Liz (amidala_thrace) wrote,
Liz
amidala_thrace

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Rebirth

Title: Rebirth
Fandom: Star Wars
Written For: fanfic50
Prompt: #024 Heal
Characters: Obi-Wan, Padmé, Luke, Leia, C3PO
Word Count: 1,728
Rating: PG
Summary: Padmé won’t get to Polis Massa in time to have the babies. Can Obi-Wan help her?
Author’s Notes: Okay, at least this time I actually have an explanation for where Anakin was. A logical explanation, not some half-arsed “oh he just couldn’t be there.” I like this fic, I really do. I always wondered what might have happened if Obi-Wan had had to deliver the babies, and this was one answer my subconscious provided. C3PO seems to show up a disturbing number of times in these fics, which is bizarre. *glares at subconscious* I've been working on this one for over a week and to be frank I'm glad it's finally done. I'll link it to my prompt table tomorrow, I'm too tired right now.



She looked so small, lying there on the bed. Her eyes were half-open, her brow sweaty. She blinked, once, twice, several times, fixing her eyes upon the mountain of her belly. He could not help reaching out and caressing her cheek softly. Almost immediately he withdrew his hand, nervous that he might have offended her.

“Obi-Wan …” Her voice, small and soft and completely unlike the commanding tones he had come to expect from her. “Is … Anakin all right?”

What should he say? Surely he couldn’t tell her the truth, not while she was in this state. Not while he was in this state. The guilt, the terrible guilt, paralyzed him and rooted him to the spot. And yet there she was, waiting expectantly for an answer.

The matter became irrelevant seconds later, as an intense pain seized her and began to squeeze. Her face contorted, horribly so, and he had to turn away to keep from vomiting. He found himself face-to-face with a golden droid.

“You!” he blurted. “What’s wrong with her, have you any idea?”

“Master Kenobi, I don’t presume to –” the droid started to say, but Obi-Wan cut it off.

“I don’t care,” he snapped. “Just give me your best guess.”

“Miss Padmé has not been feeling well at all today,” the droid explained. “Based upon my somewhat limited medical database and her condition at the moment, I have cause to believe that she is experiencing a phenomenon known colloquially as labour.”

“Labour?” Obi-Wan choked. No, this couldn’t be happening to him, not now. Not in addition to everything else that had gone wrong …

“Master Kenobi, I suggest we prepare for a possible birth,” said the droid.

“But – but I don’t know anything about … anything,” Obi-Wan stammered, whispering so as not to alarm Padmé any more. “We’ve got to get to a medical facility, one that’s equipped to handle babies.”

“With all respect, I don’t believe we have the time,” said the droid, and it was already tottering off towards the door. “I must fetch water, cotton balls, antiseptic and thread …”

“Obi-Wan …” Her soft voice brought his attention around again. Using the Force he hurriedly pulled over a chair and collapsed into it, next to her bedside.

“Padmé? Are you all right?”

Her eyes blinked, once, twice, as tears rolled down her cheeks. “I think the baby is coming,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “No, no, don’t apologize! We’ll deal with this, your droid has already gone to get some supplies.”

Padmé didn’t seem to hear him. “Is he gone?” she asked, and Obi-Wan knew without asking exactly who she meant.

“Yes,” he said heavily, “he is gone. I don’t think he’ll be coming back. I’m so sorry.”

She digested this, slowly and carefully, and then stated, “He choked me, didn’t he.”

“Yes, Padmé, he did.”

“I still love him!” she said with as much conviction as she could muster. “I know he did things, terrible things. But I still love him. And I believe –” She broke off briefly as another contraction seized her. Obi-Wan was quick to reach for her hand as she went on, “I believe there is still good in him. I felt it, when we were speaking. And one day – one day he will be good again, whether he wants to or not.” Padmé’s face contorted, and she moaned.

The droid chose that moment to reappear, its arms bulging with supplies, fussing as usual. “Oh dear, oh dear, I hope I am not too late,” it was saying. Obi-Wan took the supplies and stretched his face into what he hoped was a genial smile.

“Right, so … I’ll leave you two to it?” he said, already moving towards the door.

“Oh, no, Master Kenobi, I couldn’t possibly!” the droid exclaimed. “It is against my programming to impersonate a medical professional! I trust you have been trained in such affairs.”

He hadn’t, of course, but he was beginning to realize that there would be no way out. Both the droid and Padmé were looking to him for instructions, expecting him to have the answers.

“Erm,” he started, “where is the … nearest medical facility?”

“I am sure I told you we don’t have time for such matters,” the droid said, “but –”

“Just tell me!” Obi-Wan interrupted. He was feeling panicked.

“Polis Massa, sir. And – may I ask – would it trouble you to address me by my name? C3PO at your service.”

Obi-Wan sighed. He really didn’t have time for droid rights at the moment. Sinking back into his chair, he began to organize the supplies. “Very well then, C3PO, perhaps you could signal their facility and let them know – tell them to expect visitors. And hurry right back.”

