Obi-Wan prompted, with his eyebrows and a half glance (and maybe a light nudge in the Force), but the only answer he got from his padawan was a twitch loosely imitating a shrug, and a sense of not-knowing. Lovely.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Captain, and…” he turned his focus to the lieutenant, open and interested.

“Lieutenant Jesse, General.”

Obi-Wan felt his brows raise, but he couldn’t help the but smile as Anakin surged in the Force with delight and hope and relief, almost buzzing with his excitement. There was a low murmur around the room for just a moment, and Lieutenant Jesse looked slightly uncomfortable at the noise.

Hoping to reassure (and not lose this chance), Obi-Wan answered, “Lieutenant Jesse. A pleasure to meet you as well. We’re very grateful to receive you and your men at this time. I understand you were part of…the crash?”

There was a twist, especially from CT-7567, and Obi-Wan resolved to find a more delicate way to broach this topic going forward. But the captain answered, “Yes, sir. We’ve been cleared for deployment, all those of us who are here.”

“Did they have you bring copies of your medical files?” Obi-Wan asked, focused and trying to keep a calm, placid tone. “I’m sure Coruscant wouldn’t have sent you on if you weren’t ready, but it would be helpful to our medical crew here to be able to review your files before we throw you in the path of danger again.”

“I thought the Kaminoans were taking over medical oversight, sir,” CT-7567 said, shifting slightly.

Obi-Wan frowned. “I’d heard we were adding them to our resources, yes. But no one told us to dismantle our personnel here. We have our field medics and medical droids still, and they’ll need to know about any previous injuries. But as far as my question…” he prompted.

CT-7567 didn’t quite flush. “Sorry, sir. We have access to some of those records, if you’d like them compiled from our personal files, and forwarded to medical. If that isn’t enough, I think Master Allie can help you get the full files. Or Shmi Skywalker.”

Obi-Wan froze, not expecting that second name. “I didn’t realize she had access,” fell out of his mouth before he’d finished processing.

“I don’t think so,” CT-7567 admitted. “But she and Senator Organa worked with us as much as Master Allie did, so they might be able to help locate the data and get it forwarded. Sir.”

Still floundering slightly, Obi-Wan managed. “Thank you. That should give us plenty of contacts to work with. We’ll get started on it right away.”

He made introductions for the other officers on the bridge and checked that Anakin had explained how the next few days would go, splitting the new men into rotations with their current forces, getting everyone up to speed and settled in. It sounded like his padawan had been appropriately thorough (though Obi-Wan would always have to guess if that was because Anakin had remembered, or CT-7567 was just that good).

As they wrapped up, Obi-Wan asked, “Is there anything else?”

There was a slight hesitation from CT-7567, a glance to Anakin, and then to Captain Block. Jesse didn’t kick his captain exactly, but he did shift to toe CT-7567’s heel a bit, and the captain took a breath before offering. “It’s…just one more thing, sir. A personal message?”

“Of course,” Obi-Wan made sure to keep smiling. It wasn’t difficult, but stars, he just wanted these men to know he cared. That he was safe.

“Shmi Skywalker sends her love,” CT-7567 said, nodding formally, his posture proper and rigid in every line.

There was a twinge of delight again from Anakin, but Obi-Wan didn’t know exactly what to say. Instead of responding he paused, and found his eyes drifting down to those double circles, a faint idea of their meaning suggesting itself to him.

And he found himself able to smile again. “I can see that she has,” he replied, meeting CT-7567’s eyes, and then Jesse’s, holding each for a moment. “We’ll make sure to take good care of them.”

The relief and awe from the clones was one thing, but there was a swell from Anakin, light and buoyant, reaching out and curling around Obi-Wan, vibrating with excitement. It seemed to settle into Obi-Wan’s very existence, retuning itself until—

It sang. It settled. Obi-Wan felt a nudge and a tug and then…

His bond to Anakin…bloomed, opened and stretched like it hadn’t in…in…(years, honestly, and only that one time…) Obi-Wan felt wave after wave of trust and contentment and it was so synchronous, so perfect, he had to stop breathing to stop the tears.

Anakin’s eyes were wide in his face, a wet sheen to them. He ducked his head, drew in a slow breath. But Obi-Wan knew it wasn’t for control. Their bond was still open, still singing, with rightness.

“He feels seen,” Obi-Wan thought, making himself move the conversation on. Start giving orders. “He feels like I really see him. Because I acknowledged her.”

He’d meant “them” to include Shmi’s battalion, but as he glanced across the room, where Anakin had been called over to listen to something, he knew he had to include Anakin in the gift he’d been given. That Shmi had placed into his care.

Obi-Wan would take care of Anakin. The right way, this time.

Chapter Text

There was an arm across her chest (frightfully boney) her legs were numb from the weight draped across them, an elbow was digging into her back, and Leia regretted every decision that she had made last night.

Well, mostly just one.

“Need a rescue?” a soft voice asked, and Leia made her eyes open so she could see Mikail when she smiled up at him and mouthed, “Please.” He came around to her head, offering his hands and kneeling to help extract her arm when he realized she couldn’t get the right leverage to pull it out without straining something.

At least, not without the Force. And she wasn’t stupid enough to use that here.

“Easy,” Mikail whispered, looping his arms under her armpits, and pulling slowly. Leia made sure to push off from the ground, letting kids slide onto each other, and the floor, and depending on Mikail to make sure she didn’t tip over and land on someone.

He had the decency to lower her to the floor and let her scramble up before cuffing her across the back of the head, and giving her a look as they moved out of the room into a more open part of the ship. Not quite a hall, not quite a hangar. Almost a lounge, but more informal.

Leia breathed deeply, leaning back against a wall and trying to push the pins and needles out of her limbs through force of will. Or Force of will. She wasn’t awake enough to be sure.

“Not your brightest move, little lady,” Mikail said after she’d had a moment (and maybe more than a moment, Leia wasn’t sure she hadn’t fallen asleep against the wall).

Slitting her eyes open and grimacing, Leia mouthed, “I know.”

Her throat still ached, almost burned, and Mikail snorted, but didn’t laugh. “Come on. I’ll get you something for that.”

“You don’t want what I have,” she rasped, but he waved it aside.

“I’ve probably already had it. And I’m not an idiot like you. I know when to go to bed. My body isn’t in open revolt against me.”

She hoped that was true. It was much more likely he’d been exposed to something like what had snuck on board, having lived in this section of space for years. But Leia knew from experience to never be too sure.

She just wished she wasn’t relearning it now.

Thoughtful, kindhearted man that he was, Mikail made her tea with copious amounts of honey while unleashing a nonstop litany of abuses and aspersions on her character, grumbling, whining, and stopping by her chair every so often to press his palm against her forehead and scowl.

“You’re fretting,” she managed to get out after her first sip, without feeling like she was swallowing gravel to speak. “I have had colds before.”

He gave her a long, slow look. “I don’ like it,” he murmured. “You’ve got whatever the kids have, and they’ve been in a bad place.”

To put it mildly. It shouldn’t have surprised Leia, she’d seen it before. But collecting the group of orphans, left behind and forced to make their way to the refugee pickup on their own, almost not making it… Well, she’d crumbled a little at the stubborn set of their jaws and the hard looks in their eyes. Winning them over had required a lot of Luke’s help (Leia was so-so in dealing with children on her best days), but she’d wormed her way into their trust by choosing to spend time with them, even when it became clear that they were getting sick.

“We have medicine,” Leia reminded him. “I’m generally healthy, have access to adequate nutrition and fluids—“

“Sleep once every other day for two hours,” Mikail cut in, crossing his arms.

Leia frowned. “I sleep more than that,” she protested. “It’s at least five hours.”

And close to every day. As useful as drawing on the Force was, and as adept as Leia was getting at doing it deliberately, she could feel the difference between it and actual sleep. She needed the edge sleeping gave her.

Sighing, Mikail took a seat across from her, his chin resting in his hand as he said, “What are we going to do with you?”

Picking her words carefully, aiming for as few as possible, Leia said, “Drop me on Rodia. More plotting to do.”

He hummed, and Leia tried to keep her gaze focused. She really did need more sleep now that she was sick. She also needed to review the reports from Herdessa on how the Christophsis evac was going, and check Rax’s reports on if their lanes past Geonosis were still clear. And training. She needed to do so much training.

“You finish that,” Mikal nodded at the cup, “and you go to bed. I’ll wake you up when we get to Rodia.”

“That’s twelve hours,” Leia protested, croaking.

“Eleven,” Mikail corrected.

“And I get along best with the children.”

“Who are also sick. And sleeping.”

“And scared,” Leia pointed out.

There was a brief contest of wills, each staring at the other until Leia had to blink, her eyes were too heavy. She sighed as she looked down into her mug, then took another sip. “I’ll go to bed when I finish,” she muttered.

“Good,” Mikail said, standing. “I don’t want to see you again until Rodia.”

“You won’t,” Leia promised, not sure if he heard her as he stalked out.

Bail put down the stack of papers he’d been holding, rubbed his forehead, and glanced up. “You can’t be serious.”

Padmé looked over to Threepio, then nodded sadly. “Darsana has confirmed it. They have the votes.”

She didn’t often get to see Bail lose his temper, but he looked pretty close. “What is the point,” he demanded, shaking his head, “of handing control of the Coruscant Guard directly to the Chancellor? We have a local security force and—“

“They’re saying they want a dedicated escort for senators who travel off planet,” Padmé sighed. “Since most can’t provide a qualified enough force for themselves. And this takes it away from the Jedi, who are so busy.”

Glowering, the rings of sleep deprivation carved in around his eyes, Bail asked flatly, “All off planet travel?”

“At request,” Padmé shook her head. “And on official senate business. Although, we have Darsana to thank for that. He made the push to keep all of our travel from being invaded. Though the Chancellor suggested it could be added to emergency powers as well, in the future, if necessary.”

There were a series of abortive noises from Bail, and Threepio asked, “Is there anything that I can get you, Senator?”

It was Bail’s office, and he should have been offering them, but Padmé was pleased when Bail had Threepio bring them tea. It was a worrying sign, a concession, but also an indication of trust. And closeness.

He didn’t need to stand on formality with them.

“Who else knows?” he asked, once he’d taken his first sip.

Padmé turned her cup. “Senator Dio and I know, since we met with Senator Darsana. I believe Senator Taa and Senator Clovis know, since Senator Darsana mentioned using them to help make the adjustments to the new powers.”

She shared a look with Bail, who was serious at first, and then mournful with understanding. “They have things they want to keep secret. Having the Guard always travel with them would be invasive.”

“We all enjoy our privacy,” Padmé defended, knowing how weak it sounded. “I wouldn’t want the Guard following me everywhere.”

Bail looked ready to object, stopped himself, then put his cup down slowly. He clasped his hands and looked her directly in the eyes before asking, “Does Leia trust Senator Clovis?”

It was the worst question he could have possibly asked, to bring this up. There was only one obvious answer, and he could check it with Leia very easily. Her opinion of Rush wasn’t a secret, and if Padmé asked her to be discreet about it, Bail would find out and Leia would want to know why.

“She doesn’t like him,” Padmé admitted. “But we’ve never discussed whether she trusts him.”

Bail hadn’t warned Padmé exactly, about not getting involved with Rush. Bail had kept casual, noninvasive tabs on their friendship, but had seemed to hesitate more in his conversations and questions to Padmé as she had, without telling him, drifted close to something more intimate with Rush.

But it had ended, sharply and abruptly, as all Padmé’s relationships had. She’d thought she’d salvaged the friendship and the work alliance, but…

The handmaidens had never let them be alone together again. Never let Padmé schedule private meetings or events that he might take as an invitation. Padmé still thought it was paranoid, and she’d never told anyone else about it.

But Bail worked with her almost constantly. If anyone knew how her schedule was arranged, how it had changed…

It was humiliating, and Padmé didn’t want to talk about it. She was done dealing with men that wanted her to set aside her interests and ambitions for their attention. And she sure as hell didn’t want Leia dragged into that particular episode of Padmé’s past. It was embarrassing enough without having the most scrupulous, attentive person Padmé had ever known judging her for it.

Leia gave Padmé enough grief about Anakin, and that wasn’t even a thing.

Unfortunately.

The clink of a cup brought her back, and Padmé hoped she wasn’t blushing as Bail said, “We might want to get her professional opinion on him. Especially since we won’t be getting reports from the Guard about his movements. The Banking Clans are very close to the Trade Federation.”

She hated that line, no matter how many times she heard it. But Padmé nodded. It wasn’t like Rush had done anything recently to defend himself. It was past time that Padmé stopped doing it.

“Looks like she’s awake, sir.”

Leia groaned, recognizing the voice but not the presence in the Force, and wishing the lights were off. Even with her eyes closed, they hurt.

“I see that,” another familiar voice rumbled, and Leia made her head turn, so she could smile at the kel dor sitting across the room, even though the light made her eyes water. He moved and the lights dimmed slightly. “I’m afraid Senator Amidala was not pleased with the report I sent her of your condition.”

Jolting up was a mistake. Leia knew it even before her head swam and the edges of her vision blurred and darkened. Or maybe the blurring was Master Koon moving, reaching her quickly enough to catch her before she crumpled back onto the bed. “Why—“

“Calm,” he urged. “You should not be surprised. Or distressed. You had to know how she would feel when she found out.”

“I wasn’t—“ Leia had to paused, let him take more of her weight so she had room to breathe. “Wasn’t gonna tell her.”

