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Anakin had endured a great deal of horrifying and traumatic experiences throughout his life.
He had encountered a Sith at the age of nine, lost his first master, went on countless missions on seedy backwater planets as a Padawan, and fought in the Clone Wars as a General.
Not to mention his encounter with Dooku, and then Sidious, a battle in which he'd nearly perished trying to protect his pregnant wife, and a comatose Mace Windu, all while fighting a Sith Lord. If Yoda hadn’t shown up in the nick of time, they would’ve all been dead.
Yes, Anakin had seen and experienced many terrible things. He was a weathered veteran, and would carry those experiences with him for life; they had strengthened his mind and soul.
But nothing could have prepared him for the sight of his son — his darling, little Luke — sobbing and in pain, strapped down to a sterile hospital bed to prevent him from thrashing.
He kept an arm firmly around Padmé, as she tried to soothe their daughter, Leia, who looked just as distressed as her twin.
The children had been playing with Artoo and Threepio in the sky gardens, just another relaxing afternoon in the Skywalker-Amidala household; when his little princess had come running into the kitchen in tears, screaming about how Luke had fallen and couldn’t get up, about the way his arms and legs were shaking and his eyes looked frozen.
Anakin found his little sun collapsed by the railing, breathing harshly (gods, why were his limbs jolting like that?) and unresponsive to his family’s frantic calls. Threepio had prattled about calling an emergency transport, but Anakin already had Luke’s trembling body cradled in his arms, swiftly moving to the landing pad.
Anakin had never driven this fast. And that was saying something. For him.
It was Padmé’s presence that kept him grounded, level-headed enough to stay focused on the air traffic and transporting his family swiftly but also safely to the nearest hospital.
“What’s happening to my son!?” He accosted the doctor as they exited the treatment room.
It had already been an agonizing ten minutes, watching unsympathetic med droids try to subdue Luke with anesthesia, and Anakin was desperate for answers. His hands clutched the doctor’s white coat so tight, his knuckles were turning the same color.
“Please, Master Skywalker! Remain calm. Your son will be fine, he is stable and no longer in pain. We’ve also placed him on a drip just in case,” the doctor said, and Anakin very nearly lost his temper— would have, if Padmé hadn’t intervened then.
“I believe my husband asked for a diagnosis, doctor… Aphra, was it?”
The man nodded. “Yes, Senator. And I apologize for the distress, but we will require further analysis before determining the cause of his seizure.”
“Seizure?” Anakin was taken aback.
Aphra nodded.
Leia tugged on his sleeve, looking up at him with teary brown eyes. Her buns were a mess and she looked absolutely gutted for her brother. No doubt his little one would remember this day for the rest of her life.
“What’s a seize-zhure? Is Luke dying? I don’t want him to die,” she pleaded.
He didn’t know what to tell her, still in a state of shock himself.
The doctor stepped in, offering her a kind smile and a simple explanation.
“Not to worry, child. Seizures are common afflictions that happen when there’s too much electricity in the brain. It may look scary, but many patients go on to lead normal lives with minimal episodes, on medication and other simple treatments.”
Leia nodded, eagerly processing his words.
“So he’s gonna be ok?”
“We believe so. While there are some… other symptoms we have yet to fully diagnose, young Luke isn’t in any critical danger. He should be awake within an hour.”
It was as though a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders.
He sank onto the nearest chair with a bone-deep weariness, Padmé shedding her own tears of relief.
The doctor excused himself, leaving the small family alone to watch over Luke through the thick glass. He was now unconscious. Asleep. Anakin made sure his son’s chest was rising and falling steadily before turning his attention to his youngest.
“Hear that, princess? Luke will be fine. We’ll get him the help he needs, and you’ll both be back to playing hide-and-float in no time.”
Leia nodded. “Ok. Is there anything I can do to help?”
He smiled at her, filled with pride. She was going to be a brilliant young woman someday, brave and strong just like her mother.
“Not at the moment, princess. We have to wait for the doctor to come back,” he checked the chrono on the wall, noting it was well past lunchtime. “Are you hungry?”
She nodded again. “A little. But what about Luke? What’s he gonna eat?”
“We’ll get him whatever he wants when he wakes up,” Padmé promised her. “Ani, I’ll take Leia to the cafeteria. Could you…?”
“Of course,” he nodded, kissing her cheek. “I’ll stay here with him. I won’t let him out of my sight.”
