George Lucas pretty much owns everything in the Star Wars universe. My use is in no way meant to challenge his copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned or any other copyright. Any similarity to any events or persons, either real or fictional, is unintended.
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Author's Note: This is a non-parody reworking of the Attack of the Clones scenes where Anakin and Padme leave Naboo, and then when they talk after Anakin whacks the Tuscan Raiders. My goal is to write the scenes so that there's some semblance of a reason for Padme to be attracted to Anakin after the things he says and the decisions he makes. It was an intentional decision to use No, Seriously… We're Soul Mates? as the basic outline for this fic. I wanted to make a point of how easily the scenes could have been made to work. Feel free to fire away with comments/criticisms.
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What Price, Honor?
by
Nevermore
Padme walked cautiously onto the balcony, wondering why she felt drawn so strongly to the young Padawan who served as her bodyguard. In so many ways he was still so obviously a child, but in other ways… Well, I don't really want to think about that, do I? she asked herself out of habit. She'd never allowed herself to view any man in that way; to do so could prove distracting, and with her responsibilities, distractions could mean the loss of lives. Thousands… millions… perhaps even billions of lives.
So ingrained was her resistance to any sentiment resembling affection that she almost let out a sigh of relief when she saw that Anakin was meditating. It wouldn't be right to interrupt, she reasoned, all too quickly finding an excuse to go. Her reaction was so instinctual that she no longer wondered why she was in such a hurry to leave the presence of every attractive man with whom she'd ever come into contact.
"No, don't go," Anakin muttered, just as she was turning to leave.
"I don't want to disturb you," Padme replied quickly, part of her mind struggling to avert her gaze while another part demanded that the corner of her eyes be used to full effect, allowing her a glimpse of the first man in over four years with whom she'd spent any significant amount of time.
"Your presence is soothing," he assured her. She wondered how to answer, but found herself speaking before she'd even decided on the right words.
"You had a nightmare again last night," she said, letting him know that she was well aware of the inner demons his Jedi training seemed incapable of helping him exorcise. I wonder what it would take to soothe the pain he must be feeling, she thought, fighting to stop her jaw from dropping in horror as she realized where her thoughts, once again unbidden, were headed.
"Jedi don't have nightmares," Anakin returned evenly, his tone brooking no argument on the matter. Padme knew that tone well – Anakin was lying, and he knew Padme knew it, but he was determined to live his lie, as if his continued denials would somehow transform his lies into truth.
"I heard you," she responded. I know the sound of someone who's being tormented in his sleep. I've heard it often enough as I wake up clasping my own sheets in a panicked grasp, she thought silently, immediately trying to focus on the moment rather than her own inner torment.
"I saw my mother," Anakin told her, inexplicably seeming to relent, giving the senator the answer she wanted to hear. His tone immediately made her reconsider the wisdom of her curiosity. "I saw her as clearly as I see you know. She's suffering, Padme. She's in pain… they're killing her." He rose to his feet, his eyes becoming clearer as he began to focus more on his surroundings and less on his own private thoughts and emotions. Padme's heart ached as she heard him speak. She was dubious about his claims that he could sense his mother's pain, but he was a Jedi, after all. For a brief moment she thought of her own family; she remembered the agony she experienced ten years earlier, while she was on Coruscant and the Trade Federation held her home, and her own family, prisoner. To know a loved one is in pain, and to be able to do nothing about it, she remembered. It must be the most terrible thing anyone can experience.
"It's almost as if… I don't know," Anakin muttered.
"Almost as if what?" Padme asked, unwilling to let the conversation die just yet.
"It's not something I'm sure I can explain," Anakin told her, "and certainly not something you could readily understand." His face started to blush as soon as he realized what he'd said. "I didn't mean --"
"I know," Padme interrupted, assuring her bodyguard that she'd taken no offense at his words. "I'm no Jedi, Anakin. I won't even pretend to understand some of the things you must experience."
