Chapter Eleven

When he became conscious of his body, Anakin became aware through his haze of pain that ash was falling from above him. Gentle, soft, fluttering pieces that could have been snow.

The world hadn't exploded around him—the chip hadn't deactivated. Somehow, he was alive.

Any relief he might have felt dissolved into the crippling firestorm of pain in his body, and the office rocked back and forth as he braced his shaking arms beneath him and clawed his way to where Obi-Wan's limp form lay.

He couldn't tell whether the Jedi breathed or not, or whether pulse beat in his neck, but he set his hands on the site of the burn in Obi-Wan's tunic, trembling uncontrollably, and reached through the remaining connection to the Force he had.

Light surged in his mind, mixed with emotion and pain and raw power so strong it sent him reeling. He was only able to hold on for a few moments, willing the healing power to enter Obi-Wan's body, before spots danced before his eyes and all that remained of his consciousness was a single thin strand of the Force amidst the swirling vortex.

He didn't remember anything else.

"Skywalker. Skywalker. Focus on me—"

Gravity lurched.

"Anakin, concentrate—"

Surgical uniforms and the gleam of metal.

"Ani, please—"

Pain circled him like birds of prey ripping his flesh.

"Ani—Anakin—"

White hospital walls greeted him, and a white ceiling and white sheets.

"Wha—?"

The pain in his shoulder returned immediately. Ignoring the prickly waves that shot through his nerves, he shifted his arm to peer at the tubes attached to him, which seemed to extend below his hospital gown, around his nose, and through an IV line. He had two large patches on his chest—one on his shoulder and another close beside it under his breastbone.

"It's about time," said a familiar voice. Theo sat in a chair just behind him, making adjustments with what seemed to be the slave chip device. He put it aside on a nearby table and leaned forward, elbows on knees.

"W—" Anakin's voice grinded to a halt, his throat sandpaper dry. "Wa—ter."

Theo pushed a glass into his hands. "Be careful with that, don't drink too much."

He choked on the liquid at first, and might have spluttered if Theo hadn't been guiding his intake.

"You've been asleep almost a week," Theo told him. "I don't think you remember."

Anakin shook his head.

"You and Obi-Wan led the mission to Palpatine's Office. Barely made it out—your heart stopped a couple of times."

"Obi-Wan?"

"He made it." Theo's smile was strained. "No one's quite sure how you did it."

Did what?

"You healed a mortal wound with the Force."

The look Anakin gave him must have been confused, because Theo added, "Master Yoda informs us that it's not a usual ability. But the Force works in mysterious ways."

It couldn't be—what Theo was implying— "Obi-Wan's safe?"

"He's in recovery right now," Theo told him. "Doing well."

Anakin wasn't sure how that could be possible, but he was having a hard time thinking with the room tilting around him.

"Padmé?"

"Uninjured."

"Children?"

"Still on Alderaan under Breha's care."

They were safe. The images of them in pain weren't real. They never would be—

"Padmé's safe?"

"Yes."

Anakin breathed out, relaxing against the pillow under his neck. His mind was already drifting to far off places… he didn't think he had the energy to ask about Palptine, or the Senate, or the clones…

"Rest for a little while," a voice told him, and Anakin was gone.

Then, he was in a room of blue, as metal hand changed the bandage on his shoulder.

"Anakin…"

Padmé moved into view, wispy curls circling her head.

"Padmé…" His entire body ached as though he'd been trampled by rancor, but he couldn't help the small smile creeping along his cheeks. Her hand found his. He didn't think he'd ever been so happy to see someone in his life.

"How're you feeling?"

"'M fine," he croaked.

Padmé's small smile hid more than it revealed, but the hand that threaded through his hand was gentle. She was so beautiful—

"I love you so much."

He could barely lift his head to meet her kiss, but when she sat back again, her expression relaxed. The medical droid put the final touches on his shoulder bandages and wheeled out of the room, leaving the couple alone.

"What… happened? Palpatine…?"

"He's dead."

