Hi, everybody!

I'm really sorry I took so long to update, and thank you all for waiting so patiently. Thank you for understanding. It really means a lot.

As always, thank you for reading. Thank you for the support, feedback, reviews, favorites, follows, etc! It really means so much to me! Love you all! Couldn't do this without you!

It might seem like not a lot has happened in these last few chapters, but I promise there is a big "twist" coming up very soon-as in the next chapter or if not the next definitely the one after it-followed by lots of action, combat, etc! Everything is going to blow up very soon! ;)

Hope you enjoy!

Sworn to Darkness

Chapter XVIII

"I have to go to Alderaan," Obi-Wan informed Padmé and Anakin as he came out of his bedroom and headed for the front door. "Anakin, stay here with Padmé and the children until I return. I hope it won't be long, but, to be perfectly honest, I don't know what to expect." His voice was cold, in effort to conceal his feelings, but Anakin could sense the Jedi was annoyed and more than a little worried.

"Why?" Anakin asked, rising to his feet. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong," Obi-Wan replied dismissively, and Anakin knew it was a lie. "It's only a meeting."

Padmé was on her feet too, approaching Obi-Wan with a concerned expression on her face. "Ben, you can't," she protested. "You're sick. What if something happens, what if you get worse?"

"I'll be fine," Obi-Wan reassured her. "Besides, Alderaan has an excellent med center if anything does come up. There's no need to worry about me."

Anakin stood back and watched silently as Obi-Wan gathered his things, threw on a cloak, pulled up his hood, and prepared to go.

"You're leaving now?" Padmé observed cheerlessly.

Obi-Wan gave a brief nod. "I'll be back as soon as I can. In the meantime, I have complete faith in Anakin's ability to help you look after the children and the farm."

Padmé forced a reluctant nod. Obi-Wan returned the gesture. His gaze shifted and met Anakin's. For a silent moment, they looked each other in the eye, neither saying a word but an unspoken understanding passing between them. Obi-Wan was granting a certain trust to Anakin—freedom—and Anakin was not quite sure why.

Obi-Wan turned and disappeared from the room. Padmé looked at Anakin. "I'll be back," he muttered without glancing at her. He hurried after Obi-Wan and caught up to him just outside the front door. "Obi-Wan. Wait a second."

Obi-Wan stopped—he was walking across the hot sand, toward a rocky hillside where is ship was concealed. "Anakin?"

Anakin stood in front of Obi-Wan and crossed his arms. "You would trust me to stay here alone with the family?" he questioned, frowning incredulously at the Jedi.

"Of course," Obi-Wan said as neutrally as possible. "It is your family." Anakin noticed a note of resentment in his voice.

"Yeah, well," Anakin sarcastically went on, "the Rebel Alliance didn't even trust me enough to tell me what planet my family's been on for the last three years."

"That was for your protection as well as theirs," Obi-Wan answered calmly. "Besides, someone has to be here to fend off the Empire should they come."

"That would blow my cover," Anakin remarked, and suddenly he realized that would be the best thing to happen to him in three years. If the Emperor discovered he was working for the Alliance, Anakin would abandon this whole Darth Vader charade, he would still fight Palpatine with the other rebels, and—what was most important—he would not have to be apart from his family anymore... and he would not have to worry about his ex-best-friend stealing his wife while he was away.

Obi-Wan read Anakin's every thought. He saw it in his face, his eyes. He felt it in the Force—whatever tarnished connection was left between them. When Anakin remember himself, tore his mind from this contemplation, and met Obi-Wan eyes, the Jedi was gazing at him with a hard, knowing expression. They both knew.

"Be careful, Anakin," Obi-Wan warned. "Your crimes haven't been pardoned, if you recall, and if Palpatine discovers your betrayal, either he will kill you or the Alliance will."

Anakin shook his head. "The Alliance needs me," he said darkly, his eyes like fire as he glared at the Jedi. "The Rebellion never would have come this far if it weren't for me, and thousands of innocent people would be dead by now."

"Thousands of innocent people are dead by now, Anakin," Obi-Wan answered in brutal honesty.

"Well, a thousand more!" Anakin cried. "I've saved entire planets! In fact, the Emperor wanted to wipe out every city on Stewjon—your home world, Obi-Wan—just to make sure you hadn't survived your little plunge into the lava, and he would have had it not been for me! Your entire planet would have been destroyed! Whatever is left of your family would have been killed—if you care. I'd have done anything to see my mother again, but, from what I've gathered, you don't seem to care much about your parents."

