Jan. 23rd, 2016

morgynleri: A professional writer is an amateur writer who didn't quit (Default)
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Crossposted to tumblr

Note: Yes, I did some quick searching for if the one thing was possible. I'd liken it to a medically-induced coma in this case, rather than normal unconsciousness, and it's going to make things interesting later.

Note the second: [personal profile] thedeadcat​ is where I get the idea of the reason Padmé dies in canon is a broken life-bond with Anakin. Because it is an awesome idea and makes more damned sense than “lost the will to live”.

"Do you trust me?" Anakin meets Padmé's gaze steadily when she opens her eyes again, waiting for her nod, though he doubts it's anything more than a conditional trust. "Once we're away from here, I need you to trust me, to let me in, if I'm going to use the Force at all to check you and the baby." He has to trust it will work, that he'll be able to see what's wrong with Padmé. Trust that she's right and it's not the baby, and that the Force will show him if they're both wrong.

Padmé nods again, tightening her grip on his hand as she closes her eyes again. Anakin listens to the whine of the engines, lets himself feel the minute vibration of the ship as it lifts from the platform, taking a steep angle to get them as far from here as possible as quickly as possible. The cold and sluggish feeling like the Force has become stagnated in darkness lifts away as they're further from Mustafar, and Anakin takes a deep breath.

He squeezes Padmé's fingers gently as he reaches out in the Force, letting his mind slide along the currents and eddies, and feeling her willingness to let him in. Willingness to do whatever she needed to do for her baby, and trusting him to make sure it's all right. Anakin slides into her mind, murmuring a thanks that stutters to a halt as he feels what feels like something bleeding into the Force. Bleeding life and vitality away as readily as any wound, and he hisses, reaching out mental hands to try to staunch the flow.

The outside world fades to bare impressions as he holds onto what feels like the shredded end of a severed artery - a severed bond? - with every bit of concentration he can muster. At some point he thinks someone comes in, but he doesn't know who, or what he says to them. If he says anything. He's vaguely aware of movement, either around him, or him being moved, him and Padmé.

How long he's been focused on the internal before he surfaces, he has no idea, but he's no longer in the tiny medical bay of Padmé's ship when he does. The room is larger, and more sterile, with medical droids beeping anxiously about their patients, and Padmé is resting with a small bundle laying against her chest. The baby.

"I don't know what you were doing, Skywalker, but we nearly lost you both when the droids removed you from physical contact with Senator Amidala."

Master Windu's voice draws Anakin's attention away from Padmé to where the Jedi is sitting in a chair, with another small bundle held in one arm. The other has a skeletal prosthetic on it, holding a bottle as the baby drinks from it.

"Two?" Anakin doesn't know exactly what he did, either, only that he was determined not to let Padmé die from something that could be fixed. That he wanted to be able to fix, and had no experience in dealing with. He doesn't know if what he's done is what the Jedi would have done, or the Sith, only that he thinks it worked. He hopes it worked.

Master Windu frowns, than glances down at the baby he's feeding. "Senator Amidala had twins, yes." He raises an eyebrow, watching Anakin for a long moment. "What were you doing earlier, Skywalker?"

"Trying to keep the Senetor from bleeding out." Anakin doesn't have any other way to describe it, and he sighs quietly. "I don't know what happened to her, but it felt like someone had some deep bond with her, and it had been ripped apart with no regard to the harm to her."

If Vader had done both, Anakin thinks he might well kill his alternate himself when he has a chance. Trying to kill her like this is a cruelty Anakin doesn't think he would be capable of, and doesn't know how Vader would be, when he'd married her and had created children with her.

Children. Twins.

Anakin draws another deep breath, letting it out slowly, a small smile creeping onto his face despite himself. "What did she name them?"

"She hasn't, yet." Master Windu looks past Anakin to Padmé. "She was unconscious when we landed, and all through the birth. I didn't think that was possible."

Blinking, Anakin looks back at Padmé, his smile fading into a worried frown. Had he stopped the bleeding in time, or had he just prolonged the inevitable?

He tries to sit up, falling back when his head spins, trying to blink away the sudden grayness at the edges of his vision. The worried beeping of the medical droid gets closer, and Anakin listens to them scolding him about trying to move so quickly, trying to be active after having been unconscious for the last week.


"We've been able to get you to swallow water and some broth, since the droids weren't able to get an IV in. You short-circuited their limbs every time they came near you with a needle." Master Windu sounds amused, at least, even if there is an undertone of worry to the words. "What did you do, Skywalker?"

"Tried to fix the broken bond by giving it a new anchor point." Anakin tightens the grip he still has on Padmé's hand a moment, before slowly moving his other limbs, reminding himself of the physical limits of his body. "Maybe not waking up was adjusting to the change?"

There's a snort from Master Windu, and Anakin glances at him a moment to see an expression he can't read. Blinking a moment, Anakin turns away, and back to Padmé, trying again to sit up, with a little more success this time. He still feels dizzy, but it's not as bad.

He holds onto Padmé's hand for a long moment more before consciously letting go, peeling away one finger at a time. It feels strange for his hand to be empty, and he flexes his fingers as he watches Padmé intently, hoping she'll wake soon, now that he is awake.


morgynleri: A professional writer is an amateur writer who didn't quit (Default)
Morgyn Leri

September 2017

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