AN: Un-edited, and I have no beta, so as usual, there is no-one to blame for the highly amusing spelling errors that crop up from time to time. Just to explain a few things in advance… Lysia is Revan and Carth's daughter. She's nearly five at this moment in time and she scores a mention at one point. Annie is Atton's nickname for Ana. Sorry for the slightly awkward sexiness here, but recently I've found that I can't write a kiss scene without blushing and giggling.

MONTH 5

"So your father literally sat you down one day and said 'Okay, Atton, this is how you massage pregnant women'- ouch!" Ana hissed between her teeth as Atton's fingers dug into a particularly sore, sensitive area on her lower back. He could feel the built-up tension there, and she groaned blissfully as the kinks loosened.

"I told you to start taking it easy, that if you kept pushing and over-exerting yourself you would start getting cramps in your muscles, but does anyone listen to me around here? Nooooo, you wanted to be stubborn." he groused as she reached behind her and re-adjusted his hands to rest on her shoulders. His thumbs rubbed firm little marks on her collarbone as his fingers pressed down on the conjunction of her shoulder and neck. A small gasp escaped her lips when he pressed down harder, the mixture of pleasure and pain causing her to writhe slightly. "Your body is crying out for a break."

"It's certainly is now. I swear you're enjoying this more than I am." She squealed slightly as his fingers drifted over her skin to press down harshly on her spine again. The calluses on his fingers scratched the smooth skin on her back, and she winced.

"You have no idea how tempted I am to press down harder here, sweetness, just to watch you squirm." He grinned slightly, and she twisted around to smack him lightly on his forearm. He grasped it in mock agony, and she giggled. The unexpected reaction was becoming quite common- the repressed emotions that had been carefully concealed and controlled over the years were bubbling to the surface, flooding over as her hormonal responses went wild.

She reached around again, to once again move his hands, and Atton's fingers twitched involuntarily as her soft, cool hands met his large warm ones. He'd suddenly became acutely aware of where his hands were placed on her mid back, of her hair whispering around her waist and tickling his wrists, of the not-so-gentle smile that was gracing her features, making her look hungry…

He swallowed almost un-noticeably, but more than a year of being in his acquaintance had meant that she could detect every twitch, every shudder, every impulse, and read every expression on his dark, handsome face, and she noticed it, reaching out with a tender finger and touching the spot gently, smiling as he swallowed again at the contact.

He leant down, rubbing slow circles on her hips, snaking his arms around her waist until his large hands were resting on her stomach, now swollen with child. He patted and smoothed the mass lovingly for a few moments, soothing and calming, before withdrawing them carefully. He continued to rub small, comforting little shapes on her shoulders and back, glancing up every few minutes to enjoy the strange look on her face as she studied him, occasionally smiling or groaning when he shifted to touch a more sensitive or tense area.

"Just be lucky you aren't working on my ankles or you'd be here for hours. They've swollen up badly." She murmured low, and he proceeded to lay her down on her left side, her arms curving to conform to her rounded belly. She had been assuming that this was simply a chore, something he didn't mind doing for her but not something he enjoyed.

She had not yet realized that it was just another opportunity to feel her warm skin, touch her bare flesh. Atton knew he was taking advantage of her, when she was in a vulnerable state, but he was so eager to find ways to be close to her in any way possible, he didn't care.

He caressed and rubbed the muscles of her legs, moving down to her ankles, and she sighed. The tension in her calves and thighs were so great it was a wonder she was able to walk. Her statement had been an exaggeration, but not by much- the awful pain she must have been experiencing would have made him gripe like a rancor with a long shaft of metal in its side.

She turned onto her back, the wide coffee table in her room that they were using as a makeshift massage table more than broad enough for her, plus at least one other person, to lay comfortably. She noticed the eagerness swiftly hidden in his eyes, and smiled a little, a hint of lust tainting the otherwise innocent expression.

Something in the regions of his stomach twisted and swirled in a way he was adequately familiar with, and something in the back of his mind alerted him to the fact she had reached out and grasped his hand gently, running her fingers along the knuckles. He hadn't noticed the other hand gripping his arm, pulling him closer- he was still entranced by that smile, a smile he had never seen on her before, a smile he prayed she would never give anyone else.

When she had pulled him down close enough to touch her lips to his, something seemed to click in the back of his mind, telling him to kiss her back, do it or never touch her again. Spasms of pleasure curled in his belly, and he finally locked his mouth firmly onto hers. Her tugging became more insistent, and he felt his legs give way until he was sitting next to her, careful not to land on her arms.

All cognizant thought was blasted from his mind, and he managed to part her lips enough to allow for full access to her mouth. The taste of berries and rich juice flavoured her lips, and she was so startled by his suddenly passionate advances, so surprised at his willingness, it was several seconds before she responded in kind, her teeth nipping gently.

It was strange, though: she had been the one to initiate this, but out of the two of them, she was the one that was most anxious. He suckled on her bottom lip for a few seconds, enough to re-assure her and relax her, and felt the hand on his wrist slide around to rest on his chest, gripping the soft linen of his tunic.

The small voice that had guided him all his life, which instigated his 'bad feeling', was murmuring in his ear again, and he forced himself away, hovering a few inches from her. The glassy green orbs that had been sparkling at him just minutes before were closed, and her breathing was rapid.

