Chapter Text
The next morning, Padmé and Anakin rise early to enact their plans.
They’d talked about it, back when they’d first learned about the paintings and the possibility of sending Luke back had become a distinct possibility. Rolled up in their little nest of blankets, the lights turned so low that Anakin couldn’t even see his wife’s face, he had admitted to the terrifying sense of helpless and responsibility he felt when it came to the events of the other universe. And in the dark, Padmé has held him as he tried not to cry and this had been her suggestion.
“We’ll send Luke back, but not empty-handed,” she whispered into his curls. “Even if we can’t defeat the Sith lord of Luke’s home universe, we can make damn sure that Ben and Luke have every advantage possible.”
And so they planned.
This morning, Padmé dresses quickly and simply, then opens up her datapad, immediately tap-tap-tapping away. Anakin turns away, shrugging on his own tunics and tabards, so that he can finish packing up his own gift. He still has some shipments from Ilum and Coruscant that haven’t arrived yet, but Aayla and Plo Koon had answered his call for aid without hesitation and their legions are a lot closer, so he still has something to give.
He must be careful packing them up and for a while he had dithered over what to use, but Threepio’s already come up with a brilliant solution to that problem too. He focuses his attention on the pads of his fingers, carefully, gently shifting everything into place. He places a line of his gifts down across a length of scrap linen, then surrounds it with fragrant packing, then rolls the cloth tight around the resulting pile, repeating the process three times until he has three tightly wrapped, thin ropes that he can weave into a tight braid—after ten years as a Padawan, Anakin had gotten really good at braids.
Finally, he’s finished his braid and begins winding the cloth into a small, bundled spiral about the size of Padmé’s fist. They don’t know what the portal will allow through, but last time Luke had shown up wearing clothes, so it stands to reason that anything he carries will be fair game. Still, Anakin doesn’t want to push it too far and risk sending Luke back with nothing at all, so the smaller the better, he figures. He pauses just before he takes the final square of cloth, a second layer for extra security. He nods to Padmé.
She unplugs the datachip from her pad and carefully folds a piece of flimsy around it—her looping, curling handwriting disappearing from Anakin’s view as she creases the paper. She hands it to him wordlessly and he tucks the datachip into his bundle. He ties one last knot and then he’s done.
He and Padmé stare at the bundle for one, long moment, as musty brown and unremarkably grey as everything else in this tent, apart from a few scattering trinkets and outfits that belong to Padmé. These sort of camps are always filled with drab colors, the mud and despair seeming to mute even the brightest of colors, even the red spray of blood.
“Do you think it will be enough?” Padmé asks, but before Anakin can even open his mouth she shakes her head fiercely, as if to dislodge any such doubts from her own head. “Of course it will be. It has to be.”
With that, Anakin picks up their gift, cradling it gently between his hands as they make their way to the rendezvous point at the edge of the camp. It’s still just a little past dawn, but this is a military encampment, so of course, it’s already bustling—it never really stops, even in the middle of the night to be honest.
Anakin and Padmé are the last of their group to arrive—Rex, Cody, Ahsoka, Obi-Wan, and Luke. Everyone but the droids, really. Based on Vechon’s description they didn’t think that Threepio would be able to make it past the partially-caved in and rubble-filled passages down to the central chamber. Artoo had been torn, to allow his Master and Mistress into danger without him or leave his friend alone, but Anakin had soothed the loyal little droid’s overheated circuits by reminding him that someone had to stay behind and help keep Threepio calm if the worst happened—to call for help and to warn the Council about Palpatine. And so Threepio and Artoo had said their own goodbyes last night, Luke tearfully promising to find them in his own universe—no one had had the heart to tell him that if Anakin and Padmé were dead, it was likely their beloved droids had been blown to scrap metal long ago.
“Okay, then, let’s head out—” Obi-Wan begins, stopping abruptly as Padmé clears her throat.
“We have something for Luke. A gift. We’d like to give it to him now,” she says quietly. Luke stares up at them, his gaze wide and curious as Anakin bends down and tucks a small bundle in between the fold of Luke’s tunic and his skin.
