Chapter Text
Melanie Bains is not a fool.
Be that as it may, the fractured shards of her mind are also aware that her actions in hiding the ever-burn, burn, burning! it are doing her physical health no favors.
She's aware no one else will understand.
Nobody can possibly understand just how much self-loathing brews deep inside the fleshy valves of her screeching heart.
Nobody can possibly understand why she has to be the one to stomp on the single brain worm egg that'll remain in the aftermath of the catacombs's complete and utter collapse after this mission is over.
All to save the few lives she can today.
So few.
And yet, to Melanie's heart, every life saved means the galaxy to her.
Far more important than her own burdensome existence.
And there's also the hallucinative screeches blaring through her eardrums at all times of the day.
Like now, currently, in this horror-show moment; where her shivering figure stares dully at Anakin's muscled back shifting underneath his dark robes—all as their ragtag group basically tiptoe through the catacombs.
The crumbling walls screech a tune only she can hear.
And deep down?
Melanie knows.
Knows that something is wrong with her.
Maybe worse than she thinks.
And if she'd been born in a universe like this, then of course her mind would immediately know the truth.
Midi-chlorians.
Such small little things.
Things needed to be—be—
Force-sensitive.
Things of which Melanie was born in a reality without.
Things of which surely would've been found on a blood test when Melanie had first been spat into this insane universe on Ryloth, and Obi-Wan had then lugged her unconscious body onto his ship for medical attention and a ride to Coruscant.
Things of which were never found.
Melanie Bains does not have Midi-chlorians pumping through her bloodstream.
And therefore—
She can't have The Force.
She just... can't.
Because if she did have The Force, then that would imply other things.
Like the fact that the cosmic entity that runs this insane universe would have higher expectations of her than she'd originally expected or prepared for.
More responsibility.
More pressure.
Things Melanie Bains cannot handle at the moment.
Such a prospect is unthinkable.
Her screeching and cackling hallucinations are merely just that—harmless hallucinations.
Her crumbling sanity is a far better prospect to handle than even more pressure shoved on her shoulders by the very Force itself.
Besides... it's impossible for Melanie's body to have any power over The Force.
Not without Midi-chlorians.
So, she's simply lost her mind.
Anything else is just—
"Impossible," she mumbles under her breath, heavy-lidded eyes dully tracing shapes up and down firm lines of Anakin's back as they all march along.
Near the darkness of her right, Waxer's orange-white helmet tilts in her direction from where he and Boil have been trailing beside her. "What did you say, sir...?"
Melanie blinks rapidly, swiftly shoving her insane-tinted thoughts back into the chaotic stormclouds of her mind where they belong. "Nothing."
Waxer's helmet stays tilted in her direction for a moment, like he's doubting her mumbled words. But eventually the clone simply nods and raises his blaster back to eye level once more.
Their small little ragtag group has been traversing the screeching darkness of the catacombs for over ten minutes.
They've got literally damn nothing to show for it.
Commander Cody and his trusty comlink must have some sensors programmed into it. Because Melanie can think of no other reason he's been able to discern every time their group nears a dead end.
Cody has helped lead them through the maze of the catacombs, while Melanie has done nothing but nod her head silently every time Anakin's and Obi-Wan's eyes flicker over to her for a final confirmation of the right way to go.
Useless. Absolutely useless.
But Melanie's slurred thoughts continue to insist to herself that she won't be useless soon enough—especially when her own words will save two 212th clone soldiers from the damnation of death when Obi-Wan tries to send them back to the surface to contact Master Mundi.
At least then something good will come out of her burdensome presence.
Screeching shadows lick and nip at her ankles like thickened chains of tar with every thunk, thunk! her combat boots make against the cold hard ground. And a need to just scream and Goddamn scream! has crept steadily up her lungs and into the acid of her tightening throat with every disgusting hiss of her name the darkness infested walls scrape along her eardrums.
Melanie...
MELANIE...
COME TO US . . .
Melanie's lips mouth the words It's not real. It's not Goddamn real—! under her trembling breath for several more seconds. Aching chest heaving in shallow bursts as her left hand remains clutching her vibroblade in useless protection from an unseen undead enemy steadily growing closer and closer.
