When You Come Home

-53-

"GRENADES!!"

Anakin lunged forwards as the window shattered. His hands connected with Father's back, shoving him out of the chair. He forced him under the desk, lurching in after him and covering Father's head. Explosions cracked around them, ricocheting in the deafening snap bang of grenades. Glass shards, wood splinters, and shrapnel filled the air. Dust and debris rained down like a swirling storm. Tiny fires bit the upholstery, roaring into crackling, licking flames in a matter of seconds.

Anakin dragged Father from the desk, pushing him towards the door. He didn't stop to look at the destruction or the fire overtaking the room. He just ran.

They dashed through the winding maze of the Senate hallways, stumbling as the building rumbled. There were more grenades than just those in Father's room.

"No, not the elevator!" Anakin yelled, yanking Father back from the turn to the elevators'  block. "Take the stairs! That way, go!" He shoved him again, uncaring of Father's bad knee. Better in pain than dead.

The floor suddenly lurched, great black cracks breaking like smashing glass through the walls and flooring. Father tripped, flinging out his hands, but Anakin snatched him under the arms, hoisting him back onto his feet. "Keep going!" he shouted above the rising chaos.

They sprinted past a half-crumbled doorway, but someone shouting made Anakin skid to a halt and go the other direction. When Father glanced back in irritated confusion, Anakin just yelled for him to keep running. He jerked out his arms to steady himself as the floor tilted. Then he carefully stepped inside the room, ignoring the adrenaline screaming for him to RUN.

For inside the room was a sight he couldn't run past. Half-buried under an upturned couch, surrounded by shattered glass and smashed concrete, was Padmé. Rush uselessly pulled at the couch, unable to dislodge it from the piece of roof collapsed onto it, screaming for help. Blood stained the sleeve on his right arm. His eyes locked onto Anakin's, a desperate frenzy turning them feral. "Help!" he screeched. "She's stuck!"

Anakin picked his way through the rubble, testing his weight at every step and readjusting his path when the floor groaned. His whole body was trembling when he reached them, adrenaline pounding through his body like fuel through a hungry engine. His hands latched onto the couch as he counted out loud. "One, two, three!" With a surge of strength, the combined force of the two young men sent the couch flying. Rush cried out in pain. Anakin snatched Padmé under her arms and freed her from the danger. Her limp form was as pale as his mother's.

When she died ...

... in the car crash ...

... that wasn't important right now.

The Senate rumbled low, shuddering as it tried its best to support itself until everyone was safe. Anakin hesitated, fingers pressed against her ashen neck. A wound over her eye bled crimson. But she had a pulse. She was still alive, for now. He looked at Rush. "Can you carry her?"

"What do you think?" he snapped, nursing his injured arm.

Anakin didn't have time to argue. He placed a hand on her back and slid the other under her legs, lifting her without even straining. She weighed nothing. He wondered briefly if she had eaten breakfast.

"Follow me," Anakin instructed, leading the way back out the door and hopefully towards the stairs. He had no idea how much longer the grumbling, wobbling building would hold, but they had to try.

Anakin kept wasting invaluable seconds in looking behind to make sure Rush was still following, so he pushed Rush in front, opting for yelling out directions. How he knew the path better than a senator, he had no time to ponder.