Chapter Text
23/22 BBY (about 3 months before the start of the Clone Wars)
Expressions were grim around the meeting table as the Jedi debriefed the Loyalist Committee on yet another failed diplomatic effort to de-escalate the situation with the growing Separatist movement. Padmé balled and unballed her skirt in her fist under the table, shifting to keep the setting sun out of her eyes as she listened to Master Windu and Master Jinn explain the fallout. More violence on the horizon, more upset, more instability.
She knew this was going to happen. She knew it, she warned them, but her colleagues in the Senate and on this very Committee still proceeded with their thin list of insubstantive concessions to the negotiation, under some ridiculous notion that the Rim Worlds were willing to accept scraps at this stage of the crisis. Honestly, Sheev was her friend, but his inability to see the obvious conflict of interest in the members he trusted to de-escalate this crisis was really starting to grate on her. Half the time she felt like their conversations were just them going in circles, and the other half she felt like she was watching a deliberate plot to sabotage the very efforts at peace they were attempting. More often than not, it was her and Bail proposing solutions to address the Rim Worlds' demands of neglect, only to be shot down again and again by the others for mildly inconveniencing the 'galaxy's' economic stability. What a load of bantha poodoo.
“I'm sorry Chancellor, but Ukio and Halcyon are explicit,” Master Windu explained for about the umpteenth time in the last hour. “They will not accept mere procedural accommodations in the decision making. They want substantive reforms.” Padmé tightened her grip under the table again to avoid letting out a vindicated huff of frustration.
In truth, she knew why the Senate and the core words were still dragging their feet on the issue, even under the increasingly imminent threat of military violence from the Rim Worlds. It was the same reason why her people had been so easily abandoned to invasion by the Trade Federation a decade ago. Economics, the very way the Republic social order functioned.
The Rim Worlds were not merely underdeveloped and the Senate was not merely obstinate in creating reforms to allow these systems to prosper. The effort to keep the Rim Worlds subjugated was a deliberate product of their system. Because it was by maintaining the Rim Worlds' instability that the Senate ensured the Core Worlds their freedom to continually extract wealth from those populations unhindered. The system functioned on exploitation and whoever was not at the top of the social hierachy could only expect for their wealth being extracted from them Naboo had very nearly fallen to the same fate when the Trade Federation decided it did not want to be the one to shoulder the burden of the tax reforms imposed on them. It was only by the valiant sacrifice of her planet's people in solidarity that the Trade Federation had failed. And even then it did nothing to stop those who wanted Naboo's resources from attempting to destabilize their government in the years since.
So to ask the Senate now to take measures to redistribute their donors' amassed wealth was unthinkable. It would start a ripple effect that would threaten to break apart the very economic foundation the Republic hegemony subsisted on. They would never allow it. The Republic would send its citizens to die in battle in a heartbeat before it surrendered its control of the means of production. Padmé was only all too aware of that.
Still, she was here, she was sent here by her people because they still believed, however limited in her capacity as a single Senator, that she could make a difference. So she persisted. She took strikes against the Senate corruption where she could, twisted truths and manipulated egos where she could not, and she did her dank farthest to hold back the tide of violence bubbling up with the Separatists' dissent at every given opportunity. She was still getting more and more scared that it wouldn't be enough.
Across the table, Sheev folded his hands together, his eyes thoughtful as he deliberated the options laid out before him. He was a smart man. Padmé was certain he understood the stakes before them, but more and more, Padmé was beginning to suspect that her old friend didn't really care about the outcome one way or another. She tried not to think about that. Sheev was the one who guided her and pushed for justice for Naboo back when she was queen. She was the one who helped put him in power. Their destinies were bound and woe be it if they were not able to continue as allies.
“That's really unfortunate,” Sheev said after a long moment. “We don't have enough core worlds in support of diverting resources to provide much more in accommodations. These 'substantive reforms' they're asking for are simply too dramatic for our economy to sustain.”