Dust cakes her shivering body's plastoid armor like poison. It tries reaching its dirty claws into her slightly wheezing lungs with every breath she takes.
The walls drip with warbling shadows that spiderweb and crisscross through tunnel after tunnel. Dozens of times, her lungs choke back the urge to release a scream as tar-like strands of darkness try clinging to stray honeyed strands of Anakin's achingly soft brown hair.
Melanie all at once is engulfed by the most overwhelming urge to bury her too-pale face into the firm muscles of Anakin's back to hide. Overwhelmed by the sheer wish to feel the shifting of strong shoulder blades beneath his dark Jedi robes. Her cheek pressing against his towering spine to sense the reminder of what stands between her and an undead enemy.
Melanie, of course, does not do this.
What an insane damn thought to have.
It's of course at this very moment that the beep, beep!-ing of Obi-Wan's comlink rushes through the screeches warbling and scraping through Melanie's eardrums.
A flinch wrenches through her shivering body so hard her teeth almost chatter. Shrinking further behind the broadness of Anakin's back as her lungs struggle to remember how to breathe.
"—Fuck," she whispers shakily under her breath.
All tension in her muscles shudder in pure relief for the one brief moment her mind had assumed undead damnation was upon them at last.
To her right, Boil snorts with barely concealed amusement, muttering something under his breath about 'all shinies being the same' as Obi-Wan's gloved palm fumbles for his comlink to answer the holocall—one Melanie already knows deep in her bones in from Master Luminara.
And as a swirl of azure pixels materialize to life in Obi-Wan's hand to form Luminara Unduli's familiar figure, Melanie's dread rises to full-blown fear.
Because this is it.
This is the moment their group is about to be almost overrun by undead Geonosians.
Master Luminara has never appeared more unsettled than her holographic figure does right now. The insistence in her pixelated eyes is prominent even from where Melanie's face peeks over Anakin's shoulder.
It's clear to everyone what Luminara will say before she even finishes her short plea.
"Master Kenobi! If you're following me, you must leave this place. Just get out! I repeat: fall back—!"
Leave her behind.
Melanie's left fist clenches tighter around her vibroblade as the connection is rapidly broken off by a rush of grotesque bodies ripping the Mirialan Jedi Master away from view. The chaotic stormclouds of her mind once again being reminded of how her spotty memory had failed Luminara from being captured in the first place.
Leave her behind?
Yeah, sure. Like that's gonna happen.
Of course, Obi-Wan and Anakin barely pay the self-sacrificing Jedi Master's plea for them to all save their own skins any mind.
And why would they?
She's one of them.
Obi-Wan's head snaps over his shoulder to find his former Padawan's gaze, and then flickers over to Melanie's exhausted own. "She must be close by. Come on!"
And then they're on the move.
Crumbling ground shifts rapidly beneath her wobbling feet like roiling water. The blanket of screeching darkness coating the dirt is like slimy, tar-filled eels that risk coiling and twisting up her calves with every racing footstep.
A turn to the left here.
Tick.
Tick.
A duck of the head through a cracking archway there.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
And then?
A scorching splay of Anakin's palm across the length of her quivering stomach, protectively halting Melanie in her tracks. Leaving her gasping for air as dozens of milky-white eyes stare back at her through the blue glow of Anakin's and Obi-Wan's lightsabers.
The worst sounds to ever escape another living being are filling the dust-coated air. Chittering noises descending into squelching yowls!—rising to such a high pitch that a rough flinch rushes through Melanie's freezing body without her consent.
"I don't like the looks of this," Obi-Wan mutters to Anakin, already appearing as unsettled as Luminara once did on the holocomn. His arm raises high to point his Jedi weapon at their approaching enemies.
Approaching enemies now crawling towards them on the damn ceiling and from two tunnel entrances near them.
Anakin's arm is already reaching back to capture her trembling wrist in his scorching grip. He quickly yanks! her smaller figure towards the muscled tendons of his back, until the warm heat of his palm guides her arm around his torso in a strange version of a hug.
Except, it's not a hug at all.
Because being behind Anakin for this entire battle is the only damn way Melanie Bains can even stay alive.
"Hold on to me," Anakin murmurs softly, the scowl of his azure-tinted gaze never leaving the approaching undead Geonosians. "Don't you dare let go for a second. Understand?"
