The days had gone by so quickly and in such a blur that Padmé could hardly keep them straight, the passage of time only really noted by the changes in her children. Already she could see them growing, tiny changes in their reactions, and already they were making it know that they were two different individuals. Rarely did the two sleep at the same time, and while Luke cried more often than Leia, the little girl's screams were more than loud enough to prove she had a perfectly healthy set of lungs.

Everything had changed. Her life, the galaxy, the future her children should have had. It was devastating to think of as a whole, her heartbreak over all that loss too much to bear in one lump sum. What made it possible to survive was the presence of the twins... and of Obi-Wan. Her dear friend who had lost as much as she but still chose to flee with her to safety on this far off world. She hadn't asked it of him nor had the strength to argue — she needed him, her children needed him.

And so here they were, Obi-Wan up on the roof while she cleaned up the water that had gotten absolutely everywhere in the house. The twins had eaten and Leia was somehow sleeping through the raucous while Luke examined the soft mobile of colors suspended above the crib (a gift from Breha before they'd left Alderaan). Both babies seemed completely at peace for the moment, so Padmé took advantage of the opportunity to haul the damp bedclothes outside to the line she'd constructed the day before and that had thankfully held up against the storm. The work was good for her; despite the ache in her soul, she still found solace in doing things with her hands, which helped immensely when sleep and true rest were in such short supply.

With the bedding situated, she moved to the edge of the house, calling up during a break between the banging, "Do you need any help?"