But Padmé couldn't let her friendship keep her from acting on her purpose, even for Sheev. “With all due respect Chancellor, that's not true,” she piped up. “If you would just consider tabling the Expropriations Bill - there are plenty of resources accumulated by our economic powers that could easily remedy -”
“And you think that would not be a crippling burden on the galactic economy?” Senator Argente cut in, immediately irritated. “Senator Amidala, we've been over this - the rise in prices that would result from such a redistribution could cause untold trillions to starve.”
“Only if the burden was allowed to be shifted to the public,” Padmé shot back, her eyes full of fire as she glared at the Koorivar. “And the Bill already has provisions -” Sheev cut her off with a raise of his hand.
“Please Padmé, not today. Let's try and focus on the requests of our Jedi emissaries, alright?” Padmé pursed her lips. She wanted to argue, but looking like a hot-headed zealot would only hinder her cause. She conceded with a silent nod.
After a beat of silence, Senator Aak spoke up. “I think we are well past the point of diplomatic negotiations,” he said. “This is our seventh attempt at negotiations that they've rejected. It's high time for the Jedi to reestablish Republic security by a show of force.”
"The Jedi are not soldiers,” Qui-gon immediately cut in before the Gran could continue. “Nor are we thugs that the Senate can just send to intimidate those that disagree with them. We are already supporting the Republic in this crisis by protecting your ambassadors and conducting negotiations. Extending our aid beyond that would be an undemocratic authoritarian crackdown.” Padmé silently thanked the force that there was someone else in the room willing to shut down calls for violence. Qui-gon getting onto the Jedi Council has honestly been a boon. She doubtsed she could've helped mitigate the Republic's retaliatory efforts in the last few years without him. But it shouldn’t have been surprising that he understood. He was there.
Senator Argente meanwhile bristled. “Don't presume to educate us on the functions of democracy Master Jedi. And we are well beyond mere disagreement with the Separatists.”
“Still stands, his point,” Master Yoda answered evenly, his tone mellow despite the rising tensions in the room. “And have enough numbers for such an effort, the Jedi do not.” Padmé was thankful for the Jedi's presence here, for their gentle neutrality. Because even among them, the Chancellor's most trusted council, there were too many with whom Padmé disagreed, and too often they nearly came to blows.
Aak and Argente looked ready to argue again when the door to the deliberation room suddenly slid open, revealing a baffled-looking young man standing in the doorway. “Ah, uncle -” He cut off before he could finish, immediately turning rigid at the sight of the congregation. They in turn paused in their argument to stare at him, too baffled by the unexpected affront to continue. The intruder was a human. He was young, lanky, but broad-shouldered, and definitely not a politician. From the looks of it, he had made the unfortunate mistake of stumbling into the wrong room, though how one managed that in a highly secure Senate building during an escalating crisis was well beyond Padmé. At least the intruder had the decency to realize his mistake as he held his hands up and attempted to back out the door. “Sorry, uh. I'll come back later.” But Sheev raised a hand and stopped him.
“No no, it's alright,” the Chancellor said. “We'll only be a moment longer.” That was when the young man's words finally seemed to click in the gathered committee's mind. Uncle. The young man had referred to Sheev as uncle.
“This is your nephew ?” Mace attempted to clarify with a pointed finger, and Sheev flashed them all an apologetic look.
“Great nephew, actually,” he demurred back. “He has only recently landed on Coruscant and doesn't know the rules. I apologize for not having kept him batter watched.” Amused snorts and titters went around the table before everyone decided to get back into business, the young man beckoned to wait outside in the hall.
“Try to wrap up this debrief then, we should,” Yoda chuckled as the door slid shut behind the young man. “Gone far past its parameters, it might have.” Guilty glances were shared across the table, and after a murmur of agreement everyone, to Padmé's dismay, closed off the debrief with much a more careful adherence to communicating what was strictly necessary. Then, everything was over, and everyone filed out in good humor, her pleas once again ignored. Padmé inwardly grumbled but hung back until it was only her and Sheev left. The door then hissed open and Sheev's nephew was once again permitted entrance. Getting a better look at him now, she was surprised to find that he was actually quite handsome, with deep blue eyes and soft honey bronze curls framing his angular face. It made her slightly less aggrieved at him for interrupting a discussion she had been hoping to steer into new plans with.