This was all too odd. She had always been so firmly entrenched in the Jedi way, and had followed the code dutifully, but here she was now, disobeying a tenant she had only ever broken once in her life. It was unexpected, but not unwelcome, though he wasn't exactly sure why he was hesitating after months of wanting her so badly…

Ana's eyes had shot open, and her stare was close to boring into his skull and simply reading what he was thinking. Bereft of things to do while he thought, he absentmindedly stroked her cheek whilst studying her carefully. The only thing he could see that could point to something possibly being wrong with her was her eyes; they were unusually bright. Though, he conceded, they had looked so much like that the night that had started all of this… although at the time he believed it had simply been the liquor…

It's just hormones, the voice in his head said firmly, she only wants you because of the hormones, you take advantage of her like this and she'll never forgive you… get out now while you still have your balls intact and your face arranged the way you like it.

His intent at that moment was to stand and walk away, but then her tiny fingers brushed against cheek, soft skin connecting with his rough, cool flesh, and all reasonable thought and decision no longer mattered.

He leant down, kissing her gently, a rush of lust hitting him when he breathed in her sweet scent, some sort of oil from a flowery plant mixed with honey. She whimpered into his mouth, but the sound was absorbed by the moan that he expelled as the kiss deepened.

Her hand was at his outer robe again, this time trying to tug it off. She succeeded, and began wrangling the folds of linen of his torso. He succumbed to her, and she finally got his upper body bare. She broke apart from him, sitting up to admire the lines of muscle, trace the scars marking his flesh, letting her fingers drift over the warm skin. He twitched underneath her fingers, and she smiled a little.

She leant forward to meet his lips again, but he raised a finger to her mouth and found he had to ask, though a part of him was incredibly mad he was starting to prolong it. "You sure? You aren't exactly in the best state to-"

She silenced him with yet another kiss, this one longer and more passionate then before, and for a moment he was willing to let it drop and surrender. But then her hand started to trace the lines of his chest again, and he pulled back, gasping for air slightly.

"Look, sweetness, you know that-"

"Please." She whispered. "I need this."

"But-"

"You aren't taking advantage of me. I want this as much as you do."

"Yeah, but-"

"Atton," she straightened, and looked him straight in the eye severely, "I either do this with you, or I go find Mical. Your choice."

It didn't require much thought. He slid his cool hand around to cup the back of her neck, feel the warm skin, and brought her back in for yet another kiss, full of longing and need. Her hands were at his belt now, and he grabbed them, smiling against her mouth.

Still not pulling away from the sweetness her mouth held, he began to pull the robes from her shoulders. She jumped slightly when his cold fingers found her hot skin, scorching his hands with the warmth. She pushed him backwards, and he landed heavily. He grabbed her hands, pulling her down with him and rolling so that he was on top of her.

His hands plunged into her tunic again, and she gasped when he cupped her gently, leaning down to nip at the sensitive skin of her neck. He eventually pulled away from her soft skin, to pull off the rest of her clothing.

He looked down at her bare form beneath him, drinking in the sight, and leant down to place tiny nibbling kisses along her jaw line, down her neck, and down.

He wasn't certain how long they continued on like that, simply trading kisses until the last of their clothing was gone. What he did remember were her gasps and moans, the sweet taste of her, the smoothness of her skin, the heat and desire, the feel of her. The rise, the fall… and lying with her afterwards, caressing the smooth skin of her ever growing belly, faintly hearing the quiet serenity of their daughter through the bond.

And the next morning, after wondering briefly how they got from her lounge room to her bed, Atton dressed and left her to sleep, with no regrets.

---

MONTH 7

"Predictable." He murmured as she placed a card in front of her on the table. Ana looked up from her hand, smiling faintly even as her knuckles tightened on her cards. "You always tug at that strand of hair hanging over your forehead whenever you have a +/-2 card in your hand."

"That's because I like to warn you you're going to lose." Her face fell, however, when he laid down a card to give him a score of twenty.

She sighed heavily and threw down her remaining cards. Atton's satisfied smirk every time she lost a game against him was driving her to a level of insanity she had never known before.

It had taken so much to pretend that waking up to find an empty space next to her hadn't fazed her even the slightest. She should have guessed, though- Atton was, by his very nature, an unfeeling womanizer. And it indeed was only meant to be a one time thing.

But then again, that night after Malachor wasn't supposed to have any lasting repercussions either, she thought, smiling sadly an d patting her belly absent-mindedly. It doesn't matter, it's better this way.

Still.... it hadn't felt too wonderful to wake up feeling so alone.

And the next day, when they had been left alone in the council chambers after the others had left, they merely acknowledged what had happened with a nod, and both had turned, both knowing that if they walked out without a word then they would sorely regret it.

But then they reached the end of the hall, where it split into two corridors, and each went their separate ways in silence...

It had left her with a hard bitterness inside her each time they saw each other, and with it, the feeling of being used. And she despised being used.

"I feel like we've played this game a million times..." she yawned as Atton picked up the deck and shuffled once again. She was having difficulty sleeping through the night, and Atton often late to bed and early to rise, so they had begun meeting in the courtyard just before the sun rose to play late night games of pazaak until the two left for classes or meetings with the council. Sleeping pills and injections were no longer an option, as they may cause medical problems regarding the baby, and Mical had little expertise concerning infants and expectant mothers- he wasn't quite sure yet what medications would be safe. So there was little she could do. Except sleep for as long as her body would allow her, and despite her better judgement and instincts, play pazaak with the handsome scoundrel early morning and hope that after the baby was born that her body would allow her the slightest bit of rest. As unlikely as that was.