The golden droid did so, leaving them alone for a few minutes. Padmé was sweating; Obi-Wan dabbed at her face with a soft cloth. He passed a small medical scanner over her. “ ‘Subject is … eight centimeters dilated,’ ” he read. “Dilated? What do you suppose that means?”

“The baby is coming,” Padmé gasped. “And soon. My book says … when you’re ten, the baby … comes.” She reached down, tried and failed to grasp the hem of her pants.

Obi-Wan blushed. He knew what he would have to do, but that didn’t make the actual act any easier. Slowly he moved down to the opposite end of the bed, took hold of her pants and inched them down. “I’m – er – sorry about this,” he muttered, though in reality he didn’t feel sorry at all. He felt excited, aroused. But he could not and would not demonstrate that.

Pants off, undergarments off, and shirt pulled up until she was exposed, almost in her entirety, for him to see. He swallowed very hard and gripped her hand. This would be decidedly the wrong time to lose control of oneself.

Obi-Wan wanted to look away, and yet he couldn’t. It was like watching a slow motion speeder wreck. “Force,” he whispered to himself, then grabbed one of the cloths C3PO had brought in and covered her, as much for his own control as for her modesty.

Her naked stomach heaved, and she called out repeatedly. Not for him. For Anakin. “Anakin … help me … please, I’m sorry … Anakin!”

He wanted to comfort her, wanted to say something that would take it all away, but he couldn’t do that, either. He could only watch helplessly as the scanner beeped “10 cm” over and over, and her screams rent the air. “Catch him!” she gasped. “Anakin, catch him!”

Obi-Wan bit his lip. The moment of truth seemed to have come. As he moved towards the business end of the deal he reflected on how surreal a situation this was. He had never in a million years have expected to battle his onetime apprentice and deliver a baby, let alone do those two things in the same day. But this was happening, and it was happening now. He could almost hear Qui-Gon telling him, “Your focus determines your reality.”

I am focused, I am focused, I am focused, Obi-Wan chanted to himself, and as he saw the head crowning, he began to chant it aloud. Padmé yelled, “Anakin!” one final time, and suddenly Obi-Wan was holding a baby, a slippery, wet baby covered in fluids and ruddy with her blood. He blinked, astonished by how quickly it had happened.

The baby began to wail, and he was suddenly and abruptly brought back to reality. He grabbed another cloth and sponged some of the wetness off, then wrapped the child in the makeshift garment. The child parted its legs just enough for him to make the identification: a boy. A tiny boy.

“Anakin thinks it’s a girl,” Padmé moaned presently. “Is it …”

“It’s a boy,” Obi-Wan told her, and brought the baby up for her to see. The child quieted his squalling the moment he spotted his mother, and a light came into Padmé’s eyes that Obi-Wan had never seen before.

“Luke,” she said, with something approximating a joyful smile. She laid her soft hand upon her child’s brow, and Luke quieted, turning his whole body towards her. Obi-Wan felt a grin creep onto his lips for the first time in days.

There was just enough room on the bed for two; Obi-Wan deposited Luke next to Padmé and the two of them stared into one another’s eyes, seeing no one else but each other. Padmé reached out her hand, and Luke curled four tiny fingers around it.

Then the atmosphere changed. The look of anguish returned to Padmé’s face, and she whispered, “Oh no, oh Anakin!” and suddenly her stomach was heaving again, and she was gasping, and Obi-Wan did not know what to do, surely she must be dying …

And then he saw, down past her belly. Incredibly, another head was crowning! Another baby? Twins? He was paralyzed for the barest second, then sprang into action, catching the baby’s head just as he had Luke’s, helping to guide the child out of Padmé to land safely in his arms.

Luke was wailing, the second baby was wailing, and Obi-Wan felt as though he had stepped into some terrible horror, none of his training had prepared him for this. It was only through repeating I am focused that he was able to regain his calm.

The newborn child, a girl, was wriggling in his lap. Unlike her brother, she did not cry. Instead, she stared up at him with soulful brown eyes, eyes that reminded him so much of Padmé’s. He wrapped her up, and presented her to her mother.

“Leia,” Padmé whispered.

These were Anakin’s babies. Anakin’s twins. Obi-Wan could not quite believe what had just happened. Part of him was calm. Part of him was – dare he think it – happy. After witnessing so much death, here was life. Life that Anakin and Padmé had created.

All was not lost for the future, Obi-Wan thought as he watched the twins cuddle next to their mother, who was now smiling dazedly at the ceiling, murmuring, “We did it, Ani.” He could feel a wound, a new, fresh, sharp wound, slowly beginning to close as he looked at the children and Padmé.

“Five minutes to Polis Massa,” announced C3PO from the doorway. “Oh, my!”

Tags: fanfic50, obi-wan/padmé, pg ratings, star wars
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