“I have to say Sheev,” she said to Sheev once they were alone, “I'm not sure whether I should be offended or not. I've known you all these years and not once did you tell me you had a nephew.” Holding out her hand she then turned and smiled at the young man. “Nice to finally meet you. I'm Padmé. Sheev and I are old friends.”
The boy returned her handshake with all the enthusiasm of a massiff pup. “Anakin,” He replied with a smile that seemed like it could light up the whole galaxy. “Sorry again for the disturbance. I had thought my uncle was done his meeting already.”
Padmé kept her tone polite. “It's quite alright.”
“I should be careful to be more explicit about my schedule in the future though,” Sheev interjected good-naturedly. “And Padmé, you have deepest apologies. The matter must have completely escaped my mind. I don't see my nephew often, and you know as well as I how busy these past few years have been.”
Padme nodded, memories flashed before her eyes. “Indeed.” She smiled. “Well, I supposed I had better forgive you this time. And I won't keep you two from catching up.” She straightened her skirt and bowed to them both. "Take care.” She paused at the door and flashed one last smile at Anakin, delighting in the way he flushed in response. “And Anakin, if you need anything while you're on Coruscant, don't be a stranger. Sheev and I are old friends.”
Once the doors slid shut behind her, Vader's bright ad friendly expression snapped into a cold frown, the mask gone. His eyes, however, remained glued to the spot at the door Padmé disappeared behind. “Well,that went about as well as it could go,” he commented dryly. “Three Jedi masters right next to me, and not one of them seemed the wiser as to who or what I am. I'd say I passed with flying colours.”
His master hummed in agreement but made no other efforts to encourage him. “Then you are ready to begin your assignment, my apprentice. The Jedi are continuing to prove themselves obstinate in their stance against military measures. It's high time we provided them with the proper incentive to mobilize.”
“And remind them that they're not safe on their little high chairs,” Vader added coldly, dropping his arms down to his sides to crack his neck. “Do you still want the first message to be on Coruscant?”
Palpatine smiled. “Yes. What better place is there to remind them that they're not safe?”
“Then may I -”
“No.” Vader frowned when Sidious cut him out before even letting him finish, but this was a familiar argument so he wasn't surprised. “We're too early in our plans to engage the Jedi Council directly. You will have your revenge, my apprentice, just have patience.”
Disgruntled at yet another shutdown, Vader nonetheless obeyed. “Yes, Master.”
From outside the window of the Jedi Council chamber, the night looked still, peaceful, the distant flecks of light from the city betraying nothing beyond the usual hustle and bustle of the nightlife. Nonetheless, Yoda frowned as he watched on from behind the transparisteel. He didn't look away when Mace moved in to join him. “Descended on Coruscant, a darkness has,” Yoda said, his voice grim after a long moment. Because in the force, the picture of the night was very different. In the force, it was as if a screeching violent presence suddenly emerged onto the planet from hyperspace, then, just as the Jedi were jolted to alarm to act, it disappeared, leaving the Force and calm as still as it was a moment prior, the shroud of the darkside swallowing it back into oblivion.
Mace folded his arms into his sleeves behind him as he looked on, felt on, but the presence was gone, and all they could do now was stand watch while wondering. “It seems this crisis is only going to get worse from here,” he said. Yoda nodded.
Sephjet Josall inhaled a breath of the cool night air as he helped the ambassador in his charge dismount the speeder. This meeting he was supposed to help facilitate was a late one, but it worked better for the nocturnal members attending so the Jedi did their best to accommodate. That Sephjet was a human knight was an unfortunate inconvenience for him, but Sephjet liked to think he was flexible in the matter, so everything worked out. All the same, he hoped the discussion wouldn't take too long. Politics were not exactly his strong suit. He hadn't realized there were dark forces at play waiting to grant his wish.