"Pazaak is a game of strategy, deception... subtlety." He dealt again, and she swept up her cards, watching as he rubbed his eyes and started throwing out cards.

"I haven't slept a full night in two months- I couldn't care less about subtlety." She won the round, her mood lifting slightly. The courtyard was still, the weak winter sun starting to poke through the trees around them and her eyes became squinty.

"I'll bet," he murmured under his breath, and her head shot up.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, if it doesn't include lightsabers and force choking..."

She threw down her hand again, scowling. "I'll be late for my first class..."

She stood and stomped off in a huff, and Atton called after her, "Yeah, walk away, just when I'm winning... now who's predictable?"

She twirled around on her heel, her teeth gritted. "Trust me Atton, you don't want to start a fight with me- especially not at 5 in the morning."

The soft patter of footsteps behind her didn't faze her or the man standing and slinking towards her, both his expression and gait predatorily, the way an animal would approach an adversary.

A gentle hand on her shoulder caused her to jump, the cool stillness of the area punctured by her shrill, whispery gasp. The pale sun shone over the small pond nearby, lighting up the tall, well-built form of Bao-Dur with its glimmering sparks.

"Good morning." In the quiet air of the morning, his voice was nearly lost in the crisp wind.

"Who says?" The pilot snarled. He was now inches away from Ana, and despite their near-equal height, his position made her feel like she was shrinking.

"Still can't sleep, I'm guessing." The tech waved his hand idly at the cards still strewn across the paved courtyard ground. Meanwhile, Ana was backing away from the still advancing pilot, whose anger seemed to be melting into a rough, cynical aura that made her skin prickle, the way it always did when danger and threat was coming.

She took another step backwards, and gave out a short, sharp laugh devoid of any mirth at her friends words. "Why sleep when I can sit up all night with an overgrown child and play endless games of fracking pazaak?"

"Oh, and we were having so much fun, Ana; trading shots, the verbal sparring, the constant stream of insults you send my way when all I'm trying to do is help..." he spun around, throwing his arms up in the air, "But hell, if you're getting tired of pazaak, we could always bring out the training 'sabres and fight for real, that's right up your alley, isn't it sweets?"

"I think that's supposed to be a joke, Bao, he wants us all to laugh with him."

The Iridonian had been watching the two ranting with a small smile on his face. "I'm laughing inwardly, General, if that makes you feel better."

"You know, it took me months to realize it, but I'm actually getting sick of the games, Rand."

"Then why are playing them?" He turned, gesturing wildly at the cards.

"I've had enough of this..." she hissed. Her robes swelled and swept around her as she turned, just as Atton did the same, both leaving shrouds of anger and frustration behind them. The tech left behind felt the swell of dark side emotion in the air, so palatable he could almost taste it on the gentle breeze. And though he would never say, the rage surrounding his general affected him more than he ever suspected it would.

He turned to the redhead, hoping to absolve some of what was wrong with her, if only to eradicate his own, unexpected anger, to find her doubled over, pain rippling across her usual impassive face, clutching her stomach. And a new, more potent emotion filled the air around Bao-Dur, his former General, and the retreating pilot- fear…

----

The hand resting on his bare chest was freezing, but he didn't have the will power to shift it. A darker part of him was imagining that she had placed it there to simply feel his heart shatter over and over again throughout the night. The weak sun streaming in the open window forced him to open his eyes to a sea of red. For a moment, it looked as if Mical had fallen asleep amid a silken ocean of blood, but then it moved, and softness tickled his face, and he reassured himself with the fact that it was only her hair.

A tiny snore escaped her tiny mouth, and she shifted against him, trying to absorb more heat into her pores, small rivulets of saliva trickling onto his skin. Despite everything, this improved his otherwise bleak mood. She shifted again, groaning as the light hit her face, and her eyes opened. She lifted her head, smiling up at him slightly.

"You make a good pillow," she whispered, in way of the typical 'good morning'. His corners of his lips twitched upwards, and he was about to respond with the usual, 'You make a suitable blanket', as per their morning routine. Instead, what came out was, "Why are you with me?"

She frowned and sat up, bunching the thick covers up to her chest, shielding her naked chest from his gaze. It was not a question one would expect first thing in the morning. Her face scrunched, and she muttered, "I don't know- does anyone really know why they end up with anyone?"

"Hmmm- for a moment, I believed you were going to say 'pity'" he said, equally quiet, his lips twitching upwards again. She laughed, smacking him lightly. She sobered up quickly, though, and her normally crass demeanour melted away. "I guess... I'm here because I love you." The admittance seemed to take more effort than it normally did. "And you make the best cup of caffa I've ever had, so... major points there."

The answer seemed satisfactory, and should have been enough- but he had to ask. "If you love me like you say, then why did you reject me?"

All playfulness in her eyes seemed to melt away before him, and she sighed a little. "I don't know- you just blurted it out, I didn't have time to think. And we've only known each other a few months- half the time we barely even spoke to each other. Normally I'm all for doing things fast and spontaneous, but… this is sorta serious."

He nodded. It was reasonable, he had to admit it, but the words rang hollow, and there was no comfort. She shifted closer, resting her head on his shoulder, sighing. A tiny beeping sounded from the table next to him, and she seemed to take this as her queue to leave. Slipping out of his bed, she groped around blindly on the floor, until her hand came into contact with her robe. He watched as she stood and drew the cloth around her to protect herself from the morning chill and he reached over to grab the emergency comlink in his draw.