His neck strained as he struggled to straighten. She helped adjust the pillow under his head. "What?"

"Decapitated. You don't remember?"

Palpatine's gurgle. A burst of light and debris. "I—thought it was a dream…"

"The whole room had exploded by the time Mon arrived," she said, watching him carefully. "You and Obi-Wan were the only ones still breathing. There was a clear radius of debris around your bodies."

Anakin didn't remember.

"Not even Yoda could explain it."

He couldn't believe—could it really be true? "Palpatine's dead?"

She nodded. "He's gone for good."

A breath escaped his lungs that didn't know he'd been holding, lightening his shoulders and unknotting his stomach. "Are we sure?"

"We packed his body away—there'll be a burial away from public eye."

"We're—we're safe?"

She nodded, threading her hand through his.

He didn't want to say anything for a long time, just bathe in the peace that had settled on his mind. "I—I can't believe…"

"I know," she said.

"The children…"

She nodded.

The second long breath was more relieving than the first, and Padmé's smile softened. "We're safe."

"Safe."

She nodded again. "Mothma's taken control over the Senate—she's gathered a Senate meeting and they're going to vote on the next path of action."

Her fingers ran through his hair. "It looks promising—it seems that more senators have been bullied than we expected, and though it'll take a few months and a lot of evidence for the Senate majority to agree to our terms, we're on our way. We've already been able to get Imperial troops to release all political prisoners, Bail included."

Her expression held more hope than he'd seen in months. "And the clones?" he asked.

"Mothma reached control in time for minimal damage, but they did—" She stopped abruptly, and turned her head from him. She was about to tell him something painful—her fingers were fidgeting. "I should tell you… Shaak Ti didn't make it."

It didn't register at first, as if his mind couldn't digest it. Perhaps he wasn't in the right mental state to understand, or emotional state to register the emotions he felt. Instead, he just felt blank.

"I'm sorry," she said. "The Order needed her—there're so few Masters left."

He didn't say anything.

"We tried to stop them, but they'd shot her before we could assume command. Theo's been working on a few more slave chip device disablers. He was pretty upset."

Anakin watched her fingers play with the hem of her sleeve.

She said finally, "I suppose victories can't come without a cost."

"I guess so," he replied softly.

He felt nauseous, so she stayed by his side.

A few hours later, the hospital room door slid open with a soft hiss, and Anakin felt his mind slip into its familiar bond with the presence. Obi-Wan looked healthy, if a bit worn and stiff in loose Jedi robes. His legs were strong as he walked to Anakin's bed.

"Anakin."

"Obi-Wan…" The blade had gone right into his stomach—

"How do you feel?"

How could he be asking that, when it was Obi-Wan who almost died? "Fine."

Obi-Wan's smile was small. "It's good to see you up," he said, finally, lowering himself into a nearby chair. There were flecks of gray in his hair, mixed in with the auburn. "I don't know how you did it. No Jedi has mended a mortal wound in thousands of years, only the greatest healers."

Anakin somehow felt that he should be proud, or fulfilled, or powerful, but somehow he didn't want to. Somehow, the silence of the Dark Side was enough.

"I don't really remember," he murmured.

Obi-Wan's smile turned on one side. "I don't, either."

He didn't know if he wanted to, anyway. He didn't think he did.

"Shaak Ti…?"

Obi-Wan looked down. "There'll be a private burial," he said softly.

It seemed like a waste to Anakin, like it just wasn't enough, or maybe it just wasn't worth it?

No. No, it had to be worth it. Palpatine was dead and they'd saved countless other lives—

"She knew what her sacrifice would mean," Obi-Wan murmured. "She recognized the importance of our mission."

"I expected it'd feel different," he admitted eventually.

"What would?"

"Now that the Sith are gone."

"Me too," Obi-Wan said, and Anakin knew they were both thinking of that cold day when their minds had fractured with thousands of Jedi deaths. It was strange—it'd seemed like such a long time ago after months of nightmares and cold sweats.