Obi-Wan could not remember much of his parents. He was so young when the Jedi took him from them. He did not know if they were still alive. He'd go back to look for them one day, I used to tell himself, once the war was over and his presence was not their death warrant. But, it was difficult to admit, even if he did go back, even if he did find them, he did not think he would recognize them. He might have had a conversation with them on the street and not realized he had been reunited with his parents, they that they had been reunited with their son. Qui-Gon Jinn was the only father he remembered.

"Yes, you have saved many lives Anakin," Obi-Wan answered, choosing to ignore that last comment—although Anakin could tell it got to him. "And if Palpatine discovers you, that opportunity will be lost, and thousands of innocent people you might have saved will be killed," he concluded, spitting Anakin's own argument back at him.

Anakin looked away, fury burning in his eyes. But there was nothing be could say, because he knew it was true. A tense silence fell between them, as this debate came to a conclusion.

"I have to go," Obi-Wan sighed, disappointed to have fought with Anakin—again. "I'll see you when I get back."

Anakin nodded. "Yeah, alright, see you," he muttered. He felt a pang of regret too. No matter what he did, no matter what he said, no matter how many times he promised himself he wouldn't, it seemed he would always find a way to fight with Obi-Wan.

"And Anakin," Obi-Wan added, just as he was turning to go. Anakin looked up and met his gaze. "Thank you for saving Stewjon," Obi-Wan said sincerely. "I... appreciate it."

Anakin nodded. "You saved my family; I owe it to you."

Obi-Wan nodded. There was nothing more to be said. So he turned his back on Anakin and walked away, into the desert, toward his ship. Anakin watched silently from the doorway, his jaw tense, his teeth grinding together. There was no trust left between him and Obi-Wan. It had crumbled like pillars of some ancient fortress, when they fought each other on Mustafar. The only thing left was ruins, a decaying skeleton of what used to be. Obi-Wan claimed to trust Anakin, but he didn't. And why should he? He'd be a fool to trust Darth Vader—a Sith, a murder, the leader of Darth Sidious's great armies.

...and Darth Vader would be a fool to trust Obi-Wan.

Even after everything that happened between them, all of the sacrifices made, all of the times he could have condemned him but instead saved his life, Anakin could not trust Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan was a Jedi, a steadfast believer in the Old Republic, and a leader of a Rebel Alliance that would have love nothing more than to see Darth Vader's head paraded around the galaxy on a metal stake.

Obi-Wan was a good man. He always had been. He had a good heart. Anakin knew that. However, he also knew Obi-Wan had tendency to follow orders rather than his heart. If General Kenobi's next order was to take Anakin's children and hide them forever, or if General Kenobi's next order was to execute all of Palpatine's followers, including Darth Vader, would Obi-Wan refuse? Or would he give in to the pressures of his duty? as Obi-Wan always put his duty first. Anakin was not sure. And on top of that—

"Ben!"

Anakin flinched, as the sudden cry snapped him out of this dangerous contemplation. He looks down just as a few-foot-tall boy darted past him, out from the open doorway behind him and to the blinding desert.

Obi-Wan stopped and turned around. Luke ran toward him, struggling through the sand, distress flooding his face and tears flooding his eyes. Obi-Wan jogged back and, in a few strides that would have been a difficult trek for the child, meet him a small distance in front of the house. Close enough for Anakin to hear everything.

"What's the matter, Luke?" Obi-Wan said gently. He knelt down in the sand, and the child ran straight into him. Panting and shaking with sobs, Luke threw his little arms around the Jedi's neck, buried himself again his warmth, strong body, and clung to him with all of this fragile strength.

"Luke..." Obi-Wan said uncertainly. He patted the boy's back in effort to comfort him but, for some reason, hesitated to embrace him in return. Perhaps, it was the presence of the child's father, his real father, who was watching them every move. "Don't be upset, Luke," the Jedi tried flimsily. "I'm going to be back before you know it."

Luke did not loosen his grip. He clung to him tighter. "Don't go!" he child burst, begging as a fresh fount of tears burst from his eyes and ran in streams down his flushed cheeks. "Please, please, don't go! I'll do anything! I'll clean up! Please, don't go!"