She listened to the faint sound of Bao-Dur's voice come through, and he looked up at her, disappointment filling his expression. "I have to go- something went wrong with the Exile, Bao-Dur just brought her into the medbay… I will meet you tonight…" He began to grab at clothing strewn all over the floor, tugging each article on hurriedly, twisting the cloth until he looked decent enough to walk outside.

He was about to walk out, when she grabbed his arm, and pulled him close enough to kiss him. It was different then normal, bereft of the desperate passion she usually showed. Her way of asking for forgiveness, perhaps? It didn't matter; he broke it off, looking apologetic, and began to move away.

"I love you," he called over his shoulder, and he prayed she heard him.

-------------

"Annie? Ana, you alright? C'mon, up…"

She mumbled something about being pregnant, not crippled, but accepted his aid, heaving herself to her feet, only to crumble again as her knees weakened and a hazy pain swept through her abdomen.

"M'kay, I'm fine…" she slurred. Everything felt like it was being dipped slowly into boiling water. Her muscles were sluggish, her bones felt like they had turned to rubber, her blood didn't seem to be pumping, she felt like she was drowning…

"M' just fine, s'okay…" she could hear Bao-Dur in the distance trying to get hold of Mical, but his efforts were proving to be futile- it was barely past 5 am, the young medic would most likely still be asleep- and she didn't want everyone making a fuss over every ache and pain, pregnancy was supposed to be uncomfortable and whinging about every cramp wasn't going to help anyone-

But Atton's heavy footfalls, the thudding cushioned by the soft grass, were coming closer, and those strong arms of his were hoisting her to her feet. The quite of the dawn was slowly coming to an end as both native and foreign birds began to warble their good mornings. The sharp sound of one above her hurt her pounding head, and she shakily brushed the grass of her as Atton scooped her up, escorting her with a gentle hand towards the direction of the infirmary.

There were few people wandering the halls at this hour, only insomnia ridden padawans and apprentices readying themselves for exams, sipping hot caffa and pursuing texts, bleary-eyes and pale. She imagined that she was looking no better than they were, after days of unrest and strenuous activity, but she put it out of her mind as Atton behind her gave her a tiny shove to get her moving faster. She stumbled at the sudden movement and scowled, but quickened her pace, if only to keep the peace between them. Over-protectiveness was one thing. Making her unbalance and nearly fall on her belly was another.

She had begun to see a noticeable change in his behaviour over the past few weeks. He was more subdued, becoming unapproachable to all but the bravest Masters. His comments were even snider than usual, and he was starting to bully people like Mical worse than ever before. In the quiet serenity of this place, Ana would have thought that he would finally take this time to think, start over, but his old habits were resurfacing rapidly. Smuggling in juma and spice was more frequent, and he was starting to neglect his duties as a council member and teacher.

It had taken a while to realise what was bothering him. He was bored, and confined. Years of freedom as a smuggler had been exciting, challenging. The initial shock of becoming a parent had worn of, and the work involved in making the enclave suitable for inhabitation by creatures other than cannoks and rodents had passed, leaving nothing but a steady routine. His life now was a far cry from the one he once knew. He wanted an escape route.

She was jerked out of her thoughts by Atton dragging her to the right suddenly, and she was pulled into the medbay where a sleepy looking Mical was tugging on a medical tunic over a thin shirt, squinting in the thin sunlight.

"Ah, An-n-na," he yawned as he straightened his clothing briefly and turning to greet her with a small smile. The rest of his comment had barely formed on his lips when Atton pulled Ana forward roughly.

"Right. Fix it."

"I'm sorry?"

"She just collapsed, now fix it." 'Acerbic' would have been an understatement if describing his tone. Mical raised a pale eyebrow briefly, but rather than react negatively as others would have done, he extended an arm to gesture towards the bio-bed nearest to her, wordlessly asking her to sit. After she had settled into a sitting position, he bustled about, collecting injections and scanning equipment, all the while calling questions over his shoulder.

"Any irregularities in eating habits? Have you been skipping meals?

"If anything I can't stop eating."

"Have you been exerting yourself? I told you at your last physical that you really must relax more..."

"I've limited myself to teaching, and meetings. You'd be so proud if you knew the lengths I've been going to just to behave myself."

"Any abnormal pain? Spasms, sharp abdominal pains?"

"Uhh... occasional cramps in my legs, my back... normal aches. In fact, I'm getting one in my backside right now."

"Hmm...", he paused,

"Headaches, clumsiness? Irritability? Tremors? Cognitive Impairment?"

She swallowed. "Headaches. Lots of headaches. And occasionally a few aches and pains in my stomach."

He quirked his eyebrow again, but said nothing, dipping a small cloth patch into antiseptic on her arm, just around a bright blue vein. He turned and fiddled with a syringe, asking over his shoulder, "What about sleep?"

Ana felt a sudden warmth around her face and neck, and Atton beside her snorted slightly. He'd told her far too many times to at least try to rest, but she had resisted- partially out of a perverse pleasure at seeing him frustrated with her as she was frustrated with him, but also because the herbal teas and powders she was taking to increase her hormone levels.

The medic had turned with a stern look on his face. "I know you're uncomfortable. But please, just try-"

"I can't, okay? The herbs you're giving me to balance out my hormones are keeping me up all night."

He blustered slightly as she crossed her arms over her chest. "I've just spent the last three months reviewing every scrap of information in relation to paediatric medicine for you! You could have just asked, told me the problem. I could have helped-"

"By putting me on another round of drugs, drugs that you told me would make me and the baby sick!"