Melanie doesn't have to be told twice.
Her trembling figure squirms reluctantly closer, palms splaying flat over his firm stomach until the heaving of his breath falls in time with her own; the muscled tendons of his back pressing flush with her freezing chest. Warming her up from the inside out as his protective growl rumbles its way out of his throat and into her bloodstream.
Hoards of undead Geonosians morph into the dead faces of Straightshot and Greaser as they grow closer. Flickering rapidly between human-like expressions and back to mindless creatures as the blue-white glow of Anakin's blade tears through each one with ease.
Slightly up ahead of her and Anakin, Obi-Wan's shadow is a blur of precision and cut-throat swiftness.
Loud yelps! can't help but tear themselves from Melanie's throat every time the firmness of Anakin's towering figure rapidly turns or whirls on his feet to cut down a new approaching enemy. The tips of her combat boots might as well drag the ground as her arms basically weakly cling to each twitching and shifting muscle of his abdomen like a vice.
But with another rapid twist of his body...
That's when her eyes see it.
Two 212th clones linger near two small archways near the far-side of the tunnel they all currently are blasting and slashing away inside.
And right now?
A gentle shimmer is crawling up her spine and burrowing into the back of her brain.
Telling her—screaming at her—
To go.
Now. Now. Now—!
Her swaying body is releasing Anakin's comforting warmth and shooting across the crumbling catacomb tunnel in seconds.
"Melanie!" Anakin's rasping voice drips with pure horror. "Forcedamnit all—!"
But Melanie can't think about that right now. Can't think about the sheer vulnerability bleeding into Anakin's tone, or how the muffled shout of his rumbling voice had almost sounded like that of a little boy who was achingly afraid.
Her vibroblade is racing through the air and lodging itself into the first peek of undead eyes that gleam back at her through the screeching darkness over one of the 212th clones's shoulder.
The clone she's just miraculously saved curses wildly under his breath, his orange-white helmet bathed in the blue glow of Jedi lightsabers bouncing off the tunnel walls. His blaster swings to his right to blow the head off of one Geonosian who'd been sneaking up on his clone friend.
Saved.
Oh, thank God. They were saved—
A shimmering hum builds up inside the stormclouds of her brain. And suddenly every instinct in her swaying body is again screaming at her to move, move, move—!
And so she does.
Her body rapidly ducks to the left just as an undead claw crunches! down on dirt-caked walls where her head just was.
Fuck.
Melanie's body is whirling! around to face the undead Geonosian now yowling wildly in her face with spit and blackened blood leaking from its mouth.
Out of sheer instinct, her right hand slams over one of her twin blasters, yanking it out of its holster—
Before a rush of pure agony is licking and stabbing like fire up her dominant arm.
The source of her pain?
The ever-burning it.
She cries out, dominant arm instantly dropping the now useless weapon to the ground.
Her eyes roll into the back of her head just as dark-spots begin overtaking the image of the approaching Geonosian raising its rotting claw to end her worthless existence.
The last thought Melanie has before the darkness chains her down and her knees hit the dirt is: maybe dying won't be so bad.
The last thing she hears?
A thunderous and utterly terrified roar of her name.
"Melanie!"
⋇⋆✦⋆⋇
She dreams of water.
A lake, in the middle of a field of grass. How it bubbles with shimmering mist with every step her figure takes closer.
How a large, stone wall stretches high up into the clouds and across each side of the horizon behind the body of water.
The lake almost glimmers under the heat of the large sun in the clear blue sky
Until very suddenly—
The lake does not glimmer.
Instead?
It rots.
The lake dies, just like everything in Melanie's life does. It withers into nothing but mud and grime and tar.
The skies melt into blackness. Trees spreading far into the distance crumble into nothing but ash. The lake begins screeching and warbling with shadow-infested water as a metal hand lunges from the disgusting liquid to cling onto Melanie's ankle—
⋇⋆✦⋆⋇
—only for her heavy-lidded eyes to drift open the very moment the comforting warmth of a flesh palm engulfs the vulnerable hollow of her collarbone and throat.
And as black spots slowly fall away into nothingness...
Anakin Skywalker's terrified face floods into her blurry vision.