"Luke. Luke, look at me." Obi-Wan had not see this coming. Baffled, but doing his best not to show it, he carefully pried the boy away from his neck and took him by the shoulders, so he could look into his eyes. "Luke, listen to me," Obi-Wan began quietly. "I have go. I don't have a choice right now; this meeting I'm going to is very important. But I'm going to come back."

"When will you be back, Ben?" Luke demanded through tears. "At lunch time?"

Obi-Wan heart cracked a little at the child's reply. Forcing a sad smile, he shook his head. "No, I'm not sure if I'll be back by lunchtime—"

"Dinner time?"

"...Maybe."

"When then?" Luke's face crumpled, as if he was about to break into sobs all over again.

"Soon, I promise," Obi-Wan said confidently. "Probably tomorrow. Alight? Luke, is that alright?"

Luke nodded weakly, miserably. Because he had no other choice.

Obi-Wan sighed, his heart sinking. Poor Luke. He didn't want to leave him. He did not want to leave any of them. But he had to. Obi-Wan wiped the tears off of the child's silken cheeks. "I'll be back soon," he promised once then. "Until then, I need you to take care of you mother and sister for me. Alright?"

Luke did not take the bait. Instead, he threw himself at Ben again and locked him in another throat-crushing hug. "I love you, Ben!" Luke cried out, and he clung to the man he knew as his father.

Those word hit Obi-Wan like blaster set on stun. He frozen, tense and uncertain as the child embraced him, clung to him, cried against him, and he did not know what to do.

"I love you," Luke whisper again, and that was what it took. With those precious words, his heart—hardened and made like rock by the Code of the Jedi, by the war, by the fall of the Republic and the rise of the Empire, the loss of a brother—melted and became a bleed heart of flesh. He wrapped his arms around Luke and held him close, enveloping him in a tender embrace. Luke could feel Ben's heart beating against both of their chests.

I love you, Obi-Wan wanted to return—so badly! I love you, Luke, I love you, he wanted to tell him. With his eyes closed and his arms wrapped around the child, whom he loved like his own son, his heart cried out in unconditional devotion, but his lips remained immobile. He jaws clamped together—on the inside of his cheek, and he tasted blood in his mouth. He refused to let them open. Don't say it. You can't say it. You can't say it. You can't love him. But he did. Obi-Wan could not deny it, and Luke knew it.

At last, their embrace ended. Luke had to force himself to let go of Ben, and Obi-Wan released the child with the same reluctance. Although he tried to hide it. "I'll be home soon," Obi-Wan said softly. He offered a gentle smile. Instinct told him to kiss the child on the forehead, but the law of the Jedi forbade that as well. The Jedi rose to his feet and walked away, before the Luke could see the regret in his eyes or sense the tired aching in his heart.

"And I believe that concludes our meeting," Mon Mothma said. A council of rebel leaders—which had grown to near forty men and women—was gathered around a holo-table in a dark, underground chamber, lit only by the blue glow of the hologram. "Everybody understands what they are to do?" There was a mummer of agreement throughout the gathering, but Mon Mothma's eyes turned to gaze steadily at General Kenobi. He gave a small nod. "Very good. Thank you all for coming, and may the Force be with you."

The assembly broke, and the rebels headed off on their own ways. Before he left, however, there was someone Obi-Wan had to talk to. Alone. He planned to address him as soon as the meeting was over, but, as the group scattered, Obi-Wan lost sight of him in a chaotic sea of bodies and face. Sighing, he headed to the hangar, where all the rebel ships were landed and many preparing to take flight. People bustled in every direction, and Obi-Wan's chances of finding him looked doubtful. But the Force was with him. Guiding him, leading him. He found who he was looking for just as the ancient Jedi was boarding the transport that would return him to Dagobah.

"Master Yoda," Obi-Wan called, hurrying to catch up with him.

Yoda turned, as Obi-Wan jogged to meet him. "Obi-Wan," he replied in a flat tone. He did not look surprised to see him. Nor did he look pleased.

They had both attended various group meetings over the last three years—it was not as if they had not been in each other presence; it was not as if they had not been each other allies. However, Obi-Wan and Yoda had not spoken face-to-face since the decision to employ Anakin as an agent of the rebellion, since they had spared him instead of executing him—an idea Obi-Wan instigated and Yoda fervently opposed. Yoda knew it was Obi-Wan's love for Anakin—his attachment to his padawan and friend, his refusal to let him go—that made Obi-Wan vouch for Anakin. Not because he really thought it was a good idea, because, in his heart, he didn't. Not because he thought it would save the rebellion, although he hoped it would help. Not because he was thinking of the Republic, or the galaxy, or the good of the people, or anyone else, but because he was thinking of Anakin. Because he loved Anakin. And for that, Yoda lost faith in a man he once considered the greatest Jedi of all.

