#down upon even if tcw's been around for over 10 years at this point

[ct-hardcase]

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[strrne]

Give Me a Signal, Ch.10

Chapters: 10/10

Words (altogether): 25509

AO3  Ch.1 Ch.2  Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.7 Ch.8 Ch.9

a rewrite of the tcw S6 Clovis arc; anidala + gen

***FINAL CHAPTER. do make sure to have read all the previous installments!***

Chapter 10

“No authorities are coming, Clovis. They'll be busy fighting off the Republic fleet.” Anakin added, sneering, “Or surrendering, more like.”

“I think they can squeeze in a Republic spy,” Clovis said quietly. Anakin's eyes wandered from the control table in the center of the room to the antennae outside the surrounding windows. All the secrets that passed through… And then there was Rush Clovis, just casually sitting next to Anakin's precious toolbox, blissfully unaware of what the Jedi had just heard with his own two ears, what he had sensed with an ability that Clovis did not even possess. Anakin was not one to normally look down upon the non-Force-sensitive, but at least if Clovis had had the Force (or some common sense) he would have kept listening to the frequency after knocking out 'the spy'. But no, he just had to shut it down and chain the miscreant to the wall.

The double cuffs were doing an adequate job of suppressing the Force around and inside Anakin, but he thought he sensed some deep sadness wafting off the fallen head of the Banking Clan. Of course, he'd rather not have felt anything radiating from the wretch at all, but once again he couldn't help it.

“What are you even doing here, Clovis?”

Clovis lazily raised his eyes, and the two men stared at each other for a while. Anakin had always thought the banker's features unpleasant, but now he seemed to have suddenly aged about thirty years. Anakin wished Padmé were here – she would have known how to talk politics with him.

”What's going on with those contracts?” Anakin nevertheless pressed on. “Are you a Seppie after all?” Still receiving no response, Anakin took a deep and irritated breath and tried to sound sincere, “Can you please answer me?”

“Dooku gave me a false file,” Clovis suddenly interjected, while Anakin was still speaking. He then begun to vomit words in desperation, “The Core Five are not corrupt… or perhaps they are. There's no way of knowing now. It's the Separatists that have been stealing, without the middleman. And Dooku, he… he paid me a visit. Threatened to expose me as a 'fraud' trying to frame the Five with false data to protect the Confederacy. Personally tailored those awful, awful contracts…”

Clovis' voice trailed off, with a faint, pained sob. He buried his face into his hands.

Anakin gave a slow, thoughtful nod. Something was flailing about in the back of his mind, probably at the exact spot where the stun blast had hit him. He inclined his head back and gently thumped it against the wall, until it finally struck him. The voices he heard on the neighboring frequency, before coming across the Sith Lord – they were police officers.

And they had been in cahoots with the Sith Lord.

Anakin swallowed before speaking with fresh urgency, “You know who is definitely corrupt? Your law enforcement. I still don't completely – you know how I know that, Clovis?”

He nodded towards the control table. Clovis was suppressing sniffles, and seemed to be barely paying attention to his captive's words.

“Just let me go, and I'll show you something.” Anakin deliberately clinked his bounds in protest.

“Let you go?” Clovis echoed amusedly. He suddenly got up with a frightful swiftness, knocking over Anakin's toolbox. Then he roamed about the room for a while, clasping at his head with both his hands, before turning towards Anakin, and sitting down much closer to him, in what was obviously supposed to be a taunting move.

“You'd kill me.”

Anakin glared at the unbalanced mess of a man. He wasn't completely sure he wouldn't – eventually. But now he was just starting to get frustrated beyond belief.

”Padmé knows where I am. She'll be worried when I don't answer…”

”She'll think the signal is dead.”

”She'll wonder why I haven't fixed it.”

Clovis raised an eyebrow, then started laughing. He was close enough for Anakin to feel the individual sound waves of his sardonic mirth.

“Good grief, is there anything you can't do? You just have to be a mechanic on top of everything else?”

”Point is, my partner in crime will come for me. Your failures at justice will not.”

-

It was the timing of it all that proved critical. With this watered-down version of the Force, Anakin could not sense his own wife before she was already making loud footsteps in the adjacent stairway, nearing the top of the never-ending steps. And somehow Clovis seemed to know it was Padmé as well, as he suddenly shot Anakin a desperate look and reached for his belt.

Anakin jolted up to stand – having only seconds ago been able to separate the cuffs from the chain – but Clovis had gotten a head-start. He swiftly raised an arm to bash Anakin backward into the wall, then whirled behind him, wrapped an arm around his neck and placed a blaster on his temple.

Padmé darted into the room, stopping halfway through shouting Anakin's name. Anakin felt Clovis tighten his grip as Padmé instinctively reached for her own blaster, before thinking better of it. She looked shocked, but less than surprised.

“Let go of him, Clovis.”

Anakin closed his eyes. More than anything, he felt humiliated. Humiliated that this low-life had bested him, humiliated that his wife had to see him like this, humiliated that he might die like this… and maybe also a little fearful. Not for his, but for her sake. And that raised inside him that one sensation that he always seemed to fall back on, the one that he could feel stronger and hotter and better than everyone else.

“Clovis, please. Please.”

Let Padmé sweet-talk him, lull him into a false sense of security. Once he lowers the blaster, kill him. Kill him for humiliating you like this, for making your wife watch. This serpent has nothing to lose, nothing to live for.