Her collapsed figure is being held in his arms, her cheek pressing flush to the frantic beat of his heart that thunders against her ears.
They reside in a ring of blood-spattered formerly undead Geonosian bodies. Half of them are crushed entirely into bones and loose skin, all of it stretching outward like an explosion made of crumbling dust where Anakin now clings to Melanie's limp body like a child.
Meanwhile, her lungs continue to breathe easier and easier with every desperate stroke of Anakin's calloused thumb over the veins of her throat.
"A-Ana-kin...?" she breathes softly, gazing up at the ocean of his shimmering blue eyes with something like awe and confusion.
There is a wildness to Anakin's eyes as they suddenly snap to her own. They burn with searing vulnerability and brutal agony as his metal hand shakily rises to brush messy strands of hair from her face. "M-Melanie—it's okay—I've got you—I-I—"
And suddenly, her slurred thoughts snap into focus, and she realizes just what he means.
The ever-present it doesn't burn and ache as deeply anymore. Black spots have faded from her vision entirely.
And Anakin's flesh hand is still against the slowly-gaining-color skin of her collarbone.
Giving and giving and giving.
Oh, God.
Melanie's limp body all at once jerks to life. Her hands weakly rising up to try and push his own away. To not let him keep wasting his energy on her of all people—
But Anakin's answering snarl is wet and wobbly as he easily pushes her hands away. His wild gaze still holds hers, his flesh palm and metal hand tightening slightly around the softness of her jaw. As if the Jedi Knight is barely holding back from shaking some sense into her. "You lied to Kix about how much pain you were in. Didn't you? Didn't you—?!"
Her eyes water as they stare up into his, witnessing the sheer suffering bleeding back at her through the azure flecks of his watery gaze. Her lips part, mouth opening and closing uselessly while his thumbs continue desperately stroking her cheeks.
She's lied about more than just her pain.
Physical and emotional.
Blaster fire roars like comets behind Anakin's agonized expression. It alights the water glimmering in his eyes as he just shakes his head so damn hopelessly at her helpless silence.
Finally—
"Enough, Anakin! I can feel you straining yourself from here!"
Obi-Wan.
The ginger-haired man resides several feet behind Anakin's back, while his remaining 212th squadron flank his sides in a protective ring around Melanie and Anakin. His Jedi skills leave him a force to be reckoned with as the blue-white glow of his blade slices through enemy after enemy.
Anakin's former Master's words seem to knock some sense into him.
It snaps both Melanie's and Anakin's minds back into the roaring present. Leaving Melanie's limp body weakly struggling to scramble back from Anakin's healing touch and out of being cradled in the desperate Jedi Knight's lap.
Something like horror flashes in the ocean blues of Anakin's wild gaze at Melanie's physical show of terror.
And suddenly?
His flesh and metal palms rip! themselves from Melanie's delicate flesh like her skin has become fire itself.
Like the man cannot stand the thought of her being afraid of him for one second longer.
Even in this dangerous moment.
Their hazy gazes remain ensnared by each other's own, lost to the rest of the roaring chaos around them as Obi-Wan and his men continue slicing through enemy after enemy.
Melanie's body is somehow now backed up against the cracked and crumbling tunnel walls. Her wobbly figure weakly begins rising to her feet just as the vulnerability bleeding from Anakin's azure-flecked eyes clear back into something coherent enough to recall their insane situation.
A growl of frustration rips from Anakin's chest as he shakily snatches up her blaster still on the ground.
An invisible tugging sensation forms around the silver buckle of her utility belt with a flick of Anakin's wrist. It gently pulls Melanie's gasping body forward by her belt enough until his large hand can shove the damn twin blaster back into her holster.
The low baritone of Anakin's voice has a cracking and small edge to it as his flesh hand rises up to barely ghost her jawline. As if still unconsciously searching for more physical damage she could be hiding from him. "When I tell you to hold on, you hold on!"
"—Anakin! Clear your mind and focus. Now!" Obi-Wan calls out to him sharply through the yowling chaos. The heat of his lightsaber cuts through screeching webbings of darkness dangling from the tunnel ceiling with an ease he doesn't realize.