The faintest brush of humor slid past her senses. “Unwise. And unkind. She loves you very dearly and deserves to know if you are unwell.”

“Can’t fix it,” Leia stressed. “Just worry.”

She let him settle her back against the wall, her pillow tucked at her back. The commander he had with him was watching her with interest, but no real sense of feeling came off of him.

It was annoying, Leia thought.

“She has the right to worry,” Master Koon offered no apology in tone, word, or the Force. “And she can do something, even if it is not much.”

“She sent you?” Leia asked, feeling that was wrong but unable to grasp clearer thoughts.

“No,” he corrected. “I came because I was needed.”

Waking further wouldn’t be pleasant, but Leia needed her mind working at more than half-assed levels of thought. She took time to breathe, to pull on the Force slightly, to run what he’d told her through her head a few times.

And then to seethe as she realized she was on his cruiser.

“I’m not supposed to be here,” she growled, but it was as much her sore throat as a real effort. “You’re not supposed to be here. I’m not supposed to know where you are.”

“A rendezvous with your ship was not in my explicit instructions,” Master Koon agreed, and she couldn’t track his features anywhere near enough to know if he was smiling, but the lapping humor around them suggested he was. “But I was not prohibited from dropping out of hyperspace, on the way to…my destination. And, as you so carefully taught us, as generals it is wise and needful for us to follow our instincts. Especially since we have added insight from the Force.”

The trap in that was too obvious for Leia to have missed it, but she was still angry. “My ship left me behind, didn’t it?”

“We encouraged them to continue without you,” he agreed cheerfully. “And promised to arrange for safe transport to your next destination.”

Sagging helplessly, Leia tried, “I’m not supposed to know where you are…”

“You are also,” he said, and there was now sternness in his tone, “not supposed to be ill. Or working in such a fashion as to exasperate any illness you cannot avoid.”

“I was fine,” Leia grumbled.

“You were,” Master Koon had moved from stern to tart, “running a high fever, refusing to hand over your work, and then collapsed and slept for eighteen standard hours.” Leia blanched. “Your crew seemed more than a little relieved that we offered to…intervene.”

“I missed my call,” Leia croaked, starting to look around to see where her comm was. “I need to tell—“

She stopped and glanced up at Master Koon, who nodded. “I answered your call from the Senator and explained your situation. She was very appreciative, but made no promises about whether or not she would maul you when you were returned to her, no matter how pointless it would make our efforts.”

He was amused again, but beyond that Leia thought he was also worried. Almost anxious. “I’m pretty sure Padmé isn’t going to kill me,” Leia sighed. “But she probably will assign me to working with Senator Taa’s office, which is enough to make me wish I were dead.”

The amusement increased, but the anxiety hadn’t faded. Hesitantly, silently asking for permission, Master Koon reached out, placing his hand on her head. “You take too much on yourself, young one. There are many who would serve with you, if you would give them the chance.”

“I am trying,” Leia sighed. “I was working on training my backups, but then we had…all the mess on Christophsis and things fell behind, and…”

They’d been playing catch up ever since, Leia dealing with emergency calls and offering training mid-crisis instead of in advance like she’d hoped. Not that she wasn’t used to that kind of training. The Rebellion had been one long, rolling shipwreck of trying to fill roles that kept getting…emptied.

Hoping Master Koon mistook the wetness for fever tears, Leia tucked those memories further back, and the emotions that came with them. “I know…I know I can’t do it by myself.”

But she was their final line of defense, and she was damned if they thought she was going to roll over and just walk away because it was hard.

“Leia Skywalker,” Master Koon interrupted her morose musings, “would you meditate with me?”

Blinking, she asked, “Now?”

“Later,” he insisted. “When you are more rested.”

She fluttered with indecision, but…last time hadn’t been so bad. And she knew more of what she was doing now. “I’d like that,” she confessed.

“Then we shall look forward to it,” he promised, standing. “Please let Commander Wolffe know if you need anything.”

Blinking, Leia turned to the commander. “I—Master Koon, is he staying? Surely he has more important things to do.”

“Medical requested that we keep you someplace relatively isolated, to reduce the probability of passing on whatever you have. Since they can’t isolate it,” Master Koon sighed. “Officer’s quarters are more contained than the open medical floor, but more hospitable than the quarantine pods. Commander Wolffe volunteered his, and so will be attending you, until he too is cleared as safe.”

Mostly keeping her jaw from hanging open, Leia protested, “You could have just left me—“

“We could,” Master Koon agreed, turning as he approached the door. “But we did not. And I do not regret that. Sleep well, Leia.”

And then he was gone, and Leia was left with a (definitely grumpy) clone commander, who watched her for a few minutes before asking, “You need help getting back down?”

“No,” Leia grumbled, wiggling back under the bedding. “Sorry about this.”

He shrugged. “Better than it getting to the men.”

“No kidding,” Leia sighed. “Stuff like this always runs right through any squads bunking together, and you never catch it fast enough to stop it spreading in ‘freshers and dining. Could put a dozen platoons out for a week.”

There was a moment before Wolffe said, “Didn’t think the 91^st had been having that sort of trouble.”

Uneasy, but not sure why, Leia said, “If they have, I missed it. But it’s the same in any army. Or refugee ship,” she added hastily. “Just, enough people on top of each other, stuff goes around.”

The commander hummed, but didn’t say anything else. Deciding she’d made enough stupid choices for the last few days, Leia pulled the covers over her head and succumbed to oblivion.

“Ill and injured and she didn’t tell anyone,” Padmé rubbed her forehead, knowing Shea wouldn’t judge her for screaming, but desperate to not lose what was left of her control. “What was she thinking?”

Shea’s shrug made Shmi’s eyes narrow, and earned a scowl from Sabé, but Padmé understood. She should have suspected.

“We did what we could for her on Herdessa,” Shea said. “I would have reported to you if I thought she was in any danger. But mostly I think she was just being stubborn. Since she was going to be stuck in hyperspace for the next few days, I didn’t try and trap her. I figured I should save that for when she really needed it.”

“Like when she picks up some obscure virus,” Padmé growled, then sighed.

She looked to Shmi, who was equally unhappy, but also shrugged. “Master Koon seems to have her well in hand. We were concerned about her not having someone looking after her. At least we know she is not being completely neglected.”

They’d have to up their plan though. Shmi and Padmé had been discussing what they could arrange, but it all required Leia to be on Naboo or Coruscant. They might be able to make something work on Herdessa, but that would mean leaving Shea in charge of it and…well.

Padmé knew Shea cared about Leia. But Padmé wasn’t sure that wouldn’t…complicate things in this case.

And speaking of Shea. “I didn’t think you were planning to come back so quickly,” Padmé said, watching the shift in Shea’s expression. “I know things are still busy on Herdessa.”

“I’m of more use here,” Shea gestured casually. “We’re deep enough in none of the guilds are going to sneak us out at this point, not without losing their seat. And Leia and I had an idea that I’ve been hoping to propose to the Senate. Once she brings back the data and evidence we need.”

“Will it distract us from the refugee efforts?” Shmi asked, tone implacable. “That needs to stay a high priority, given how the conflict is still escalating.”

Fighting had moved from just Christophsis to many of the surrounding planets, even if it was just small skirmishes. And two Jedi masters had been deployed with troops to Dac, the matters there escalating just as quickly. Padmé didn’t know which two yet, but she was working on it. Or rather, Dormé was.

“I’m hoping we can combine this into the refugee efforts,” Shea said. “Although, I’ll need your help making sure to arrange it in a way that doesn’t come across as exploitative. Leia and I didn’t have enough of a chance to work through details on that part, and my staff is…less aware then they probably should be to catch what we need to.”

“Combine what?” Shmi asked, and Shea fiddled with the projector controls on the table, bringing up an array of colorful charts.

“This,” Shea said, “is our best guess, based on schematics and the few droids we’ve retrieved, of the breakdown of alloys and parts we can extract from a single droid unit. And this,” the graphs shifted to a table of startlingly large numbers, “is how much money we think someone could make on resale of those parts. Scaled up by military units.”

Shmi squinted at the chart and said, “So a platoon of droids…”

“Is worth a fair amount,” Shea smiled. “And I was thinking it would be nice, if we could support our troops by giving them a share of that.”

Chapter Text

Leia dithered over her next bet, scanning the faces in the circle again. Comet’s tells were easy, once you figured out they were tied to the amount he bet. A very mathematical mind, Comet. But Boost…

Leia was going to lose to Boost. She didn’t like it, but it was time to accept it. As long as she wasn’t “cheating” and using the Force, she wouldn’t have him pinned down. And she’d promised herself she wouldn’t cheat. She didn’t think they all knew about her Force sensitivity.

Deciding that she wasn’t willing to pay too much for this lesson, Leia bet cautiously, and was justified. Boost scooped them all, and was kind of an ass about it.

“Just look at all of this,” he kept grinning, waving the assorted petty change and favor slips under his brother’s nose. “I’ll be living like a king this week.”

Comet shoved Boost, hard enough he dropped his spoils, and someone behind, who’d been watching them play, dived for it. There was shouting and scuffling, but it all came to an abrupt halt when the door slid open and Master Koon walked in, his amusement and fondness swirling about as he took in the scene. No one felt the need to stand, but there was a flurry of salutes and respectful mutterings.

Master Koon nodded to everyone, then looked down at Leia and said, “I see you’ve been cleared for light duty. May I borrow a bit of your time?”

“It would be my pleasure,” Leia said as she stood, accepting a steadying hand from Wolffe as she wobbled slightly. Not because she was still tired. Her legs had just cramped. “Thanks for the game, boys.”

“Come back any time,” Boost offered. “We’d love to win more of your money. We could use a bigger pot for the ship.”

“Noted,” Leia gave a lazy salute and followed Master Koon, falling into step with him as they moved down the hall.

It was…easier now. Not easy, but easier. Part of it was that over half of the clone troopers had started painting their armor, and the flashes of brown on white weren’t part of any ingrained memories.

She saw Fett in them more clearly though, and it…rankled. Memories of him made her uneasy, even though she was sure he wouldn’t dare try and find her again on a Republic cruiser. And she didn’t think she was out of time to reconsider yet.

“Were you enjoying yourself?” Master Koon asked as they walked.

“Of course,” Leia answered, opening herself slightly so he could test her honesty. “They’re a bit rambunctious and a lot of fun.” The sort of rowdiness she’d grown used to in the rebellion, especially when she’d been around Luke’s friends. As much fun as it had been to drop back into politics, she’d missed the simplicity and camaraderie she could find like this.

Her honesty was rewarded with a clear sense of Master Koon’s pleasure. “I’m glad. They seem to be getting over their needless prejudice quite nicely without any interference. I had hoped that would be the case.”

Humming and gazing at him from the corner of her eye, Leia gave herself time to think about that. “Is it really all of them? That hate the Senate.”

“Hate,” Master Koon said quietly, gesturing her into a small meeting room with two cushions already on the floor, “is a very strong word. I feel that mistrust is a more accurate descriptor.”

Her contrary nature sparked (and her warm certainty that Master Koon actually enjoyed these pedantic debates), Leia countered with, “I’d say hate is a strong word, but something like loathing is very strong. But both,” she conceded before he could offer any sort of counter, “do imply a sort of…familiarity. Or closeness. I think. Which is part of what makes them strong.”

“And as none of them are familiar with the Senate,” Master Koon replied, folding himself onto a cushion, “hate is probably too personal a way to describe their feelings.”

But that could change, Leia thought. And there were other dangers to less personal feelings. If the clones felt…distant from the Republic, they may not see themselves has having obligations to it. In spite of any orders. “Do you think I’m helping overall, or just making my own case?”

“That depends,” Master Koon answered, and Leia could feel his full attention on her as she took her own seat (nearer to the door, and she thought he did that on purpose), “on which of them you are thinking of. They are not a monolith.”

She repressed a twitch as she answered, “I had noticed. I just assumed you were more familiar with the overall atmosphere, and whether my being here fundamentally shifted it or not.”

“You’ve noticed a particular atmosphere around the other battalions you’ve met?”

He did know how to get to the heart of a matter. “I don’t think I impressed them. In a positive way.”

He considered that. “Master Windu did make some comments about the…” He seemed to actually struggle for a moment. “He mentioned that his men thought you were…insane. In the consistency of your risk taking. But that your capacity for survival suggested you were familiar with the conditions and had adapted to thrive in them.”

“I don’t think I took significantly more risks than any of his men did,” Leia mumbled, pulling in on herself while trying not to seem too small.

“But you are, in their eyes, a politician, not a solider, and they were not prepared to handle one so ready—and able—to enter their world.”

The silence after that comment ached with tension. Leia almost regretted coming. Letting her hands grab her knees but trying to keep them from clenching, she said, “I—“

And lost all ability to speak. She couldn’t lie. She might be able to tell a lie and have Master Koon miss it, but she didn’t want to lie to him and she wasn’t going to. She would tell him no. She would refuse to answer his questions. And she trusted that he would respect that. But she wasn’t going to lie to him.

He didn’t so much as twitch as he waited for her to find her words. Leia tried again. “I have some experience in hostile environments.”

And that was it. That was all she could bring herself to say. Anything else would be a coverup, a misdirection. A lie.

He waited a little longer before nodding. “I had assumed that might be the case. I am sorry. I imagine it was very unpleasant.”

“It was,” Leia answered simply. And then, because if they kept skirting around her memories, she might lose courage and flee, “Did you still want to meditate?”

“If you are open to it, yes. I would still like to meditate with you.”