“Thank you,” she said, relieved, and kissed him back. “Come along, sweetheart.”
He watched his wife lead their daughter out of the room by the hand, giving Leia a reassuring smile (as best as he could manage).
After they left, he turned around and kept his eyes firmly on Luke's sleeping frame. He was so small, so vulnerable. And like he’d promised Padmé, Anakin kept his eyes trained on their son even as he dialed a com frequency on his wristband. One he’d long memorized.
“Anakin?”
“Master. Something’s happened to Luke.”
Obi-Wan Kenobi, The Negotiator, venerated Master of Soresu... choked. Probably on his mid-afternoon chamomile.
“What!? Dammit,” the normally calm and composed Jedi master swore as something glass broke. “Satine! Satine, something’s happened to Luke! We have to go!”
“What’s wrong with Luke!?” The duchess’ equally panicked voice could be heard in the background.
“I don’t know, Anakin just called—”
Anakin sighed.
“Master, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you have got to calm down.”
“I will when you tell me what’s wrong with my godson!”
“He had a seizure,” Anakin clarified, typing and sending a short text Obi-Wan’s way. “But he’s fine now. We’re at a hospital, I’ve sent you the address.”
“Say no more. Satine and I are on our way,” his old Master confirmed. “Be strong for him, Anakin.”
He nodded, even though Obi-Wan couldn’t see.
“I will.”
He ended the call and placed a gloved hand on the glass separating him and his son. He stood there, unmoving, blue eyes prickling with unshed tears and making silent promises in his mind, even sending a wave of affection to Luke through the Force.
You’ll be ok, son. Everything will be ok.
A while later, right after Obi-Wan and Satine arrived—both of them frazzled from the drive—they received the hospital's official diagnosis.
Satine laid a hand on Padmé’s shoulder, both of them pouring over the medical report with expert efficiency and not missing a word. Anakin and Obi-Wan listened to the doctor's explanation, as Leia was held Anakin's arms.
“He has a rare form of Nardosian syndrome. It’s a chronic condition that causes sporadic fainting spells and seizures due to dysfunction in the brain.”
“Chronic? You mean, this won’t be the only time?” Anakin asked, horrified. Today had been terrifying enough.
Doctor Aphra shook his head. “Unfortunately not. However, episodes are usually infrequent, and with the right medications prescribed, young Luke should be able to lead a relatively normal life. There are also numbing agents he can use, to alleviate muscle pains after. Patients have commonly described their experiences as a ‘mild electric shock’, albeit prolonged, and with little memory of what occurred.”
“Is there no permanent solution? Treatment, or therapy to get rid of it completely?” Satine asked, looking sick at the idea of her godson's imminent suffering. She kept her hand firmly on Padmé’s shoulders, and Anakin exchanged a look of despair with his wife as they struggled to understand.
“I’m afraid not. Research on this condition has not been as vigorous as others due to its rarity and non-fatal nature, and the cause of Nardosia is still unclear. There are even old theories of 'Force magic' being the cause of it, as ludicrous as that sounds…”
Anakin stilled.
So did Obi-Wan, Padmé and Satine.
Leia looked at the adults curiously, unsure of what was going on.
Then a med droid cut through the heavy silence, informing them that Luke was awake and asking for his family.
Anakin was out the door before they could even blink.
“Daddy?”
Anakin swallowed the lump rising in his throat, kneeling beside the bed. Luke hadn't called him that since a year ago when the twins had turned five. He said that ‘daddy’ was too childish and that Anakin would be ‘dad’ from now on because he was growing up and now a big boy.
It had broken Anakin’s heart a little, faced with the inevitability of his babies growing up— so to hear Luke calling him that again just made Anakin an even bigger emotional wreck.
He took Luke’s tiny hand in his, pushing a wave of gentle love and reassurance through their bond.
“Hi, little sun. Daddy's here. You're alright,” he soothed, using his mechno-hand to push back Luke’s golden bangs. “How are you feeling?”
Luke crinkled his nose. “Tingly. But I’m ok. Can we go home now?”
Anakin smiled. His son got that habit from his mother. “We have to wait for the doctor to discharge you first.”
“But I’m really, really ok! I don’t feel bad or weird at all!” Luke whined.
Leia clambered out of Padmé’s hold and onto the bed, wrapping her arm around Luke’s shoulders.
“No you’re not,” she informed her brother matter-of-factly. “We need to get your medicine because you’re sick and you have…”
She looked at Padmé for help.