The pained agony in Anakin's gaze dims to a dull ache right before Melanie's very eyes. His saber reignites in a searing burst of blue as the scorching burn of his touch shakily finds Melanie's wrist again, guiding her arms around the firmness of his torso with a silently pleading edge that leaves Melanie's lip wobbling with a surge of guilt for scaring him.
As blaster fire risks tearing out her eardrums, Obi-Wan's clipped order cuts through the stale-tasting air again. "Back, everyone—back! Take out the tunnel supports. It's the only way!"
Obi-Wan's men don't have to be told twice.
Blaster fire now aims upwards near the tunnel supports as their small group backs up near their escape route.
As the entire tunnel begins crumbling apart, a small yelp rips from Melanie's throat as sculpted muscles of Anakin's arms whirl! around to haul her slender body over his shoulder as their entire group makes a break for it through a small archway near the far back wall.
The dust cloud follows them for what feels like forever, but could've only been over twenty seconds as they finally all skid to a stop in an open pathway.
Anakin's every muscle twitches and ripples with tension underneath her trembling body as he slowly allows her to slide down from his arms and onto her wobbly feet.
"What were those things? We couldn't kill them." he rasps out, the low baritone of his voice still shaky and small while the burn of his gaze holds Melanie's own.
Anakin's trembling voice—the sheer level of vulnerability in it remaining prominent and powerful since Melanie had earlier passed out—can't be denied.
"I-I don't know..." Melanie whispers back into the darkness between them, a shiver wracking through her frame as her figure steps back from the warmth of his palms splaying across her waist.
Several feet away, Obi-Wan has come to a reluctant halt. His arm leans against the dirt-caked tunnel wall with his head slightly lowered and turned away from them all in thought. "I've heard stories of a Geonosian hive mind so powerful—so strong—that it can maintain its connection with its warriors even after they have died."
The intensity of Anakin's gaze drifts somewhere over Melanie's shoulder where Obi-Wan no doubt lingers. "And you think that's why we couldn't kill them. Because they're..."
Obi-Wan nods reluctantly, hand rising up to scrub at his ginger-haired beard. "Already dead. Yes."
A shaky scoff rips from Anakin's chest. Though it's clear Obi-Wan's little 'theory' (which is unknowingly perfectly on the dot) is getting to him more than he lets on. "That can't be true. That's impossible."
Obi-Wan's chest heaves out a weary sigh as the shadow of his figure walks ahead of them all. "Impossible or not, these creatures keep moving after we cut them up or shoot them down."
Melanie's body shrinks inward under the burn of Anakin's still slightly wild gaze suddenly finding her again.
The softness of Anakin's lips form a disappointed frown. "Did you know about this?"
Guilt rips through her insides like blackened bile as she lies through her teeth once again. "N-No."
Disappointment morphs into full-blown frustration as Anakin's gaze narrows even more. "Then why am I finding it harder and harder to believe you, Little Light?"
Melanie's head ducks down, her heart cracking slightly in her chest under the weight of the Jedi Knight's sadness and pain. "I... I had to be here," she finally admits softly, just loud enough for Anakin to hear.
Silence descends over the two of them as Anakin takes in her confession.
She can't lift her head to meet his eyes.
She won't be able to take the anger she'll find there.
Across the tunnel system, Obi-Wan makes a silent gesture with his hand for Anakin to step over to him. "Anakin, call for reinforcements."
"It's not going to work," she mumbles weakly under her breath.
The screeching darkness eats away her words, along with several pairs of eyes (some hidden under clone helmets) now staring her down.
A few heartbeats of silence. Then—
Anakin's confirmation is reluctant as he lowers his cybernetic arm that has his comlink strapped to his wrist. "She's right. There's no signal."
Obi-Wan's throat makes a sound of discontent. "We must be too deep underground." His eyes drift over to two men of his 212th clone squadrons. "You two! Head back to the surface and contact General Mundi—"
Panic immediately rushes through Melanie's veins.
Quickly, her body is wobbly racing between Obi-Wan and his own men, as if in a strange form of protection for the clones. "No!"
Obi-Wan blinks rapidly, his tone dripping with bafflement at the way Melanie's arms are spread wide protectively between him and the two also confused clones. "No?"
Her voice turns pleading as she continues on. "It won't work. You'll just get them killed doing that. This thing is way more powerful than you guys—I mean t-than we—know."