Rather than answering, Leia closed her eyes and focused on evening her breathing. She expected it would take her longer to settle with how jittery she was.

She was right. Master Koon was a calm, placid expression around her long before Leia even felt comfortable opening herself up, letting herself feel.

But she liked Master Koon, and she was deeply grateful to him (in spite of his actions having interrupted her work), and those were feelings she was willing to share. In return she got a taste of his curiosity, his care, and a hint of something that might have been awe.

Leia didn’t examine it too closely. She didn’t want to be rude.

Being undercover probably should have made Padmé nervous, but the familiar weight of her hood, the anonymity of being in handmaiden garb eased that tension. And she was getting to do something, which tipped the scales even further. Add Shmi’s unwavering reliability to the mix, with Dormé also nearby.

It felt good. Padmé wasn’t nervous.

Yet.

“I’ve been told we’re expected,” Shmi said to them, stepping out of their transport and waiting for them to join her. “But I’m not sure—“

“Are you Shmi Skywalker?”

A clone trooper in red painted armor approached, two more standing near the entrance behind him. Shmi stepped forward, smiling lightly as she nodded. “Yes. I am Shmi.”

“We’ve got orders to take you to the commander,” the trooper answered, and Padmé noticed Shmi’s features smooth over, still inviting but more contained. “We didn’t know you were bringing an escort.”

Glancing at Padmé and Dormé, Shmi offered, “The senator didn’t want me to travel alone, since I am still new to the planet. Will that be an issue, Lieutenant…”

“CC-4477,” he answered promptly. “No trouble. We’ll just need their access codes, same as you, sir. Is the droid yours, or theirs?”

“Threepio is with me,” Shmi answered. “I need him for interpretation and cultural consultation.”

There was a slight tilt of the helmet before CC-4477 said, “Shouldn’t need an interpreter, sir. You’ll need to leave the droid. He doesn’t have clearance—“

“He’s registered to the Senator’s office,” Shmi said, offering her codes. “He has the same permissions that we do to be here.”

There was a bit more stiffness as the trooper answered, “We’ll need to confirm that.”

“Of course.”

It wasn’t just Threepio. All of them were searched when they entered the building, but that was no surprise. The Coruscant Guard had been granted access to the Security Force building, until more permanent arrangements could be made. The measures were within expectation.

It was…more than a little concerning to see how separated the Security Forces seemed to be from the clones that wandered in the hallways. Not that there were many of them. The three clones that were escorting Shmi and her companions were the largest group Padmé could spot as they walked, and the pairs that they passed seemed to be very focused as they moved.

No one else talked to the clones, or made any gestures of acknowledgement, much less friendly ones.

“In here,” CC-4477 said, gesturing them through a door.

The room they entered was mostly lit by the holo displays on tables around it. There were about a dozen troopers around the room, all of them with their helmets off.

It was the first time Padmé had seen any of the clones like this, all together and unmasked. The effect was eerie, and not helped by the low lighting in the room. Or the tight, controlled looks on the men’s faces.

“Shmi Skywalker, Commander,” CC-4477 said, saluting and making his way back out of the room, taking the rest of their escort with him. Threepio whispered a, “Thank you,” as the clone passed, and there was a slight jerk of the helmeted head.

“Commander CC-1010,” one of the clones said, stepping forward and saluting Shmi. “I understand you’re here from the Senate.”

“As a representative of the Refugee Committee, yes,” Shmi answered, also stepping forward and offering her hand. The clone hesitated before briefly shaking it. “We had some matters we wanted to discuss with the Coruscant Guard and some proposals we hoped you could review for us.”

There were a few seats, but they weren’t invited to sit. Instead, the commander just said, “Not sure what we can do for you, but if you have new protocols for us regarding the refugees, we’ll do our best to incorporate them. But that’s more of a Security Force’s issue. We cover Senate district safety.”

There was a very wide range of skills among the clones as far as keeping a straight face. Commander CC-1010 didn’t give anything away, although Shmi’s slight stiffening would have tipped Padmé off. But some of the others couldn’t help but look guilty.

Dormé indicated them and Padmé signaled that she had seen it.

There was a moment before Shmi said, “I was under the impression that the battalion that had been kept on Coruscant was here to assist the Security Forces, especially in regards to the number of refugees Coruscant is now expecting.”

Her tone was dangerously even, the note of disappointment almost violently acute. That made the already guilty looking ones shift and twitch slightly, but the commander’s face didn’t flinch. “We’ve been assigned to help with security during the unloading, yes. And if we have overflow, some of our men may be assigned to other Security Forces tasks.”

Disappointment became almost threatening as Shmi said, “I see.” She turned her gaze slowly around the room, noting the maps pulled up at the different stations, making sure to look each solider in the eye. “My apologies then. I was misinformed concerning your assignment. I only have one brief matter then, and we’ll get out of your way.”

Which was not the plan. Padmé had been hoping to get a lot more information about what the clones were thinking and how they were being treated. The Guard wasn’t the most useful datapoint since their purpose was so fundamentally different than the other battalions, but she needed something. Leia had dropped more than a few not too subtle hints that the clones were not pleased, either with the Senate or the Republic.

Padmé needed to know why. She had to help them.

Commander CC-1010’s, “What matter?” wasn’t promising.

But Padmé had forgotten that one of Shmi Skywalker’s greatest gifts was the ability to jump right to the heart of a matter, and pour blazing light into it. “We wanted to ask your opinion on the various clauses in the proposed citizenship bills being presented. And to know if you and your brothers preferred the language and legal protections of any bill in particular.”

That earned a look from the commander. “You—what?”

“Have you had a chance to review the bills?” Shmi pressed on. “I know you have Net access, and the full texts have been published. Although,” she tilted her head, “they may have been updated again. There was supposed to be a meeting this morning with the Banking Clans and the Trade Federation making suggested amendments to Senator Organa’s proposals. Though I find it unlikely that he adjusted anything according to their suggestions.”

More likely that he’d done the opposite of what they’d asked, when they’d tipped their hands and revealed loopholes, either in their requests or silence. Bail had an excellent staff of meticulous reviewers who loved combing through legal language and foiling his opponents’ traps.

Commander CC-1010 looked around the room, his gaze stopping on two lieutenants, who both discreetly shook their heads. He answered, “We haven’t looked at them.”

Humming, Shmi considered him for a moment. “Then you won’t be able to answer that question either. My apologies. I didn’t mean to waste so much of your time.”

From most, that would have been a backhanded remark, but from Shmi it was almost something more. This time the commander did flinch. Slightly.

“We do appreciate your efforts…” he started, glancing at the handmaidens behind Shmi, letting his gaze linger over Threepio for a moment. “You—We heard of your work with the 501^st,” he added, shifting. “We appreciate it. All of us.”

Sometimes Padmé also forgot that Shmi had raised a very young, very excitable, and probably very difficult Anakin Skywalker. This was not one of those times.

Shmi pinned the commander with her eyes, stretching out the silence instead of responding, until she noticed something and gestured silently with her hand towards two seats, a question in the arch of her brow.

The commander invited her to sit, gesturing his own men over as Padmé and Dormé flanked Shmi, settling into something more comfortable than Padmé would have expected, his elbows braced on his knees.

Preparing himself.

Shmi was the first to speak. “There are very few promises that I can make on behalf of the Senate,” she admitted, not bothered by their stunned reactions. “And only a few more I can try and extract from the RRM, given their more limited resources. But I am here to represent the goodwill that does exist in the Senate, towards your brothers and towards the refugees. Insofar as we can get your help. Because of our limitations, this isn’t something that we can do alone, without your cooperation.”

There was a mildly beleaguered sigh from CC-1010. His gaze almost drifted towards Padmé and Dormé before he said, “With all due respect to her office, Senator Amidala hasn’t exactly inspired us to expect that she, her committees—or councils—or program are going to be of much use to us. No matter your personal intentions, Lady Skywalker.”

“Shmi,” the woman corrected mildly, studying the commander for a moment. Then she asked, “Did you know I was a slave?”

CC-1010 stilled as Padmé’s heart lurched. It wasn’t a secret, but it wasn’t something that Shmi brought up very often.

Which should have been a clue, Padmé realized. Shmi’s freedom had been offered years ago, but she’d only been away from Tatooine…a year and a half? Not quite even that. It was a past that wasn’t nearly far enough behind her for her to have forgotten it, even in the haze of her current busy day-to-day life.

And to be confronted with the clone army within that time. To have been their only recourse for recognition…

There was no way of knowing where this conversation was about to go, and Padmé felt the weight of that.

CC-1010’s deliberate, “No…” only seemed to highlight the other silence around them.

Shmi nodded. “I didn’t think so. I didn’t ask the 501^st not to speak of it, but they seemed happy not to explore it on the few occasions that I mentioned it. Which is a pity,” Shmi said, turning her head to stare off into nothing. “It is not a truth that disappears because it has not been acknowledged.”

The silence after those words was aching. Or maybe that was Padmé’s jaw and hands, clenched tight and trembling. There was definitely bile curdling in the back of her throat.

Shmi looked back to the commander. “Senator Amidala is not an evil person, or an ill-intentioned one. She is very focused on her duty, and is constrained, as any person, by her needs and her experience. I am not her voice and will not make you any promises on her behalf. But I would encourage you to speak directly to her, in spite of the Chancellor’s recommendations against it. Whether or not he knows it,” and Shmi’s voice became subtly more clipped, “that is a Hutt tactic for keeping his sycophants unaffiliated with his armed guard. A condition they find very useful, to keep themselves isolated from danger. At everyone else’s expense.”

“Sounds about right,” CC-1010 said, sighing. “I don’t know if he’s malicious or just plain stupid, but orders directly from the Chancellor have been creating as many problems as they solve.”

“Such as?” Shmi asked, frowning.

“We haven’t exactly had an easy time of integrating with the Security Force. Guard assignment, assignment to this district, feels like recruit work, and like we’re being wrapped in Coruscant’s padding. As well as stealing the Security Force’s job. Doesn’t win us a lot of friends. On any side.”

If she hadn’t been so familiar with Leia, Padmé might have missed the subtle shift in the commander’s features that read as hurt and rejection, likely from those he loved. His brothers were off fighting without him, while he babysat pompous senators and political aides, trailing them across the galaxy. Not that there wouldn’t be any danger in those jobs, but she could see how easily the assignments could lead to resentment. On all sides.

“Then you will have to win friends for yourself,” Shmi said, straightening.

Somehow, the message hit Padmé like a slug to the gut.

There was one shaking breath, then two, where all she could see was a swamp, and Boss Nass shaking his head, hope rising and a thrill going through her as she knelt on the ground.

Then she blinked, and Padmé was facing a very different man, under very different circumstances, in the darkness of his command room.

She took half a moment to signal Dormé, who froze, before Padmé put her hand on Shmi’s shoulder. Shmi showed no surprised as she looked over, just a gentle questioning backed by pure Skywalker stubbornness.

Dormé had enough time to hiss before Padmé pulled back her hood, offering a half bow to the commander, who blinked and almost snarled as he recognized her.

It took longer for his men to realize what was going on, enough time for Padmé to say, “It’s always embarrassing when Shmi scolds me. She’s even better at it than my mother, and she could make me forget I was queen, even in full regalia, if she wanted to.”

There was a contained, dangerous fury as CC-1010 said, “Is there some way we can serve you, Senator? I was under the impression you were at the Executive Building.”

“When you’ve dodged enough assassination attempts by the Trade Federation, you learn the importance of being in two places at once,” Padmé answered, trying for a smile. The commander’s look wasn’t amused, but a brow went up. She took it as invitation to continue. “I came because I’m very bad at sitting around and waiting for the Senate to solve my problems. I find things have always gone better when I’ve dealt with them myself.”

Her hand tightened on the back of Shmi’s chair, knowing the commander’s look came because he saw himself as one of her problems. He was right, but not in the way he thought he was.

She would change that. If she could.

Before he could speak, Padmé added, “I’m having trouble convincing the Senate that when they took on the clones as their army, they forgot to offer their new troops the basic rights and privileges that should belong to any citizen, or member, of the Republic. What do you think I should do about it, Commander?”

She tried not to shake as he stared and stared at her, his brow wrinkling more deeply with each passing second. Then he buried his face in his hand for a moment and she only just caught, “—cking Ponds,” before he sighed and looked back up, resolve having replaced any resignation. “Fox,” he growled.

“I—Sorry, what?” Padmé asked, feeling suddenly adrift.

The commander threw out his hand, waiting with a scowl until she took it and he could shake. “Commander Fox, Senator. And if you’re going to do anything for my men, can you get these Security assholes to use their fucking names?”

Padmé felt her lips twitch even as she heard Shmi chuckle. “You know, I think the Jedi used the RRM database as a template for tracking the incoming soldiers. I think we can get the Order to update their protocols once we train them on how to update personnel files. I’m sure the Security officers wouldn’t want to upset the Jedi.”

“Master Allie can help us reach Master Gallia,” Shmi agreed. “I’m sure she’ll know how to roll out a program to integrate the protocols between the Guard and the Security Force.”

Padmé turned back to Commander Fox. “While she’s making that call, can you help me compile a list of other concerns your brothers have? We can figure out which committees should draft legislation or policy for them, and start to divide and conquer.”

There was a lot of skepticism in the room, and no small amount from the Commander. But he said, “If we’re going to be guarding the senators, we’ll need to know more about them.”

“Excellent,” Padmé said, gesturing if she could take Shmi’s chair. The Tatooine woman was already being escorted to a more private room to make her calls. Commander Fox nodded and Padmé sat. “Planning and gossip always go hand in hand. Let’s see what we can accomplish before I have to meet Senator Darsana for lunch.”