"That was Corellian benaxine sedatives, I wasn't recommending them, I was just mentioning them. They have a bad reaction with pregnant women who are consuming kora herbs." He had adopted the tone of someone talking to a slightly dim person, and she clenched her fingers slightly around the linen bed cloths. "But I've been increasing my knowledge of paediatric medicine for you, so please… next time something is wrong, don't ignore it. Make use of my extensive knowledge."

Ana opened her mouth to force a defence, but she felt Atton's eyes on her, the smugness of his being right for once so infuriating she couldn't get words out past the hard, painful, angry lump in the back of her throat. Mical turned, an air of triumph at thwarting her in this simple argument, and collected a small instrument used for testing blood pressure.

"I think I already know what ailment you have." He made his way over to a console, typing in information while Ana fidgeted on her bed and Atton tapped his fingers against the bedside table in an incessant, repetitive melody. A small crease came across Mical's perpetually youthful face, and Ana felt something in the region of her chest convulse and tighten.

"Definitely cramping?" She nodded her affirmative, and he continued probing gently, this time with the age old method of fingers and soft hands. "Yes… the baby has shifted several degrees to the left… it's pressing against your kidneys and nerves in your lower back. Very rare…" He ran his hands neatly over her lower stomach and pressed gently, before standing up abruptly and turning away from both parents.

There was a few moments where he was silent and still, studying the read-out in front of him, and shook his head slightly before shifting his gaze back to Ana and Atton. "As a physician, I have the duty to inform a person if something is wrong with them… or their child."

Ana closed her eyes, letting her head fall onto her chest slightly. Dammit, I should have checked…

A heavy weight slid down into her stomach to rest there with the small pressure that was her daughter, and beside her Atton shifted slightly, just enough to portray his sudden brooding anxiety.

Meanwhile Mical had made his way over to where she was sitting and concealed his hand with hers. It was warm, and soft, and she tightened her fingers around it as a sympathetic expression stole over his face as it was trained to be years of delivering news to patients.

"You have a genetic disorder that causes a syndrome in pregnant women called Calonora. It means the balance between mother and child has not become completely stable. It is why you are still exoeriencing nausea and the like. In this case, it has caused the child to shift to the left, and it's pressing against the womb walls. If the child is born in the position it is currently in… you may haemorrhage, and the baby may have some… complications."

His voice had been gentle through all of this, but somehow it made it worse, the compassion exuded just made her more miserable, as if he had passed down a death sentence. Atton's head had fallen into his hands, a typical sign to her to convey anxiety and helplessness, and Ana reached out her unoccupied hand to touch his cool fingers, knotted in thick, dark waves of hair. He glanced up to meet wet green eyes, and looped his digits around hers, brushing his lips over the knuckles.

"What…" she broke of with a small gasping breath, before re-starting her sentence. "Is there anything, anything at all I can do? Medicines…?"

Mical shook his head, blond wisps flying in every direction. "There is little I can do now, other than ensure that you are in my presence whilst giving birth. My research over the past few weeks has gotten me completely up to date in the area of paediatrics, abd I assure you that I will do all in my power to fulfil my duty as a doctor. If you remain in the enclave when you are due, at the completion of the third trimester, I can secure my presence." He stood straight, full of conviction, and said without a quiver of fear or any hint that he held any disbelief in his abilities as a medic, "I swear, I won't allow our baby to die, or you."

She nodded slowly, wiping her red eyes, and she gave Mical a watery smile. "'Our' baby? As far as I am aware, Atton and I are the parents here."

He shifted uncomfortably, a tiny smile appearing on his eternally youthful face. "well, I will be in part responsible for bringing her into the world... ensuring her good health and wellbeing in similar ways to her health..." He cleared his throat, "A mere slip of the tongue, Master. It shall not happen again." He shifted his blond head slightly, in a sort of bow, and he scuttled away.

His reassurances, however, had done little to stem the flow of worry seeping into her bones, and into Atton's, too, it seemed; he was trembling ever so slightly, head back in his hands, seemingly unaware of anything said over the past few minutes. She reached out a hand again and stroked his hair lightly, and he sat up, curling his fingers around hers and shifting of his seat until he was clumsily curled up next to her in the covers. His rough hand was drifting over her linen-covered back, and a small noise, half sigh, half moan escaped his lips.

They were quiet for several seconds before Atton stood suddenly, a fierce, purposeful look upon his pointed features, an odd conviction that was rare on a face that usually held such cynicism and false bravado.

"Right. We're going.'

"Wha-"

"Blondie's clearly finished with you. C'mon."

"Where're we going? I have a class I'm late for-" She stood shakily, mopping her pale face with the corner of the white Deralian cotton bedding.

"Uh uh, no fracking way are you going into a class in this state. You look like Death just paid you a visit."

She shrugged slightly, a sad little smile on her face. "I feel like he did."

-------

"Here. It's just tea, you can't have anything else but water or juice." Atton handed her a warm mug tentatively, as if afraid sudden movements would upset her. The twilight sky, strewn with foreign stars, was trickling into the room via the large window opposite them, and the cool breeze washing in was soothing on her hot skin.

He'd pulled her rather forcefully down the hall from the infirmary earlier that day, and had escorted her to her room. Before she had been able to comment on anything, he had grabbed a satchel from beside the door, charged into her room and started throwing things haphazardly into the bag. She'd given an indignant little shriek when he started rummaging around the footlocker that held all her undergarments, but her ignored the items he was fondling and groping at, though a small smirk appeared on his face until she batted his hand away.

