this addition has been edited as of january 13, 2020

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

ANAKIN AND ARTIE HAD LEFT EACH OTHER SOON after their embrace under the stars. Anakin, despite all his previous swagger and charm, had become a blushing mess as soon as he pulled away. Artie suspected they had both surprised themselves.

Artie woke at the first sliver of delicate dawn to a shroud of golden mist settled atop the Theed countryside. It drifted through the open windows, riding on beams of young, rosy sunshine. Bands of soft light fell over her face and she stirred, unsure, for a moment, why she felt so refreshed. It hit her suddenly that after falling asleep again, she'd not been plagued by a single dream, good or bad. She didn't know if it was because of Anakin, or if her mind had simply run out of ideas, but either way, she was not complaining.

Quiet and quick as she could manage, Artie bathed and dressed. She kept her hair down, combing through the slick yellow tresses and letting them dry down her back. As she was pulling on her boots, Artie became suddenly aware of a second presence awake in the house. It was troubled and fitful, seeming a deliberate contrast to her bright mood. Anakin. She'd felt him the night before, as well, after they'd returned to their own rooms; she knew, somehow, the moment he fell back asleep. She could only guess his night had not been as restful as hers.

Artie found him on the veranda. He was, from her point of view, a silhouette looking out at the horizon, hands folded behind his back. Unflinching, like he was standing solute to the rising sun. The mist furled around his feet, gold and aglow. Anakin was so still, Artie wondered if she would be interrupting some ceremonious meditation by trying to talk to him. Still, she felt his pain, whether he wanted her to or not. She made her way slowly, cautiously, to his side.

"Something's bothering you," Artie said. She kept her eyes ahead, trailing the auburn line of dawn as far as it went. "Did you start thinking hard about your expulsion?"

Anakin's eyes were closed, but his mouth twisted. "No," he said. "I'm not getting expelled because we're not getting caught."

"Naturally," Artie replied with a grin, but his words shook her. Their implications—that last night was the first and certainly not the last—were not anything Artie was accustomed to. She'd kissed boys back on Tatooine and it had always meant nothing; and more often than not she never saw them again. She always managed to find the ones that would not stick around. Artie gave herself a shake. "But what's wrong?"

Anakin opened his eyes. He glanced at her, smile gone. "I have to go back to Tatooine. Last night . . . I had the worst dream yet. My mom . . . is dying. Something's happened and she's barely holding on."

Artie sucked in a breath; his worry struck her like lightning, anguish she'd only ever felt after realizing her parents were gone from her forever. Instinctively and without a moment of forethought, Artie turned to face him directly and put a hand on his arm. "I understand," she said softly.

"I'm not asking you to come with me," he said, taking her hand and folding it in his own. "I don't expect that of you. I know it would be overwhelming and if that Lysander person is still in Mos Espa then—"

Artie held up her other hand and he fell silent. "I'll go. You'll need help, and Lysander can't keep me from my homeworld. He doesn't own that dust ball."

"He works for the people that do," Anakin pointed out dryly.

Artie shrugged, lips curling up. "Let him try to cause trouble. I have a secret weapon."

"And what's that?"

"You, Jedi." Artie scrunched her nose. "You wouldn't let him hurt me, would you?"

Anakin shook his head quickly. "Of course not—"

"Then I'm not worried." She winked and dropped her voice. "Besides, I'm a good shot. If I see him, I'll blast him."

Anakin gawked at her. "You can't kill anyone, Artie."

"I didn't say kill!" she insisted. "Waist-down shots only. Non-lethal, just . . . extra painful."

"Remind me to never get on your bad side."

Artie smiled. For a moment, Anakin watched her, eyes trailing the curves of her face like he sought something precious; she felt her cheeks redden under his too-intense stare. "Thank you for doing this," he said quietly.

"Of course," Artie whispered. "I . . . I want to help. I can feel your worry—it's just growing and growing."

His head declined toward her. "You do help. You're steady, even when everything else isn't."

Artie let him kiss her again. It was brief; she tugged herself away after only a moment, partly to tease him and partly because she was afraid. She was inherently wary of his—really, anyone's intentions—which at the moment seemed almost too wholehearted. He was risking too much too quickly; Artie wanted him to consider how much this mistake was worth to him—if it was really her he saw through all his passion and vigor. "We'll have to bring Padmé."

He peered down at her, a small frown forming on his brow, but he nodded. "I know. Do you think she'll let us go?"

"Oh," Artie couldn't help but chuckle. Once she told Padmé they'd kissed, she knew she'd be so thrilled—so smugly vindicated—that she'd likely do anything they asked. "I don't think it's going to be a problem."

• • •

"YOU'RE JOKING, ARTIE," PADMÉ SAID FLATLY AN HOUR LATER, SIPPING IDLY on a cup of steaming caf. She waved a hand. "You're messing with me because you think you're funny, and you aren't. You didn't kiss him."