"Master, if you have a moment, I need to speak with you."

Yoda was not enthused. "Speak then."

Obi-Wan sighed, uncomfortably aware of the tension between them. He glanced around the hangar—at numbers of people, aliens, droids, and more. This was far from a private meeting place. "Perhaps, somewhere more solitary."

The suggestion seemed to add to Yoda's annoyance, but with an unhappy grunt he nodded and agreed. Obi-Wan sighed in relief and followed the old Jedi out of the hanger, down a dimly lit hallway, and out onto a small balcony that overlooked the city of Alderaan. It looked something like Coruscant—at least, something like Coruscant the last time Obi-Wan saw it three years ago. Except, the entire planet of Coruscant was one massive city. Here, the city was small, and beyond its boarders stood proud mountains and dense forests, lightly dusted in snow. It was beautiful here, Obi-Wan realized. So different from Tatooine. He sighed and leaned against the railing.

"So..." Yoda began, carefully watching the younger Jedi. Obi-Wan was struggling to hold in his anxiety, to endure the stress weighing down on him, slowly driving him crazy. Not only could Yoda sense it, but he could see it quite clearly on the man's face, in his eyes, the very way he carried himself. "What is it you must tell me?" he asked solemnly. "Trouble with Darth Vader, yes?"

Obi-Wan shook his head. "No, this isn't about Anakin. It's about Luke."

"Ah," Yoda answered with a knowing nod. "The young Jedi. Skywalk's son. Very strong with the Force he is."

Obi-Wan nodded. "Yes. That's what worries me. Master Yoda—" Obi-Wan tore his eyes away from the captivating terrain of Alderaan and looked at the Jedi beside him. "Luke's been having nightmares, Force visions." Obi-Wan made Anakin believe he was not concerned about Luke's dreams, but of course that was only pretense. In reality, images of Luke's nightmare scarred themselves in Obi-Wan's mind, and he could not stop thinking about it, seeing them, reliving them as if they were his own dream. This dream was not one he would forget anytime soon.

"Surprised I am not," Yoda answered calmly. "Much like his father, it seems he will become. Caution you must take when consoling him about these dreams."

Obi-Wan nodded. "He doesn't know about the Force. I promised Anakin I would not teach him of it."

Yoda grunted, apparently in disapproval. "What these dreams are about has he told you?"

"He usually won't talk about it, but last night..."

Yoda frowned. "Last night what happened, Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan let out a slow sigh. "Last night, Luke saw Anakin and me fighting on Mustafar."

Yoda's expression hardened. "The fight between you and his father. Yes."

"Yes," Obi-Wan confirmed with a reluctant nod. He hesitated. Perhaps, he should not tell Yoda. Yoda already did not trust Anakin. Yoda already did not want Anakin to be a part of the Rebel Alliance. Yoda already would have preferred to see Anakin executed. But Yoda was a Jedi Master, one most considered the wisest Jedi Master ever to live, and, at the time, he was all Obi-Wan had. God, how he wished Qui-Gon was here—but he was a Jedi—he could not think about Qui-Gon; he could not hold onto the past... So he did what any "good Jedi" would do and told Yoda. "I don't think it was the past, Master Yoda."

Yoda met Obi-Wan gaze and frowned, surprised by this remark. "Not the past, you say? What then do you think?"

Obi-Wan swallowed his apprehension and finished grudgingly, "...I think it was the future."

Yoda said nothing. His gaze was steady on Obi-Wan, waiting for him to explain.

Obi-Wan turned away. He gazed out into the beautiful mountains again. It was easier when he was not looking at Yoda, when he was looking at something so beautiful. He let out a slow breath through his nose. Exhaled his stress. Exhaled his fear. Give it all to the Force. When he spoke next, his voice was solemn and frozen, like the snow onto the mountains. But just so, it was not sad, not scared, not even worried. Simply accepting what was to come. "Anakin kills me," he said quietly. "Anakin and I fight again on Mustafar, and this time he wins."