"What in the name of the force are you doing?"

He halted his movements, stuck in a precarious position between grabbing a pair of tan coloured leggings and righting his posture into a pose in which he could speak with her.

He was shifting uncomfortably by then, moving from foot-to-foot awkwardly. "You're moving in with me."

"Oh?" She crossed her arms across her ever-expanding belly. "I apparently have no say in the matter?"

"Nope." When she scowled, he grinned slightly. "You know, you look like my little sister when you do that-"

"Rand."

Okay… fine." He dropped the bag of her things to the ground and sighed. "I actually asked you months ago, but you were sleppin' at the time, and… I guess I decided you'd be okay with it… I didn't want to start another fight over it, so… I just didn't ask again."

"And now…"

"I just think it would be better, safer in the long run, if… dammit, why is it talking to Mira about shit like this is so much easier…?"

"Because…. Mira, as far as I know, isn't having your baby." She spoke in broken chunks of dialogue, which made him smile slightly. She was, for all her abrasiveness, all her courage, all her past deeds, such an innocent when it came to the normal things, like talking to a friend, or accepting an act of kindness intended for her rather than someone else.

"I, I just thought, ya know, with the whole…" He gestured to her bulging stomach and his face darkened slightly, as if a black cloud had passed over him. "It might be better that, uh, you aren't by yourself until the baby comes." He straightened slightly. "And besides, when she is here…. I'd like to at least see her occasionally. Help out a little."

"Ah…" she ducked her head so he wouldn't see her smile. Yes, had did have a point. If she went into labour, alone, with a serious medical condition, there was a very real possibility that she would be unable to call for help, via technological means, or eve using her own voice, the walls being as thick as they were. And Mical had said only days ago, that he had predicted that her daughters time of arrival would be at least one week before the conclusion of the final trimester. The connection between parents and baby, the heightened amount of mediclorians in the infants system due to her deep connection to the force… all of those things had combined to cause the tiny girl's gestation period drop slightly.

It was a kind act on his behalf, and wiser than she would have expected from him. It a surprisingly tempting idea, as well. When he'd been in her presence over the past few weeks, with a few exceptions, of course, he'd been down-right sweet to her, and the extra re-assurance that he would be on hand if she were to have any difficulties was calming, and eased the tight bundle of tension she had been carrying with her since her impromptu doctor's appointment.

"If I can take over your refresher… it's a deal." She grinned impishly as he relaxed slightly, and he chuckled slightly.

"Sweetness, you can move in there if you want."

It had taken the rest of the day to move all of the things she would require over the next few months into Atton's modest abode, with frequent refresher breaks- "She's pressing against my bladder", she'd exclaimed after Atton had commented that she'd gone eleven times since the morning- and periods to eat or take a seat- her appetite had become ravenous and she was carrying around much more weight than she was used to. There were also plasteel cylinders and cases full of things for the baby, for she would be staying with him at least for the first few months. Clothes for a baby, small and rwady to fit a premature baby, a few toys she had bought whilst on the Citadel station and the small village-like groups of buildings and shops that had started to develop on habitual parts of the planets surface. They were undisturbed by all- Bao and Mical, by now, had most likely told others that Ana had experienced a fainting spell earlier in the day, that Atton was caring for her, and had taken over any obligations they would have had to perform.

The preoccupation with moving rooms had staved away the fear for several hours, but now that she had nothing else to occupy her mind but worry, her tired brain was stressing and focusing everything on her worry and uncertainties.

What if… what if the baby doesn't make it? What if I start having a bad time and she dies because… because I was the one that caused it? What if we both die, or Atton does? I never should have allowed him to bond with us like that, if something goes wrong, he'll be in danger too…

"Ana?" He'd asked cautiously after noticing her sudden silence, her eerie staring, and she looked up with suddenly red eyes.

"I… I knew we shouldn't have done anything that night, a… and I know what we did may have been a mistake, and we shouldn't be having a baby against the wishes of the council like we are… but…" she heaved a great breath of air, "I was… I was really getting excited about… about being a mum and everything…" She let out a few stray sobs as Atton took a seat near her, not touching her, but remaining close should she need him, "And I was so mad at you and her when I found out, because I've been trying so hard to… t-to re-build the Order like it once was… and now this… but I never wanted anything to happen to her, Atton, I swear," He drew her close to him suddenly, and she moaned out, "I never wanted her to die, I didn't, I was scared…"

She could barely breathe through her nose now, it was so clogged, and Ana was taking in massive heaving sighs and gulps of air through sniffling and shocked sobs. He rocked her gently, not daring to do anything else, until the sobbing halted and she breathed in great gasps. She was still whispering, "I didn't mean it, I didn't want her to go away, I didn't…" and he tucked her head under his chin and stroked her hair.

She calmed down eventually; long enough for him to coax her shoes of her tired feet and gently push her into lying down on his low couch. She was in desperate need of a nap, even just a brief doze would help slightly, and she gave him a sleepy, sad little wave as she nodded off, exhausted and shaken.

He'd pottered around for the rest of the day, alternating between filling out reports and marking down the progress of the group of younglings he was training, to picking up stray pairs of underwear or the occasion sock from the floor. He tried to keep the noise levels to a bare minimum, but it was difficult to do so, every tiny sound seemed to make her shift ever so slightly.