He pauses, laying one hand on top of the bundle and using the other to bring Luke’s small hand up to join his. There is nothing now in this moment—not Rex or Ahsoka, not Obi-Wan, not even Palpatine, just Anakin and Luke.
“What’s that?” Luke asks, frowning. He inhales deeply. “It smells good.”
“It’s called tzai,” Anakin says, equally as quiet as his wife. “It’s a special tea the slaves of Tatooine share with their family—only family. Everyone has a different recipe—this one is mine, the Skywalker tzai.”
In the background, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka inhale sharply—a puzzle piece has clicked into place and he almost hear the hundreds of questions clamoring at their tongues, but he pushes it aside for now.
“S-aye,” Luke repeats, his small tongue tripping over the unfamiliar syllables. Anakin winces a bit at the butchering of his mother tongue.
“Your Obi-Wan will recognize it—I shared it with him many times, though I doubt he understood what it meant. And now I would like you to share it with him as well,” he says. Anakin smiles briefly. “But that is more of a happy accident than anything else—I needed something soft to pack the kyber crystals in and Threepio suggested that dried herbs would work well.”
“What? Real kyber—like the crystals your lightsabers use?” Luke is gaping.
“Yup. You told Cody that you could never make a lightsaber of your own, only borrow Ben’s, because all the kyber was gone, taken by the Sith,” Anakin explains. “So I got together what I could—we keep extras on hand to avoid having to trek all the way out to Illum in the middle of siege. What’s in this bundle comes from Obi-Wan and I’s stashes, as well as those of Aayla Secura and Plo Koon.”
“Plo Koon!” Luke breathes. “No way. I can make a lightsaber…from kyber…handpicked by the Plo Koon?”
“Yup. And if you find a new planet—one cold and windy, just like the crystals like—you may be able to use these crystals to start a new Illum, to grow crystals for not just yourself and Fulcrum and Ben, but for all the Force-users you can recruit to your cause. I don’t know the specifics, but I’m sure Ben can figure it out.”
“We can bring the Jedi back!” Luke whispers, his fingers spasming in excitement.
“If that’s what you want, yes,” Anakin agrees. Padmé kneels down beside her husband and lays a hand on his shoulder.
“Inside you will also find a small datachip, my own gift to you and your Obi-Wan,” she explains. “It will allow Ben to access some of my secret accounts. Long ago, when my life was in danger, one of my handmaidens insisted on making a series of shadow bank accounts, in case I should ever need to drop everything and run. They are a complete secret, apart from myself and my handmaidens, so they should provide you and your father with a safe, but reliable source of funding.”
Luke watches her, wide-eyed.
“We know that the money won’t solve all of your problems,” Anakin says, “but it should help.”
“Indeed,” Padmé agrees. She pauses. “And—should any of my handmaidens still…live in your universe, they will be alerted of the withdrawals and come to investigate. If that happens, then you are to use the code phrase written on the flimsi inside that bundle—Varykino is cold in the summer. Repeat after me, Luke.”
“Var-i-kino is cold in the summer,” he parrots dutifully. Padmé smiles and ruffles his hair.
“Tell them that phrase, tell them your story, tell them of the Sith and the Rebellion and your journey here and then…and then they will go to war for you,” she promises him. “They have served me loyally and without fail for many years, I know they will do no less for my nephew.”
Luke nods solemnly. Anakin gives the boy one last, encouraging smile and then he and Padmé rise as one and draw backwards. They glance around.
“We’re ready now,” Padmé says, her voice clear and determined.
***
The trek to the chamber deep in the heart of the Temple ruins is a long and treacherous one and it’s a relief when Anakin can finally feel the air getting less stale and see the faint gleam of light ahead. He’s been the leading the way for most of the journey—they’ve been relying on his strength in the Force to levitate away the worst of the falling rubble and near-miss cave-ins. Obi-Wan and Ahsoka focus on shielding their party, leaving Anakin to make sure that the way forward remains unblocked. It’s exhausting work, requiring constant physical and mental alertness, and Anakin can feel the sweat beading on his forehead and the loosened stone and dust sticking to that sweat.
He sighs in relief and glances back with a wild grin.