“Now do you want to sign the contract, Padmé?” Clovis mocked.

Anakin shifted about under Clovis's grip.

You're not going to let him kill you, are you? Kill you, then hurt your wife?

He remembered the request he had made to Padmé on the ship.

That doesn't matter now.

Padmé's eyes never broke from Clovis. She wasn't even looking at Anakin, let alone signaling him.

Don't settle for just anger and fear.

Wise words, but how did they help him now? A madman breathing down his neck, blaster to his temple, hands bound behind his back?

Use the cuffs to strangle him.

Padmé would hate him. He would hate himself.

Once he lowers his blaster, act quickly. Use the cuffs.

“Clovis, the contract doesn't matter. You do. You have everything to lose… and everything to gain. Think about it. Do you think you'll still have my friendship, after you've killed my husband?”

Anakin felt Clovis shift. Padmé would still not look at Anakin. But Anakin was looking at Padmé. And again, even without the Force, he felt something.

She was not thinking of Clovis, of his friendship, of losing it. She was thinking of Anakin – trying to save him.

Anakin felt Clovis' grip loosen. The blaster shifted about on his temple.

When he lets you go, do it.

With a sob and a quick, resigned movement, Clovis put down his weapon and freed Anakin. Immediately the Jedi put some distance between them, leaped into the air, and skillfully brought his bound hands to his front like he had done innumerable times. He was vaguely aware of Clovis almost raising his blaster again, and Padmé shouting Anakin's name, but they both thought better of making any sudden movements, leaving Anakin plenty of stage to do so.

Do it.

Clovis was a sobbing heap on the floor. Padmé's stare was now burning into Anakin.

But…

Anakin halted.

Everything was fine. No, on second thought, it was not. But it was over. Whatever had happened just now didn't matter anymore. There was no reason for him to feel anything over it anymore.

It was over, everything was alright.

He finally locked eyes with Padmé. She ran up into his arms in relief, but not before pocketing Clovis' blaster that had been abandoned on the floor.

They all stayed like that in silence for a while, until Padmé whispered quietly, without letting go of Anakin, or even turning her head, ”You should go now, Clovis.” Anakin pressed his head down onto Padmé's shoulder, closing his eyes.

He heard rustling and sobs and receding footsteps.

When he opened his eyes, they were alone.

-

”Are you okay?” Padmé asked as she used Anakin's lightsaber to sever his restraints for the second time ever – oddly enough.

”Embarrassed,” he replied, probably truthfully.

”Ani,” she sighed into his chest, ”I never want to leave this tower. Let's just stay here.”

He was clearly not in a hurry to go either, or to break from their embrace. He inclined his head slightly towards the window.

”The view is nice.”

Padmé gave a laugh that sounded mostly like a sob of relief.

After a while, Anakin added, ”As long as we're staying…”

-

Once Anakin had finished explaining, Padmé had but a single comment.

”There's… so much about what you just said that I don't understand.”

”I don't understand it either,” Anakin confessed, moving over to the control table, unplugging a pair of headphones, and apparently switching to speaker mode. ”But I think… the truth is not on the battlefield.”

Battle… they both found themselves looking out the window again. The fleet would be arriving very soon. Scipio and the banks would belong to the Republic soon.

”It's okay,” Anakin reassured his wife. ”Obi-Wan is leading the attack. For all his flaws, he is a man of peace. He will not seek to destroy this place.”

Padmé nodded in agreement. Then Anakin added without warning, ”Padmé, I think he knows.”

”Of course he knows, don't be silly.”

”No, about… the marriage. I think I might have accidentally told him.”

Padmé gaped at him, but did so with a smile playing about her lips.

”Well, I guess we're even then.” After a while, when Anakin was already back fidgeting on the control table, she added, ”You know, we could really use a friend instead of an enemy.”

”Yeah,” Anakin agreed. Then his expression changed dramatically. He had probably just hit the right frequency. Suddenly, a sickening coldness filled the room, and the spouses froze in place.

”My Lord…” Padmé recognized Dooku's proud and aristocratic voice. She didn't know what Anakin had done with the signal, but the sound now rang crystal clear. ”I feel as though your plans concerning young Skywalker are becoming increasingly… specific.”

”And why should they not, Tyranus?”

Padmé tried to exchange glances with Anakin, but he seemed to have turned into a statue. Padmé, on the other hand, couldn't stop shifting – where had she heard… - no, that couldn't be right, for she had never, ever heard such a nasty voice. Yet…

”My personal feelings on the boy aside… He already holds an abundance of darkness within,” Dooku went on. ”All these needless detours… manipulating him into killing a minor pawn, separating him from his mentor, throwing him in cells and meaningless peril… This entire takeover could have been accomplished without him unwittingly playing his part.”

”And do you know what they say about little drops and mighty oceans, Tyranus?”

”I may have overstepped my boundaries, My Lord. I apologize.”

Padmé was now shaking, and she feared Anakin was too.

”Are they… are they talking about you, Ani? I don't understand.”

”I don't…” Anakin could not even finish the sentence. Slowly, he turned towards Padmé. They stared at each other for a long while, in silence, as the holo call ended with ominous words, and not even a single scratch of interference could be heard.

They shared a kiss – a kiss of mutual confusion, disbelief and solace. A kiss that seemed to come with a promise. A promise to stick together – to work together, despair together – whatever came next.