He needed not worry, however- she slept until the sun began to retire behind the distant hills, waking as the light and warmth bearing down on her began to fade. He'd had the distant feeling she'd be awakening soon, and had already boil the kettle for one of the few Arkanian herbal teabags that were lying around that he'd pinched from her quarters. He'd gone cold-gizka when it came to the alcohol, and ginger spice tea tasted vaguely like juma juice, if he ignored the watery texture and over-bearing heat emanating from the cup.

She'd been understandably bleary upon waking up, but accepted the tea gratefully, watching the last few rays of the sun disappeared for another day. She yawned, and rubbed her eyes, and seemed genuinely surprised when they came away damp and gritty… before the memory came crashing down around her ears and the curious look on her face fell away into a hopeless expression that would never suit her.

He flopped down next to her on his low sofa, yawning softly. Rather than touch her, he just watched her sipping tea and shivering in the low temperature. The sun had disappeared behind the hills and clouds and a light breeze had become a thick, pollen filled wind that brought a deep chill into her blood and made her somehow feel worse.

"Maybe you ah… just head to bed. I'll sleep on the couch and you can take my room."

"I thought you had an extra room?" she queried, peering up at him, and he flushed a pale pink, suddenly shifty, the way a hild would be shifty and sheepish is someone caught him hand dipping into a candy jar.

Ana stood suddenly. "Atton… dammit, you haven't, I don't know, turned it into a spice lab, or, or, been brewing your own booze in there or something awful, have you?" All these months of faith and trust, and keeping him, just to have him fall back into old hard to break habits … to be reduced to this… just when she thought this would turn out alright and he'd be a good figure in her baby girl's life…

"No" he exclaimed sharply, stepping in front of her line of sight. But she dodged his outstretched arms, and ducked beneath his not nimble enough hands, slippery as a Manaan sea motana, and headed towards his spare room, sealed tightly and faintly smelling of chemicals. She opened the door expecting the worst-

And let out the tiniest of relieved sighs when a far more delightful sight greeted her tired eyes.

The room had been painted a pale, rose pink, not garish but not so subtle that it passed un-noticed. Small figures were painted along the wall closest to the door, of tiny Deralian butterflies and Joba Hawks. The ceiling had been coated in baby-blue swirled with greens and purples, matching the colour of the radiant sky outside. It took several seconds to realize that small clouds dotted the ceiling, contorting and weaving into obscure shapes- a gizka, a bird, a ship...

The tiny crib pushed against the wall looked years old, aged enough to be antique, and had been decked out properly with the softest blankets Atton would have been able to find. A little box sat on the only piece of furniture in the room besides the cot, filled with ribbons, and the smallest pair of shoes Ana had ever seen sat next to it. The room would have been otherwise empty except for a few boxes which, after closer inspection, were filled with soft toys and clothes, and bulkier packages seemed to contain parts of furniture- wooden furniture, as well, not cheap durasteel tables and chairs that were so common and popular. With the curtains pulled apart, revealing the bright crescent moon, the room was bathed in a gentle luster, lighting up any reflective surface it touched with a 'nother worldly glow.

"It was Bao's idea." Atton spoke suddenly from behind her, tentative, nervous, as if expecting disapproval or a humiliating rejection, "He, uh, realized a couple of weeks ago that we didn't have anywhere for her to sleep or anything when she was born..." She was still facing inward, staring at what he'd done in preparation, and he mumbled, "It's not finished yet... still need to set up a few things."

"You and Bao did this all by yourselves?" she asked wonderingly, edging her way forward as touching things lightly, as if trying to absorb it all at once. He chuckled, the sound rich and pleasant and not at all like his other sarcasm filled guffaws.

"Nash, once we started, everyone got in on act. Mira-" he pointed at the birds and creatures traced on the walls, "did that in her spare time, and Visas has been helping with the painting and stuff, and Blondie…" He gestured to the ceiling. "Bao had to do all of that, he was the only one tall enough, had to use sponges. And that mopey Admiral you like so very much, what's-his-name, Onami-"

"Onasi"

"Yeah. He found out and sent down from the station all of his little girls' old baby things that he didn't need any more but didn't want to chuck away. The cot's an antique, but he didn't want to sell it. He's been trying to pawn it off onto a pregnant woman to give it to for months." He smiled briefly, "So… he helped out a bit."

She nodded vaguely, still peering around, before her eyes fell upon something in the tiny chest, the light shimmering off of it. He shifted on the hardwood behind him, the boards creaking lightly, and a tiny voice in her head reminded her to put in carpeting once the baby could crawl and walk… but it was a long time in coming, and she was thinking months, years down the road…

The shining gold that had attracted her attention was a bracelet, a tiny bracelet that could be adjusted as per the wearers size, one encrusted with tiny scarlet lightsaber crystals chipped away from larger counterparts. On the largest, heaviest set gem, encased with white gold, and a tiny encryption in ancient Deralian, one that was the direct translation of her last name of Jassen. It was almost identical to one she described to Bao-Dur once when he asked her about her life before the Wars' once. He'd carefully recalled every detail for Atton, and remembered how she had mentioned that each female member of the family received one upon birth, and how it had been lost from her during a skirmish on Dxun. It was probably still there, rusting and degrading underneath meters of leaf litter and mud and bones of both Republic soldiers and Mandalorian warriors alike.

