Disclaimer: These characters belong to George Lucas; I am only borrowing
them for the use of this story and intend to make no profit.
Anakin Skywalker paced about his Coruscant apartment nervously. Padmé should have been home long ago. While he felt no disturbance in the Force and felt no threat of danger, his vivid imagination congered a thousand scenarios of her meeting some horrible fate, out in the world alone and unprotected. Despite her personal confidence, Anakin had little faith in her ability to protect herself. He hated her independent streak and her need to be by herself from time to time, dreading any time apart from her. He had allowed her tonight to do with as she pleased, but he regretted it. Now as the hour grew later, he felt his anxiety rising along with the moon over Coruscant. Pulling on his robe and hooking his lightsaber at his side, the young Jedi set off in search of his wife.
The Force led him to a bustling club near the Jedi Temple. He'd been there before himself; many Jedi frequented it, more out of convienince than preference. He felt her presence inside, along with another very familiar one: that of his Master, Obi-Wan Kenobi. So that was why she had wanted him to stay home tonight! A jealous fury burned in the Padawan's heart. How dare she stay out at this hour, and with his own master, no less!
Anakin entered the club unnoticed, wishing to see before being seen. Scanning the dimly lit room, he quickly spotted the two at a high table in the corner, leaning across it towards each other intimately, in order to hear each other over the noise of the mostly drunken crowd and booming music. Obi-Wan sat with his back to the door, cloak drapped over the back of his chair and lightsaber dangling securely from the utility belt around his waist. His red-blonde hair seemed darker in the light of the bar, his broad shoulders square and powerful. Anakin pondered his Master's power for a moment, deciding, as he always did, that if it ever came down to it, he could surely best his mentor in a fight. It had been ages since the two had last practiced dueling each other with their lightsabers, but the proud young Jedi felt confident that his skills had surpassed those of Obi-Wan in the time since they last battled. And yet, he remembered angrily, no one seemed to notice how remarkable he was. No one except for Senator Palpatine, anyway. He seemed to be the only one who gave Anakin the credit he deserved. All Obi-Wan did was hold him back, because he was jealous. Jealous of his skills and jealous of his beautiful wife...Palpatine had agreed with that. A familiar anger rose within Anakin towards his Master.
If Obi-Wan sensed his apprentice's presence, he made no move to acknowledge him, and Anakin remained in the shadows observing his wife and Master. Padmé's poistion gaver her husband a clear view of her, and he groaned a little in appreciation as she leaned forward and her cowl-necked shirt gave him a tantalizing view. His momentary distraction quickly turned to anger as he realized that Obi-Wan was likely getting an even better view than he was. He crept a little closer to where the couple was stationed, pushing past writhing couples on the dance floor in hopes of overhear a bit of their conversation. But despite his attuned Jedi senses, he could not get close enough to hear without being spotted.
Obi-Wan said something accompanied by some animated hand gestures, and Anakin watched with narrowing eyes as his wife threw back her head and laughed more deeply and genuinely than he had ever heard her laugh, her eyes dancing with an amusement he knew he had never sparked in her. The sound of his master's deep chuckle merging, flowing, and blending with that of Padmé's laughter so naturally pulled some kind of trigger within Anakin, and he stormed over to the couple's table, pushing past groups of rowdy patrons to the other side of the room.
"Anakin!" Padmé seemed surprised, but not unhappy to see him.
"Why hello, my young apprentice!" Obi-Wan exlaimed. "How good to see you! We're having a fine time. Would you like a drink?"
"No thank you, Master," said the young man with an icy calmness. He turned to address his wife. "What are you doing here?" he asked her, his cool voice contrasting sharply with the heat in his gaze.
Padmé either did not catch the look in his eyes or chose to ignore it. She raised her small glass in the air, and Anakin eyed the blue liquid it contained suspiciously. "We're forgetting our worries, Ani," she smiled.
Anakin was not amused. His wife was out drinking with his Master! "Forgetting your worries, are you? And evidently forgetting what time it is, and that you have a husband waiting for you at home!" His voice rose a little, almost indetectably with every word, but was noticably louder by the time he had reached the end of his sentence.
The Senator seemed taken aback. Squinting to see the time bar on the opposite wall, she said, "Goodness, I didn't realize it was so late."
"Time flies when you're having fun, doesn't it?" he said, laughing bitterly. "Time flies when you're sneaking off to get drunk with your husband's closest friend, doesn't it?"
Obi-Wan spoke up. "In all fairness, my rash Padawan, there was no sneaking involved. I merely ran into your lovely wife on the street, and we decided to do some catching up."
Anakin's voice was filled with spite when he spoke. "You're lying," he said. "You planned to meet each other here, didn't you?" His eyes skipped back and forth between them.