As Sephjet and the ambassador disembarked onto the landing platform of the office building, a sudden cold seemed to seize the air as the noise of the Coruscant traffic faded away. Then the lights themselves around them seemed to dim as a shadow stepped out from behind a column on the platform, blocking Sephjet and his charge's way into the building. The hallways leading to the door behind the figure were completely dark despite the agreed-upon rendezvous - it was as if the whole place was empty, and no one was around to confront the strange figure besides Sephjet. The darkside of the force rippling off from them was immense, and it didn't take a genius to figure out that they were up to no good. Sephjet lit his lightsaber.
“Who are you?” He demanded as he moved to shield his charge with his body.
The other didn't answer but merely drew their own lightsaber. It was blood red. Knowing he had little choice but to engage in combat, Sephjet centered himself, reached out to the force, then charged.
On the holo, the gruesome image of the murdered Jedi knight glowed with stark and sharp clarity, bathing the room in a disquieting blue. The words “Republic Scum'' were burned into the ground around him, his body slashed to charred pieces, his lightsaber split in half by his side. Next to him, the ambassador in his charge suffered a similar fate, but it was clear by the scorch marks who the real target was.
The council was silent for a long time as they took in the scene. Shuttered expressions of disbelief flickered around the room as everyone tried to process the reality of what they were seeing. A Jedi, one of their own, murdered on Coruscant under their own noses because of their stance on the conflict. The restraint they've shown in engaging in conflict the last several years seemed to no longer matter. Mace hunched his elbows onto his knees and rubbed his eyes.
"Lightsaber wounds, those are,” Yoda finally said after a long moment. “The dark presence we felt on Coruscant last night, this must be. The work of the Sith, this is.”
"And they're working with the Separatists,” Mace added, his face still in his hands. Could this be the master to that Sith Qui-gon and Obi-wan slew all those years ago? They certainly felt more powerful, to have a force presence noticeable by all the Jedi on the planet just by appearing, but it was unnerving how in that same instance, they were able to just vanish without a trace. It took both Qui-gon and his padawan working together to take down that first Sith and only just barely with costly results. What were they going to do now that they knew another one this powerful was on the loose, able to turn up and hunt them down at any moment? The fact that they had immediately taken down a knight was not lost on him.
“Let's not jump to conclusions.” Qui-gon murmured, worrying his beard from across the room, “The intention certainly is to make a statement against the Republic, but is anyone else concerned that this happened only a few days after our recent meeting with the Loyalist Committee? It almost feels like...a deliberate provocation...”
“If that was the point, they've certainly succeeded,” Kit Fisto returned through gritted teeth. “We should have acted against the dissidents years ago - then maybe things wouldn't have escalated to this point.”
Yoda shook his head. “The past, the past is. To begin with diplomacy, Qui-gon was not wrong. Act rashly now, we should not.”
Qui-gon sighed and straightened in his seat. “Then I'll investigate this,” he stated to the Council. “Figure out the extent to what we're facing. See if we're being played. Obi-wan and I have the most experience dealing with the Sith,” he said evenly, fingers laced. “So it'd be best if we were the ones responsible for handling this.” The rest of the council looked between each other, before a sigh of agreement rippled around the circle.
Yoda narrowed his eyes on Qui-gon. “Very well then. But cautious and swift, you both must be.” Qui-gon just smiled in return.
“Of course.”
“We must put out a statement condemning the violence against the Jedi and Ambassador Knol, but that alone cannot be allowed to cross the threshold for justifying war! ” Padmé insisted from her platform at the Senate chambers. “As someone who has experienced the tragic fallout myself, I must insist to this Senate that we not proceed in any matter that will escalate the violence unless absolutely necessary.”
“The violence has made its way even to Coruscant! Against the Republic's very defenders!” Someone countered from the other side of the chamber, it was too far for her to see who, but it didn't matter, there were too many of these same stale opinions to keep track of anyways. “If we don't act, now, we'll -”
“There already is action we can take,” Padmé countered with steely evenness as she straightened her posture and projected her voice into her microphone. “Action we can take to de-escalate the situation instead of exacerbating it. Colleagues, it's important for us to remember that the Separatists are not merely composed of authoritarian opportunists – many planets with genuine concern about the plight of their people have also aligned themselves. The only reason these systems have voted to secede is because they believe there to be no other option forwards. If the Republic elite will just pool a small percentage of their coiffeurs,” unjustly gained, she didn't add, “to meet the needs of these neglected Rim World systems, we can uproot the majority of the support behind the violent dissidents without having to further escalate that matter.” The Senate burst into uproar.
