(A/N: I think I need to switch back to my original schedule of Sunday, Tuesday, and Thursday. I've been missing days, and just posting 2 chapters a week instead of 3, and since the story is nearing its end, I'd like to finish it out strong!)
=== Padmé ===
Padmé was halfway through lowering herself into one of the wide, cushioned chairs in the sitting room when the soft, insistent chime at the door echoed through the apartment. She paused with one hand braced against the curve of her swollen belly, drawing in a slow breath as she gestured toward the doorway. "Threepio, would you mind?" she called, trying to keep her voice calm despite the faint prickle of unease crawling up her spine. Secure apartments did not receive unexpected visitors, not without warning, not with the city on edge and the Republic in a state of panic after everything that had happened.
C-3PO scuttled dutifully toward the door, his joints whirring. The moment he activated the entry panel his tone shifted from polite formality to shrill alarm, his golden head tilting back as he raised both hands in flustered protest. "Oh my, oh dear, absolutely not, you cannot simply arrive unannounced like this, this residence is under strict security protocols and, oh my goodness, you must leave at once, I insist, please remove yourselves from the premises immediately before I am forced to—"
"Threepio, what is it?" Padmé asked, already pushing herself upright with a faint hiss of discomfort, one hand cradling her belly as she began to make her slow way toward the door, the weight of her pregnancy turning what should have been a few quick steps into a journey.
"Madam, please, I strongly advise that you remain where you are," the droid insisted, his voice wobbling with barely contained panic, but Padmé rounded the corner anyway, and the sight that met her stopped her cold, her breath catching in her throat as recognition and disbelief collided in her chest.
Qui-Gon Jinn stood just beyond the threshold, his usually calm presence frayed at the edges, his robes torn and darkened with burns. Beside him Count Dooku sagged heavily against him, one arm clutched across his abdomen where fresh bandages had been placed, his face ashen and drawn with pain. Behind them loomed an enormous, scarred man, his broad shoulders hunched slightly to avoid brushing the doorframe, his skin a map of old wounds and fresh burns, and at his side stood a small, wide-eyed girl clutching the edge of Qui-Gon's sleeve as if she might vanish without something solid to anchor her.
For a heartbeat Padmé could only stare, the world narrowing to the pounding of her own heart in her ears, then instinct snapped into place and she turned sharply toward the wall panel, her fingers trembling as she reached for the concealed comm unit. "Threepio, call the guards, now," she said, her voice tight, fear coiling through her as her other hand slid protectively over her stomach as if she could shield her unborn children from whatever storm had just arrived at her door.
The comm unit was wrenched from her grasp before she could activate it, pulled cleanly across the room by an invisible force to smack into Qui-Gon's waiting hand, and in the same motion he stepped forward, gently but firmly nudging C-3PO aside to place himself between Padmé and the others. "Padmé, please," he said, his voice low and earnest, "we're not here to hurt you. The last thing any of us want is to cause you harm."
Padmé froze, her eyes flicking past him to the wounded Dooku and the towering figure behind him. Her mind raced through everything she had been told in the last few days, every report, every frantic broadcast, every carefully worded announcement from the Senate.
"Then why are you here?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her hands instinctively cradling her belly as her fear sharpened. "Are you here to finish what you started? To kill me too?"
Qui-Gon's eyes widened in genuine shock, his brow creasing as if the very idea pained him. "Kill you? Padmé, no, never," he said quickly, shaking his head. "We came because we need help. Anakin attacked us. He nearly killed Dooku. We barely escaped with our lives, and he won't survive without medical care." He gestured back toward the older man, whose breathing had grown shallow and ragged, his usual composure stripped away by the effort of remaining upright. "I know the Republic outfitted your apartments with a medical bay for your pregnancy. Please. Let us use it. I beg you."
Padmé's eyes narrowed, disbelief and anger warping her fear. "Help you?" she echoed, a bitter edge creeping into her tone. "Why should I help traitors to the Republic? You were declared enemies of the state. The Jedi were exposed, your plot uncovered. The clones wiped you out because you betrayed us."
The words seemed to strike Qui-Gon like a physical blow, his face draining of color as he stared at her in stunned silence for a long moment. "Plot?" he repeated softly, disbelief threading through his voice. "Padmé, there was no plot. We fled because the Imperium attacked the Temple. They slaughtered the Council. We were running for our lives."
"Then explain this," Padmé shot back, gesturing sharply toward Dooku and then toward the massive, scarred figure looming behind him. "Dooku betrayed the Republic to side with the Imperium, and that… that thing is an Astartes, a butcher of the Imperium's armies. You expect me to believe you're here for anything other than blood?"
Qui-Gon's jaw tightened. "There is no time to unravel all of this here," Qui-Gon said quietly, his voice thick with urgency. "I swear to you, Padmé Amidala, on everything I am, that we mean you no harm. Let me bring Dooku inside. Let me explain. If after that you still wish to turn us over to the guards, I will not stop you."