Obi-Wan sensed his apprentice's frenzy with dread, and felt a kind of early hangover begin to set in. He was so immensely frustrated with this boy. Could he not even enjoy a few bliss hours with the dazzling woman in front of him? Wasn't it enough that Anakin was the one who took her home at night? Wasn't it enough that Anakin was the one who had the pleasure of sharing her bed? Wasn't it enough that Anakin was the one who her words of love were directed at? Was it too much to ask that Obi-Wan have the joy of basking in the warmth of her smile and bathing in the music of her laughter, even for just a few hours? Yes, according to Anakin it was. He was immensely selfish, rarely letting Padmé out of his sight. These stolen nights were all they had, and although he treasured any time with Padmé, these encounters were hardly ideal to Obi-Wan. But he would never be foolish enough to attempt anything even mildly romantic with the beautiful Senator. Anakin's wrath, if such a thing were ever discovered, could prove to be deadly. And with a sigh, he wondered how such a vision as the one who was suffering under Anakin's harsh stare now could ever return any feelings for him. He felt supremely unworthy.
"Obi-Wan, answer me," Anakin demanded. "Did you plan this?"
Obi-Wan sighed, deeply. He could not lie to his apprentice; he would only see through it and become more enraged. "Calm down, Anakin," he said. "What is so terrible about a simple meeting between two old friends?"
"The fact that I do not trust either of them to be alone with each other!" Anakin yelled. A couple of heads turned at the boy's outburst.
"There's no need to be angry," Obi-Wan said, calming himself and attempting to soothe his Padawan.
"Ani, please don't make a scene," Padmé begged. "You know how it embarrasses me when you get angry in public..."
"I wouldn't be angry if you weren't lying to me, running off for secret dates with my master late at night!"
"Please, Anakin," she said. "Obi-Wan and I have nothing to hide, unless friendship is something to be ashamed of."
Anakin seemed to accept Padmé's word, and he breathed in deeply, exhaling slowly, calming himself. He turned to Obi-Wan, seemingly a bit more like his usual self. Or at least, his usual self before he began exploding in fits of anger almost daily, lashing out against both his master and his wife. More and more, it seemed his "usual self" was becoming a mere shadow of the bright boy they had once known. It was this upsetting change that was most frequently the topic of conversation between Obi-Wan and Padme during their hours together, and the two found comfort in each other's supportive friendship as they talked of their mutual fears and disappointments. And sometimes, like tonight, they merely chose to forget their worries and talk of other things. They made each other laugh; they provided each other with a distraction that couldn't be found anywhere else. But there was much that Padmé did not tell Obi-Wan, and he sensed it. He longed to be truly alone with her, to have her open her heart to him and tell him of the things that furrowed her pretty brow.
Anakin spoke and neither sensed any sarcasm in his words. "I know that neither of you would ever betray me," he said. Softly he added, "I know you would regret it immensely if you did." Padmé shuddered at the implication. She did not know if Obi-Wan was aware of Anakin's likely meaning: that HE would MAKE them regret it immensely. She knew what he was capable of. Did Obi-Wan? "However, I don't appreciate you going about behind my backs. I believe you both owe me an apology."
"I'm sorry," Padmé said immediately, taking her husband's hand. A strange, sick feeling came over Obi-Wan at the sight and the realization of how easily the once fearless woman submitted to this man, almost cowering in his wrath at times. A sudden well of emotion rose from somewhere within him, and he shook his head. "I owe you no apology, Anakin." His voice was full of raw emotion and he spoke passionately and with anger. "Your wife is a person, not an item to be owned, and we wouldn't have to meet like this if you weren't so damn possessive!" He slammed his fist down on the table with such a force it caused the glass top to crack, but he showed no signs of having experienced any pain.
Anakin grabbed Padmé's arm and yanked her from her chair with more force than he had intended. The action caused the woman to spill her drink down her front, and a small murmur of alarm went up around them from those whose attention had been caught by the unfolding scene. Padmé jerked her arm away from her husband and said angrily, "What are you doing?"
He did not even look at his wife, only glaring at Obi-Wan. "We're leaving," he said, his words directed at Padmé but his gaze still locked on his unblinking Master. "And if you're so wise, Obi-Wan, you'll know better than to follow us." Again, he grabbed her arm and led her out of the restaurant. Padmé looked over her shoulder sadly at the bearded Jedi in the corner as Anakin pulled her out the door, her eyes saying more than words ever could.
