A year and ten months ago...

Chancellor Palpatine's manor house on Coruscant was built after the classic style on his homeworld: lavish without the impression of decadence, airy without the impression of wasted space. It was ironic that the swarm of servants, clones, and police officers only made the high-ceilinged rooms feel emptier.

Anakin had only visited him here on a few occasions, but every time he left the small storage room he and Ahsoka were using to question the servants, he was struck by a deep sense of familiarity. The departed chancellor's presence was an almost physical thing that suffused the place with warmth. That warmth comforted him some – but mostly it made him hyperaware every intrusion by the investigative team was deconstructing more and more of its mystery, reducing Sheev Palpatine to cold facts with none of the soul he'd had in life.

Anakin hated that he was in charge of finding those facts. It wasn't the Jedi way to hate anything (even a Jedi who'd known life in chains, who'd known hatreds older than stars and deeper than oceans of sand), but he'd never been a perfect Jedi.

"That Zygerrian woman was the last person from the chancellor's staff left to speak with," Ahsoka said, navigating her way through the morass of people without looking up from her datapad. "Those who live on site in the servants' quarters have cams footage to back them up, and those who don't – like her – have airtight alibis."

"I expected as much."

Ahsoka frowned. "You did?"

Anakin spied a loose thread on his tabard, and crossed his arms to keep from picking at it. It wasn't right to avoid her scrutiny, even when he was distracted by feelings he would not find answers about the chancellor's death here; that they were going about this the wrong way. He sensed there was a deeper enigma behind all this, one that could not be reduced to hard facts that only further distanced it from the truth. It was difficult to project calmness when he was itching to fight his way to whoever or whatever had orchestrated it and demand they return things to normal.

"Listen," he said finally. "I know we're supposed to be impartial in this, or as impartial as we can be, considering how well I know– knew him. But the chancellor was as strong as a man ten years younger; any Jedi who went to see him would've sensed it. I can't believe he died of natural causes. If this was engineered, we won't have it easy finding loose ends like missing alibis to unravel."

"Uh-huh. Meaning you didn't sense anything amiss when you saw him last," Ahsoka quipped, blatantly ignoring his point. "You're going off your own judgment."

"I didn't sense anything, but the last time I saw him was six weeks ago, and–" Anakin smiled as he deciphered her neutral tone and caught the jibe within. "How very un-Padawan-like of you, questioning me so offhandedly!"

"Sorry, Master," Ahsoka said. Across their bond he could tell at least half-meant it, which was a good deal more repentant than usual.

Anakin chuckled. As she matured, Ahsoka had gained an understanding of rank in the Order she'd lacked earlier in her apprenticeship. But the longer they spent together, the less any of it seemed to matter. Now, Anakin saw her much more as a member of his family than a hapless youngling in need of protection: a younger sister he trusted, and a comrade in arms who fought beside him on equal ground.

She'd be ready for Knighting, soon – another two years, if Obi-Wan's estimate was right. Anakin had a feeling Ahsoka would outpace even that projection (and his own notable record) and make full Knight long before she turned nineteen.

"So, tell me about this Zygerrian," he said. He had to focus on the present, as nice as it was to imagine the not-too-distant future.

"Her name is Tanil Vitej, but just as it was for the others, there's not much to tell." Ahsoka's presence in the Force darkened in suspicion, belying her words.

"But you think there's more," he prompted, nudging her through their bond.

Ahsoka raised a white brow incredulously. "This from you, SkyGuy? Don't you remember what Queen Miraj did to you?"

Anakin shot her a fleeting grimace – a practiced expression that hid the real shiver of discomfort beneath. Memories assailed him: rotted, evil things he felt worming around under his skin. "Only too well. But we have to keep an open mind. Just like Pong Krell's actions don't define the rest of us Jedi, the actions of a few slavers don't define the entire Zygerrian species."

Ahsoka looked doubtful, but she didn't press him. He'd been unresponsive enough about the topic of slavery in the past to discourage her questions. Not that he cared, of course; he'd put Zygerria out of his mind quickly, and the rest of it was years in the past. But she didn't have to share in the burden of those experiences.