His wife helpfully mouthed ‘Nardosian’ at her, an amused smile lighting up her beautiful face.
“Nar-do-sian syndrome,” Leia confirmed. “But you will be okay. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Luke threw his arms around his sister. “But I’m the older twin,” he said, voice muffled in the collar of her yellow dress. “I’m supposed to protect you.”
“We’re twins, silly,” she patted his head. “We protect each other. Family always does.”
Anakin and Padmé instantly reached for each other’s hands across the bed. He met his wife’s shining brown eyes and he knew, at that moment, that their little family would be fine. That everything was right, so long as they were all together.
A loud sniffle interrupted their precious family moment, and Anakin turned around to see Satine hiding her blotchy, tear-streaked face in her sleeve, an exasperated Obi-Wan beside her.
“Sorry,” she choked out. “I’m just so glad Luke is alright.”
Padmé stifled a laugh at her friend’s emotional state, though with her own eyes still puffy from the ordeal, she refrained from teasing her.
“Mama Satine! Papa Obi!” Luke poked his head out from behind Anakin, surprised to see his godmother and godfather. “What are you doing here?”
The couple made their way over to the bed, Obi-Wan resting a comforting hand on Anakin’s shoulder.
“We heard you were ill, little star,” Satine explained gently. “Your Papa and I wanted to make sure you were alright.”
Luke's cheeks turned a bright shade of red.
“But I am! I feel normal, and nothing hurts. Why does everyone look so sad?” Luke asked, bottom lip trembling. “Am I not ok? What's wrong with me? Is it because I have Nar-do-sia?”
Anakin was lost in the face of his son's rapid-fire questioning. Through the Force, he could feel the emotions of his loved ones in the room. Leia, who remained steadfastly protective, but also understandably anxious and confused. Satine, who was filled with worry and sorrow. Obi-Wan, who felt oddly contemplative, like he was when they played a round of Dejarik.
And finally, Padmé, who remained a beacon of light and determination, her soul thrumming with love and understanding for their child.
“Sweetheart, there is absolutely nothing wrong with you. You have a perfectly manageable condition. And this may have been a surprise,” she leaned in and booped his nose with her finger, making him giggle. “But you are not to worry. Daddy and I will handle everything. All you have to do is rest, be a good boy, and listen to the doctor's orders. Can I count on you?”
Luke puffed up his chest at Padmé’s ‘Senator’ tone, his bright demeanor renewed.
“Yes!”
“That’s my boy,” she kissed him on the cheek, then Leia too, for good measure. “I’m proud of you both, for being so strong. My little champions… Your father and I love you both so much.”
“We love you too!” The twins chorused together, Leia and Luke bursting into delighted squeals when Padmé playfully tickled their sides. Anakin watched his family, feeling his own traitorous (happy) tears flowing down his cheeks.
To think, he had nearly lost them, once.
Nearly fallen for Sidious’ deception and schemes… he shuddered to think what the state of the galaxy would be now. Where his family would be, if they would even be together like this, happy, safe and loving.
“Let it go,” Obi-Wan murmured to him, softly so his family couldn’t hear. He could read Anakin like a book. “You’re here for them now. That’s all that matters.”
“I know,” he choked. “Thank you.”
Obi-Wan smiled at him, along with Satine, and offered him a soothing pat on the back.
“Anything for my brother,” he said sincerely, without hesitation.
Anakin hid his face behind gloved hands as his heart swelled, so impossibly full of love and warmth from the people most precious to him... his legs gave out.
“Daddy!” Luke yelped, frantically trying to tear himself free of the IV attached to his wrist while reaching over to him. Leia was in a similar state of panic, gripping Padmé's hands anxiously.
Anakin quickly stopped his son, sitting on the bed and gathering Luke in his arms, holding his son firmly against his chest. Exhaling slowly and releasing the overwhelming feelings into the Force, he let the finality of their situation sink in.
His little sun, so brave and kind, was now going to have to endure an unexpected and rare condition; one that occurred in random, sporadic episodes with little to no prior warning. A surge of protectiveness rose within him like a tidal wave, and he hugged Luke just a bit tighter, taking care not to hurt him.
Anakin swore to himself that his son, his daughter, his babies, would remain safe under his protection for as long as he lived. That he too would remain strong for them, just like they’d promised Padmé.
And, that no harm would ever come to his family, ever again.