Padmé searched his face, looking for the familiar calm she remembered, the steady man that had once guided her through war and crisis, and though he looked exhausted and haunted, she found no malice there, only desperation, and her gaze flicked again to the small girl, whose eyes were bright with unshed tears as she peered around the Astartes leg. The sight twisted something in Padmé's chest, maternal instinct surging alongside her fear, and after a long, trembling moment she let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
"Fine," she said at last, her voice firm despite the tremor in her hands. "You, Dooku, and the child can come in. I will not turn away someone who is dying in front of me. But he," she added, pointing toward the unarmored Astartes, her voice hardening, "does not cross that threshold. I will not have an Imperium killer in my home."
Qui-Gon hesitated, then turned back toward the massive warrior, conflict flickering across his features. The Astartes met his gaze, the scars across his face twisting into something like a weary, resigned half-smile. "Fine," the giant rumbled quietly, his voice deep but strangely gentle. "The Count's life matters more than my comfort. I'll keep watch outside."
Qui-Gon inclined his head in gratitude, then stepped aside to guide Dooku and the child into the apartment, Padmé retreating a step to give them space, her heart hammering as the door slid shut behind the towering figure left in the corridor, sealing her in with old allies who now felt like strangers.
===
An hour later the med-bay had settled into a tense artificial quiet, the steady hum of Republic medical equipment filling the space. Dooku lay motionless upon the central cot, sedation and heavy bandaged, the white wraps around his abdomen already faintly pink where blood had seeped through after the bacta and stimulants had finished their work. Qui-Gon stood at his side, hands clasped behind his back, eyes fixed on the slow rise and fall of Dooku's chest as if his will alone might keep the older man breathing.
He lingered a moment longer, then turned away from the bed and made his way back into Padmé's sitting room.
He found her seated near the wide windows that overlooked Coruscant's endless skyline, her hands folded over her belly as the traffic-lanes glimmered beyond the transparisteel. He did not sit immediately, choosing instead to remain standing for a moment. When he finally spoke his voice was quiet but steady.
He told her everything, from the Imperium's sudden arrival and the massacre at the Temple to Dooku's offer made to the survivors on Alderaan, and the way it had all collapsed into blood and betrayal.
He did not soften the truth, nor did he try to excuse his own choices, laying bare the fear, the confusion. Padmé listened without interrupting, her face pale, her eyes fixed somewhere beyond him as if she were watching the story unfold again in her mind, and when he finished there was a long, heavy silence between them, broken only by the distant murmur of the city and the faint hum of the apartment's systems.
Finally she spoke, her voice low and strained, as though each word had to be forced past a knot in her throat. "Anakin told me the Jedi attacked first," she said, not looking at him, her fingers tightening against the fabric of her gown. "He said you plotted with the Imperium, that the Council tried to hide something from the Republic, and that when he tried to stop you, everything spiraled out of control. He said he made a terrible choice to defend himself… and that the eradication of the Jedi was the result of that choice."
Qui-Gon took a step closer, anguish flickering across his features as he shook his head slowly. "Padmé, that isn't true," he said, the words heavy with a plea he could not quite keep from his voice. "We did not betray the Republic. None of us did. The Imperium struck without warning, and the clones… they turned on us. Anakin was there. He led them. I don't know what filled his mind with such poison, but I swear to you, on the Force itself, that the Jedi did not raise the first blade." He hesitated, then added softly, "Please, tell me where he went. I need to find him before this darkness consumes him entirely."
Padmé's jaw tightened, and she finally turned to face him, her eyes bright with unshed tears and something fierce and defensive burning beneath them. "No," she said quietly. "I won't tell you. Wherever Anakin is, it's not for you to chase him down. Once Dooku wakes, you all need to leave. The Republic is hunting you, and if you're found here… it will be the end of all of you." She pushed herself carefully to her feet, one hand braced against the chair, the other steadying her weight as she prepared to leave the room.
"Padmé," Qui-Gon said, stepping forward, his voice catching her before she could turn away, "look at me. Do you truly believe that I would betray the Republic? That I would conspire to see the Order destroyed, to plunge the galaxy into this madness?"
She stopped, her back half-turned to him, and for a moment she said nothing, the silence stretching thin and fragile between them. Then something shifted in Qui-Gon's expression as understanding dawned with sudden, painful clarity. He straightened slowly, his eyes widening as the pieces fell into place, the protectiveness, the way she spoke Anakin's name, the way her hands never strayed far from her belly. "It's him," he said softly, more to himself than to her. "Anakin is the father."
Padmé turned fully then, her gaze sharp, wounded, and defiant all at once, and she did not deny it. "Who should I believe, Qui-Gon?" she asked, her voice trembling despite her attempt at composure. "You… or my husband?" The word confirmed everything without another explanation, and the pain in her eyes was not just fear for the galaxy, but the terror of a wife and mother. Torn between the man she had sworn herself to and the mentor who had once guided him with gentle hands.
She did not wait for his answer, turning and walking from the room, leaving Qui-Gon alone amid the soft glow of the apartment. He sank back into the nearest chair, stunned into silence by the realization that the boy he had once believed in with his whole heart had become the very storm tearing their lives apart.
===
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