“And why should the Core Worlds have to shoulder the burden to placate violent dissidents?!” Someone shouted.
“That's just appeasing terrorism!” Another objected. And on and on until the entire Senate hall was just unintelligible shouting. Karking Force.
Padmé gritted her teeth and clenched her fist at her sides. They didn't hear a word she just said. Honestly, she was surprised they even let her finish speaking first since they clearly didn't care about what she said - too concerned with protecting their private interests and lining their donors' pockets. It was days like this when she idly wondered if she should maybe be allowed to throw rocks at people. Maybe then she'd be more effective. But no, no, she had to remain calm. She was here to advocate for a peaceful resolution of this matter. She had to be the collected one here, the steady rock against the corrupt Senate's tide of violent rhetoric. But Force, it was becoming more and more evident that diplomacy alone won't be able to succeed here, not with corruption still running rampant amongst her peers. Bill NI-1938 was as unpassable today as it had been six months ago. She was running out of options. Before long, she may very well have to scrounge for the mere hope of an anti-war bill passing. They were running out of time, out of time...
It was in this mindset that she returned to her office that day, and in this mindset that she found her work console completely sliced through and overridden with worms. That she ended up in a bit of a fit involving hurled objects could not be held against her. She had to let out the frustration she held back in the Senate chambers somehow. She very nearly hurled one at her door when she heard it chime.
Slowly lowering the datapad, Padmé took a deep breath. She had to calm down. She was a Senator, and her propriety, her reputation was everything. She needed to stay in control. So Padmé took a breath, counted to three and answered the chime. “Come in.” The door hissed open to reveal, to her immense surprise, Palpatine's strange nephew. “Anakin?” She blurted out, suddenly on the teetering edge between confused and embarrassed. “What're you -” He wasn't dressed like an aide, or a guard, nor was he in casual wear. Instead, he was dressed...like tech support. “You work here?”
Vader let out a sheepish laugh as he stepped into the door and ducked his head to the side. “Yeah, I know. Not nearly as cool as my uncle. But no, I'm actually just on loan. My uncle needed some help patching up some of the droids in this building.” He casually omitted the other part of his work that was infecting Padmé's computer with the very worm that had caused her so much distress. Sidious was growing annoyed by her constant interference with his plans and ordered him to slow her down a little.
(“There's already enough other parties out for her blood that she won't be a problem much longer, but it will bring me great comfort to not have to worry about her pushing that Force danked expropriations bill for one day.”)
Vader had gone about doing that, but then when he sensed her frustration, he couldn't help himself. There was just something about this Senator, Padmé, that radiated out to him, ignited his curiosity with an unrelenting pull. The first time he caught sight of her, he very nearly did think she was an angel from the moons of Lego. Then there was...their history, one only Vader was aware of, and that only increased the draw. That he had the boon of an assignment to mess with her computer specifically was an ironic coincidence. That he now was presented with the perfect opportunity to talk to her properly as well? Well, it seems his master's reprieve will just have to be a little short-lived.
"On loan?” Padmé askedm her voice light despite her earlier distress. She hadn’t expected Sheev’s nephew to already be employed here, but it did explain his move to Coruscant. “Where from?”
“The Coruscant Spaceport,” Vader replied, squaring his shoulders with no small bit of pride. “I'm their new chief engineer.” These matters, his aliases, they didn't mean much to him before, but now, now he suddenly really hoped they were good enough to impress her.
Padmé's face brightened with delight at the explanation - oh, he succeeded! And that was another face he needed a holo of. “That's really impressive, Anakin. And you shouldn't compare yourself to your uncle like that, you're just as -” She then paused, as if remembering something, then she looked between him, her console, and the items on the floor before turning bright red. “Oh. Oh - if you were just here for the droids then,” she put a hand over her mouth. “I'm so sorry you had to hear that.” Her office was usually really well insulated in terms of sound - had she really been that loud that he could hear her from the hallway?