“I see it!” he calls out, before slithering through a hole in the tunnel—it may have once been a full-sized door, but now Anakin needs to fold himself nearly in half to get through. He falls to the ground with an oomph—he really was not expecting that seven-foot drop. Anakin glances around. “When you said chamber, I was imagining something a lot smaller.”
Cody and Padmé emerge, equally coated in the white-grey dust of this whole Temple. Padmé coughs, but even that can’t stop her wide-eyed wonder.
“What—where’s the light coming from? We must be hundreds of feet below ground.” she breathes, as she takes in the gloriously shining stone surrounding them, shining brightly as if lit from within. Cody reaches back and grabs Luke underneath his armpits, helping him into the chamber. The brightness flares suddenly and a near-inaudible susurration picks up, echoing from one end of the chamber to the other.
“It’s the kyber in our lightsabers,” Obi-Wan explains as he drops down next to Luke. “And the crystals in that bundle you gave him. There must be some small amount in the stone itself and they’re lighting up, calling out to each other. You should see Ilum.”
Rex and Ahsoka follow next, Rex collapsing in an ungraceful heap next to Ahoska’s lithe, crouched landing. Rex stays where he is for a moment, craning his neck back and staring up at the ceiling, at least a hundred feet above them, as he lets out a whistle.
But Anakin, Ahsoka, Luke, and Obi-Wan’s attention has already been inexorably pulled to the center of the room, to the large, impossibly still pool in the center of the room. It would almost look a mirror—maybe it was a mirror, but Obi-Wan had been clear that it was definitely water of some kind—if it wasn’t for the pulsing, throbbing knot of the Force emanating from the thing.
Luke shrinks back in fear.
Obi-Wan places both hands on his son’s shoulders.
“Be brave, now, little one,” he whispers. “We’re right here with you.”
Luke inhales deeply and glances back up at Obi-Wan before nodding. They approach the pool silent, barely daring to breathe let alone speak. Then they’re standing at the very edge of the pool and Luke closes his eyes, as instructed. Anakin wants to look away as the boy scrunches his face up in pain, his little fingernails digging into his palms—but he can’t interfere. They need one of Luke’s tears—the tears of Traveler missing home—to activate the portal, at least according to that crazy painting.
Anakin tracks the course of one, silvery tear as it wends its way down Luke’s chubby cheek, then to his chin, where it hangs for one, two, three breaths and then…it falls.
For a moment, Anakin feels the crushing onset of disappointment, when absolutely nothing changes and then—
Rex grabs both Padmé and Anakin and jerks them backwards, as the pool begins to shake and—rotate? It’s eerily silent the whole time—everything Anakin sees tells him that there should be some sort planet-shaking, deafening roar to accompany the terrible visual disturbance unfolding in front of him.
Obi-Wan has already grabbed Luke, scrambling away to the far edge of the chamber with Ahsoka and Cody, as the pool really does begin to rotate and move, the water remaining as impossibly still and reflective as before as it comes to a stop ninety degrees from its starting position—no longer just a pool but a gateway, a portal.
It is like looking into a mirror and not, looking into water and not, and looking into air and not at the same time. Every cell in his body screams that this wrong, wrong, wrong—but even as he wants to turn away, he can see Luke, drifting forward, his eyes wide and round as his universe calls him home.
Luke turns to them with a wild smile.
“It worked!” he says, voice echoing strangely and despite himself, despite the heaviness in the air, Anakin can feel the corners of his mouth pulling up into a smile. Luke is hugging goodbye to Cody and a relieved smile is blooming on Obi-Wan’s face as Padmé and Ahsoka squeeze each other’s arms in a loose hug, as if to remind themselves that it truly did work and they truly did succeed.
But Anakin…Anakin can’t look away from the sucking, rippling-but-not-rippling surface, his own reflection staring back at himself. He watches his mirror self frown, puzzled and…the constant swirl of the Force is making him feel—feel…he doesn’t know what. In fact, he can hardly hear the Force over the roar and pull but—
Anakin’s eyes widen and his hand flies to his lightsaber.