“Sorry,” he mumbled into Luke’s hair. “Daddy's just had a moment.”
Luke patted his back, face still hidden in Anakin’s chest.
“There, there. It’ll be ok, Daddy,” he said seriously, mimicking his mother's earlier tone.
Leia joined in on the pats, and eventually, Padmé did too, his wife giggling as Anakin Skywalker, the towering Hero with No Fear, was cooed at and comforted by his petite wife and tiny children.
He could hear Obi-Wan’s stifled snorts somewhere behind him and felt his ears burning— but his feelings of embarrassment were quickly placated by the subsequent sound of a slap and an affronted yelp of pain from his old Master (he mentally thanked Satine for keeping her stupid husband in check).
A knock on the doorframe interrupted them. Doctor Aphra and a nurse stood in the hallway, the Rodian woman carrying a bunch of forms waiting to be filled out and submitted.
“Alright, break it up,” Anakin chuckled wetly and stood, patting his children on the head and gently swatting away their small hands, still insistent on patting him. “Stay here with Obi-Wan and Satine till we get back. If you’re good, we’ll get ice cream at Flora’s right after this. Deal?”
“Deal!” They chorused, matching smiles on their faces.
Getting Luke’s medications sorted was fairly manageable, with Padmé by his side. There were three different kinds, all different colors, and to be taken at three intervals per day.
“Purple in the morning, blue in the afternoon, orange in the evening*,” Anakin recited to himself. “Actually, could you write that down for us please?”
“Of course!” The nurse said with a smile. “We have a few pill organizers available too if you feel that would help him remember.”
Padmé and Anakin picked out a bright orange container, one that was divided into seven cycles of the week and three little slots in each column.
The nurse helpfully got Luke’s first week of medications arranged, then led them to the checkout for the final bill.
A month’s worth of medicine and emergency treatment rounded up to—
Anakin blinked.
Heavens.
Good thing he had that veteran’s discount… And a brilliant, career-driven wife whose paycheck was as fat as Jabba the Hutt himself.
Though Padmé herself looked equally startled by the price of Luke's treatment. Her eyes darted rapidly across the flimsi they’d been handed.
“Just out of curiosity— what about the families who can’t afford this?” She asked. “Do they receive adequate financial assistance?”
“Most families who come to this hospital do not require subsidies,” the nurse informed them curtly, looking slightly surprised that Padmé had asked.
She hesitated, looking around, before leaning closer to continue at a softer volume.
“Though, in my humble opinion, Senator… the welfare provisions for healthcare were cut back by a substantial amount when the Clone War started. There are some families who seek cheaper but shoddier remedies in the Coruscanti underground out of desperation. Plus with the rising costs of medications and materials set by the pharmaceutical sector…”
Padmé nodded, and Anakin immediately recognized the familiar steel in her gaze.
“Thank you, Nila,” she addressed the nurse by name, who straightened up. “I will keep what you’ve said in mind. This will be looked into, I promise you that.”
The nurse — a Rodian female with green skin — looked relieved.
“Thank you, Senator. And if you have any further questions about your son’s condition, please feel free to call our 24/7 helpline. I will personally see to it that you are connected to an available physician as soon as possible.”
The couple thanked her again and left.
Anakin held Padmé’s hand as they returned to the hallway where their children awaited. He knew, from the contemplative look on her face, that Nila’s words had worried her deeply.
Despite coming from a privileged background, Anakin knew his wife to be a person of great empathy. Who, unlike many of her colleagues, actually aimed to make changes for the better. For everyone, not just those in Coruscant, the upper-class, or the Core.
He squeezed her hand and stopped them in the middle of the hallway.
“I love you,” he declared, pouring all his love and admiration into the three words.
She looked up at him with a breathtaking smile.
“I know, Ani,” she tip-toed and kissed him sweetly on the lips. “I love you too.”
After a trip to Flora’s, Padmé (with some help from Satine) strapped her sugar-filled, now very energetic kids into the family speeder.
Obi-Wan had requested to speak to Anakin privately, so the men stood a few paces away, the taller of the two keeping a watchful eye on his family as he listened.
“You should bring Luke by the Temple,” his old Master said. "I don't think what's happened today is as simple as an illness, one that appeared out of nowhere with no warning or symptoms. Call me paranoid, but Luke was perfectly healthy before."
Anakin groaned. He should have known.
“It was just a theory.”