Chapter Text

The trooper who was confirming Leia’s access codes had waves of confusion and distrust rolling off him.

If she wasn’t so tired, she might have found the situation funny.

“I’m assuming you’ve had time to verify my clearance,” Leia made sure she didn’t snap, but her tone was definitely clipped and authoritative. She saw him instinctually responding to it, back straightening, chin coming up.

“I have, but…we haven’t had reports of any refugee ships scheduled to pass through our orbit. Or land,” he added, glancing at Mikail behind her. “Without verifying your flight plans—“

“Leia!”

The shout was the only warning before a buzz and surge in the Force, Anakin landing right in her face and while he was smart enough to dodge her grab to try and throw him, he missed her knee’s instinctive jerk.

She was mostly able to pull the movement before she hit his thigh, but his yelp told her she’d put more behind it than she’d thought. “Don’t do that!” she hissed, stepping back and holding her hands out, not quite touching but creating an illusion of being willing to steady him. And then, when her heart had stopped pounding,” Are you okay?”

Most of her attention was on the trooper, whose blaster was now in his hands. Great.

“I’m fine,” Anakin shook his leg, muttering a bit. “Sorry, I should have thought…”

He trailed off as he spotted Mikail, whose blaster was still holstered, but whose hand was uncomfortably close to said weapon.

“Anakin, this is Mikail,” Leia said, before the tension could rise too much further. “He’s been flying some of our refugees and offered to be my transport. Mikail, this is Anakin Skywalker, padawan apprentice to Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

“Family?” Mikail asked, his hand hanging limp at his side again.

“You know his mother,” Leia said. “Shmi adopted me a year, year and a half ago. Ish.”

She felt Anakin deflate slightly as Mikail nodded. He stepped forward and reached to shake Anakin’s hand. “Always an adventure to meet another Skywalker,” Mikail said.

Anakin’s half grin was infectious. “I’m told we’re something else.” He looked to Leia. “But what are you doing here? We aren’t moving anyone off planet, and Radnor’s not taking refugees. Are they?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” Leia said, looking over the landscape and considering the matter. Not many major cities on the planet, not lots of natural resources either. In an emergency it could be a staging ground, maybe, but not a collection point. “This was an unplanned stop. We were supposed to reach Herdessa, so I could catch a ride back to Coruscant, and, well…”

She looked back at Mikail, who was frowning now, and exuding frustration in a way that Anakin would never ignore. “You had an accident?” he asked, looking over their ship, “What—Is that laser damage?”

As he swept past her, Leia muttered, “Maybe a bit.”

“A bit,” Mikail hissed. “A bit.”

“You ran into Separatists?” Anakin called back, his tone dour as he examined the scoring along the sides.

“Bounty hunters,” Mikail corrected as Leia sighed.

Anakin blinked. “Do you mean pirates?”

“No,” Mikail glared at Leia, and Anakin’s mood twisted.

Suddenly, he was storming back over to her, “There are bounty hunters after you?” he demanded.

“Not good ones,” Leia protested. There was a noise from the trooper behind her.

“They did this!” Anakin threw one hand back behind him, waving at the damage to Mikail’s ship. 

Leia waved back, exaggerating the movement as much as she could, “Yes. Just this. Minor scoring and a grazing hit to a secondary system. Not good ones!”

Mikail and Anakin both looked back to the ship, and then to Leia with skepticism roiling off of them. She felt something similar behind her too. Leia sighed. “Look, I’ve had to perform ship repairs from the inside of a space slug because I was hiding from,” psychotic, “competent pursuers.” Never mind that the repairs had been beyond what they could perform in the slug (and at least fifty percent Han’s fault). The point still stood. “This is nothing.”

The stares were worse. “No you did not,” Anakin protested as Mikail’s jaw slowly dropped open. “That’s a lie.”

“The point,” Leia rolled her eyes, “is we’re fine. We made it. No problems.”

Aside from the damaged ship.

“And the bounty hunter?” Anakin demanded.

“Taken care of,” Leia promised.

“That one,” Mikail grumbled, and Leia wanted to hit the man.

“That one?” Anakin scoffed, and Leia almost wished she had kicked him harder a minute ago.

“Of course ‘that one,’” she sighed. “I dealt with the other ones too. They were embarrassing, not a threat.”

“Embarrassing,” Anakin repeated.

The trooper behind Leia coughed. She was tempted to turn and ask what his problem was, but just told Anakin, “Yes. A shame to their profession. No good at their job. Absolute idiots.”

She was laying it on pretty thick, but she felt justified. There was a complicated twist of worry, relief, and horror coming from Anakin, not helped by Mikail’s, “You let that one on Orvax go.”

“I let most of them go,” Leia rubbed her forehead. “They were lousy bounty hunters, and once they realized I was out of their league, they practically ran away.” At a twinge from Anakin she added, “It’s not like with Padmé. I keep track of the bounties people offer for me. They’re offering next to nothing to try and get rid of me, and getting what they pay for.”

“Ten thousand isn’t nothing,” Mikail muttered, and Leia turned on him.

“It was taken down weeks ago,” she snapped. “Everything else is pittance, and you know it.”

Not that this would last. Not with all the failures. Not with how she was making a name for herself, off of Coruscant.

A deep breath pulled Leia’s attention back to Anakin, who asked, “How many?”

“Bounties? Only two right now.” As far as she was aware. She didn’t have quite enough contacts to be sure she had all of the major guilds covered. “There were six at one point, but most of them got pulled. Turns out hunting government workers is expensive.” Go figure.

“How many bounty hunters?” Anakin asked, crossing his arms.

His mind was pressing against hers, and Leia found herself planting her feet and squaring her shoulders as she pushed back in the Force. “Six.”

“Seven,” Mikail corrected. Leia almost started (he couldn’t know about Fett), before Mikail added, “Counting this one.”

“Seven,” Leia conceded. “And I haven’t been hurt once.”

“By the bounty hunters,” Mikail put in. “There was that time on Christophsis—“

“What time on Christophsis?” Anakin demanded.

“Why are you changing the subject?” Leia demanded. “That has nothing to do with this and you weren’t even there.”

“Just saying,” Mikail shrugged, looking over at Anakin. “You’ve got a knack for trouble. Bounty hunters or not. Everyone on Herdessa heard about the Senator having to make sure you got fixed. And then there was the fever.”

“What?” Anakin demanded.

Staring at Mikail, Leia realized that he was tattling on her. Because Anakin was connected to Shmi, and Mikail was still upset that Leia’d been abducted by the Jedi just because she’d gotten a head cold. The bastard.

She was ready to yell that it wasn’t any of his business, when the trooper behind her shouted, “Over here, General.”

If she’d been paying attention to anything beyond Anakin, Leia probably would have felt Obi-Wan approaching sooner. As it was, she turned and waved at his padawan, calling almost plaintively, “Help?”

“I thought you could handle him,” Obi-Wan was smiling as he came closer.

He offered his hand and Leia shook it, holding an extra second to keep his attention so she could examine him. Noticing he was doing the same, she actually managed a smile as she said, “He’s being a brat and he’s your padawan, so you—“

“I am not,” Anakin protested. “Master, she has bounty hunters after her. And got sick!”

There was a flash of worry, but Obi-Wan at least had the decency to look to her before commenting. Leia laid out the facts she’d presented to Anakin, and while Obi-Wan was frowning by the end of her explanation, he wasn’t afraid or frustrated.

Unlike someone.

“Hardly ideal,” he mused, stroking his beard. “But you don’t seem put out by the experience. Barring this,” he added, nodding at Mikail’s ship. Then he said, “I did hear about you collapsing in a pile of desk work. Master Koon was kind enough to pass that along.” Leia ground her teeth to hold back a beleaguered sigh. “I’m sure Senator Amidala will rest easier when you’re back in her clutches.”

“Oh, for the love of—” Leia rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the ping of dislike from the trooper.

“And Shmi,” Obi-Wan added in a softer tone, surprising Leia (outright shocking the clone), and forestalling any comment from Anakin. “I expect she’ll be glad to have you back as well.” Clearing his throat, he gestured with an arm and said, “Shall we go inside while we have our engineers come take a look at your vessel?”

“We’ll have to turn down your generous offer as far as engineers,” Leia said, falling into step with him. “The Refugee Committee budget is separate from yours, and we wouldn’t want to invite bureaucratic bickering by blurring those boundaries. Unless you want to do more paperwork.”

“Ah, no,” Obi-Wan shook his head as Anakin jogged up to join him on the other side.

Mikail started following as Leia said, “If you can point us towards someone competent on planet, that would be best.”

“I could look at it,” Anakin said. “And get you a list of parts. I’m might not be able to do all the repairs,” he admitted, glancing off to where a series of fighters were being worked on. “Depends on if we see any action. But I can help.”

“It’s Mikail’s ship,” Leia said, looking back to him. “What do you think?”

“Your little Jedi isn’t saying he charges,” Mikail addressed her, but his eyes were on Anakin. “Would we be getting what we paid for?”

Trying not to smirk, Leia said, “Oh, Anakin’s mechanical skills are one of the few unarguable gifts he offers through his Jedi service.” Anakin blustered, but she added, “Feel free to quiz him, if you’d like, but I think he’ll pass muster. Only,” she warned, “don’t be surprised when he also suggests insane upgrades. Sometimes he forgets that most pilots don’t have Jedi reflexes.”

“Stars, yes,” the clone following them muttered, just loud enough that Leia caught it.

Mikail must have too because his lekku twitched and the aborted motion of his head said he’d prevented himself from turning to stare. He eyed Anakin instead and started with, “Well, what kind of ship do I have, exactly?”

Leia let Obi-Wan lead her ahead so the two space junkies behind them could try and outdo each other.

They ditched Anakin and Mikail before they reached the temporary command buildings, and lost their clone escort somewhere in the halls when someone needed him for a thing. Leia absorbed the mixed yellow and blue figures, trying to decipher which ones had double circles painted over their hearts.

That had to mean something.

The looks Leia was getting meant she was grateful when Obi-Wan found them somewhere private to sit, even if it was a bit claustrophobic. And smelled rancid.

“So how are you doing, really?” Obi-Wan asked as he slid into a seat across from her, leaning back into it with a deceptively casual lounge.

Leia knew her stare was flat and hard. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No,” Obi-Wan said, beard twitching with his half grin. “I was hoping to get a real answer.”

“When did you earn that privilege?” Leia asked, recognizing the condescending tone she used as the one she’d weaponized against Han whenever he’d tried to expose her (and he kept cropping up today…). She could feel Obi-Wan’s worry flicker again as he heard it, though he still smiled.

“Between two of my dark secrets, I thought,” he said lightly, but she felt him retreating too and regretted, a little. “We can both answer, for fairness sake. I’ll even go first,” he offered with saccharine affability, “if you need a moment to prepare yourself.”

Her glare was not working the way that it was supposed to, so Leia leaned back in her seat as well, and braced for the inevitable. Twirling her hand in a coaxing gesture, she said, “Since you’re so excited to share.”

“Where would you like me to begin?”

Leia considered the best opening. “How do you like being a general?”

Sighing, Obi-Wan leaned forward, bracing his forearms on the table between them and staring at his hands, flexing them slightly. It was a moment before he answered. “It’s harder than I thought. We’re winning our battles, we’ve got our troops on the ground now, we’ve successfully deployed.” Those hands twitched, raked through his hair, held his head. “It’s hard. Working like this.”

His tension was mostly contained, only whispering around him, but when he looked up Leia recognized the look in his eyes and felt her heart breaking at it. “The casualties? Or the obligations?”

“Both,” Obi-Wan rasped, head shaking, hands fists in front of him. “I thought—I can’t stay off the front line. Out of the line of fire. I know it’s important to strategically deploy myself. I know I’m in charge of these men, that Anakin has to step in and take over if—if something happens to me. And I know,” Obi-Wan tried for a smile, but it was definitely a grimace, “he won’t be able to handle it if it does come to that. Not for lack of skill, just…”

“He’s Anakin,” Leia agreed. “He’ll care.”

“Too much,” Obi-Wan didn’t often admit to shame around Leia (she doubted he did to anyone), but this was close enough to another refrain they’d danced around during her visits to the Temple that she knew what the steps meant. Anakin’s fitness as a Jedi, the appropriateness of his behavior. Verses his goodness, his brashness, his earnest desire to help everyone because he couldn’t seem to help but become invested in any cause thrown casually as his feet. “I keep him in the air as much as possible, so he doesn’t have to make that choice. He’s an excellent pilot, and the pilots that fly with him learn so quickly…”

“But it isn’t enough,” Leia finished for him.

“No,” Obi-Wan agreed. “It—He has to be open to the Force, to fly to his best ability. To be able to pull off miracles and save his people. But then…”

“He feels them die,” Leia murmured. “He can’t not notice when he fails to save them all.”

It was odd to think about. Leia had attributed Luke’s spectacular flying to his Force abilities for years, but her brother had never mentioned this to her. Which was doubly odd given that he flew against sentient pilots, not droid ships. It should have been more difficult, not less.

“True,” Luke agreed. “But my situation was different. I wasn’t a Jedi when I became a pilot. I signed up to be a Rebel and fight the Empire. I didn’t really have any illusions as to what that would mean, for me or my squadron. And I’d lived my whole life on Tatooine. Dying…happens.”