“Something’s coming through!” he shouts. Padmé goes pale and she grabs at Luke, dragging him backwards, away from the portal, and then behind her. The rest of their group falls into a defensive circle, sabers and guns held at the ready as they keep their eyes focused firmly on the strange, rippling void in the center of the room.
“It’s a two-way connection,” Obi-Wan mutters, as he flexes his free hand and prepares his muscles for battle. “That’s what the warning meant—you can go through, but you can’t stop someone on the other end from doing the same. If someone else was in the Temple when we opened the portal, if they sensed the disturbance…”
“And the last thing Luke remembers from his universe is hiding from a Sith stalking him through the Temple,” Cody growls, finishing the terrible realization for his general as he thumbs the safety on his blaster. “Karking fierfek.”
Rex swears in Mando’a.
The liquid air of the portal begins to bulge and reform, almost as if something is pushing through a thin but strong film. The air breaks without warning, the film washing away to reveal the invader beneath and—
“Luke!”
A voice cracks across the silence, hoarse and brimming with a tangled web of hope and fear, emanating from a man in a simple, brown robe.
He flips his hood back, to reveal a strong, wrinkled face—weathered and haggard, but undeniably Obi-Wan.
“Ben!” Luke shrieks, as Padmé’s hands go slack and he fights his way out of her protective grip and their defensive circle. A split-second later and he’s already charging across the open space of the Temple ruins, face alight with joy and small legs somehow eating up the ground beneath him as if it is nothing but air. Anakin stumbles a little then begins to rush after him, a simple instinctual reaction.
Anakin slows to a stop, then halts just a few feet away as Obi-Wan—no, Ben, it feels wrong to call this man who looks both so much and so little like his Master, Obi-Wan— bends down and catches Luke’s hurtling figure with ease, picking up and swinging him around before drawing him close and clutching the boy to his chest.
“It’s alright, Luke, I’m here now, I’m here, it’s okay,” he murmurs soothingly, voice breaking. He sounds as if he’s trying to reassure himself as much as his son. His hands shift and smooth at Luke’s downy hair.
Anakin hovers awkwardly. Ben glances up and stiffens, rotating so that his body now forms a barrier between Luke and Anakin.
“Anakin,” Ben says, quietly, brokenly. He pauses, searching for words. “I—Anakin.”
Anakin smiles back, hesitant.
“Your son’s a great kid,” he says, gesturing to Luke. The boy beams and Ben seems to clutch even tighter at him. “You did good by him, Master.”
Ben lets loose a half-sob, half-laugh.
“Oh, my old friend, you have no idea how much that means to me,” he manages to say. He hesitates, looking strangely lost. “I must warn you—”
“That Palpatine is the Sith Master?” Anakin asks, quirking an eyebrow. “Yeah, Luke told us. Don’t worry, we’ve got a plan.”
“Knowing your definition of a plan, that is not the least bit reassuring,” Ben says, the faintest of smiles at the corner of his lips. Anakin shrugs.
“Don’t worry—Padmé and Ahsoka are doing most of the planning,” he quips. Ben glances back, eyes roving over their small group. Pain flashes across the Force for a moment, but then Ben’s eyes widen and he glances quickly down to Luke.
“You…?” he begins, trailing off. Luke nods quickly, smiling uncertainly.
“I met them all,” he says. “But I didn’t say anything—you’ve always said I had to keep it a secret, no matter what. I wasn’t sure what the rules were with time travel, but better safe than sorry, yeah?”
“Dimension travel,” Ben corrects, the same way Obi-Wan had at the beginning of this whole mess. Ben’s voice is distant as he drinks in each member of their little goodbye party. There’s a pained sort of longing painted across his face. “But, yes, I think you made the right decision.”
Anakin glances between Ben and Luke, feeling very much like he is once more a youngling, Obi-Wan and the other Knights speaking over his head in strange, half-riddles he can barely grasp. He frowns, opens his mouth, a thought half-formed, then—
“You feel…quieter. More at ease,” Ben says, abruptly, his eyes zeroing in sharply on Anakin. Anakin resists the urge to hunch his shoulders.
“Yeah. Um, you’ve been helping me with that. We’re trying to find a meditation technique that works.”