For a moment, Obi-Wan and Melanie's stare-down continues ticking and ticking away. As if the Jedi Master is contemplating whether or not she has lost her Goddamn marbles.
But surprisingly...
Something in the ginger-haired Jedi's gaze clears.
Like he's recognizing and remembering just how much her future knowledge really has helped them all so far.
"... Very well." he murmurs reluctantly.
"What?" Anakin, whose towering figure still looms between Obi-Wan (and now, Melanie), quickly becomes irate at Obi-Wan's concession. "We need those reinforcements to find Luminara." He turns, already beginning to trudge the opposite direction they've been heading to try and hunt down Master Luminara. "I'm going to the surface to alert General Mundi myself—"
Every muscle in Melanie's body is overcome with bone-chilling fear at those words.
She has no damn idea what'll happen if Anakin is away from this point in the timeline he's meant to be at.
What if he gets hurt?
Her now rejuvenated body whips around, her trembling palm reaching down to grasp the thick length of Anakin's forearm before he can walk away. "No!"
Anakin's tall figure freezes at her touch. He hazily blinks down at her fingers wrapped around the tendons of his flesh arm in hesitation. "But we can't just—"
"—Anakin!" she interrupts sharply, pale fingers squeezing the scorching heat of his skin a little tighter.
Anakin's words screech to a halt. He gazes down at her for a moment in open-mouthed astonishment.
A few heartbeats pass as they stare at each other.
Then—
"Please... trust me," she whispers.
Her eyes follow the way the tendons in Anakin's throat swallow roughly. Watching as the blue of his eyes flicker between the touch of her fingers, and then back up to her own pleading expression.
And she knows.
Knows he's thinking about her recent lies.
Knows he's thinking about why he should trust her judgement on this or not.
And Melanie's heart tries its best not to let the searing sting of that sense of hurt get to her.
Behind her, Obi-Wan's clipped voice reaches her ears, sounding far too weary and casual at this situation between Anakin and Melanie for her to understand much of why. "She's right. I think that would be a foolhardy move, Anakin. We don't have time to divide our troops more, if they'll truly just be killed among separation to attempt to reach the surface. Every moment we waste puts Luminara in greater danger."
Melanie's pulse flutters as Anakin's muscles flex under her palm, some part of her growing convinced that the reckless man is about to rip his arm from her grasp to go and do what he wants to do anyways.
Finally, a shaky breath of air releases itself from Anakin's chest.
"Fine," Anakin says, clearing his throat through the honeyed strands of hair hanging over his eyes.
Oh, thank fucking God.
And as their group begins trudging along again, Melanie's voice is small and sad as she finally whispers the one thing she's been dying to ask since waking up to find Anakin Skywalker near tears over her collapsed body. "... Are you mad at me?"
A few heartbeats pass.
Finally—
"No," Anakin murmurs softly, sending a surge of surprise through Melanie's heart.
But then Anakin's towering figure comes to a stop once again as he turns to frown down at her.
"I mean—y-yes." Anakin groans and raises his cybernetic hand to rub at the back of his honeyed head of hair. "I don't know!" His head ducks down to meet her eyes better, both his warm palms coming to rest gently over her upper arms—a huge comfort, considering she's still terrified of pissing the future serial killer off too badly. "We'll talk about it later, okay?"
Relief floods Melanie's soul at the comforting and gentle words. "... Okay."
He's taking all of this far better than she expected him to.
And as the next minutes pass by in eerie silence while their small ragtag group trudges through screeching darkness that's blanketed itself up to their ankles—
All Melanie Bains can think is:
The storm of Anakin's rage won't be held back forever.
She tries not to let that eerie thought flood her with dread as they all finally near the Geonosian Queen's lair.
Or whatever the fuck it is.
"I've got a bad feeling about this," Anakin mumbles under his breath. He eyes the massive, grotesque creature resting on a large throne of dirt and duracrete with barely hidden disgust.
The throne room is filled with screeching shadows.
They tangle and coil around the Geonosian Queen's worm-like body, spreading out like rotting cords of tar around the necks of each undead Geonosian that groans and yowls from the sidelines.
Obi-Wan's voice begins speaking in a tone of contemplation. "It must be..."