He was also less trained in the Force, and Leia shoved that thought at him, to get back, “Less trained, but not disconnected. I knew I killed people, Leia. I felt bad about it, but I believed in our cause. If I didn’t think we should have been fighting, I would have stopped. I didn’t like it.”

But he hadn’t stopped, and that—

Leia put those thoughts aside. The conversation was getting maudlin enough as is.

She dragged her attention back to see Obi-Wan watching her, curiosity dancing in his eyes. This wasn’t the first time she’d drifted off on him during a conversation, and he’d never pinned her down on what she found so distracting. But every so often he’d try.

Apparently not today though. “Is it still my turn, or are we on to you now?”

“You didn’t finish talking about your responsibilities. And holding yourself in reserve,” Leia offered, because, yes, she was going to keep avoiding that question. With any luck they’d get interrupted. “How are you handling the fighting?”

“Badly,” he admitted, and Leia took a moment to really appreciate that he would admit that to her. “Not…Strategically I’m doing just fine. I have plenty of personal combat experience, the battlefield simulations didn’t cover how hard it would be to direct forces from on the ground, but I feel like I’m at least treading water in that respect, once I get out there. I just…they die so quickly.”

So Anakin wasn’t the only one having problems. Obi-Wan was looking to her for comfort, for reassurance of some sort, or maybe just empathy. Leia didn’t know what to do, what to tell him. That’s what war was. Once everyone was on the battlefield, one second they were there, and the next…

“You didn’t hesitate to love them,” Leia thought, feeling her brother’s steadiness supporting her as she ached for her friend. “To treat them like people, like your own. But you didn’t think about the consequences.”

They weren’t meant to win. Either they disregarded the lives they were handed, defiling their Code and their tenants, or they went slowly insane, failing over and over and over again to keep their people alive.

She’d known this was a bad idea from the start, that it wouldn’t end well, but Leia could feel a new understanding honing the edge of her visceral fury towards the Emperor, tempering the steel of it, stretching it to a more murderous point. She kept that concealed of course, tucked behind the walls of her mind and skin. But she felt it pressing against her from the inside out.

How long did he watch them, how hard did he push them, how much did he laugh as he lined up more challenges to break them, body, mind, and soul?

(Evil, she knew, this was the core, the foundation of evil, and he was so good at it.)

“You can’t save them all,” Leia made herself say. “You probably won’t save most of them.”

“You’re very bad at being comforting,” Obi-Wan complained, shaking himself, and Leia tried to ignore the sting of it.

“What do you want me to say?” she asked. “I won’t lie to you Obi-Wan, not even to comfort you. This war is just starting, and while I wish as much as anyone that we didn’t have to fight it, I want you to survive it more than I want you to be comfortable.” At his narrowed eyes, she added, “I’m not a Jedi. I don’t have to pretend not to be attached to you.”

He didn’t quite blush. He was too sad to be truly embarrassed. But she did render him speechless for a moment. “I don’t want you to lie to me,” he conceded. “But I do wish you would say something comforting. I know this war won’t last forever,” Leia did not let herself twitch, “but I would like to know everything will be alright.”

Someday, Leia would get him back for putting her in these extremely awkward situations of trying to not lie to him with silence when she knew she was only going to depress him more. “I wouldn’t count on it.”

She didn’t need to feel his petty irritation with it written so clearly on his face. “Can I have one nice—“

“Brace yourself,” Leia said, cutting him off, hating herself for it. “Unless the Senate can pull itself together and work out a peace treaty with the Separatists, either absorbing them back in—which they couldn’t manage before the fighting broke out—or letting them stay a rival democratic union—which I highly doubt—this goes on until one side can’t fight anymore. And with the military forces already at play? That could easily take five to ten years, especially since you’ll have to eliminate every reasonable pocket of more than token resistance in order to disband the surviving military on either side. Assuming you can convince either congress to disband their forces, when it’s much easier to control a recently conquered population on marital rule.”

One of Obi-Wan’s fingers tapped on the table a few times as he absorbed all of that, his stare almost making Leia uncomfortable. “You know, the more I get to know you, the more I’m struck by how much you are a truly depressing person to be around.”

Bristling Leia snipped, “Well, excuse—“

“I wonder what it says about me,” Obi-Wan shook his head, “that I prefer your company so much.” He smiled. “We’re rather an odd set, aren’t we?”

Odd was generous, almost as much as set. But she was willing to let it slide. “Good thing I’m not a Jedi,” Leia offered, relaxing slightly. “Can you imagine if they had to manage both of us?”

An utter impossibility, but amusing to think about. Though, if things had been different in her life, Leia probably would have been partially raised by this man, much like her fa—Anakin. What would that have been like?

There was a beep from Obi-Wan’s comm. He checked it, sighed, then faced Leia with a smile. “I’m not sure the Order would have survived you,” he teased, standing.

This time Leia did flinch, and she had to scramble for a distraction before he could ask why. “It’s survived all its other students. Surely I’m not the worst you can imagine.”

“Oh no,” he agreed. “We’ve had quite a few colorful characters in our time. But still, I’m sure somewhere there’s a breaking point.”

He could laugh, Leia realized, because in his mind it was impossible. In his mind, that great thing, the stalwart guardian of the galaxy that had risen and stood and flourished for a millennium couldn’t possibly fall.

She smiled back, because it was what he expected. But her heart cried and her brother wept in the silence.

Shmi put a stack of something on Padmé’s desk, but Padmé couldn’t turn and see what it was. The language on the bill in front of her was giving her trouble. She knew how to add passion to it, as if it were a floor speech, but she needed to include the dry as dust but critically important phrases that would protect the clones from harassment as well as authenticating their names in the Republic’s official records.

If she was dealing with good people, she wouldn’t have had to do any of this.

Padmé scowled, deleted a line full of partial swear words, and tried again.

After some more typing and aborted swearing, Padmé heard a cup being placed down next to her. It took a bit of searching to grab it without looking so she could keep making edits, and when she brought it to her mouth it was tea, not caf. A slight disappointment.

But it was Shmi’s tea, and something immediately soothed in Padmé’s head as she sipped at it. So she muttered a thanks and kept at her work. She would be finished soon, and then—

“Leia.”

Padmé felt her neck almost snap as her attention shot to Shmi. She heard a grumble from Sabé across the room and noticed Eirtaé’s pursed lips as she came to Shmi’s side. “What it is?” tumbled out of Padmé’s mouth as she tried to focus enough to detach her body from the chair she had been melting into.

Shmi sighed. “She’s on Radnor. She’s going to be late.”

“Radnor?” Eirtaé made it sound like an objection as much as a question. “What is she doing there? She’s supposed to be—“

“Isn’t that where Anakin is?” Sabé cut in, wincing and offering Eirtaé an apology with her eyes.

Padmé felt her brows rise as Shmi said, “Yes. One of his captains is the one that told me. From the 501^st,” she added, though they all remembered. The Guard might be Shmi’s newest project, but her boys were all her boys, and the 501^st had been her first. “He doesn’t mention any injuries, but,” Shmi sighed again, “that might just mean they aren’t obvious.”

“Can we reach her?” Padmé demanded, turning to Sabé. “She’s supposed to be back and I know we need her for Shea…”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Eirtaé said, moving towards the door. “Shea prefers me to help with the project, and we may be able to get a more secure line by routing through Herdessa.”

“She was coming home,” Padmé rubbed her forehead, wishing it would do any good to sigh. “Not even working. Just coming back.”

“At least we know she’s safe,” Shmi offered. “Anakin and Obi-Wan won’t let anything happen to her.”

“They’ll try,” Sabé almost snorted.

“She’s not allowed to talk to you in private anymore, sir.”

CC-2224 never gave Obi-Wan orders, and Obi-Wan chose to smile at this one as he studied the map of the terrain and their best scans of the enemy base. “Oh, on whose orders?”

“Medical,” CC-2224 said, and that got Obi-Wan’s full attention. “They’re calling it a recommendation for now, for your continued mental health and sanity, but they’ll make it official if they have to.”

There was no way they were supposed to do that, but if it wasn’t outright banned, it was little wonder they had tried. Although Obi-Wan did wonder if CC-2224 had bullied them into it.

“If I do it again?” Obi-Wan asked, lips twitching, “Or if they don’t like the results next time?”

CC-2224 was not pleased, and it showed in every single way he could express it. “I don’t like her, sir. She upsets things.”

“I’m quite counting on that,” Obi-Wan admitted, turning back to the table. “Every time she does, I feel like I see more clearly.”

“She hurts you.”

It wasn’t unusual for CC-2224 to have what Obi-Wan would have preferred as a private conversation in a public place, but the trooper had been growing more cautious about which ones did need to happen behind closed doors. His voice had dropped, turning this from an open room, anyone could casually listen thing to only those standing closest, but it was still public. Which meant CC-2224 felt like other people needed to know they were having it.

That…concerned Obi-Wan. Especially given the flicker of unease from CT-7567. He’d seemed quietly excited when he’d heard another Skywalker was on base. But this…tension in the ranks wasn’t something Obi-Wan had had to deal with before.

And he wasn’t sure how to manage this one. Leia was (inconceivably) his friend. Someone he deeply relied on (and he would get back at her for not answering his question, he had noticed), in more ways than one.

The thought flickered past, uncomfortable and painful, that she would stand back from him, if her presence interfered with his ability to lead his men. If she diminished their trust in him.

And because he knew that, Obi-Wan found the courage to say, “I’m sorry you see it that way. I can honestly say I trust her as much as anyone—as much as Anakin—with my wellbeing.”

That didn’t seem to impress CC-2224. “Commander Skywalker cares if you get hurt, sir. He doesn’t always think through what might hurt you.”

There were some nods, even a reluctant one from CT-7567. Obi-Wan replied, “Leia is many things, but she is never thoughtless.”

“Then she does it on purpose,” CC-2224 said. “And I don’t like it.”

Being laid bare was a painful experience, and Obi-Wan had already been through it once today. He wasn’t about to do it a second time, in front of all of the command center, even to reassure his captain. “I’ll take that under consideration,” he said. And, feeling the deflation from one who was quickly becoming (inexplicably) another friend, Obi-Wan added, “You can help me corner her tonight and try and get her to confess what she’s actually been up to these past months. I’m rather curious about her bounty hunters.”

“Thought they weren’t a big problem,” CT-7567 said, glancing between Obi-Wan and CC-2224. So that had already gotten around, had it? What a glorious communication network these brothers had. “Thought she’d already taken care of it.”

“Oh I’m sure she did,” Obi-Wan agreed. “But that just means there are stories. And I feel like we need some more for Anakin to pass around.”

That lightened the mood. Even CC-2224 looked almost appreciative. Anakin was the best storyteller, after all. There were a few troopers with enough gravitas and drama to be picking up the art, but Anakin had the most structured style and cohesive stories.

Even if some of them were slanderous lies…

And speaking of lies, it would be good to have CC-2224 around for Leia’s interrogation. He had a keen eye, and Obi-Wan needed an outside perspective.

He didn’t think he was the only one who had been hurt by their last conversation.

Chapter Text

“Not bad,” Mikail nodded, looking at the list Anakin had handed him and running an eye over the exterior of his ship. “She wasn’t kidding about you being a good mechanic.”

Artoo protested the comment as slander, Anakin was the ideal mechanic, but Anakin smiled, feeling like this was an unexpected battle that he’d won. “I do try.”

“You’re a good kid,” Mikail’s smile had rough edges, but the simple sincerity of his emotions was refreshing. He honestly thought Anakin was doing a good job, and Anakin…

It was embarrassing, but he needed the reassurance.

“I think you can get most of these on planet, but I haven’t had a chance to find the best dealers,” Anakin admitted. “And with the Separatists coming and going, I know the cost of parts is going up.”

“It’ll be a challenge,” Mikail agreed, looking down at the list again. Anakin could almost see the numbers dancing in Mikail’s mind as the twi’lek contemplated his purchases. “And we came in light, not much to offer. I’m not sure we’ll be out of here in the next couple of days.”

Leia needed to get home. Mom needed to see her, and Leia needed to help Padmé, and Anakin was hoping Leia would take some messages back for him, and she wasn’t safe out here. If cost was an issue, “I can do the labor,” Anakin offered. “I have plenty of downtime. It wouldn’t be a problem.”

The skepticism was palpable, but Mikail just said, “Pretty sure down time is for you to rest, Commander Jedi, sir. No matter how much your sis—Leia says otherwise.”

“Mom will set her straight,” Anakin said, frowning as he looked over the ship again. “The sooner she gets home, the better.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

They were running figures when Leia showed up, hand trailing along the body of the ship as she approached. “What’s the verdict?”

“Six days,” Mikail said before Anakin could answer, and he felt Leia’s annoyance sparkle before she shook her head.

“We can’t wait that long,” she protested. “Or at least, I can’t. If I pay you—“

“Sleep deprivation comes at a premium rate,” Mikail growled. “And impedes my flying.”

“—what we agreed for Herdessa,” Leia continued, rolling her eyes, “I should still have enough to get me there, if there’s anyone else willing to leave the planet.”

Anakin frowned. “Flying’s pretty restricted right now,” he pointed out. “We’ve had too many surprise attacks. Ferry services from the cruisers only run a few times a day, and passage—“

“Is steep,” Leia agreed. “I’ve been listening to the gossip. I know. But I think I can afford it. I’ll get reimbursed,” she added when Anakin kept frowning. “I’m on payroll for the Republic for this job, not just Padmé.”

Which was almost interesting, but, “Do the pilots know you’ve been shot out of the sky?”