"It's almost like some dark force is actually showing me images of my mother," Anakin continued, again trying to describe the sensation that had so obviously been haunting him for several days.
"Like a trick?"
"No, the visions are real," he said with a tone of certainty that left no doubt in Padme's mind. She was sure Anakin's mother – a woman to whom she herself owed so much – was doubtlessly suffering. "I know she's in pain; but the visions are different, somehow. I don't know that I can explain it, but it frightens me."
"You don't need to be frightened," Padme said reassuringly.
"I'm not frightened for myself," Anakin corrected quickly. "Jedi don't feel fear like that… that's the way of the dark side. I'm afraid for my mother, for her safety. I'm also concerned about where these visions are coming from."
"What are you going to do?" Padme asked. In her line of work, she'd come to learn that empty concerns were irrelevant. All that mattered was what was done to address the problem, to right that which was wrong.
"What do you mean?" Anakin asked, obviously seeming confused by her question.
It's almost as if he hasn't even given this any thought. "What are you going to do to help your mother?" Padme clarified.
"Nothing," Anakin said evenly, turning on his heel and walking away quickly.
"What do you mean, nothing?" Padme retorted. "You just said your mother is in danger, that she's dying, that you can actually see it happening. You're not going to do anything?"
"My duty is to you, senator," Anakin shot back, a flash of anger lighting up his eyes. Not just anger, Padme realized. Resentment, guilt, suffering… "I swore an oath – I have to keep you safe," he told her.
"Even if your mother dies?" How can he even be considering such a thing?
"I can't contact Coruscant to have them send someone to check up on her," Anakin reasoned. "Not only would that be a waste of resources, it would be a breach of radio silence. I'm not to contact anyone unless it's an emergency."
"This is an emergency!"
"This is a personal concern, and nothing more," Anakin barked. "I don't have a choice in this, Padme." Once again he turned to leave, but as he spun, Padme caught the telltale sheen of a tear forming in her bodyguard's eye. He's crying, she realized. This is killing him, despite his show of indifferent bravado.
"You have to go to her," she said quickly, hoping that she'd be able to get him to stay there on the balcony with her, that he would somehow smile again.
"I can't leave you here alone," he protested. "That would be even worse than breaking radio silence."
"I'll go with you," she offered. "That way you can keep an eye on me the whole time."
"No."
"Let me put it this way," Padme said, switching to the voice of Padme Amidala, Senator of Naboo. "I'm going to Tatooine, Anakin. The way I see it, you have two choices – you can either stubbornly insist on staying here, even though I won't be here to guard anymore, or you can go with me, thus fulfilling your mandate to protect me."
"That wouldn't be right," Anakin muttered, though Padme could clearly see that his resistance was now all for show. He'd already decided to go along with her. He just wanted her to insist one more time that they leave; his honor seemed to demand that much, at least.
"Either come with me to Tatooine, Anakin, or abandon me to the mercy of the fates," Padme said with a confident smirk. "The choice is yours."
"What about Master Obi-wan?"
"I guess we won't tell him, will we?"
"Give me an hour to pack," he said with a wink and a youthful smile that reminded Padme of the innocent, kind-hearted boy she'd met ten years earlier on Naboo. How could I have ever forgotten such a smile? she wondered as she strode off to pack her own things for the trip.
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Padme carried the food into the garage, hoping against hope that Anakin would be in a more talkative mood than he'd been in since returning with his mother's corpse. "I brought you something," she said softly, trying to exude compassion with her voice. It was something she knew she was good at. Too many years and too many crises, all of them demanding that I be strong and reassuring to millions of people. "Are you hungry?"
"The shifter broke," he said, gesturing to the speeder he was working on. "Life seems so much simpler when you're fixing things. I'm good at fixing things . . . always was. But I couldn't…" He stopped his work suddenly, fighting a losing battle against the grief that caused tears to well up in his eyes. "Why did she have to die? Why couldn't I save her? I know I could have!"