"Still," she said at length, "Vitej is a recent immigrant from Zygerria. With Queen Miraj in Dooku's pocket, that system is Confederate in everything but name."

"I'll leave investigating her – and any other members of the staff who have a history with Separatist worlds – to you, if you feel so strongly about this." Anakin sighed. "It's not like we have any other real leads, anyway."

"What about the organic tissue scans? And are the guys from poison control done sweeping for toxins yet?"

"I, uh..." Oh, right. That was what Anakin had left the storage room to check on. "I was about to get to that. I got distracted, for a second."

Ahsoka's eyes softened, and she flooded their bond with empathy. "Let's go ask them, then," she said, putting a gentle hand on his arm to turn him toward the group of police specialists operating the scanners.

They only got halfway across the wide corridor when a familiar presence cut through Ahsoka's warmth, as sharp as a knife in its anger. Anakin stopped dead, his head whipping up to face the closed double doors into the manor's ample foyer. The wooden doors were thick – a deep, sturdy mahogany – but they did little to muffle the yelling match that had suddenly erupted just beyond.

"I beg your pardon? I do too have the clearance to see the chancellor, and the influx of refugee from Neutral worlds is an urgent matter! Let me pass this instant!"

"Padmé," Anakin breathed, his heart singing.

"I'm sorry, Senator Amidala, but the Chancellor is indisposed at the moment," came the tinny reply of one of the protocol droid butlers. "Please return later."

"Chancellor Palpatine has been absent from the Senate for three full days, and he hasn't been answering my calls. I've been feeling unwell lately myself, but if he's too ill to accommodate me, I must speak with him so the necessary authority can be given to a representative to act in his place."

Padmé's voice had dropped to an almost civil volume, and the change was stark. Anakin grinned, recognizing the tactic from the Senate floor (and even from a few arguments of their own). Padmé's fire wasn't spent yet – not even close – but her sudden quiet would make the droid think she was calmer, and willing to negotiate.

"I will take a message to him, Senator. Rest assured, someone will contact you shortly. Have a good– oh, Senator, I really must protest–"

Padmé's presence abruptly drew nearer. The droid's guard had gone down, and she'd seized the opportunity to slip past it. Anakin's love for her swelled, and his smile grew before he realized what that meant.

This was an investigation into the chancellor's death. Police and clones filled the hallway around him, comparing notes or cordoning off furniture for more in-depth analysis. None of these were things Padmé was meant to know about.

"Ahsoka!" he snapped, and ran into the sitting room next door without glancing back to see she was following.

The foyer was a square space open until the exposed anding on the second floor, with elegant staircases on either side curving up to a reception area meant for state engagements. Beneath the landing were the double doors that led into the hallway, the main artery in the manor and obvious choice if one wanted to reach the chancellor quickly.

But on the adjoining walls beneath each staircase there were also doors, these ones less ornate, which led into the sitting room and a conference room across the way. If Anakin could get through before Padmé reached the keypad on the door–

Anakin burst into the foyer, straightening up and rolling his shoulders to shake off any sign he'd just been running. With his best smile at the ready, he called, "Senator Amidala, I thought I heard your voice!"

Padmé turned to him, and her mouth fell open in surprise. Thankfully, her hand fell away from where it was mere inches away from the keypad, too.

Immediately she made her way toward him, hurriedly righting her deep blue tunic and ornate wig as she went. Time seemed to slow, and Anakin nearly sighed. Even dishevelled and flushing through her makeup, she was the most beautiful person he'd ever seen.

"Anakin," she whispered as she came to a stop. A few natural curls escaped the wig at the temples, soft and glossy, and Anakin had to fold his hands behind his back to keep from tucking them back into place. "Ani, I–"

The sitting room door opened again to admit a flurry of brown and red fabric. Ahsoka opened her mouth, but just as quickly shut it. As she nodded to Padmé, a note of deference slinked along their bond to him – unspoken signals that Ahsoka would take her cues from him until the situation was resolved.

But not without slipping a wisecrack in first. "Should we turn away, or something?" she muttered as she came up beside him. She eyed Padmé's hastily reordered clothing, and grinned. "Padmé Amidala in a wardrobe malfunction feels like something mortals eyes were never meant to witness."