Ben frowns.
“I don’t remember—”
“Uh, yeah. Probably never did that in your universe, I don’t…I don’t like asking for help, you know. But. Some things happened and well. I’m trying now.” He pauses awkwardly as pain rips across Ben’s face, fumbling for words. “It’s not…there’s not…I mean, I don’t think there’s anything you could have done. For your Anakin. I think that’s what’s bothering you, yeah? But, it was all Luke, really. He helped me realize some things and so I talked to my Obi-Wan and…here we are.”
“Here you are,” Ben echoes, that same, terrible maw of pain emanating off him. Luke watches them both closely, eyes darting to Ben, then Anakin, then back again. Anakin bites his lip.
He can’t save Ben and his universe, maybe, but he can give him this.
“He’d want you to know—and I think I’m a pretty good authority on what your Anakin would have wanted, yeah? And I know he never would have told you this to your face, but…you’re my brother, Obi-Wan. I love you. He loved you.”
Something cracks across the Force, like lightening flashing in the desert and Anakin almost doubles over from the pain, but then…then there’s relief. As if Anakin had just lanced a deep, festering wound.
Ben swallows, the sound loud in the odd silence surrounding the portal.
“And I you, Anakin,” he murmurs, something close to tears sparkling in his eyes. There’s a long, aching drawn out moment. Then, Ben shakes himself out of his reverie, abruptly breaking their staring contest by glancing back to the open portal. “Ah, well, we need to get going before that closes.”
He steps backward, just one step at a time, never quite taking his eyes off Anakin. There’s a brief hesitation, then a flash of mischief, so painfully like the gleam in Obi-Wan’s—the real Obi-Wan, Anakin’s Obi-Wan—eyes. He murmurs something unintelligible to Luke, whose eyes light up with identical, devious glee. Suddenly, Luke twists his body so that he can wave madly back to Anakin and the others.
“Bye Uncle Cody! Bye Uncle Rex! Bye Socks! Bye Young Ben!” he calls out. Ben’s face is unbearably, heartbreakingly fond. Luke turns his attention to Padmé and Anakin. “Bye Mama! Bye Papa! I’m so glad I got to meet you. I’ll miss you every day, but I know you love me lots and I’m so proud to be a Naberrie. And don’t worry, Ben is taking good care of me, just like he promised you.”
Anakin freezes, chokes. Behind him, he can hear Obi-Wan doing the same exact thing.
“Wait, what—”
“And I think that’s our cue to leave,” Ben says, like bantha-shit eating little bringer of chaos that he is.
Anakin starts forward, just as Ben and Luke fall backwards into thin air.
“Obi-Wan Kenobi, don’t you kriffing dare—ARGH!” Anakin is cut off by the sight and sound of the portal popping out of existence.
Anakin whirls around.
Something ripples through the Force and Padmé’s hands fly to her currently flat stomach.
“Oh,” she whispers.
Obi-Wan’s eye twitches and the silence drags on for a long, crystalline moment.
Then, a snorting, shaking, belly-aching laugh.
“You let a Skywalker wear the 212’s colors,” Rex crows, turning to his brother with a wild gleam in his eyes. Ahsoka’s lip twitch, but Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Padmé are still frozen, still staring at her stomach as the entire world shifts and slots into place. “A Skywalker, in 212 yellow, ha!”
Cody scowls.
“He’s as much as Kenobi as a Skywalker,” Cody says, defensively. “You heard him, Ben’s raised him since he was a baby, he’s basically the only father Luke’s ever known.”
“Still counts,” Ahsoka replies, in a singsong voice. She and Rex exchange a high five, still laughing uproariously at Cody’s distress. Their laughter peters out as Ahsoka’s eyes flicker to Padmé, who has gone absolutely bone white. Ahsoka reaches out to grasp her shoulder, brow furrowed. “Padmé, are you okay?”
“I thought—I suspected when I first saw him, he looked so much like Anakin, so much…” Padmé’s voice is whisper thin and bone dry. She swallows, then gives a half-hysterical giggle. “Luke’s not even a Mandalorian name, Satine would never name her son that…why did I let them convince me otherwise?” Suddenly her eyes narrow as her head snaps up. She slaps the back of Obi-Wan’s head. “You didn’t do a genetic test!” she shrieks. “You told me you were sure, but you didn’t do a godsdamned genetic test!”