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"You made me get my shirt wet," Padmé grumbled when the two had arrived at the couple's apartment, sitting down heavily on the soft bed. She bit her bottom lip a bit nervously as her husband made his way to the end of the bed where she was sitting, and gasped aloud when he pulled her up by her armpits and gathered the damp material in his fist. With a ferocious rip, the fabric tore as he jerked it off her body.
Padmé's brows knitted together, alarmed and afraid at her husband's behavoir. She watched as he calmly walked to the waste reciptical in the corner and deposited her ruined shirt there. "I'll buy you a new one," he said, his back to her.
When he turned to face her again, she shifted uncomfortably under his roving gaze and moved to cover her exposed chest. Yes, he was her husband...but the way he looked at her sometimes made her feel downright violated and unrespected. Sometimes she wondered if she were more to him than just a sexual play thing to do with as he pleased. She folded her arms across her chest, and gathering her courage, said, "Don't look at me like that."
He advanced on her slowly, and upon reaching her, unfolded her arms from in front of her and pulled them behind her back. The rough motion made her whimper as her joints snapped in protest and Anakin's good hand held both her wrists tightly. "You're mine," he hissed into her ear. "I'll look at you however I please." He smiled and kissed her, awkwardly, as if he had just said something sweet and romantic. When he pulled away, he said, "Do you understand?" She shivered. Blast, how he scared her. She said nothing, which angered him. He hated when she didn't agree with him, when she didn't acquiesce to his every request. He had too many people working against him in his life -- especially that damned Obi-Wan Kenobi! -- to go home to someone who gave him further difficulty. "I said, do you understand?" he grunted.
A tear slid down Padmé's cheek before she could blink it back. What had she been reduced to? This was not the man she knew. This was not the man she fell in love with. This was not the man she had rolled in the grasses of Naboo with. The man she had loved was a different person entirely, and he would never do this to her. She was not a woman who let people walk over her, and yet, she felt so powerless against this stranger. Sincerely she feared him, so she choked out the only answer he would accept: "Yes, Anakin. I understand."
This seemed to satisfy him, and he released her, but only to move so he could kiss her and fondle her naked breasts with his good hand. She knew that she could never say no to his advances. As much as she desperately did not want to go to bed with him right now, saying so would only serve to further anger him, and she feared him so when he was angry. At least he was not so frightening like this, even if his touch, rough and sometimes that of cold metal, was heartbreaking.
As he moved inside her, he had only one sentence for her, where he used to speak words of love. "I never want to find you with Obi-Wan Kenobi again," he said fiercely.
Closing her eyes so that she did not have to look at him and fighting back the tears that threatened to spill past her lids at any moment, Padmé made a silent vow to herself. "You will never keep me away from the one person who brings me happiness," she thought angrily. "One day, I will run away from you, and I will be with him. And you will never find us, even if we have to hide for the rest of our lives." She almost hoped he sensed her thoughts, but he was too lost in his motions to notice.
A tear escaped and trickled down to Padmé's swollen lips. She could taste its bittersweetness, and her heart cried out for the only person who could soothe her aching pain.
Obi-Wan.
Anakin Skywalker paced about his Coruscant apartment nervously. Padmé should have been home long ago. While he felt no disturbance in the Force and felt no threat of danger, his vivid imagination congered a thousand scenarios of her meeting some horrible fate, out in the world alone and unprotected. Despite her personal confidence, Anakin had little faith in her ability to protect herself. He hated her independent streak and her need to be by herself from time to time, dreading any time apart from her. He had allowed her tonight to do with as she pleased, but he regretted it. Now as the hour grew later, he felt his anxiety rising along with the moon over Coruscant. Pulling on his robe and hooking his lightsaber at his side, the young Jedi set off in search of his wife.
The Force led him to a bustling club near the Jedi Temple. He'd been there before himself; many Jedi frequented it, more out of convienince than preference. He felt her presence inside, along with another very familiar one: that of his Master, Obi-Wan Kenobi. So that was why she had wanted him to stay home tonight! A jealous fury burned in the Padawan's heart. How dare she stay out at this hour, and with his own master, no less!
Anakin entered the club unnoticed, wishing to see before being seen. Scanning the dimly lit room, he quickly spotted the two at a high table in the corner, leaning across it towards each other intimately, in order to hear each other over the noise of the mostly drunken crowd and booming music. Obi-Wan sat with his back to the door, cloak drapped over the back of his chair and lightsaber dangling securely from the utility belt around his waist. His red-blonde hair seemed darker in the light of the bar, his broad shoulders square and powerful. Anakin pondered his Master's power for a moment, deciding, as he always did, that if it ever came down to it, he could surely best his mentor in a fight. It had been ages since the two had last practiced dueling each other with their lightsabers, but the proud young Jedi felt confident that his skills had surpassed those of Obi-Wan in the time since they last battled. And yet, he remembered angrily, no one seemed to notice how remarkable he was. No one except for Senator Palpatine, anyway. He seemed to be the only one who gave Anakin the credit he deserved. All Obi-Wan did was hold him back, because he was jealous. Jealous of his skills and jealous of his beautiful wife...Palpatine had agreed with that. A familiar anger rose within Anakin towards his Master.