Vader chuckled and shook his head. “It's ok. We all have our bad days. And I didn't hear much. But uh, if it's a problem with your console, maybe I can help?” Padmé nodded mutely before stepping aside and letting him in on her console.
“I guess if anyone could help, it'd probably be the Spaceport's chief engineer.” Or the person who installed the worm in the first place.
There wasn't much he could actually do to salvage the data. He had quite methodically programmed his worm to chew that all up within the first few seconds of infection, but with that done now, there was no reason he couldn't remove it and at least let her get back to work from scratch. That alone should stall her more than long enough to grant his Master the reprieve that he wanted. Or so Vader had thought. He did not expect for Padmé, the moment he got her console up and running again, to immediately open up a drafting document and begin typing out a perfectly worded preamble of the expropriations bill at lightning speed.
“W-wow, did you memorize all that or something?” He asked in astonishment, once he finally dared to break her concentration.
“Oh yes,” Padmé responded without even looking up. “You would too if you had to read over these bills as many times as I have.”
“I would too if I had to read over these bills as many times as you have,” Vader repeated, dumbfounded, amazed. It seemed he didn't end up stalling her much after all. Whoops.
Obi-wan replayed the security holo of the crime scene captured from the adjacent building and scratched his beard. "Somehow, I expected him to be taller.” To say he was enthused about being pulled from his diplomatic duties to go hunt a Sith with his old Master was hmm, a lie, but Obi-wan was nothing if not dutiful, and this was a bit of an emergency situation. He'd feel honoured if he wasn't feeling so depressed about what this meant for the state of the crisis.
“Really?” Qui-gon chimed in with an amused tone. “I find them already plenty tall, certainly taller than you.” Obi-wan rolled his eyes. “But let's not be too quick to jump to conclusions right now about the gender.” Fair, it was difficult to distinguish much about the figure from the holo besides tall and slender. Their flowing black cloak, the dim lights, and the distance basically swamped away most discernible features, and on top of having their hood down, the Sith was also wearing a mask over the bottom half of their face. One could only even guess what species they were with so little information. If it wasn't for their red lightsaber and their dark presence in the force, it might've even been hard to tell that they were Sith.
“Well, whoever they are,” Obi-wan corrected, “They're a heck of a pilot. Made out of there like a gonk skonkjack. Cross-referenced security footage from twenty blocks and I still lost them.”
Gui-gon folded his hands into his sleeves. “Oh, and where did you see them last?” Obi-wan winced.
“The entertainment district.”
The last piece of surveillance footage Obi-wan found that he could be certain was of the killer's speeder showed the dark figure disappearing between two shadowed buildings in the entertainment district, the area ostensibly still under construction. It was just a long enough stretch of darkness with just enough idle traffic moving through it that someone who emerged on the other side would've easily disappeared into the crowd. The two Jedi spent a solid day combing over every corner of the place and found nothing. If the killer did even try to hide here for a moment, they were long gone. And they didn't conveniently drop anything here for Obi-wan and Qui-gon to find.
“Well, now what?” Obi-wan huffed as they trotted back out into the busy streets.
Qui-gon flicked the sleeves of his robes down his arms and put his hands on his hips. “Assuming the killer exited from this side, I suppose now, our best shot is to ask around. See who might've seen them.” He turned and smiled at Obi-wan, “Care for a drink?”
Padmé slumped back onto her couch and rubbed her temples, hoping that she'd been giving enough of a hint to fend off her overly concerned friends and caretakers. Unfortunately, they weren't the least bit dissuaded and the nattering in her ears continued. “It's far too dangerous! You need more security!” Someone said yet again.
Padmé rolled her eyes. You have one close call with an assassin while shopping and suddenly everyone thinks they get to be your parent for the foreseeable future. As if this was new. As if Nute Gunray alone hasn't tried to have her killed a dozen times over the last ten years since Naboo. It was fine. It was nothing. Not to her anyway. She already had just about the best security money could buy. She wasn't about to let her friends suffocate her with so much protection that she would lose the ability to effectively complete her duties. Those were more important.