“A theory presented by past Jedi masters,” Obi-Wan insisted. “I know you still have your reservations about the Council, but if there’s any chance at all that Luke’s illness was a result of external tampering…”
A feeling of dread settled in his gut.
“You don’t think… Sidious?” He spat the name like a curse. “Not possible. He’s dead.”
“I know he is. We all saw his body. And yet, this illness has most often occurred in Force-sensitive beings, something the doctor didn’t seem to regard as important,” Obi-Wan continued. “I got the impression he cared little for the Force and its workings... you know how some of these scientists are.”
"He's not a scientist, he's a doctor," Anakin protested.
Obi-Wan did not reply and instead grasped his chin, stroking his beard in thought.
After a brief pause, he continued.
“But Anakin… if there’s even a slight chance Luke has somehow been affected by Sidious’ power, or by the actions of another Sith—”
“Then we should play it safe, and get him checked out,” Anakin sighed. He knew Obi-Wan was right. “Fine. I’ll take him to see the Council.”
“Good. I’m glad you understand,” Obi-Wan nodded approvingly. “I don’t mean to antagonize you, Anakin. I just want what’s best for my godson.”
His somber words felt like a dark cloud, looming overhead.
“So do I.”
That night, Anakin put the twins to bed.
Padmé had retired early. She was exhausted after the family’s ordeal and had to rise early the next cycle. There were some complications regarding whatever it was they were debating in parliament right now, and Anakin was glad he didn’t know what. It was selfish, he knew. But he had willingly left that world behind him when he chose to leave the Council for good, Obi-Wan at his heels.
Now, he was pretty much a glorified trophy husband, who tended to their children’s every whim.
(And he definitely wasn’t complaining. It was a very comfortable life.)
“Can we have a bedtime story?” Luke asked, putting on his best doe-eyes. “Pleaaase?”
How could Anakin refuse? He grinned, settling onto one of the plush bean bags, facing his children who had each been tucked into their respective beds. Luke's was a bright orange (his favorite color), and Leia's was an elegant, pearly white.
“Which story would your highnesses like to hear tonight?”
“Ooh! The one with Papa Obi and the evil General Grievous,” Leia requested.
“No! I wanna hear the story about when you and Mommy first met,” Luke argued, crossing his arms.
"We've heard that one a thousand times!"
“Don't care! It's nice. And I don’t like General Grievous. He’s scary.”
“But you’ve never even met him,” Leia threw a pillow at her brother, exasperated. “How could he be scary?”
Luke shuddered.
“I don’t know. Wouldn’t anyone? He has four arms, and he's killed hundreds of Jedi.”
Anakin held Luke’s hand and squeezed it.
“No, not hundreds," he corrected. "But your sister is right, little sun. Grievous is dead. He can’t hurt you, or anyone else.”
Luke nodded, looking sheepish.
“I know, daddy. I’m sorry.”
He sighed at his son's pitiful expression. Unable to help himself, Anakin scooped Luke into his arms, undoing the neatly tucked blankets.
“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” he kissed Luke’s forehead, then turned to his daughter, who was pouting with her arms crossed.
“Princess, how about we let Luke choose the story? Just for tonight?”
Leia, despite being the younger twin, was the more dominant one. Luke possessed a shyness (natural for most kids their age), so his sister was used to doing the talking for both of them, especially on more formal occasions.
She usually got her way, headstrong as she was— but like her brother, she was just as thoughtful, and she understood the subtle nuance in his words immediately.
“Ok. Luke can choose,” she wriggled deeper into her duvet, content. “Let’s hear it then.”
Anakin shook his head. His daughter would be a force to be reckoned with when they finally hit teendom, that was for sure. He remembered Ahsoka and how stubborn she had been, doing things her own way, much like Anakin himself. Obi-Wan had developed many grey hairs as a result of their antics.
(Wherever his old Padawan was, he hoped she was well. And to someday see her again.)
“Alright, kiddos,” he rearranged his son back under the covers. His children looked up at him eagerly, excited looks on their faces.
Anakin lowered his voice, announcing with dramatic effect.
“A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…”
“Daaaad.”
“You’re not that old!”
Anakin laughed.
Despite the unexpected turn of events today, and the heartache that came with knowing Luke would have to overcome an ordeal Anakin could do nothing about, he knew in his heart that his precious babies would be alright.
They were, after all, his children. His and Padmé's.
Luke and Leia would come out of this experience stronger than ever.