Anakin snorted, thinking of the times he'd seen Padmé's outfits askew in the privacy of her penthouse suite – many of which had been by his own hand. Ahsoka caught a hint of it through their bond and made a gagging noise. Anakin socked her on the shoulder to silence her, and hoped his face wasn't too red.

"What are the two of you doing here?" Padmé asked. "I thought Chancellor Palpatine wasn't seeing anyone, and last I heard you were in the Expansion Region."

There was a bite to her words, but Anakin understood where she was coming from. She'd probably tried to contact Palpatine for days only to learn someone else – her secret husband, no less – had been given priority. Padmé believed in systems, but not even administrative roadblocks escaped her ire when lives were at stake.

It was one of the reasons he'd fallen in love with her deeply enough to marry her, but right now it only made him feel guilty. Her stare grew more penetrating by the second, and it stole all his excuses and apologies right out of his mouth.

"Well, we, uh– Ahsoka and I came back because we had to, um... speak with the chancellor?" Anakin winced, and tried to backtrack before Padmé got suspicious. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you'd been waiting, and, uh–"

"The day is as good as won on Cato Neimoidia. Given the Trade Federation's presence there, Master Yoda sent us to brief the chancellor with the details," Ahsoka broke in, the lie so smooth Anakin felt distinctly proud before the teacher in him remembered this kind of behavior usually called for rebuke. She raised a brow at him, and Anakin flashed her a grateful smile.

"We... got held up in the Temple hangar, and by the time we got here, the chancellor was no longer taking callers," he said, following Ahsoka's lead. He jabbed a thumb back at the double doors. "There's a huge line-up. The Council thought it was smart to get around the chancellor's communications backlog by speaking to him in person, but everyone from Senators' aides to GAR reps had the same idea."

Padmé crossed her arms low over her torso, her hands tucked along the sides of her stomach like she was hugging herself. "I see. I didn't anticipate a long wait, but I suppose I don't have a choice." She smiled faintly, then headed back toward the double doors. "At least I'll be in good company, with the two of you here."

Twin expressions of panic flashed across Ahsoka and Anakin's faces. Ahsoka reacted first, hiking up her cloak and scrambling after Padmé. "Or, um, I could," she stammered, putting a hand on Padmé's shoulder to stop her.

Padmé frowned. "You could what?"

"Good idea, Ahsoka," Anakin said, snaking around the two women until he stood between Padmé and the door. "We overheard that you'd been feeling unwell?"

"Yes..." Something strange flashed in her eyes, and Anakin knew there was more to it than that.

Ahsoka smiled blandly. Whatever it was that Padmé was hiding, she hadn't caught it. "I'm sure you're very busy, too," Ahsoka said. "I can wait in line on both your behalf. If it advances enough to get me an audience with Chancellor Palpatine before the day is up, I can have him comm you once I've given my report."

"Wait, what?" Anakin interrupted, only just catching that he wasn't being counted among the people who were staying to wait. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Be a gentleman and see her home, Master. What else?"

She said it a little too cheerily to be natural. Anakin reached out to touch her aura, and scowled when he found she was trying not to laugh. In a flash, he recalled her insistence that he speak with Padmé to ease his mind. She'd seen a chance to make that so, and taken it. Now chivalry required that Anakin act accordingly.

Well, he wouldn't pass up the chance to see Padmé alone after weeks apart – but he was still going to kick Ahsoka's sheb for that next time they sparred. "If my lady wishes it," Anakin said, offering Padmé his arm.

"She does," Padmé said, and took it. "That would be most agreeable, general."

He smiled and drew her close, relishing in the heat of her body next to his for a moment before walking her out of the foyer as quickly as decorum permitted.

"Why didn't you tell me you were on Coruscant?" Padmé hissed, her voice high and caught somewhere between reproach and... anticipation? Excitement? Anakin couldn't place it, even in the Force. "There is so much we need to discuss!"

"I'm sorry, angel. I came straight here from the Temple."

"And you didn't have time to call?"