“At least consider asking the Jedi to support you. At least until this episode blows over,” Sabé insisted, her worry bright and demanding in contrast to Bail's controlled and suffused one. “With all you've done for them - ”
“The Jedi have their own problems right now,” Padmé reminded her. “They're not even sure they're safe. How could I possibly ask them to protect me? ”
"Well can you at least consider getting an upgrade to your security systems?” Bail cut in, his tone borderline pleading now. “Get Artoo some new hardware?”
[Hey! You got something you wanna say to me, meat-face?] Artoo beeped back snappishly. Bail, even without understanding the binary, had the decency to at least look apologetic.
Padmé reached out and patted the droid consolingly on his dome. “Artoo has been doing just fine,” she concurred. But Bail's suggestion did give her an idea, albeit not one solely focused on security needs. After all the death threats, holomedia hostilities, and then another actual assassination attempt, what she really needed was a break .
Whoever this killer was, even though they had passed through here, it was quickly becoming clear that they didn't frequent the area. After getting dragged into a shady game of sabbac, two unnecessary bar fights, and ending up in a club where he had to witness beings cozying up to his Master in ways that will scar him for life, Obi-wan put his foot down and insisted on a change in strategy. Unfortunately, this was not before Qui-gon meandered into an illegal wildlife trafficking ring, which was how Obi-wan ended up trying to cross-reference speeder permits in their hotel room with five different porgs flapping and cawing in the background.
“I thought Master Yoda explicitly told you that we have to be quick and efficient with this investigation,” he muttered, forehead resting in his hand as he continued tapping away on his console with resigned frustration. This was not fair. If he knew he'd be roped into all manner of investigations relating to Sith with Qui-gon after having cut one in half, he would've just jumped down into the reactor chute.
Qui-gon just continued gently petting one of the avians as he scrolled through his datapad. “We are being efficient with this investigation. We're pursuing all possible leads at our earliest availability and even dividing up the research work to save time. But it's important that as Jedi we not forsake our basic duties to protect the vulnerable in this galaxy. Besides, it's only going to be a couple more days before the wildlife rehabilitation service comes to take the little guys back to Ahch-To.”
Obi-wan groaned. There was a soft flapping of wings and then a porg landed on his head and cawed.
Anakin was as dashing as any prince she's ever seen when he showed up at her home office two cycles later. Padmé was instantly glad that she had taken the time to dress a little more nicely than she would've otherwise in the setting - though she always looked awesome, thank you very much. And Anakin seemed to appreciate her efforts because she could practically see the stars in his eyes when she opened the door. “Wow, you um...you look really pretty today, Senator,” he mumbled. Padmé preened a little at the praise as she beckoned him inside.
“You don't look so bad yourself, Mr. Palpatine,” she teased.
But Anakin's face fell a bit, and he hastily corrected her. “Skywalker actually. My last name is Skywalker. Sheev is...there were a few marriages between us on the family tree.”
“Oh.” She had embarrassed herself again, and Padmé quickly tried to amend her mistake. “My apologies, Mr. Skywalker.” He brightened right back up when she said that, and Padmé felt relieved again. Skywalker was a nice name. It suited him. “Thanks again for taking the time to come help me with my security systems,” she added. “I would've hired another registered contractor, but I'd feel safer if it was done by a friend of the family.” And she did consider Sheev that. In some ways, he wasn't just Anakin's 'uncle', but hers as well.
A strange look flitted across Anakin's face at her statement, but it quickly disappeared under his bright smile. “Glad to help.”
(In reality, when Vader brought the news up to Sidious, his master's reaction had been, “Oh good. If she's going to make things so easy for us, then we might as well kill her ourselves.” But Vader...was not quite ready for that step yet. He'd only just met her! He didn't have enough information yet. He needed to know. So he made up an excuse.
“The Jedi have been scrutinizing the Senatorial districts a lot more carefully since our message went out. Don't you think taking advantage of such a vulnerability will draw their attention? And point their suspicions towards me?” That thankfully was enough to dissuade his Master, as Sidious immediately waved off the idea.