This slap seems to shake Obi-Wan out of his stupor.
“This is not my fault,” he shoots back, voice rising. “How was I supposed to know that you were going to get knocked up in the middle of a galactic civil war? I’m not the one who decided it was a good idea to have sex without adequate access to birth control!”
“Oh, that wasn’t me—blame your padawan! Just-this-once-Padmé and it-will-be-okay-Padmé and what-could-possibly-go-wrong-Padmé.”
Together they whirl on Anakin, brown and blue eyes flashing.
He backs up and gulps.
“ANAKIN SKYWALKER!” Obi-Wan roars. “I MADE DAMN SURE YOU KNEW HOW TO USE CONTRACEPTIVES. WAS IT A FUN CONVERSATION? NO. DID I WANT TO HAVE THAT CONVERSATION? NO. BUT DID I DO IT ANYWAYS? YES, BECAUSE I WAS TRYING TO PREVENT EXACTLY THIS SORT OF MESS—YOU BANTHA-BRAINED, IDIOTIC NERFHERDER!”
“Fifty credits says Anakin doesn’t make it out of this one with all four limbs,” Ahsoka says to Rex.
“No deal, he’s already missing an arm, and I feel like the Senator and General Kenobi will have a lot fewer qualms about damaging the mechno-arm”
Ahsoka’s eyes light up.
“One hundred credits says they detach Anakin’s mechno-arm and use it to bitch-slap him,” she says as she and Rex shake on it. Anakin glares at them with one eye as he keeps another careful eye on the advancing figures of Padmé and Obi-Wan.
“Uh, a little help here?” he says, desperately.
“Look, I’m already helping you with this whole Sith lord business—I think that’s more than enough danger to my life without throwing in an angry Padmé Amidala and Obi-Wan Kenobi,” Ahsoka explains, sounding perfectly calm and reasonable as she inspects her nails. Anakin turns his beseeching eyes upon Rex, who only shrugs.
“I want first dibs on second-favorite uncle, so I need to stay on the Senator’s good side for now,” he explains.
“Please,” Anakin begs.
Finally, it is Cody who clears his throat.
“General,” he says, quietly. “Perhaps we could redirect some of that rage into our plans to thwart Palpatine? We need Skywalker alive and in fighting shape for that.”
Obi-Wan pauses and inhales. He throws up a finger and points it at Anakin.
“This isn’t over,” he promises as he grits his teeth.
“I take everything back, you’re my favorite,” Anakin says, fervently, gratefully looking to Cody. The Commander only purses his lips and wrinkles his nose.
“We’ll have to reformat our plans, sir,” Cody continues. “This changes things.”
“Of course,” Obi-Wan agrees. “Our timeline has accelerated. And we’ll have to make sure Senator Amidala can stay out of sight and out of danger.”
“Like hell I will!” Padmé cries, hotly. “I will not sit idly by and let my son be born into a Galaxy ruled by a Sith tyrant.”
“Padmé,” Anakin says, aghast. “I know you want to help, but it’s not just you anymore, I can’t—what if…I can’t let you do that! What if something happened to you? To Luke?”
“I don’t think you can stop her,” Rex points out. “She did apparently start an entire Rebellion over in the other universe.”
“I’m not going to be reckless,” Padmé clarifies, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t help. And my particular brand of help, my politicking, requires a certain amount of visibility. Besides, we still have a few more months before I start showing and even after, I can use my wardrobe and my handmaidens to hide my condition.”
“I don’t think you know how not to be reckless,” Obi-Wan sighs and rubs at his temples. He glances between her and Anakin. “Either of you. And it will be hard to protect you while we’re in the Outer Rim waging this farce of a war. It’s not unreasonable to be worried, Senator.”