"Ahsoka was with me the whole time!" he said defensively. Ahsoka knew way more than she was meant to about their relationship, but it wasn't something he advertised – even to Padmé. Missing context saved him having to tell another lie.

"Fine, fine." As they descended the steps to the nearest landing pad, Padmé motioned to the open-topped speeder parked on it. "Can you talk as you fly?"

Anakin felt a rush of warmth. Padmé was a good pilot in speeders and cockpits both, but she always let him fly when they were together. It was a small thing, but it meant so much to him when they had so little time together.

"Sure thing," he said, helping her in on the passenger side before hopping in the pilot's seat. He'd flown this speeder many times on clandestine excursions with her; running the pre-flight check and firing up the antigrav were as easy to him as breathing. Within moments, they were soaring up to join the nearest traffic lane.

Padmé sat quietly until they'd merged and were heading back toward the nearby Senate Apartment Complex, her arms folded in that odd hugging position again. Her thoughts spun and swirled in the Force, leaping ahead of her as though she were about to speak them aloud before retreating back to their dance.

It was a rare thing from his pragmatic wife, and it made him uneasy. What was so badly amiss that she felt he couldn't tell it to him outright? He nearly demanded to know what was the matter, fear making him desperate to get to the heart of it when everything else felt so wrong. Couldn't he just have this? Padmé was supposed to be the one thing that made sense.

She spoke before he could decide whether to let impulse or subtlety win. "Have you heard what it is that's taken Chancellor Palpatine out of commission? His office hasn't released an official statement, and there haven't been any leaks yet that the newsfeeds have picked up."

"I've heard some theories," Anakin said carefully, "but I don't think anyone has all the answers yet." He managed a laugh, but it had no spirit behind it. "So, are you going to tell me what's bothering you now?"

The vortex that was Padmé's presence churned faster. "Bothering me?"

Shifting his grip on the steering yolk to compensate, he stretched a hand over to touch her shoulder. "Don't avoid it. I can feel you trembling. What's going on?"

Padmé sighed, leaning into his touch, and all the tension melted from her body. "I've been so caught up in the refugee situation I haven't thought much about myself in the last month. I didn't realize what had happened until a few days ago."

She shut her eyes for a long moment before turning to him. Then, with surprising calmness, she said "First there were whispers that you'd been killed trying to rescue Obi-Wan on Cato Neimoidia. I didn't believe them, not really, but I didn't dare call out of the blue, so I had no way to be sure." She faltered, looking down at her lap. "And now..."

"And now what?" Anakin bit out, nerves getting the better of him. "Angel, please, just spit it out. You're making me nervous."

"My emotions are trying to go six different ways at once, Anakin!" she snapped back, her brown eyes piercing. "Forgive me if I'm having trouble figuring out how to tell you I'm pregnant!"

Everything about the chancellor's death felt wrong; things had slowly been souring from a general malaise in the Council chamber to a truer, colder feeling of anxiety. Now all of it disappeared in a haze of shock. His hands slipped from the yolk and her shoulder, and he stared blankly at the skyscraper-spiked horizon for a long moment before he realized it was tilting to the right.

No, the horizon wasn't moving. The speeder was.

Padmé yelled something and shook him, and the reflexes he'd had since he was a boy kicked in just before their speeder dipped into a lane of oncoming traffic below. Anakin grabbed the yolk with both hands and swung it hard to the left.

Angry pilots yelled curses and blared their klaxons. Anakin ignored them, jerking the vehicle to the left then back to the right to avoid a collision. The Force enveloped him, offering guidance, and he opened himself up to it.

There. Directly below them was an empty quadrant between overlapping lanes. Anakin tossed his hair out of his eyes and killed the antigrav – something most speeders had safety protocols to prevent the pilot from doing. Lucky for him, Padmé had had this speeder long enough he'd started making modifications.

The speeder, heavy in the front from its two passengers, fell into a nosedive. Padmé screamed, fingers searching for purchase on the door and the seat below her. Anakin slammed his arm out to steady her, and inhaled deeply.