A long silence followed. Somewhere in the distant forest, a small bird was singing. Obi-Wan could hear it. A red finch. 4.6 miles away. Perched on the branch of a snow-dusted pine. Icicles catching in the light of the setting sun, glowing like lanterns, gleaming like crystals. That was an exercise he was taught when he was a padawan—how to see without his eyes. Qui-Gon made him do it all of the time.

"Very careful you must be, Obi-Wan Kenobi," Yoda finally spoke, his voice low and grave. "If come to pass this prophecy will, then come to pass it will. Powerless to interfere with fate we are. If try to prevent these events you do, make things worse you only will."

Obi-Wan nodded. "Yes, I know. I haven't forgotten what happened when Anakin tried to prevent a prophecy from coming true."

Yoda nodded, pleased with Obi-Wan's response. "And the future, we cannot be sure this dream is. Some other meaning it may have."

Obi-Wan nodded. "Perhaps," he muttered through tense jaws, even though he considered this possibility a thousand times already, and each time he came to the same conclusion that it was a senseless hope. This vision was the future. Somehow he knew it. The Force revealed it to him. He and Anakin would fight again. Whether it was on Mustafar or not, whether it was physical or simply a battle of their souls, Obi-Wan knew he would fight Anakin again, and next time, Darth Vader would win.

And what could Obi-Wan do about it? Stay put and do nothing? Wait for Anakin to kill him? That seemed ridiculously foolish—ignorant. But to attempt to intervene with fate was a path even more dangerous, one that Obi-Wan did not want to cross. It was a path that many had trod on and many had followed to the Dark Side.

It was twilight when Anakin finished repairing his ship. He started working on it as the second Obi-Wan was gone—that surprised Padmé; she expected Anakin to take advantage of the time alone and spend every second with her and the children—and now finished it. Thank the Force, Anakin thought. An eager smile spread across his lips, as he jumped out of the ship, his boots sank in the cool sand, and he ran back toward the house. At last, after three full years, his chance had come. He would be an idiot to let it slip past.

"Padmé!" Anakin cried, as he burst through the front door.

Padmé flinched. She was in the kitchen, chopping vegetable for the dinner she was preparing. "Oh, Anakin, you scared me," she sighed with a laugh, as he came inside and hastened toward her. She smiled. "I almost expected a Sith Lord to come crashing through my door." Anakin smiled—but not at Padmé's joke, like she thought. He went to her side and swept her up in his arms.

"Anakin!" Padmé exclaimed through laughter. He tightened his arms around her, lifted her off her feet, and spun her around. "Anakin, he careful, I'm holding a knife!" she cried, gripping his shoulder with one hand as he spun her, but she could not suppress her smile.

He set her down gently in front of him. "I love you," said Anakin. Before she could return the promise, he leaned in and kissed her, deeply and passionately on the mouth. Padmé was taken slightly aback by this sudden affection, his abrupt shift in behavior. This morning the two of them had argued, and then Anakin had gone to fix his ship, she thought to distance himself from her because he was angry. Apparently, he was not angry anymore. She smiled against his lips. "You taste like peppermint," Anakin informed her, when the kiss ended and he pulled back to gaze at her face. He could only restrain himself for a moment, before he leaned in for more.

"Hold on," Padmé laughed, turning away.

"What?" asked Anakin.

She put the knife down on the counter. A vast smile spread across his face. "There," said Padmé. "Now you can kiss me."

Anakin beamed at her, unable to restrain his joy. His face glowed like the double-suns, and his eyes twinkled like the stars he loved to fly through at night. They dove at each other. Their lips connected, like two halves of a broken heart put back together. Padmé clutched his face in her hands. Anakin pulled her toward him and held her against him, as if she could not be close enough. He kissed her fervently, intensely. She could feel his passion burning in her own body, her own heart, her own blood. She could feel his heart pounding—her heart was pounding too. Anakin kissed her mouth. His lips worked their way to the side—he kissed her cheek, down her neck.

Padmé sighed. She leaned against him, her cheek resting on his shoulder. She closed her eyes. His arms around her, his lips moving steadily against her neck... she let herself melt into his warmth, get lost in his love. Anakin hadn't acted quite like this the entire time he had been here. He hadn't acted like this since... she wasn't even sure. It must have been because Obi-Wan was gone.

"The kids are asleep," Padmé said softly. "They're taking a nap. We probably have an hour or so to be alone..."

Anakin straightened up. Her look her soft hands in his own and raised his eyes to gaze in adoration at his beautiful Padmé. She smiled up at him. This felt like their wedding night. The night they were married on Naboo. So many years ago. Before the war, before all of this. When there was nothing but the two of them. Nothing but him and her and their love that would last forever.