“Obviously I’m not going to tell them that,” there wasn’t a physical eye roll this time, but Anakin got the impression loud and clear anyway. It…rankled that she still treated him like this. Being around Leia was always a gamble. Was she in a good mood or not?

Sometimes (when she’d passed on Padmé’s message) Anakin thought they’d made progress. Other times (they still weren’t family to her) he knew better.

But it was impossible to predict, and that made it harder to endure. “You’re going to lie and not tell your ride that you actively have bounty hunters after you?”

He hadn’t meant to growl, but he thought it added a bit of gravitas to his crossed arms and scowling. Even if it didn’t make Leia seem very impressed.

She at least seemed thoughtful. “Most people don’t mention if they’ve got bounties on them,” she said at last. “If you do and you fly, there’s usually a post pay-you-for-the-trouble courtesy if something does come up. But you don’t mention it before. Then no one can turn you over for the bounty.”

It sounded right, but that didn’t make Anakin like it. He trusted Mikail. Mikail liked Leia and actively looked out for her. Anyone else… “You should wait for repairs to be done,” he insisted.

She went from mildly annoyed to furious so fast Anakin almost stepped back. “I have a job,” she snapped at him. “I’m not going to Herdessa for fun. I need to get back to Coruscant to help Shea and Padmé with— You know what, never mind. It doesn’t matter. I need to get back, and if passage is as tight as you say, I don’t have time to argue with you.”

“We weren’t arguing,” Anakin wanted to say. And also, “Let me fly you.”

But he didn’t, because Leia was already gone, not out of sight but moving, her entire attention turned away from Anakin, like she was trying to pretend that he didn’t exist.

And it wasn’t fair. They’d been fine last night. But now…

There was a whistle on Anakin’s left and he looked to Mikail, who was shaking his head. “Now that’s a mood.”

“Don’t normally see her like that?” Anakin asked, fiddling with his sleeves, pretending to check that they hadn’t unrolled. He always seemed to bring that sort of thing out in Leia, but he didn’t know…

“Never,” Mikail said. Considered. “Once. Yelling at some mining baron who was almost trampling some kids getting his luggage on board. Nearly tore him a new—“ Mikail coughed. “Anyway, that was worse. But even when she was sick, she was mostly even tempered. Especially with the kids.”

“Guess that just makes me special,” Anakin muttered.

Mikail didn’t say anything to that, but he did toss Anakin a hydrospanner. Well, maybe a fixed ship would make Leia like him more.

“I hear you’re trying to get passage to Herdessa,” Obi-Wan said from above her.

Leia tilted her head back to see him braced against the half wall, frowning down. “I did tell you that was my original destination.”

“Why can’t you wait for your pilot? It’ll only be a few days. And you are welcome here.”

By him maybe, and by Anakin, when she wasn’t being an ass (she shouldn’t have lost her temper, it wasn’t entirely his fault…). The 501^st seemed to tolerate her okay.

Obi-Wan’s captain though. “It’s not an issue of welcome,” she said, because that wasn’t a lie, it was just skirting the issue. “I really do need to get back. I’ve got data for Shea for a project we’re working on and she can’t present her proposal until she has it.”

“We can send it,” Obi-Wan offered. “Our security on transmissions is good, and between you and Anakin I’m sure we could bolster it, if needed.”

Shaking her head, Leia shifted, trying to get more comfortable on the ground. “No, there’s too much. Aside from the risk, you need your channels clear. And Shea wants me to present it personally, since I’m doubling as a witness.”

“Witness?” It was odd watching Obi-Wan’s brow quirk from this angle. “I didn’t realize the Senate was putting someone on trial.”

Leia snorted. “Nothing like that, thank goodness. But…” It was supposed to be a secret. Obi-Wan would respect that, and she trusted him, but that didn’t mean she should tell. Shea trusted Leia too, and it wasn’t worth risking that. “I’m sure you’ll hear about it in a few weeks. Either because it’s headed in the right direction, or because you can hear me screaming about it from Coruscant.”

He laughed, as she’d hoped he would, and accepted the rebuff. Then he offered a hand to her. “Any chance you can join me for lunch?”

Tempting. But, “I still need to schedule a flight out. It’s…not going well.”

The locals knew she had landed and camped with the GAR. Not all of them, but Mikail had been making rounds, and they knew his ship was on base. Not terribly many other passengers that had shown up in the last few days to give Leia cover.

Obi-Wan didn’t seem surprised, and while his hand moved to tap the wall by her head, he didn’t retract it. “I am in charge of the ferry schedule. You could always ask for my help.”

“I was avoiding doing that,” Leia admitted. “I don’t want to get you in trouble, or leave you with locals thinking you play favorites.”

His frown returned, settling more easily across his face. “I hadn’t considered trouble with the pilots. The Order doesn’t really care what I do, so long as casualties are kept low and I don’t blow a hole in their budget.”

There was a choked sound from beyond the wall and Leia realized Obi-Wan had brought CC-2224. Or, more likely, hadn’t succeeded in escaping his shadow. At least Obi-Wan’s men knew he needed minding.

Although, she should have noticed. She’d been getting good enough with the Force to keep track of who was around her, even the more subdued presences of some of the more cautious clones. But she hadn’t noticed this time, and that told Leia everything she needed to know.

“You’re avoiding me,” Luke noted, and he must have felt her loosening…whatever it was she had been doing.

“Only a little,” she responded. It was easier to admit now that she wasn’t facing Anakin, in spite of Luke’s censure not having diminished.

(Was this how she had missed them, escaped their attention for so many years? Wrapped herself up so tightly in so many causes, avoiding her fear of condemnation, that nothing of the Force went in or out?)

Then Obi-Wan’s words registered. “Wait, who blew up their cruiser?”

He startled slightly. “I didn’t say that.”

His tone was too panicked, and he noticed right away. His captain grumbled and Leia could feel the…resentment the clone was carrying.

It made her squirm, no less when Luke reflected her own feelings for Anakin back at her when she started getting belligerent. Well, fine then. Two could play at that game.

Probably.

Curious as she was, Leia knew she shouldn’t press this point. Though she was pretty sure of the answer, it wouldn’t earn her any points with the captain if she kept ignoring clearance guidelines. Still, “Of course you didn’t say that. And it definitely wasn’t Krell.”

Plausible deniability at its finest. Obi-Wan’s lips twitched. “Of course not.”

He shifted his hand, offering it to her again, and Leia sighed. Took it and let Obi-Wan pull her to her feet. As she dusted herself off Leia said, “Lunch sounds good. But I do need to find a ride first.”

“I’ve been told one can’t work on an empty stomach,” Obi-Wan smiled, and she felt the gentlest tug around her, coaxing.

This man. Leia glanced at CC-2224, noting the half amused set of his lip, before responding, “And how many times a day have you been told that?” she demanded. “On average?”

Unrepentant, Obi-Wan just widened his eyes. “You know, I’ve never thought to count.”

Leia shook her head. “I appreciate the offer. But if I’m going to outrun the rumors that my ship came in smoking, I can’t afford the break.”

Obi-Wan was about to retort when his comm went off. CC-2224 was right behind him as a voice on the other end said, “Sir, we’ve got incoming.”

Fox pushed the datapad back across the desk, rubbing his eyes. “Look, I’m sure it’s important, but I have no idea what those tiny word changes mean will happen.”

Padmé quashed any feelings of pity or frustration. She’d worked with Anakin, who was an impenetrable wall when it came to getting him to try and understand politics. And an opinionated one. She could do this.

They needed her help.

“They aren’t good,” Padmé said. “At least, not from my perspective. They take the Senate from having an obligation to find posts for your brothers if they are unfit for duty and make it a strongly worded suggestion. Which means if the Refugee Committee gets too bogged down in moving civilians, Senators can refuse to take wounded soldiers as part of their agreed upon count for relocation, and…”

There was some shifting from CC-5869. Fox had only wanted one of his men with him for this interview after how the other had gone. As much for plausible deniability as anything. Padmé still wasn’t technically supposed to be here.

Although Palpatine didn’t actually have the authority to outright forbid it. She’d checked the emergency powers list. But no need to tell him that.

The commander leaned back in his seat. It was as relaxed as Padmé had ever seen him, but she had a feeling he granted himself special privileges for when he was dealing with her. She wondered if she should be flattered, or annoyed.

“Okay, that doesn’t sound good to me either. But is there anything that you can do about it?”

“Yes and no,” Padmé said. “It looks like what Scipio did was take almost all of the language from Bail’s proposal and make only minor tweaks and amendments, like what you just read. Their other suggestions include capping any funds that are taken from the Refugee Committee for your brother’s resettlement, probably to exclude having to pay for expensive medical procedures like replacing limbs, and denying you being officially listed as members of the Jedi Order. So that all the funds for the war effort stay separate from the Temple budget.”

“Is that one a bad thing?” CC-5869 asked, not hostile, just curious. “Segmenting budgets can be really helpful to avoid stupid overspending.”

Something Padmé wouldn’t have guessed clones were familiar with, but then they did have to help the Jedi submit equipment requisitions. “It’s a problem from a perspective of it doesn’t grant you the rights and privileges that a member of the Order has. And it means that if they dismantle the Military Committee, your budget goes with it.”

“Well fu— Um…” CC-5869 caught Fox’s look and swallowed his words.

Which was ridiculous because Fox swore at Padmé all the time. Maybe it was a privilege of command?

Looking back to Padmé, Fox said, “With all due respect to his office, I don’t like Senator Clovis all that much.”

Right now, Padmé couldn’t blame him. “He can be…very disappointing.”

It couldn’t have been how she had said it. Padmé hadn’t given anything away in her tone. But Dormé, traitor that she was, choked slightly, and while the implications of that tiny sound seemed to go over CC-5869’s head, the expression on Fox’s face said his thoughts had gone exactly where Padmé hadn’t wanted them to.

Dammit.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Fox’s voice wasn’t outright amused, but it was almost condescending and Padmé had to consciously stop herself from pulling out her queen face. He didn’t know her well enough to differentiate between her being haughty and her being embarrassed. “Hopefully we don’t have to work with him too often.”

They probably wouldn’t. Rush traveled to his home planet often enough, but unless the war shifted to interrupt his usual hyperlanes, there wasn’t any reason for him to change his position and request an escort. “The bigger issue is having his bill competing with ours on the floor. He’s used a loophole to avoid us having to debate the versions in committee, where we have the votes to keep Bail’s, and is putting it out as a contesting document.”

It was frustrating to keep making Fox frown so much, but Padmé wasn’t going to earn his trust by being dishonest with him. And Shmi wasn’t here to vouch for Padmé this time. He said, “Well that doesn’t sound like any fun. I’m guessing you’re less sure about the votes in the whole Senate?”

Padmé made herself nod. “The Separatists are attacking on two major hyperlanes, and the traffic on the Corellian Run has been severely slowed. Even if pouring more money and resources into helping your brothers is the right thing, and long term more helpful, Senators are worried about keeping their seats if they suggest taking in more refugees while their trade routes are shutting down, or slowing. Prices are skyrocketing in some areas between the Rimma and Perlemian trade routes with the Run being under contest. And enough disruption might encourage the Hutts to start getting bolder, if there’s a large enough economic collapse. With the Republic’s focus on the Confederacy, local sectors might be torn trying to make sure their people eat and also providing local security against piracy.”

“A gang could step right in and offer stability with black market goods,” Fox nodded. “Maybe even funnel money back to the Separatists.”

“More likely the Trade Federation,” Padmé scowled. “Since they still have permission to send goods on both sides.”

And both of the clones looked furious at that. Good. They should be. Everyone should be. Padmé took a deep breath. “That was the other thing I wanted to talk to you about today. Shmi’s contacting anyone who the RRM or Refugee Committee settled already, but I wanted more opinions. Just to be sure. Shea—Senator Sadashassa is working on a proposal to try and deal with some of the trade interruptions and the battlefield scraps that the Separatists are leaving. We were hoping you could help us figure out the viability of the plans, and tell us if you think your brothers would be interested. If it were an option.”

Fox did a pretty good job of keeping up with Padmé most of the time, but she could see that she’d lost him, even before he said, “The what?”

Padmé pulled up a display of the pricing Shea had prepped, waiting for the clones to read it. Fox’s eyes started going wide. “They think they can get this much off of dead droids?”

“More,” Padmé said, “if the war continues and resources are scarce. And it will keep the Separatists from being able to just pick them up and reuse them.”

There was something almost like a smile on Fox’s face. “What do you need from us?”

Leia wasn’t supposed to be in the command room, as CC-2224 had reminded Obi-Wan (twice), but they didn’t have a safer place for her to be and the last thing Obi-Wan needed was Anakin to be more panicked than he was becoming as the enemy crept closer and Leia was still there.

“We’ll be able to meet them outside city limits. And hopefully keep them there,” Obi-Wan was saying, and Leia noticed how tightly he gripped the table, refusing to look at her. Maybe Anakin wasn’t the only one panicking.

Which was stupid. She’d survived much worse before.

Anakin was nodding, but his leg was bouncing even as he stood, and she had to keep shoving his worry and concern off of her so that she could just breathe.

She’d wanted to apologize to him. Now it was everything she could do to not jab him in the Force.

Luke (remembering what had happened on Christophsis) wasn’t very sympathetic. Which was ridiculous. Leia had accepted Obi-Wan’s no when she’d asked if they needed her out there.

She was still getting looks for that. Probably not her smartest move.