The wait was mere seconds, but in his mind's eye, time seemed to stretch. Anakin knew his limitations, and he knew those of the speeder. He sensed the precise moment to hit the power and drag the yolk towards him as far as it would go, and did it almost by rote. He was in his element, he was one with the Force, and when he looked at it next, the horizon had straightened itself out.

Anakin hit the brakes and turned to Padmé. Her face was white with fear, and she looked like she was going to be sick. "Padmé, Are you all right? I'm sorry, I–"

Padmé waved him off, breathing deeply for a few seconds until her color returned. "Ani, that really wasn't helping morning sickness," she mumbled queasily, bracing one elbow against the speeder door for something to rest her chin on.

"Morning sickness?"

"Sometimes, yes. It's nothing to worry about; it's not nearly as bad for me as the stories my sister Sola used to tell me."

"Morning sickness," Anakin huffed, slumping in his seat. He wasn't sure if it was the product of the near-death experience or the news, but for the life of him he couldn't get his eyes to narrow down to a normal width. "You really are pregnant."

"Yes. I was off by two weeks for when I needed to get a new contraceptive implant, and those happened to be two weeks you were home." Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Padmé grin. "You're taking the news in... your typical fashion."

The jab rolled off him like raindrops on durasteel. Abruptly Anakin went numb to everything, and he didn't even understand why until–

Until he felt a profound sense of peace: the relief of a dead weight lifted and a balance restored.

Jedi teachings blended science with mysticism. They believed that with every major shift in the galaxy, there was an equal and opposite reaction in the Force to restore the natural equilibrium. Every action happened for this reason, something Anakin had found this to be true even in his harsh childhood on Tatooine. He was the one the old Jedi sages claimed would bring balance to the Force. He was owed it.

Chancellor Palpatine's death had left a void, and the Force hadn't filled it with new life until now. His beloved Padmé was pregnant with their child. A chance miscalculation of an implant or something greater, he didn't care. Things were still wrong, but something vital had shifted. Anakin had something new to fight for.

Anakin started to laugh, and it quickly devolved into wild tears. In seconds he was sobbing like he never had (because that wasted water in the desert, and anger was by far a better thing to feel than sadness). He rested his head over his hands on the yolk and let it all out, smiling serenely through the onslaught.

After a moment, Padmé put a hand on his back. "Ani?" she said cautiously, rubbing his shoulder blade gently.

Enough. He was probably scaring her.

Anakin dried his eyes and looked up at her again. "I love you so much, Padmé. Stars, you can't know how much I love you."

Her alarm in the Force faded into something softer, warmer. "I love you too, but goodness! We nearly crash, then you burst out crying? Is everything all right?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I don't mean to worry you," he sniffled. "I just can't put it into words how much this means. You've given me something priceless. I have a new reason to hope things will be all right, that the balance can always be restored."

"I... don't understand."

"The chancellor is dead." The words rolled off his tongue before he could stop them. Even when Padmé's beautiful face fell into a look of blank horror, he didn't regret it. His walls were down, and he'd never been able to keep anything from his wife – especially not the things that really needed to be said.

She composed herself with some difficulty, one hand moving to rest over her belly – where their child was, their child brought her comfort, their child which was a light in such a dark place – then said, "You need to start from the beginning."

He did. He told Padmé everything, using her stability to ground himself and organize the facts in his head as he went along: Obi-Wan's unexpected arrival and capture, his rescue, the Council meeting, the briberies, the investigation, his and Ahsoka's lies in the foyer.

She listened quietly, her expression and presence in the Force both giving off the impression of an undisturbed pool. As the flood of side notes and extra details Anakin felt compelled to pour into it abated, it occurred to him her calmness was probably for his benefit alone. He barely had time to wonder before she threw herself into making sense of what he'd told her.

"The new Senator for Scipio is little more than a mouthpiece for the Banking Clan; he can't make a single decision without calling his constituents. Clovis was a traitor, but at least he had some dignity and backbone. Plus, the Trade Federation still has a seat in the Senate, despite the mountain of evidence they're Separatist collaborators."

"And this means?" Anakin said.

"It means," she echoed, "that it'd take a miracle to unite the Senate long enough to hold proper elections for a new chancellor." Padmé pressed a hand to her temple. "Palpatine's skilled leadership and the weight of his emergency powers was really all that kept the infighting between the warmongers and the Guilds at bay."