Artie sat across from her at a small breakfast table on a patio on the backside of the house. The sun had asserted its place in the clear blue sky, the ethereal mist dawn had brought now nothing but dew on the verdant fields. She scoffed. "You think I'm lying?"

Padmé lifted her eyebrows. "You made it fairly clear that wouldn't happen."

"But then it happened," Artie said, twisting an earring. How strange it was to admit it out loud. "I swear on my life, I kissed him." She fought down her embarrassment and forced herself to meet Padmé's inquisitive stare.

In what seemed like the blink of an eye, Padmé's suspicious expression mellowed into realization, then pure delight, like sunlight lighting her up from the inside. "Artie," she cried. "He kissed you? It's essentially illegal for him—but how was it? Are you going to again?"

"Shhh!" Artie laughed, glancing about to make sure Anakin wasn't around. "Hush, you madwoman. The kiss was fine." Truthfully, she'd been so nervous she didn't fully remember the whole thing.

"'Fine,'" Padmé mocked, face still alight with amusement. She fell back in her chair. "I can't believe I'm hearing this. I don't think I've ever been proven right so quickly. What, was it only yesterday I was predicting all of this?"

"Yes, yes, you're a genius. Listen," Artie leaned forward on her arms. "We need to ask you a favor. The reason we were together last night at all was because Anakin had a vision of his mother—he thinks she's dying."

"Oh," Padmé touched her fingers to her dying smile. "Oh, no . . ."

"He wants to go to Tatooine," Artie hasted, "and I said I'd go, too, but only if you're okay with it. And if you came with us."

Padmé blinked, face ashen with worry, and nodded once. "Of course. Of course you should go. Obviously, I won't let you leave without me." She tapped the rim of her cup nervously. "I met Shmi when I was a child—if she's in danger it would be just evil not to help her."

"I think we have to leave . . . very soon. Almost immediately." Artie was tremendously guilty about wrenching Padmé away from her home so quickly, but she knew Anakin's urgency would not ebb and only grew by the second. If they didn't do something, he'd go mad.

Padmé nodded, though Artie thought she caught a flicker of disappointment behind her eyes. "Yes, of course. I'll comm for a starship."

"We can come right back. Padmé, I'm so—"

Padmé grasped Artie's hand tightly. "My dear, Naboo will still be here even if we're gone for days. What's important is we help Shmi—and keep Obi-Wan from knowing we left."

Artie closed her eyes for a moment. "Try the entire Council."

"All right, the entire Council. It's doable. They're not tracking me—they're relying on Ani's reports. He'll just have to lie about what's happening. Clearly," she gave Artie a look, "he's not above it."

"Aren't we lucky for that?" Artie tried to smile.

Padmé pushed an earthy curl behind her ear. "Depends on how good of a liar he is. It's your hide on the line too, now." Irony and fantastic amusement colored her smirk. "If your, ahem, meetings in the dark get out, you'll become the harlot that got the Chosen One expelled and doomed the galaxy to eons of Sith rule."

Artie felt herself pale. "Is that all?"

Padmé shrugged. "Master Yoda could lecture you."

Artie dropped her head in her hands. "Kriff me."

"Oh, if Ani does, then that's an even bigger problem—"

Artie leaped to her feet, unsure whether she should shout or laugh. "You're too bold, Amidala," she hissed. "Really, you're a Senator—you shouldn't talk like that."

Padmé shrugged again. "Just let me have my fun, dear, this is like a datapad come to life." Her grinned flashed and Artie couldn't even dwell on her teasing.

Really, in all truthfulness, it was a good thing to be teased about.

• • •

SOMEHOW, PADMÉ HAD MANAGED TO NAB A NUBIAN ROYAL STARSHIP TO TAKE THEM TO TATOOINE. Apparently, she was not above pulling a few strings.

"Technically, I still own it," she said as she and Artie boarded, Anakin taking up the rear. "It's still in my name."

Artie glanced at her suspiciously and brought up the gleaming ramp after Anakin. "What if we're spotted?"

"No one is expecting us in this ship," Anakin supplied as he darted for the controls. "Worse case, they think Jamillia is on the move."

"And if that raises questions?"

"We'll be back before anyone notices," Anakin said firmly. The starship whirred to life around them and he sat down pointedly in the pilot's seat.

Artie lifted her hands. "Of course."

She joined him at the console and powered up the rest of the sleek, top-of-the-line system. It was beautiful—the pilot in her was absolutely thrilled to be flying such a ship—but Artie's anxiety would not leave her. For the first time, she considered Anakin's recklessness. He was so driven by the need to find his mother he hardly thought for a moment of the consequences getting found out might bring. Not a thing would sway him—Artie only hoped his confidence was not misplaced.

For both of their sakes.

note.
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