“Very well. Just treat it as a social call then. Gain her trust. We may have use of such access later, if she survives long enough.“)
For Vader personally, though, his statement remained true. He really was happy to help, a sentiment that baffled him because it's been years since he's exercised those feelings, not to mention the who they were directed to. But it seemed he couldn't help himself in the matter. His feelings moved faster than his brain, and they were then made all the easier when an adorable astromech droid rolled out into the foyer with Padmé to greet them. “Oh hello! Who is this?”
“This is R2-D2,” Padme introduced with a fond smile. “He helped save my ship when we first ran the Trade Federation's blockade on my planet ten years ago. He also helped us damage the droid army's command ship when we were invaded.” Her expression fell then as she patted the top of Artoo's dome absently. Vader could sense tendrils of immeasurable grief slip out from her as she did so, her sorrow accompanied by flashes of anger and pain. He understood where it was coming from.
The Battle of Naboo was a tragic, bittersweet victory. Neglected the by Senate and the Core Worlds, the planet had been left to fend for itself when the Trade Federation sought to forcibly occupy it for its resources. All the planet's residents, both the Naboo and Gungans had united to combat the Federation's droid army. Their forces fought valiantly, bolstered by the steely resolve of their then Queen Amidala, Padmé, but even with that they had only just barely survived. By the time the Queen had managed to capture the Viceroy and force out a surrender, the planet's surface had been turned into a mass grave, something that haunted the Naboo in all their intergalactic relationships since.
Vader knew this because, in the years since the battle, he had studied it obsessively, which was why he also knew that Viceroy Gunray and the other Federation executives behind the attempted occupation had been excused by the Republic Senate. The perpetrators, even Viceroy Gunray, received a mere slap on the wrist, a fine, and now Gunray was still at large, taking shots at Padmé from the dark, his position undisturbed. Vader felt an empathetic surge of anger on her behalf, but smothered the emotion down with his other conflicted feelings about the event. He couldn't afford to have his identity revealed by failing to control his emotions.
So instead, he said somberly to her, “I'm sorry for your loss.”
Padmé's eyes were shiny when she smiled at him again. “Thank you, Anakin.”
They then stood there in silence for a moment, two strangers having awkwardly tread on a difficult subject, both not sure where to look. Then after a moment of thinking up and dismissing a bunch of terrible segues, Vader blurted out, “I also lost someone that day, during that battle.” Kriff. He shouldn’t have said that. Sidious had been adamant that he be careful not to reveal too much of his past to strangers. But was Padmé really a stranger?
"Oh?” Her eyes looked so sad and tired. This was probably not the first time someone's told her this.
“Yes, a...a teacher of mine,” Vader admitted after a moment, then ducked his gaze to the side so she wouldn't see the pain in his eyes, the flash of yellowing rage.
“I'm sorry.”
Vader looked up at her, at her forlorn eyes and the sad miserable guilt they betrayed. He never wanted to see them ever again. Those eyes, those words, they weren't the mere rote gestures he's heard over the years between people who both knew and didn't know the truth. Padmé's expressions were from a place of person who not only understood but felt the devastation of his loss bone-deep. Hers was the pained apology from a Queen, too young for the weight saddled on her shoulders, who had tried so desperately yet failed to save her people, even as she succeeded. Those were the eyes of someone who had carried the weight of every single one of those deaths on her shoulders ever since, who was now still terrified of failing them again. Vader had never felt a heart so vast and so heavy before, and it startled him.
“I-it's ok,” he muttered back, not sure if he meant it. “It wasn't your fault.” He got a small snort of laughter as a response and he knew she didn't believe him.
They tried to make small talk after that, about vapid and irrelevant nothings - Vader's fondness of flying and racing, Padmé's love of fashion and clothing design - as he checked over and tinkered with her security systems, but even though things were lighter after a while, the weight of Naboo never fully left the room. When Vader left that evening, he could still feel the echoes of her guilt and shame haunting his each parting step.