Of course she'd look at this through a political lens. Anakin nearly rolled his eyes, but he couldn't hold it against her. Duty always came first with them, especially with a war going on – and nothing set Padmé's mind working like the removal of such a critical piece in the game.

"That must be why the Council wanted to keep it secret," she continued after a moment, her brow furrowed. "Panic would give way to posturing as Senators started jockeying for votes. I'll have to inform the Loyalist Committee as soon as possible. The more allies the Jedi have, the quicker a new chancellor can be–"

"Padmé," Anakin broke in.

"Yes?"

"Did you miss the part where I said I wasn't supposed to tell you any of this?"

Padmé blinked at him. Then, pursing her lips, she nodded. "Right. Then I'll keep my eyes and ears open, and brace our allies for the news without telling them outright. I'll let you know if I find any leads for your investigation."

"Me and Ahsoka can handle it, angel, don't–" The rest of Anakin's sentence fell away into a knowing laugh when he caught Padmé's raised eyebrow. He took her hand and squeezed it affectionately. "All right. Thank you."

"Who would want Chancellor Palpatine dead?"

"Probably more people than I can count," Anakin said, wincing. "He was a great man, and great men make a lot of enemies."

"Could... do you think Count Dooku could be behind it?"

Anakin groaned. "Padmé, you said that last time there was a major attempt on a politician from Naboo."

"And I was right about it, then, too," she muttered, crossing her arms almost petulantly. "But did anyone believe me? No, because the Jedi were blinded by certainty that one of their own couldn't be responsible for something so violent."

"I... really think we've learned a thing or two since then, angel. I've fought him eight times, now, and several of those were in single combat." Anakin struggled to keep the ire out of his voice, and was fairly certain he succeeded until he heard Padmé sigh.

"I'm sorry, that was uncalled for." The tension melted from her face, Senator Amidala stepping back to show him the equally tough but far more sensitive woman beneath. "I'm just a little worried about the portent."

"Portent?"

"A death and a pregnancy so close together... surely it's an omen. A sign from the Mother Goddess of a great change to come."

Anakin frowned, discomforted as always by how close her faith was to the one he'd left behind after joining the Order: his beliefs were too close to home, and home was a source of attachment. Still, he allowed her the superstition. Though Padmé rarely advertised her fealty to the female embodiment of her home planet, he knew she took her worship seriously.

"It's all about cause and effect, Padmé," he said, hoping to nudge her gently in the right direction. "The Force in constantly in flux, so it's constantly seeking a new state of balance. Take my..." He paused, steeling himself. "Take my mother's death. You and I decided we wanted to be together only days later."

"And then a war broke out."

"Four months of skirmishes broke out, which we spent together on Naboo," he corrected. "Just after the Republic declared war, we got married."

That was a happier memory. In light of their capture on Geonosis, it had been clear to the Jedi that the Senator for Naboo was a prime Separatist target. Anakin had spent four months with her on Naboo – four charmed, glorious months nearly oblivious to the outside galaxy – before the declaration of war was officially made.

The impending fight to reclaim lost worlds had parted them, sending Padmé to Coruscant to lend her voice to the Senate, and Anakin to the front to lend his skills as a leader to the new army. Still, the Republic hadn't seen a war of this scale for millennia; fearing for his life, Padmé had proposed. He'd instantly said yes.

"I guess it depends on point of view," Padmé murmured.

"As all things do, if you spend long enough listening to Master Obi-Wan."

"Still, the two extremes..." She shook her head. "Never mind. Even if it means something for the baby, we have more important things to think about right now."

"Our child is important, too!"

Padmé smiled fondly. "Of course, but I'm only a month along, and it turns out Moteé knows a lot about prenatal care. We're in good hands."

"I love you," Anakin whispered, and leaned in to kiss her.

The sharp trill of his comm stopped him before he got too close. Sighing quietly, he withdrew and hit the button for an audio-only reply. "Skywalker."

"Hello, Anakin," Obi-Wan said, his voice tense. "You wouldn't happen to be stalled in Senator Amidala's speeder a few klicks away from her apartment at the moment, would you?"