She had regretted, once her child was born, that she could not continue that tradition with her own girl, but thankfully, someone close to her- no, two people close to her- had cared enough to enforce something important to her. It was the only relic of her heritage she had left of hers, and she mourned the loss of her jewelry even now. Quietly, she tucked away a reminder in the back of her mind to buy her dear, old friend the largest bottle of Ithorian scotch she could find for him next time she was off-world.

"Atton… how the hell did you afford this?" She asked gently, lifting the bracelet up reverently, almost afraid of dropping such an exquisite, fragile loveliness.

He shrugged. "Pazaak is one hell of an income source. Win big once, and before you know it, the credits are pouring into your lap like cheap watered down juma." A tendril of hair flicked over his eyes but he ignored it. "And anyway, those blasters I got on Onderon from the tomb, the modified ones… I didn't need them with a 'sabre anymore, so I sold them when I was on the Citadel Station to the brother of that smuggler."

Ana felt suddenly guilty- he loved those blasters, they made him feel like he hadn't changed as much as he had, it held a remnant of his past that he could keep with him as some kind of reminder of his roots. It stung slightly to know he had sold prized possessions just to buy something of importance to her.

"You didn't have to do this."

He tried to flick the incessant lock of hair from his brow once again, but it was as stubborn as the rest of him, distracting them briefly enough to get their thoughts in order.

"Yeah I did." He was unyielding, and even though his previous gait and posture and voice had suggested otherwise, he was confident and uncompromising now, back in his domain, where flirtation and seduction was his area of expertise. Something she knew about- and had been subjected to- all too well.

Ana took a shaky step forward, palms sweaty and heart thudding in her gut, unpleasantly strong. Or perhaps the baby was rolling around in there, kicking against her belly, trying desperately to enter the harsh galaxy before her time.

"You could have let me arrange all of this. It… it almost seems like too much. It's sweet of you all do this."

She saw his swallow at the 'of you all', as if the mention of the others had diminished from his achievements here, and she blanched, shamed. She took another step, finally at arms length, and reached out, spreading her fingers across his chest, feeling the rapid heartbeat increase its tempo against his ribcage, the rise and fall of his chest as it heaved in breath after breath.

"You know…" She whispered, "In thirty-one years, nothing scared me more than learning our child had a problem… than the thought of losing you as well." Her arms dropped down to grasp his rough, larger hands in her sweaty palms, smiling sadly as he inched closer, yearning suddenly etched on his face.

She'd seen that look only once, the night after Malachor, when he'd pulled her over empty bottles and scattered cards to kiss her for the first time, and as he dipped his head to repeat the process, she relished the familiarity, and the differences that made this kiss so very unique. This one had a divergence in the desperation- the previous one, that had started the events leading to this wondrous moment, was more fueled by a raw desire he refused to hide from her. But now… it was quieter. It wasn't a passionate beginning of a full night of love-making, or a smaltsy excuse for a romantic scene from some ridiculous holonet scenario that made many young women fantasize about the perfect love. No… it was quiet and simple and fleeting, but held the same promise an old couple would still entail in their embraces, like newlyweds at the altar.

'This is right. This is what it's supposed to be. What it's supposed to feel like. Just a kiss. Not a grand statement, not a grandiose gesture for all the world. Just for us.'

He pulled away reluctantly, a faint, unfamiliar smile, humble and shy, that she wasn't sure she liked or not. The sincerity seemed lost on him, and she missed the scoundrel that had charmed her so well, had treated her like she was real, who felt solid and held her to the ground like a strong gravitational pull that leveled her out when she desperately needed it.

Atton stroked her cheek gently, and whispered in her ear, "Let's get you to bed, sweetness." She stiffened slightly at the proposition, pulling away and quirking an eyebrow slightly. He backtracked urgently, catching the comment and realizing how it could be construed as lewd. "Noooo… I meant you're tired still and… dammit!" He pulled away, running a hand through his rumpled hair, adjusting the tunic that had become slightly crumpled in their closeness. "Just… get to bed while I work at pulling my foot out of my mouth."

She couldn't help it- in situations like this there was nothing to do but giggle like a child in a quiet hall during an important ceremony- it's a taboo act, but at the same time it was impossible to halt once the fist laugh escaped lips. It bled everything from her- anxiety, shame, fear, all of it- even better than his gentle kisses. It was a lovely release, born of something stupid and pointless, and something that wasn't meant to be funny but was for insane reasons.

He turned, chastised, but her laughter was contagious and he let the slightest grin escape and disappear as fleeting as it had come when she sobered in an instant, licking her lips lightly, dragging her tongue over the dry redness.

He outstretched his hands, in a similar fashion to that of a few minutes ago, and she cautiously took it, threading her fingers through his.

She could have said so much to excuse her surprisingly willing behavior. She could have blamed it on stresses of the past few weeks, and the swirling emotions of the day, the highs and crushing lows. It could have been the hormonal imbalance that was causing her to act so rashly, in behavior that did not come to her easily. But none of it would be true. And it wouldn't change the fact that he was leading her to his bed, pulling off her shoes, tugging her outer tunic from her shoulders and lying her down carefully, closing his eyes as he did so.

And for the first time in months, they slept through the night, and were late for classes and meetings the next day, and neither cared.

Okay, bit rushed in the last few chapters, more angsty than the last chapter, but will get lighter- I swear. I had to leave it here in a bit of a rush because I realized I was pushing 10 000 words and was almost 21 pages. I know when to quit… sometimes. :D Hope you enjoyed despite its' length.