“First two groups are already deployed, fighters are in the air and laying down fire,” Leia didn’t know the clone commander that was updating Obi-Wan, but she didn’t like him. CC-2224 at least seemed to be holding steady, offering something the Jedi could latch onto in the Force. The commander was too nervous. And why? They’d had ground skirmishes before. That was why the troops had landed. “Sir, I don’t think we have enough time to get Commander Skywalker up.”

His fighter was down, still needing repairs from his last space battle. And Leia knew it was eating at Anakin that he’d been helping Mikail instead of doing repairs for himself. Even if that had been the original plan.

(Also, he had no right to be upset at them getting hit by bounty hunters, she’d seen his ship.)

“He’ll deploy on the ground with me. Our cruisers can handle things above without us, and our fighters here have their squadron leaders,” Obi-Wan said. He looked to Anakin. “Stay with CT-7567. I’ll be heading out with the next group, you’re our back up. Don’t leave unless we cross this line,” Obi-Wan pointed at the map. “I want you closest to the city in case they break through.”

She could feel Anakin aching, almost splitting as he looked between Leia and Obi-Wan before he nodded. This would keep him closer to her for longer, and he and Obi-Wan had fought separately before.

But the numbers.

Leia tried not to think about the last time she’d stayed too long with a battalion. How Christophsis had escalated, almost out of nowhere, and good people had died for it.

Palpatine didn’t know she was here. He couldn’t know she was here. Could he?

She would need to ask Obi-Wan if the cruiser they’d reported to when they were coming in had known she was on board. The officers were the still the most likely plants she could think of.

She wished she could tell CC-2224 that she’d never even considered him as a leak in spite of his hostile reception. But he wouldn’t take it as a compliment, and she’d have to explain who she was worried a spy would be reporting to. There was almost no way they could have actual Separatist plants.

Yet.

The glowing lines and flashing dots were so familiar. She watched the first one blink into darkness and felt that old cold settled into her bones, bracing her for what was coming next.

She saw Anakin wince, felt it in the Force, and brushed up against him, offering strength. Not comfort. He couldn’t afford to be distracted by that. But he wouldn’t be able to fly with his squadron this time, and she knew how much it would cost him, later, to remember that.

He turned to her, surprised but not unhappy, settling a little. Then he looked back to Obi-Wan, who was still giving instructions. Anakin’s face was more determined, focused.

Good. They would need that.

Mikail was hissing slightly as Obi-Wan started to leave, shaking his head as he turned to her. “We’re not supposed to be here.”

“Don’t complain,” she murmured back. “And don’t tell anyone. Just say they threw you in a supply closet and told you someone would come and get you when it was over.”

His expression didn’t soften. “Do I want to know how many times you’ve done this?”

Been in a command room? Overseen a battle? Watched good people die for Sith plots and politics. “No,” Leia said, making sure her unease didn’t reach Anakin. “You don’t.”

Chapter Text

It took all of about two minutes from when Obi-Wan left for Leia to sidle up next to Anakin, peeking around his shoulder and earning narrow eyed looks from most of the clones left in the room. The communications team was tracking the battle flow and relaying orders as quickly as they could, and Leia hoped she wasn’t distracting them.

But she wasn’t moving away from Anakin. Not when the Force around him was shaking like he was vibrating out of his skin.

“How long will it take you to reach them?” Leia asked quietly after a few moments, noticing his knuckles creaking and white, braced on the table in front of them.

It got him out of whatever daze he was in to focus on her. “What?”

“I’m not familiar with the ground,” Leia said, her eyes flicking to the maps. Which was true, but irrelevant. She’d seen enough of these grids she had a good guess what the spacing meant. But she was less familiar with Clone War era equipment. “How long will it take you to reach him, when they cross that line?”

“Fifteen minutes,” Anakin ground out, and Leia felt her expression shift to a scowl.

“Why so long?”

“Fifteen for our back line to reach target range,” CT-7567 added. “Our front will take closer to seven. Maybe ten.”

That was still long. “Not a formation I’m familiar with,” Leia mused, watching the spread on the map. “Or is he making it up as he goes?”

It wasn’t until she was getting a curious look back that Leia realized what she had just said. Oh well, too late now. And it didn’t seem like Anakin had noticed. CT-7567 said, “Probably. The direction they are coming from is new, at an angle between the base and the city. They’ll pass us first, but they’re in a position to surround things if we don’t stop them far enough back.”

“So he wants you on a delayed exit, in case you need to deviate.” She didn’t like it. Better to have Anakin start skirting the city now, trying to make a line to trap their foe. Although, “What’s on the far side of the city?”

“Old minefield,” one of the other clones said. “From some sort of local conflict. Their speeders are adjusted to fly high enough not to trigger anything, if they head out that way. But there’s not much there, so most people don’t.”

And it was an open question if the Separatists knew about that, Leia thought. They couldn’t deploy foot soldiers if they did, but some of their tanks could have been modified. And if they could get even a few shots into the city, they could start fires…

“What a mess,” Leia grumbled.

“That’s war, sir,” another clone said.

Leia bit back a cutting remark and a series of too revealing statements. She settled on, “Doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

That earned a series of shrugs.

Anakin’s focus settled back on the map and the commands running through the comms. Leia watched him tighten again, nerves showing in bouncing waves in the Force, his leg still jittering. It was…depressing almost.

Darth Vader was a memory that Leia would gladly have forsaken, if she could, at any point in her life. He was cruel, and unjust, and terrifying, and had hurt her deeply and personally. But the man could command. The terror of his presence came from the almost casual way he stormed through a room or across a battlefield, leaving nothing in his path but destruction, carving his way to exactly what he wanted. Violent, focused, confident, self-absorbed even. Fearless.

There was nothing less like Darth Vader than the Anakin Skywalker standing in front of her. He was more like, more like…

(Her.)

Leia put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently when she had his attention. He seemed confused, then cautious, but the swirl of confusion around him faded and he (slowly, hesitantly) reached up and covered her hand with his.

“Out of curiosity,” Leia made her voice as light as she could without sounding flippant, “when Obi-Wan said ‘don’t leave’ until they cross the line, where exactly did he mean don’t leave from?”

“Here?” Anakin answered, but she could see him starting to think.

Anakin had been to very few of the training sessions Leia had sat in on. They were mostly reserved for knights and masters and Leia hadn’t questioned that too much at the time. There was a need, and she’d tried to fill it.

But she’d wished she’d known that Anakin and other padawans like him would also be taking command. That was a…critical oversight, on the part of the Order, she thought. Or maybe…

Maybe it was a deliberate sabotage, at this posting. She’d never confirmed if Palpatine had had a say in it or not.

Her mistake.

“He probably meant I shouldn’t leave here,” Anakin added, gesturing to the room.

Leia pursed her lips. “You don’t have to be watching the map though, do you? You can follow the battle from outside, listening like everyone else?”

It would only carve a minute or two off at most, as far as distance. Maybe even less if he could run with the Force (although CT-7567 needed to follow him). But in a situation like this…

She didn’t let go of his shoulder, and she could feel the pressure increasing around her, feeling the weight of his fingers curling over hers.

She wouldn’t tell him to break orders. She would never tell him to defy orders. But if he was going to be safe, if they were going to win, he needed to be…creative.

Like any good Skywalker would.

Anakin turned back to CT-7567. “It’s probably better if we’re out there with the battalion, ready to go?”

It was a question, but mostly just for confirmation. There was a determination and confidence settling in that Leia didn’t mind.

It wasn’t too much.

(Yet.)

CT-7567 nodded. “They should be warmed up and ready, but no reason not to be close, especially to confirm orders and make sure we’re all pointed in the right direction.”

And it would be quicker to make adjustments if they were already outside. Anakin would have a better view of his force, and how fast each section would be moving.

Obi-Wan had been kind keeping Anakin where his talents would shine but he wouldn’t be overwhelmed by decisions. But Obi-Wan may have crippled Anakin too. He was still looking to CT-7567 for affirmation of his decisions. Anakin’s eyes didn’t move the way Obi-Wan’s did, recognizing the different units on instinct by their slight symbol differentiation.

That was a mistake. Even Leia could read this map better than Anakin. And it was more than twenty years out of date for her.

(How old had the Alliance equipment been, actually?)

“Alright,” Anakin turned to one of the lieutenants. “We’ll be outside. I’ll be on the general frequency, waiting for notice to move out.”

There were salutes and Anakin turned, pausing for one moment to look down at Leia. The hesitance was deep, almost raw, and it surprised her, even as it won her pity.

She really was making a mess of this.

“May the Force be with you,” she said, bringing her hand up.

There was a brief moment where his fingertips pressed against hers, something eased between them, and his whispered, “You too, Leia.”

And then he was gone.

The space where he had been was empty, the storm in the Force having followed him, leaving her almost lightheaded. She flexed her fingers, running her thumb across the tips, trying to identify the exact feeling she had just experienced, trying to quantify it.

“You’re making this too difficult,” Luke scolded, but it was affectionate. “Just accept it.”

“I don’t even know what it is,” Leia complained, but her heart wasn’t in it.

It was like lightning, she thought, or cold so quick and sharp it made little bites. Or maybe…maybe it was something else.

Like a future. Or a promise.

“Do whatever is necessary,” Vader’s voice curled around her memories, seeping into her awareness of this moment. Crystalizing it. “And don’t look back.”

Padmé’s voice was falling out of focus. Shmi tried to recenter on it, but her mind kept drifting, far away, to her children.

They needed her. And she wasn’t there.

It was a hard pill to swallow, no matter how many times she had felt the pull of that desire over the years. The urge to not be here but elsewhere, longing so deep and so bold it scaled itself across her tongue and left her gasping in silence sometimes. Never sure if it was her longing, or theirs.

She’d felt the pull these past weeks, as Anakin had been far, as his brothers had gone to join him. The need to be there, not here.

But Leia was there now, and the sense of danger Shmi was getting was almost overwhelming in how distracting it was.

She thought.

Shmi didn’t know.

She wasn’t a Jedi. She wasn’t Leia, who knew the voice in her head was the Force, not the desert. And it was so foggy here, so blurred and confused that even Shmi’s normal sensations had seemed vague and distant.

Until she’d pulled on them and they became crushing and real.

“Shmi?”

Bail’s voice was low, and close. He noticed she was wandering. Shmi smiled at him, turned to look at Padmé, to put her whole attention there instead of…elsewhere.

Shmi didn’t know. It wouldn’t do any good to worry them.

But she prayed. And hoped the desert, or the Force, or her children heard them.

He’d ignored orders.

Alright, Anakin hadn’t ignored them, but he’d taken Leia’s flexibility and stretched it probably further than Obi-Wan was going to let him get away with.

It was just…

The line was moving and it was moving the wrong way and Anakin knew, knew Obi-Wan wasn’t seeing it. It had been reported, twice. The units closest had acknowledged the shift. But Anakin could feel Obi-Wan’s focus narrowed to what was immediately around him. The blaster fire was too intense. He’d stopped responding on the comms regularly. The Force tightened in bursts, pouring into Obi-Wan as he met barrage after barrage.

Anakin gasped, pulled himself back into his own skin, and checked his lines again.

They weren’t moving fast enough. They would make it, but only in time to block the incoming droids, not to get into a better position to surround them. He’d followed orders and broken them and it still wasn’t going to be enough if they didn’t get to those tanks before they were too close to the city.

Not unless.

Anakin stopped, waving the men around him on, turning to CT-7567. “I’m gonna try and slow them down.”

The captain’s face was hidden by his helmet, but Anakin knew that flavor of doubt anywhere. “How?”

It was too hard to explain, he didn’t know he could do it, but he had to try and, “Cover me.”

Planting his feet, Anakin reached out and out and out and—

Beside him, doubt became determination, became trust, and Anakin threw up his hands and held.

Obi-Wan missed a shot as he stumbled, feeling Anakin everywhere in the distance. The shot missed, but came close enough CC-2224 dragged him down and there was the unpleasant sensation of being crushed between packed earth and unyielding armor.

Before Obi-Wan could wheeze a complaint, CC-2224 was dragging him back up again, offering a completely insincere but protocol appropriate, “Sorry,” before taking two shots at incoming droids.

Part instinct and part sight had Obi-Wan catching the return fire from the droids before they hit his captain, tossing it back with his lightsaber and taking two more units on the left.

All while trying not to panic, because Anakin could not maintain what he was doing, no one could, it was insanity, why was he even trying?

There wasn’t time to think, no time to hesitate. More blaster fire was coming and Obi-Wan was trying to parse the makeup of his current line (and when had he lost track of it this much) there were too many lives at stake they couldn’t let the Separatists into the city, this wasn’t even a major outpost why were there so many—

Something strong and steady brushed against his mind, not interfering but pressing back some of the noise just for a moment. There was the hint of a voice he thought he knew (“You’ve got this.”) and then that presence thinned, dissipated. Anakin’s presence in the Force tightened, solidified, held. Like someone else was behind him, pressing against his back, offering support (Obi-Wan couldn’t know that, Obi-Wan didn’t know that, this wasn’t how the Force worked).

And the far line of droids stopped moving.

It wouldn’t hold. It was too much, too many moving parts. Too many things in the way.

But for that moment, it held.

Just as the line between Obi-Wan and Anakin broke.

There was half a breath where Obi-Wan thought he would sink in despair, another half where he steeled his resolve (they had to win), turned, swung his lightsaber into a guard, prepared to launch into that crumbling space—

Leia’s voice came through the comms and a moment later the world exploded.