Anakin bit his lip to muffle a string of curses. How did he know? Was this a trap? Could he afford to lie, or was his old Master able to prove his whereabouts?

The same thought must've occurred to Padmé, because she shook her head. Then, a second later, she motioned urgently for him to disregard it, and mouthed, "Tell him, Ani."

"Your... intuition grows stronger every day, Master," Anakin said. Padmé stretched across him to tap the steering yolk, and Anakin nodded. "There was an issue with the guidance on Senator Amidala's speeder. I managed to correct it in time to avoid an accident, but she hasn't been feeling well lately, and it triggered a dizzy spell. I've been talking her down from it."

Padmé frowned at him. Anakin pointedly ignored it.

"And what were you discussing, to talk her down from it?" Obi-Wan asked. His voice was carefully neutral now, but when Anakin reached into the Force, he saw right through it. Obi-Wan knew he was in a speeder with Padmé, but he genuinely didn't know what they'd been speaking about.

The fact that he didn't want Anakin to know that last part worried him.

"Not much, really." Anakin thought for a moment, then came up with a few excuses that weren't total lies. "Some of her new projects in the Senate, a new objective she has in mind for the Loyalist Committee, her homeworld..."

"All right, then. Rendezvous with Ahsoka as soon as possible," Obi-Wan said, gracefully avoiding any details pertinent to the investigation while underlining that he had to get there quickly. "If the Senator would allow you to borrow her speeder for a return trip, that would be most kind of her. I'll meet you there."

"Right. Skywalker out."

"How did he see us?" Padmé hissed the second the comm went off.

"Easy, easy. He knew we were here, but he didn't know what was said. We didn't do anything compromising, did we?"

Padmé shook her head, and slowly began to relax. "Still, that was too close." She motioned again to the yolk, then crossed her arms over her belly. "Take me home. The sooner you find out what Obi-Wan wants, the better. If there's trouble..."

"Yeah. Okay," Anakin said, fighting to keep his shock from turning into anger.

Padmé put a hand on his shoulder, radiating calm. Anakin nodded and keyed the ignition. They could discuss all this later. Right now, they both had a job to do.

Nearly two years in the past, Anakin has discovered his wife is pregnant with his baby mere hours after learning of his beloved mentor Chancellor Palpatine's death. Between the two major events, Anakin feels like his own personal balance has been restored – but his mixed bag of emotions threatens to spill over at his old Master's intrusion. How much does Obi-Wan know? How did he learn it? What other secrets lie in wait in Palpatine's home, hidden from Anakin and Ahsoka's view? Only time will tell...

This is one of those chapters when I yell "KRIFF CANON" at the sky and set about rewriting things I haven't seen specified anywhere.

The first thing I messed with: Anakin's stance on religion. This is not something specified in canon, but I'm going with Fialleril's slave culture canon, as I've mentioned, and it has a very rich religious element to it. We've seen instances of Jedi retaining their native culture and elements of their religions compatible with Jedi teachings, but I feel like Anakin had a greater external and self-imposed pressure to conform than most. He wants his attachment to Padmé (and perhaps Ahsoka and his men) to be the only Jedi Code violation on his conscience, so such vivid reminders of his past challenge that.

The second thing I messed with: the timetable for Anakin and Padmé's relationship. Anakin I could understand because he's kept Padmé in his mind for years, but I find it impossible to believe someone as level-headed as Padmé would get married after a few weeks AT MOST with Anakin. It's one of my biggest issues with the prequel trilogy. I knew I couldn't stretch things out indefinitely, so I gave them four months alone together to get to know each other better, and a sudden – but emotionally sound – proposal to tie it all together.

Though I initially considered splitting this chapter up, I couldn't find an elegant place to do it. As a result, this is the longest one in the book to date by at nearly a thousand words. I guess it's fortuitous timing, considering I made you guys hold out an extra couple of days before reading it! I hope it was worth the wait.

Next week we'll see a continuation of some of the things Lux and Ahsoka discussed in chapter nineteen, and learn some of the other ways this story diverges from canon. Talk to you guys then!