"Padmé," Anakin began in a low voice. "Padmé, listen to me."

Her smile faded. A dark shadow eclipsed her heart, and she felt the room go cold. Something was wrong. Something was off. Something—something was wrong with Anakin. It scared her.

"You have to get your things, you and the children. Pack everything you need. We're leaving tonight."

"What... Anakin..." Padmé took a step back, away from him, pulling her hands from his grasp. "Anakin, what are you talking about?"

"We're leaving, Padmé," Anakin answered. A smile spread across his face. Padmé's heart dropped. A chill cut through her like a knife. That smile! The look in his eyes, the way he was looking at her now, it reminded her—

She did not want to think it!

...It reminded her of the way he looked at her the night the Republic fell. The way he looked at her on Mustafar.

"You and me and the children!" he went on, lost in the frenzy of his excitement. "We're leaving Tatooine. I fixed my ship; we can fly away from here! We're going to run away together. We'll go into hiding, and we can forget about everything else. We can forget about the war, the Empire, the Rebellion, all of it! We won't have to be a part of it anymore. We'll be safe, Padmé. Just you and me and the kids..." Anakin stepped closer to her. He cupped her cheek in his hand and smiled gently. "We'll be a family, Padmé. A real family. Like we were supposed to be."

"But..." Padmé stuttered. She stared at him, too shocked to reply. Her tongue was paralyzed, her breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding but the rest of her body immobile, her mind was racing but she could not think. She did not know what to say. She did not know what to do. "But we can't, Anakin," she finally managed, but she sounded uncertain. "We can't just run away: the Rebellion needs us, they're counting on us..."

"They don't need us, Padmé," Anakin promised, shaking his head. "They're punishing us for what happened, but they don't need us. They will be fine without us."

Padmé stared at him. She did not know what to say.

"Now," said Anakin. He smiled and playfully touched the tip of her nose with his finger. "Go get your things ready. I'll start packing the children. By sunrise, we have to be long gone."

"But... but Anakin..." Padmé weakly protested, unable to coax her legs to move.

"What, Padmé? What could possibly be wrong!? Just think about it! This is it! This is out chance!" Anakin exclaimed, desperate, begging her to give in. "This is our chance to have everything we ever wanted! We can be together and happy and free!" Anakin stepped closer to her. He held her hands. "I love you, Padmé," he said softly. "I love you, and I love the children. And unless we take this chance now, we may never be a family." He looked her in the eye. His gaze was an imprisonment. She could not look away. "If I leave here tomorrow morning," he said, his jaws barely moving, "you may never see me again. I may never see my wife or children for the rest of my life. And I cannot let that happen, I won't! This is the only way, Padmé." He raised her hand to his mouth and kissed it. "We have to do this. It's our only choice."

"Ani, I..." Padmé trailed off. "I don't know..."

"You don't know?" Anakin cried, utterly shocked at her hesitation. He thought they would be rushing about the house and packing their things by now; he thought they would be gone by now! "What don't you know, Padmé!? Don't you want to be a family!?"

"Of course, I do..."

"And isn't this everything we ever dreamed of!?"

"Well, yes, it is, but—"

"But what!?"

"But I can't leave Obi-Wan!"

Whatever happiness, whatever light, glowed in Anakin went dark. The sun set, and night descended. The candle flickered and went out. Anakin's face fell. It became hard and dark, like a cold stone. He stared at Padmé, not a trace of joy left in his eyes. Only resentment, only anger, only darkness.

"Obi-Wan?" Anakin breathed. His voice was like the low hiss of a serpent. "You can't leave Obi-Wan?" He overserved her carefully, his brow furrowed, his eyes narrowed and suspicious. "You love him."

"Anakin, please, don't start this again," Padmé said with a heavy sigh. She closed her eyes and shook her head. "You know how I feel about Obi-Wan, and you know how I feel about you. I don't love him. Not like that."

"Then why in hell can you not come with me, with your family, because of Obi-Wan!?" Anakin roared. The entire house seemed to reverberate with the pulse of his wrath, like thunder surging through a planet before it storms. The entire house trembled in fear of him, as fury erupted in his soul and blazed in his eyes like the fires of Mustafar. "You would rather stay with him than me!? You love Obi-Wan more than you love your own husband!?"