"Sometimes there are things no one can fix," Padme replied, stating the obvious. She could only wonder at how sheltered Anakin had been as a Padawan. She had no idea how to act or what to say. She simply tried to remember how her supporters had behaved around her while she'd been on Coruscant as a queen, pleading for help from the Republic Senate, hoping that she would somehow be able to convey her pity. "You're not all powerful, Annie."
"I should be!" he growled. Padme recoiled, surprised out how Anakin's response had startled her. No, not startled, she corrected silently. Frightened, she admitted to herself. That was downright frightening. "I will be the most powerful Jedi ever!" the Padawan boasted. "I promise you, I will even learn to stop people from dying." Oh my god… what have I done? I should never have brought him here. He's not ready to face something like this. And how could he? I know the Jedi traditionally have no contact with their natural families. This kind of pain isn't something anyone in the Order could have prepared Anakin to face.
"Anakin…" she muttered softly, trying to console her bodyguard, to put out the fire that she could plainly see raging in his eyes.
"It's all Obi-wan's fault," Anakin declared. "He's jealous! He knows I'm already more powerful than he is. He's holding me back!" Padme started to glance around, relieved that there was no one around to hear him ranting in such a way. She was embarrassed for him, all too aware that he had no idea how immature he seemed. This is all my doing, she decided again. It's my fault we came here…
Anakin hurled the wrench across the garage, leaving a deep gash in the concrete as the metal tool ricocheted off the wall. Padme shuddered as she felt waves of rage and hatred rolling off of the young man next to her. The air seemed to crackle with energy, a dark force that sent chills through Padme's body, that made her fearfully search the surrounding shadows as if she were once again a young girl exploring her grandmother's basement. The air suddenly felt thick, heavy… and she was smothering in it.
"Annie, what's wrong?" Padme dared to ask, knowing that some dark thought – or memory – was haunting the young man at her side.
"I . . . I killed them," he answered. "I killed them all. They're dead, every single one of them."
Of course you did, Padme answered silently, surprised to realize that she had somehow already known that much. "All of them?" she asked hesitantly, not knowing what else to say.
"Not just the men, but the women and the children, too," Anakin responded. He seemed stunned, shocked at his own actions. But that's not all he feels, Padme realized with horror. There's something else in his voice. He almost sounds relieved, somehow. He almost sounds like he enjoyed it. "They're like animals, and I slaughtered them like animals," Anakin continued. "I hate them!"
Padme again found herself wondering what to say, what to do; but now, rather than directing her quandary toward Anakin, she was wondering whether she should contact Obi-wan, or Mace Windu, or even Yoda. But what would I tell them? she asked herself. I'm as much at fault here as he is. I'm the one who brought him here. He would never have come were it not for me trying to help. He would have stayed on Naboo; he would have hated himself for it, but he would have stayed. And none of this would have happened…
"Why do I hate them?" Anakin asked her, failing miserably in his attempt to stifle his sobs. "I didn't . . . I couldn't . . . I couldn't control myself. I . . . I don't want to hate them. But I just can't forgive them."
"To be angry is to be human," Amidala answered, trying to ease Anakin's guilt even as she struggled to rationalize her actions. What he did… it's horrible. And it's my fault.
"To control your anger is to be a Jedi," he retorted, clearly attempting to display the same bravado he had shown back on Naboo, when he'd initially abided by his orders.
"Shhh, you're human," she said soothingly, trying to calm her bodyguard. In so many ways, he's still a child. He's more powerful than most men could ever be, but he lacks experience. He needs someone to guide him… he needs me to guide him. I owe him that much, especially after what I've done to him.
"No, I'm a Jedi," he insisted. "I know better than this," Anakin told her. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
"You're like everyone else," Padme responded. Or at least, you will be. I'll undo the damage I've done. And I'll make certain his superiors never know about what happened here today. I'm the one to blame, not him. He's just a boy… an innocent boy who's had to face too much far too soon. I'll do whatever it takes to set right everything I've screwed up here.
Fin