“So I’ll look after her and the kid,” Ahsoka declares, crossing her arms. She and Rex share a look and after a long moment, Rex inclines his head. “Rex and I have been talking and…well, we didn’t want to tell you like this, but when it’s time for me to head back to Coruscant, he’s going to go AWOL and join me. I need someone watching my back and there’s no one I trust more. We’ll keep an eye on things in Coruscant, including any threats to Padmé.”
“And we can be there for her when she needs to go in for any check-ups. She shouldn’t be alone for that,” Rex adds. Everyone turns and stares at him. His cheeks go pink as he continues in a mutter. “I did some research after we figured out who Luke was—or who we thought he was, at any rate. There’s pictures and stuff they can take, to make sure the baby’s healthy.”
“I—I didn’t even think of that,” Padmé says, sounding overwhelmed. She smiles and reaches out to squeeze Ahsoka and then Rex’s hands. “I’d like that very much.”
“See, a plan!” Ahsoka crows, punching at Anakin’s shoulder, as they begin to trudge out of the Temple. Anakin and Padmé engage in a staring contest for several more long, drawn out seconds. Then, Anakin feels his shoulders sag and he holds his arms out to Padmé. She falls into them.
“A child…” Anakin whispers, repeatedly slowly at first, but then with wild joy. “We’re going to be parents. Padmé, we’re going to have a family. Wait—why…are you crying?”
“Happy tears, Ani. Happy tears.”” she sniffles. She inhales, wet and noisy, and not all like Anakin is used to hearing from his wife. She steps back, though she keeps a firm, almost painful grip on Anakin’s arm as she scrubs at her glistening eyes with her free hand. She exhales. “And now that we’ve sorted all of that out, I believe it is well past time for us to overthrow the Chancellor of the Republic.”
“Three cheers to that!” Ahsoka agrees.
Anakin’s chest swells, pushing back the tide of hopelessness and despair for one crucial moment—he’d always hoped they’d win, of course, but against all of Palpatine’s plans and power it had seemed a little bit more like wishful thinking. But now, after having met Luke and having caught a glimpse of exactly who they’re fighting for, he can feel the hope and determination pulsing in himself, in Padmé, in Ahsoka and Obi-Wan and Rex and even Cody…Around him the Force sings its agreement and Anakin silently thanks it for sending Luke to them.
A gentle tendril caresses his mind, a barely-there impression of you’re welcome left behind.
Anakin knows they have less than nine months to do the impossible and right this crazy, broken galaxy, to make sure that his son is born into peace, but he knows they can do it now. Besides, Obi-Wan’s always liked to say Anakin does his best work under a deadline.
Ahsoka and Rex turn and fall in line, marching forward to clear a path for their trudge back through the treacherous tunnels.
And if Anakin is just a little more paranoid about making sure Padmé doesn’t twist her ankle on a stray piece of rubble, is just a tad more solicitous than he normally is, holding out his hands for support and gently picking Padmé up to help her across particularly large cracks in the stone—well, no one comments on it out loud, anyways.
Behind him, he can hear Obi-Wan and Cody muttering to each other.
“I barely survived one Skywalker, what in the Sith hells am I going to do with two?” Obi-Wan says, still sounding shell-shocked.
“Just think, sir,” Cody consoles, patting Obi-Wan on the back, “it could have been twins.”
***
seven months, several death-defying heroics, and one very dead sith lord later…
“Hey, Obi-Wan, remember how Rex and Ahsoka took Padmé to the obstetrician a couple months back and Rex’s chip set off one of the scanners? Well, funny story that I kinda forgot to tell you, what with the whole us trying frantically to prevent the clones from becoming chipped slaves of an evil Sith, which really, was probably the more important revelation at that appointment anyways…”
“Ani, just tell him.”
“I’m trying! I’m just terrible at this. It’s just well—Are you sitting? I feel like you should be sitting for this.”
“Oh Force, is Luke okay? I didn’t even think to ask—”
“No, no, no—Luke’s fine, I swear, that’s not it—he’s fine. He’s just…not alone. Um, turns out we’re having twins. A boy and a girl, surprise! Uh…Obi-Wan, are you still there? Oh no. Oh no—Padmé, he has that look in his eyes, I told you I shouldn’t have been the one to tell him, shit, shit, shit—”