"No!" Padmé snapped back, raising her own voice, growing more annoyed but also more afraid.

"Then why can't you leave Obi-Wan!" Anakin yelled. "I want the truth, Padmé, I deserve to know!"

"The truth is that Obi-Wan trusts us, Anakin!" Padmé cried. "After everything he's done for us, everything he's done for our children, everything he's done for you, we can't just abandon him! We can't betray him like that!"

Anakin shook his head. "It was Obi-Wan's duty to protect you when I was away, Padmé. Now, I'm back, and I'm with you again. He's completed his duty. Leaving with me is not betraying Obi-Wan. You don't have to be faithful to him or anything like that, Padmé. He's not your husband."

"Obi-Wan's duty," Padmé countered sharply, choosing to ignore Anakin's resentful remark about Obi-Wan's status of a friend not a spouse, "is to the Republic. And so is ours. I cannot abandon this rebellion, Anakin, and neither can you. The Alliance needs us."

"The Alliance has kept me away from you for three years, Padmé!" Anakin erupted. "Three kriffing years!" Padmé closed her mouth, as Anakin's harsh words smacked her like a hand in the face. "I have done my duty to the Alliance—and to the Republic! For three years, I've paid them in my own sweat and blood! And I'm FINISHED NOW! I won't go back to Palpatine! I won't play his game anymore—or theirs! I won't leave you again, Padmé. I don't care what it costs. And I will not let the Alliance take you from me. I've paid my debt to them. We owe them nothing now."

Padmé swallowed dryly. She looked away. Her eyes searched restlessly over the wood planks of the floor, over the countertop, over the sand-colored walls, as if looking for an answer. Her mind was racing, her heart hammering, her head spinning in a whirl of confusion and confliction. Was he right? Was Anakin right? It was true that this was their chance—their one chance to be together, like they always dreamed of, their one chance to make forever a reality. And it was true that if Anakin left tomorrow she might not see him again for years, or forever! And it was true that Anakin had served the Republic for three years, risking his life every day for it! Did they really owe anything else?

"Padmé. Padmé, look at me," said Anakin.

She forced herself to look up. Their eyes met.

"You have to get your things," Anakin said very clearly, very carefully, as if afraid he would speak too loud and frighten her off. "We have to get out of here while we still can. If we don't go now, it will be too late."

"I want to go with you, Anakin," Padmé said hesitantly.

"Of course, you do! This is all we've ever wanted! And there is nothing stopping us, Padmé! Let's go!"

"...But I can't."

"Yes, you can!" Anakin cried, exasperated. "We both can!"

"I won't." Padmé took a step away from Anakin. She pulled her hands away from him again. "I won't abandon the Republic, when they need us more than ever. I won't run, while others are risking their lives, fighting, and dying for our freedom." She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Anakin. I wish I could go with you... but I can't."

"Padmé, I..." Anakin stared at her. He saw the woman standing before him, strong and resolute, and he watched every hope, every dream, his entire life crumble before his eyes. His heart cracked like a dish fallen off a shelf. The broken fragments of glass shattered inside of him, and his very soul was bleeding out. "If I go tomorrow, Padmé," Anakin began in a soft, trembling voice, "I might not ever see you again..."

"We'll see each other again, Anakin," Padmé assured him. She stepped toward him, closing the gap between them, and wrapped him in a loose hug. "I promise you."

"Maybe not for years," Anakin whispered. He dropped his gaze. Despite his effort to hold them back, his own eyes burned with tears. He did not want Padmé to see. But she did. Her own heart cracked, as well.

"I'm sorry, Ani," she whispered, her own voice wavering, struggling not to break. She wrapped her arms around him and buried herself against his chest. "I love you," she said with certainty. Sometimes that was the only thing she was still sure of.

"I love you, Padmé," Anakin answered softly. "I always will. Until the day I die." He kissed the top of her hair. Padmé closed her eyes and sighed. They stood there, holding each other in the kitchen, not speaking a word but not having to, as their dreams and wishes and the fantasy of what might have been, were washed away in a flood of unshed tears. And still, there was the question: what if? What if they change their mind? What if they go now? What if it was not too late?

Such thoughts were sentenced to a premature death when they heard the low rumble of a spacecraft outside, and they broke apart from their embrace. Anakin turned his head and looked sadly through the window, out into the setting night. In a bleak, empty voice, he told Padmé, "Obi-Wan's back," and he knew their one chance had slipped away. It had faded with the setting suns.