And perhaps Obi-Wan understood that, after everything Palpatine had said in the office…

"Obi-Wan… about what Palpatine told you about me…"

"You don't have to tell me anything you're not ready to."

"It's true. It was all true, what Palpatine said about me. When my mother died, I—"

"Anakin—"

"No," he said, though his hands shook. "Let me finish. I've always struggled with the Dark Side. I'm afraid of what it does to me. For a while, I didn't want to get involved again because I was afraid of the temptation.

"I couldn't—I understand what is expected of me. For a long time when the Jedi thought I was the Chosen One, I thought I was expected to be perfect, but I was angry all the time and afraid of my potential. I resented your training, and was disrespectful of the Jedi Order."

"Anakin, you deserve to be here," Obi-Wan told him. "You've earned your place beyond all that's been expected of you—"

Anakin exhaled softly. "You taught me what I need to strive for, Obi-Wan," he said quietly. "I want to thank you for that."

"I know the kind of Jedi you are," Obi-Wan said. "Whatever is in your past, you have my faith, and my trust."

Anakin could only reply a quiet, "Thank you," and Obi-Wan's smile was all he needed in return.

Obi-Wan shifted, standing to leave the rom. "Your slave chip," he said as he paused by the door. "It burnt up. You don't have to worry about it bothering you again."

Anakin touched the wound under his collarbone where smooth skin met puckered skin, and it didn't burn so much any more. He watched the Jedi Master leave.

Naboo was particularly beautiful in the springtime, awash with flower fragrance and the shadow of the purple mountains over the water. Anakin leaned against the balcony outside the Naberrie house with a hologram of Obi-Wan on his palm.

"There was another group hiding on Kashyyyk," Obi-Wan informed him, his hands tucked in his sleeves. "A Jedi and two Padawans."

Anakin could see the Jedi Temple under construction in the background, funded with the Senate's help. The pillars were nowhere near finished, as scaffolding still obscured their skeletons, but the black from the fire had been scrubbed from the walls. "That's good."

"If we're lucky, they won't be the last. Master Yoda seems to think there're more still out there."

The Jedi refugees usually returned shell-shocked and worn, not unlike where Anakin and Padmé had come from. Those long weeks on Tatooine were ever poignant in his mind, burning like the twin suns. Setting, perhaps.

"When will we be expecting you?"

Anakin fingered the chrono on the comlink. Back on Coruscant, Theo was taking the final steps of the clone chip project, and Obi-Wan needed help with the new arrivals. "Leaving in a little less than five hours."

Obi-Wan's smile was gentle. "I look forward to it."

"Me too," he said, and he meant it. The time spent with the Naberries and the twins was needed, especially for Padmé, but Anakin itched to be back on Coruscant with the reconstruction efforts.

"Greet Padmé's family for me."

"I will. Meet you at the Temple."

As the Jedi Master winked out, he heard soft footsteps behind him. Padmé approached with a twin in each arm, and Anakin could spot her family through the cracked double glass doors behind them, laughing and putting together the final touches on the meal.

"Obi-Wan?" Padmé asked him, as Anakin relieved her of baby Leia.

He nodded. Leia grabbed at his finger and smiled a toothless smile. In Padmé's arms, Luke slept quietly, wisps of blond hair curling at his crown as his belly rose and fell softly.

"He's ready for us?"

"They found another group. Three of them."

"And they're returning to Coruscant?"

He nodded.

Coruscant was waiting for Padmé as well. The Senate had held her position as Naboo's senator, and Bail Organa and Mon Mothma waited for her return.

"Are you ready to return?" Anakin asked her, though he saw how she continued to follow on her datapad even when her family insisted they rest on their leave period.

"If you are."

By the Naboo lake, the breeze stilled, and replacing the scent of flowers was the fruit in Padmé's shampoo. Luke stirred, a small yawn on his lips. Leia squeezed his finger.

Anakin threaded his arm through hers. "I am."

I wanted to say a quick thank you to my loyal readers - you all have been fantastic and encouraging and I couldn't have done it without you. Please review this final time so I can improve for the future! Lots of love!