Melanie nods weakly. Sweat still drips from her forehead, and her skin is still freezing. But whatever Force-energy transfer Anakin had attempted back when she'd first passed out seems to be holding up with keeping her physical health steady for now. "The Queen."
Anakin's gaze drifts towards Commander Cody. "Any sign of Luminara?"
Cody simply nods, his gloved fingers tapping something on his visor that no doubt has the ability to see through the darkness better than all of them combined. "I see her. She's suspended near the throne."
Anakin nods back with a growing look of satisfaction. "Perfect. What about Poggle?"
"He's speaking with the Queen."
"Good." Anakin smirks, his eyes flickering with a dark satisfaction that leaves Melanie's stomach threatening to hurl if she's not careful. "You take the soldiers... I'll take the Queen."
To Melanie's left, Obi-Wan peers over her blonde head of hair to see Anakin's face where he towers beside Melanie. "Must you always rush into things?"
A frustrated groan is already building up in Anakin's chest and rumbling through Melanie's bloodstream. "Oh no. You don't actually wanna talk to it, do you?"
A frown of contemplation is pulling at Obi-Wan's mouth. "As a matter of fact, I do. Anakin—don't you wonder why they took Luminara captive? Why not just kill her?"
The bright blue of Anakin's eyes nearly roll into the back of his head. Melanie can already tell the man is growing restless just standing here doing nothing. "She's leverage. She's a hostage!"
Obi-Wan's frown only continues to grow deeper. "Leverage for what? No, something else is going on here, and these zombies are connected to it."
A huff of frustration leaves Anakin's lips. "Fine. We'll try it your way."
Obi-Wan nods, gifting his former Padawan a small smirk of approval that's tinged with teasing sarcasm. "So glad you agree." Then, his attention finds its way to Commander Cody as he mutters quietly, "Cody, set your men up around the perimeter. These creatures live in darkness. The light from your helmet should blind them temporarily. Turn your lamps on at my signal. That should create enough confusion for us to get Luminara out of here."
Cody's answering question leaves Melanie's mind already dreading the horror show they'll all have to endure to make it out of these deathtrap catacombs. "But what happens when the bugs pursue? You've seen them in action, sir. We can't kill them."
"We'll have to bury them. It'll at least slow them down. Shoot out the support pillars and this whole place will collapse." Anakin orders firmly to Cody, all while Obi-Wan is already clipping his lightsaber back to his utility belt and walking forward.
Obi-Wan's arm is already gesturing for Anakin to follow. "Let's go."
But as Melanie's figure takes a wobbly step forward while fighting the black spots already speckling near the edges of her vision—
A warm hand splays itself over her stomach to stop her dead in her tracks.
Anakin's voice is a low rumble near the shell of her ear as he gently guides her to take several steps backwards into the darkness. "Ah, ah! Where do you think you're going? You're staying with Commander Cody."
Melanie gives the man a slurred frown. "B-But—!"
When an invisible touch firmly grasps under the softness of her jaw and guides her head upwards, a shuddering gasp escapes her lips.
A hair's breadth underneath her jaw and chin, his large, calloused palm distractingly hovers there. Each long flesh-fingers curled inward—clasping gently around Melanie's jaw, but still pressing firmly at her cheeks to keep her head in place.
But also startlingly not doing this very act.
Is a Force-touch still the same as any other physical act of worry?
Hypnotic heat radiates from the Jedi General's skin all the same.
Her sights are wide and dazed as they drown in the stormy depths of Anakin's bright blue eyes.
Her pulse pounds loudly through her veins as her heavy-lidded eyes narrow on his moving lips and tongue. Dazedly struggling to continue hearing and deciphering his rumbling tone past the ringing in her head.
Anakin's brows are furrowed, jaw clenching with some hidden emotion. For a flicker of a moment, it could almost be mistaken for exasperation. "Stay. Here."
Fluttering tingles erupt over Melanie's skin as the Jedi Knight's Force-grip underneath her jaw dissolves away.
An echo of where a future-predator once oh-so-carefully brushed his power to order her to stay.
Melanie's heavy-lidded expression gapes after the Jedi General's broad back as he finally spins on his heel to follow after Obi-Wan.
What Goddamn audacity.
Stay here.
And so, Melanie stays.
But that doesn't mean she has to like it.