She didn’t know who had listened. Leia had no idea who had followed her orders and taken the shot at what she had desperately hoped was exposed munitions (she’d seen the artillery on Christophsis, knew they slowed down when their casings were dragging, when their guts were exposed and—), but they had listened and the breech between Obi-Wan and Anakin was filling, not with droids but with the two battalions coming together, using the makeshift hole to start wrapping around their foe.

The communications clones closest to her had paused, horrified and furious at her intervention, and she’d had to start yelling at them to get back to their updates, pointing at problem locations, snapping at anyone who told her she needed to leave.

Which wasn’t many people. Not after one of the lieutenants said, “That didn’t happen. Nobody saw that,” and then, “No idea what you’re talking about, soldier. She’s not even in the room.”

Mostly Leia ignored them, feeling Anakin’s hold on the droids break after the explosion, watching his men surround the far end of the line.

It had been close, but it was enough. There would be some mad scrambling on the edges, his men were taking heavy hits, but the droids couldn’t get around, not without—

Someone was shouting about explosions to the right of the 501^st, almost screaming for the line to hold, to keep left.

So the Separatists didn’t know about the mines.

Fire and smoke, fire and smoke. Fire and smoke and the sounds of explosions. Blaster bolts flying through the dust and ash and Anakin wasn’t swinging by sight, he was moving completely by feel, steeped in the Force and pulling in as tight as he could, feeling men falling left and right. His brothers were with him, they’d be with him until the end, and somehow that only made him feel worse.

But he had to do this. If he stopped, curled in on himself, tried to make it all go away they’d just die more, he’d just lose more of them. Probably as they threw themselves in front of him because that’s just what they would do, without even thinking.

He had to keep going, even when it hurt.

Smoke and ash and (Sebulba laughing, he couldn’t hear but he could feel, his engine was on fire and the karking dug—) the whirl and stomp of droids, the buzzing feel of non-life but moving and the flares of energy that were blaster shots (they were shooting at Padmé, they were shooting at Padmé she was going to get shot he had to move the ship, he had to—) and Anakin couldn’t keep up with them all but there was life on his right side and his left and in front and behind him and (she had no idea what she was doing, Leia had no idea what she was doing and Obi-Wan was in pain and he didn’t know if he could save them but that was no reason not to try when he loved them—) he could keep going as long as they needed, as long as they stood he’d keep fighting, keep knocking shots out of the sky, keep pushing the droids back and down, back and down, back and—

He faltered, when Obi-Wan brushed against his mind. It was worry trying to be encouragement, and Anakin clung on, meeting those feelings with his own because he just didn’t want to be alone and even if it was weak this was Obi-Wan and they were, they were…

I don’t know if we can do this, I don’t know if we can do this, I don’t know if we can do this—

But we have to try.

It was like a sigh, like the first time he’d slipped into water, cool and smooth and quiet, dropping everything else to background noise, to a safe and harmless distance. It was like fire, two determinations as one, only more because they were always more together, they were partners and—

I was always proud of you. I knew you could do it.

I wanted to be like you. I wanted to be the best.

They will not cross this line.

Leia heard voices around her, felt someone (Mikail? The clones?) trying to lift her up, pull her back. Trying to make her stand on legs made of jelly, to focus in a room that was all light and buzzing sounds and—

“…Whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck…”

Oh. Oh, that was her.

There was another swell in the Force, a wave that swept back, slammed into her, almost tore her attention from her own mind again, dragged at her senses, begged her to join it, moving arms and flashing sabers and enemy after enemy falling, fallen, felled—

That definitely wasn’t.

They did not cross.

Chapter Text

Leia sat at the front of the speeder, eyes flicking across the distance for any sign of movement.

Well, any sign of droid movement. They were starting to pass more clones.

Clones that were doing a very good job canvassing the field, making sure that all the droids scattered across the ground were definitely out of commission.

Clones that were doing an equally good job checking heaps of white armor, seeing if there was anyone left to save.

Leia felt lights, flickering and dim, but most of them when she turned to look had already been found, or would be soon. There was nothing more she could do for them.

The one place she’d hoped to see movement was around Obi-Wan and Anakin, but when the speeder slowed and CC-5576-39 hopped out, she was greeted with the sight of an almost completely grey Obi-Wan sitting on a pile of broken droids, Anakin a brownish grey blob lying on the ground with arms akimbo, absolutely still.

If she couldn’t feel his sparkling, dancing presence in the Force, Leia might have been worried.

“What are you doing here?” CC-2224 demanded, which was when Obi-Wan noticed that she had arrived.

There was a spark of joy from him, then worry, and then irritation as he turned to his captain. “Must you—“ he began.

But his voice was weak and his movements were slow, and CC-2224 just continued, “You’re not a solider. You shouldn’t be out here. We haven’t cleared all the ground yet.”

“I’m safer than them,” Leia nodded at the two Jedi, feeling the almost drunken buzz between them interlaced with powerful, sinking exhaustion. “I can actually move my own two feet.”

“Not the point,” CC-5576-39 muttered, but he’d been antsy since, well, everything that had happened in the command room. So she forgave him.

“We’re covering them,” CC-2224 said. “You’re a liability—“

Leia waved a hand, ignoring him to look around her, “Yes, yes. Life in my own hands. Against recommendation. I’ve heard it. Thank you.”

There was a baleful glare from CC-2224 even as CT-7567 gave a half laugh. When everyone looked at him, he shook his head and told Leia, “Sorry, just. No wonder Ponds wanted to kill you.” Leia must have given him a blank look because he added, “Ah, commander of the 91^st.”

“And here I thought we were practically friends,” Leia sighed, shaking her head. Then she smiled at Obi-Wan. “You’re covered in scorch marks.”

He was, in fact, almost completely covered in them. They stood out as black streaks and smudges all along the fabric over his arms and legs and torso. It was a bit harder to pick out the marks on Anakin. Leia could mostly spot them from places where his skin peeked through the dark fabric.

He probably shouldn’t be sprawled on the ground like that. The odds were good he had more on his back, and even if whatever high he was coming off of was mostly blocking the pain, blaster shots came with at least mild burns.

Oh well, lessons learned.

She stepped over to nudge him with her toe, ignoring his wounded look with practiced dismissal. Eventually, after a few more taps against his shoulder, Anakin groaned and hauled himself into a sitting position, then sagged forward, bracing his arms against his knees. “I was resting.”

“You’ll thank me later,” Leia answered on autopilot, eyes still scouring the horizon. There were more tanks and artillery than she liked scattered among the casualties. “Any idea when they got all of this on planet?”

“Probably piecemeal,” Obi-Wan sighed, starting to rub his eyes and realizing how much smoke and dirt was on his face. He looked like he was about to switch to his sleeve when he noticed that wasn’t any better and sighed again. Leia stepped over and offered her sleeve, which earned a smile and a shake of the head. “There aren’t a lot of major cities on the planet, and there are plenty of places that no one has been monitoring. We knew ships were getting through our, well not really a blockade with only three cruisers, but we thought all of them were bringing troops straight here. The numbers we engaged seemed to match the ship sizes.”

Leia considered that, eyes darting across the landscape. “We don’t have any kinds of sensors to pick up on that activity?”

“When they’re turned off, the droids don’t show up on almost anything,” CC-2224 pointed out. “Almost all of their stuff is automated and droid run. They only need a few units to land ships, nothing that would stand out on our scans. And we catch the ships themselves.”

“And if they unload a few racks of droids, they can do that without turning them all on,” Leia agreed. “So we’ll have to think of something else.”

She got three raised looks at her use of “we” and kept herself from sticking her tongue out mostly by dint of not wanting Anakin to know she could behave like a child.

Well, more like a child.

“Why are you here?” Anakin demanded. “You should be back at base, with Mikail.”

As tempting as it had been to remain behind, to stand in the room and keep gathering data as the numbers had poured in and the events of the past hours had become more clear, Leia knew she had been making everyone uncomfortable. Her antics had earned her more than a little suspicion, in spite of what the troops had been willing to put up with in the heat of battle.

“I wanted to take a look around,” she said, cheerfully ignoring the flat looks from both Jedi. “And make sure you hadn’t gotten lost among the wreckage.” Steamrolling over Anakin’s indignation she added, “That was quite a stunt you pulled.”

Which earned embarrassment from Obi-Wan and a shy, hopeful pride from his padawan. Something faint, almost insubstantial passed between the two of them, but the shared half smiles they shared were clear enough.

It was Obi-Wan who cleared his throat to say, “Yes, well, we make a good team.”

Which wasn’t an explanation of what had happened, but it was an acknowledgement, and maybe she could get them to explain later (Anakin would be easier to ask, but Obi-Wan would have a better answer…).

“Which is why,” CC-2224 cut through the moment with a growl, “you don’t need to be here. Interrupting.”

Leia had a retort ready on her lips, but by the looks she was getting, she was definitely outnumbered. And unless she wanted to explain, in great detail, why she needed an in person look at the amount of damage the droids had taken and if they were salvageable, she might have to accept this as a graceful defeat.

Obi-Wan looked like he was opening his mouth to dismiss her when Leia heard a faint noise, like a high-pitched beep or whine. It was almost beyond her senses, more like it had struck her memory than her ear, but she was instantly alert, her entire attention snapping up and right.

“Wha—“ Her hand was over Anakin’s mouth before she had thought through the motion, her ears straining. There would be a low buzz, her mind told her, and then another—

—beep.

Leia didn’t remember moving forward, not clearly, and she definitely didn’t remember stealing CT-7567’s gun right out of its holster at his waist. But when she blinked he was holding her arm, almost yelling, “—was that?”

“Probe droid,” she answered, only half listening. She let her arm slide through his hand, relinquishing the blaster without protest.

She’d hit her target.

There was a scramble behind her as she crossed the field, stepping around bodies and droids, her attention focused on where her target had fallen. When she got there the little droid was still buzzing and humming and beeping, faint noises but active.

Perfect.

She’d gotten the casing off and was almost connected to the main memory banks when she heard the vicious, “What the hell do you think you’re—“ that announced she’d been followed by CC-2224.

“It’s still active. I want to see if it’s streaming a live feed. And if we can trace it. Or get enough direct data to decode.”

If they could pinpoint where the droid was offloading its information, they might be able to locate any spies on planet. Or off, if they were very, very lucky. And even if not, even if the data was encrypted and coded, this would be a perfect tool to—

“I’m really going to need a reasonable explanation of what you were doing with your life before this that had you using these skills,” Obi-Wan’s amusement was colored with a dry implacability that had Leia looking up from her task for a moment.

She turned back before she answered, pretty sure she was about to lose any remote connection she was tracing. “You really wouldn’t believe me.”

“Try me,” he invited, so open and friendly Leia had to pause. To think for a moment about the consequences of whatever was about to come out of her mouth.

Because she was going to be in deep shit if she lied and he ever found out. “It’s a large galaxy, Obi-Wan. Where do you think I learned it?”

As a stalling technique it was pretty weak, but she’d managed to actually hit the source of the trace (bless Artoo for helping her get her tools together before she left) and she didn’t know if they had noticed her hacking their droid yet, but if she could get the coordinates for the final transmission relay—

“It seems,” Obi-Wan said, pushing doggedly on, “that you are not a stranger to war.”

Leia swore as the droid went dead in her hands. She’d been spotted. Oh well, it had been a long shot. They could still use what she did have.

Glancing over her shoulder, Leia found CT-7567, CC-2224, CC-5576-39, Obi-Wan, and Anakin all watching her work, standing over her as she kneeled on the churned and scorched earth. Anakin was swaying slightly, fighting to stay upright, but his expression was as fixed and focused as she’d ever seen it. There was more than enough scrutiny directed her way at the moment and Leia took a second to regret…everything. Every single stupid, impossible thing that had happened in her life since the day of her birth that had brought her to this place. To this now.

“It’s a big Republic,” Leia said, setting the droid down, stepping on the memory banks and processing units, grinding them as methodically as possible. “And there’s lots of places outside of it. Just because you don’t hear about them doesn’t mean there aren’t plenty of people already comfortably acquainted with wars. And what they cost.”

“Like your brother?” CC-2224 asked.

Leia’s head snapped up and she knew her expression was vicious. Anakin had taken a step back, was looking, if possible, even more faint, and Obi-Wan was looking between Leia and his captain with shock and horror. Her breath hissed through her teeth and Leia let it carry all the horrible things that couldn’t be said, settling on, “Yes. Like my brother.”

There was a mournful note in her mind, crouching in the back of her head. Leia tried to ignore it, to pretend she didn’t want the comfort that Luke offered. For all the good it did.

CC-5576-39 had a hand on Anakin’s shoulder now, helping to keep the kid upright and Leia almost felt bad about that, about the questions that were spinning in Anakin’s eyes. But she turned back to CC-2224, temper bubbling against the inside of her skin, and added, “He was just one of the things that war cost me. One of the things I lost that mattered.”

She almost made the clone look away, but he stopped at the last moment, held her gaze, no apology in his eyes.

Leia was getting ready to walk over and smack him when CT-7567 said, “It’s hard being the survivor.”

Leia blinked, staring at the clone. He’d grabbed all the attention from her, all the scrutiny, but he was ignoring it. Like it didn’t matter that his brothers, his commanders, were also staring at him. “It’s awful when you know they’re suffering. Even more when you see them die. But the worst. The worst is knowing you have to keep going. You don’t get to lie down and die with them.”

It wasn’t just ignoring now, he was stepping towards her and cutting everyone else out. Keeping this between just the two of them, him and Leia. They were on a battlefield still cradling the remains of more of his brothers, his friends, and he was giving his full attention to her.