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“He’s here.”
Those two words were the most ominous thing Padmé had ever heard in her life. Obi-Wan looked haunted as he stared into the trees, as if he could see Anakin and his soldiers already.
“How did he even find us here?” she asked, clutching Leia tightly to her chest. The baby squealed in protest, completely oblivious to the danger she was in.
“That doesn’t matter right now,” Obi-Wan said briskly, tearing his gaze away from whatever nothingness he was staring at and turning to face her. “What matters is getting out of here before they reach us.”
He kicked dirt over the fire, stomping out the last of the embers. Padmé set Leia down on the blanket beside Luke and quickly checked the pack to make sure all the essential supplies were secured inside it. The shelter would stay behind. There wasn’t enough time to break it down, and it had long since reached the end of its days anyway. The patches that had already been threadbare when they acquired the thing were starting to fall off, new tears too large for them to fix appearing as the planet’s harsh weather beat down on it. Once she was satisfied that everything they were able to take with them was accounted for, Padmé picked up the sling.
But this time she didn’t place it over her shoulders. Instead, she held it out to Obi-Wan.
“Take them,” she said. She couldn’t quite keep the tremor out of her voice as she said it. For weeks now, she’d feared it would come to this. Vader was finding them faster every time, growing more and more violent toward anyone who stood in his way. They couldn’t keep outrunning the Empire forever. Couldn’t keep letting Vader hurt people because of them. “If I can distract him, you’ll have time to get away.”
In spite of the ticking chronometer, Obi-Wan froze, staring at her with a look of dawning understanding and fear.
“You can’t,” he said. “They need you. If anyone’s staying, it should be me. He wants me dead more than he wants… than he wants you.”
“No,” Padmé said. “He doesn’t.”
They both knew it was true. Vader’s hatred of Obi-Wan was strong, but not enough to outweigh what had once been love for Padmé. What some foolish, naïve part of her hoped still was love, somewhere deep down, even though she knew it had been warped into nothing but a twisted, cruel obsession.
Slowly, Obi-Wan reached out and took the sling from her. Every line of his face looked heavy as he tried to force himself to accept what had to happen.
“You’re their mother.”
“I know,” Padmé said. “That’s why I need to do this. For them.”
Knowing there was no talking her down, Obi-Wan allowed her to help him tie the sling around his shoulders. Her heart felt like something had grabbed hold of it, trying to rip it out of her as she gently placed the babies beside each other. As she looked down at them, nestled safely next to Obi-Wan’s chest, the doubt began to creep in. If her plan didn’t work, this could be the last time she’d ever see them.
“You don’t have to do this,” Obi-Wan told her. “We have enough of a head start. We can –”
Padmé silenced him by pulling open her jacket, revealing the knife hidden at her waist. The knife she’d brought to Mustafar and couldn’t bring herself to use.
“I don’t plan on letting him take me,” she said. “He’ll let me get close enough to use it.”
Obi-Wan’s face paled. Padmé could practically see the horrors of Mustafar flashing before his eyes. Anakin had come within inches of falling down the bank into the lava. He would have burned alive if it weren’t for Obi-Wan’s refusal to kill his best friend. And he’d nearly paid for that mercy with his life. Neither of them could afford to make that mistake again.
“Are you certain?” he asked, his voice hollow.
“It’s the only way.”
“Padmé –”
“Just go,” she told him. If he said one more word, she was afraid she would lose her nerve. “I’ll be right behind you.”
Obi-Wan took a few hesitant steps into the forest before looking back at her. He stayed that way for a moment, as if taking a holo image of her in his mind. Something he can tell the kids about when I’m gone. The thought appeared in her head before she could quash it. She wasn’t going to die. She wasn’t.
Then he spoke, his voice heavy with sorrow.
“May the Force be with you.”
And then all three of them were gone.
Padmé paced the length of the campsite, the knife feeling heavier at her side with each step.
All she could do now was wait.
She didn’t have to wait long, it turned out. The first of the stormtroopers reached the clearing soon after Obi-Wan left. Padmé stopped in her tracks and raised her hands to shoulder height. Even if he wasn’t here yet, one of the stormtroopers would recognize her. Her face was on wanted bulletins across the entire galaxy. Always with those same two words. Wanted Alive.
“It’s her,” one of the troopers said. He grabbed Padmé’s arms, pulling them back as if to cuff her, before he was stopped by a harsh, booming voice.
“Let go of her!”
Padmé’s heart seemed to stop as Anakin stepped into the clearing. Bright yellow eyes fixed on her as the stormtrooper released her, hurrying to get out of the Sith Lord’s way. Everything else faded as Padmé stood there, waiting.
Vader stopped in front of her, gazing down at her with a hardened, bitter expression where there once would have been softness and love.
“Where are they?” he asked, his voice like stone.
“Not here,” Padmé said, raising her chin defiantly.
Vader’s eyes snapped around the clearing, as if Obi-Wan and the twins would materialize from the trees.
“Fan out,” he snapped at the stormtroopers. “They can’t have gone far.”
Seizing her chance, Padmé pulled the knife from beneath her jacket. She held it tight, pouring all her pain and heartbreak into the strike as drove the blade toward Vader’s heart.
Suddenly she was flying backwards, her throat going tight. She hung there, suspended in the air as Vader approached, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he had all the time in the world. As if she wasn’t running out of air right in front of his eyes.
Vader wrenched the knife out of her hand and threw it aside. Padmé groped at empty air, as if she could pull the weapon back. Her heart hammered as her vision started to swim until all she could see were those furious eyes towering over her. The same eyes that were all she could see just before she passed out on Mustafar.
He was going to kill her.
Air flooded back into her lungs as she fell only to be knocked from her again as she hit the ground. She gasped for breath, her spinning head trying to right itself. Vader grabbed her arm, hauling her to her feet. His other hand gripped her chin roughly.
“I will find them, Padmé,” he said. For just a split second those yellow eyes went soft, and Padmé had to stop herself from thinking she could see a hint of the man she used to love.
“Just tell me,” he said, almost pleading. “We can be the family we were meant to be.”
“We’re not your family,” Padmé said, every word feeling like a knife to her own heart. She’d been kidding herself ever thinking that they could be. Anakin would never have chosen her over the Jedi. He saw being a Jedi as a path to power. And he loved power more than anything else. “And I know what you’re really planning to do with the kids.”
All trace of that softness vanished, replaced once more by that burning rage. Vader shoved Padmé toward the nearest stormtrooper, who grabbed hold of her arms and quickly cuffed them behind her back.
“Take her to the shuttle,” he said. “If we don’t find Kenobi, she’ll tell us where he is.”
His eyes locked onto Padmé’s, every word a warning of the horrors that were to come.
“One way or another.”