If Obi-Wan sensed his apprentice's presence, he made no move to acknowledge him, and Anakin remained in the shadows observing his wife and Master. Padmé's poistion gaver her husband a clear view of her, and he groaned a little in appreciation as she leaned forward and her cowl-necked shirt gave him a tantalizing view. His momentary distraction quickly turned to anger as he realized that Obi-Wan was likely getting an even better view than he was. He crept a little closer to where the couple was stationed, pushing past writhing couples on the dance floor in hopes of overhear a bit of their conversation. But despite his attuned Jedi senses, he could not get close enough to hear without being spotted.
Obi-Wan said something accompanied by some animated hand gestures, and Anakin watched with narrowing eyes as his wife threw back her head and laughed more deeply and genuinely than he had ever heard her laugh, her eyes dancing with an amusement he knew he had never sparked in her. The sound of his master's deep chuckle merging, flowing, and blending with that of Padmé's laughter so naturally pulled some kind of trigger within Anakin, and he stormed over to the couple's table, pushing past groups of rowdy patrons to the other side of the room.
"Anakin!" Padmé seemed surprised, but not unhappy to see him.
"Why hello, my young apprentice!" Obi-Wan exlaimed. "How good to see you! We're having a fine time. Would you like a drink?"
"No thank you, Master," said the young man with an icy calmness. He turned to address his wife. "What are you doing here?" he asked her, his cool voice contrasting sharply with the heat in his gaze.
Padmé either did not catch the look in his eyes or chose to ignore it. She raised her small glass in the air, and Anakin eyed the blue liquid it contained suspiciously. "We're forgetting our worries, Ani," she smiled.
Anakin was not amused. His wife was out drinking with his Master! "Forgetting your worries, are you? And evidently forgetting what time it is, and that you have a husband waiting for you at home!" His voice rose a little, almost indetectably with every word, but was noticably louder by the time he had reached the end of his sentence.
The Senator seemed taken aback. Squinting to see the time bar on the opposite wall, she said, "Goodness, I didn't realize it was so late."
"Time flies when you're having fun, doesn't it?" he said, laughing bitterly. "Time flies when you're sneaking off to get drunk with your husband's closest friend, doesn't it?"
Obi-Wan spoke up. "In all fairness, my rash Padawan, there was no sneaking involved. I merely ran into your lovely wife on the street, and we decided to do some catching up."
Anakin's voice was filled with spite when he spoke. "You're lying," he said. "You planned to meet each other here, didn't you?" His eyes skipped back and forth between them.
Obi-Wan sensed his apprentice's frenzy with dread, and felt a kind of early hangover begin to set in. He was so immensely frustrated with this boy. Could he not even enjoy a few bliss hours with the dazzling woman in front of him? Wasn't it enough that Anakin was the one who took her home at night? Wasn't it enough that Anakin was the one who had the pleasure of sharing her bed? Wasn't it enough that Anakin was the one who her words of love were directed at? Was it too much to ask that Obi-Wan have the joy of basking in the warmth of her smile and bathing in the music of her laughter, even for just a few hours? Yes, according to Anakin it was. He was immensely selfish, rarely letting Padmé out of his sight. These stolen nights were all they had, and although he treasured any time with Padmé, these encounters were hardly ideal to Obi-Wan. But he would never be foolish enough to attempt anything even mildly romantic with the beautiful Senator. Anakin's wrath, if such a thing were ever discovered, could prove to be deadly. And with a sigh, he wondered how such a vision as the one who was suffering under Anakin's harsh stare now could ever return any feelings for him. He felt supremely unworthy.
"Obi-Wan, answer me," Anakin demanded. "Did you plan this?"
Obi-Wan sighed, deeply. He could not lie to his apprentice; he would only see through it and become more enraged. "Calm down, Anakin," he said. "What is so terrible about a simple meeting between two old friends?"
"The fact that I do not trust either of them to be alone with each other!" Anakin yelled. A couple of heads turned at the boy's outburst.
"There's no need to be angry," Obi-Wan said, calming himself and attempting to soothe his Padawan.
"Ani, please don't make a scene," Padmé begged. "You know how it embarrasses me when you get angry in public..."
"I wouldn't be angry if you weren't lying to me, running off for secret dates with my master late at night!"
"Please, Anakin," she said. "Obi-Wan and I have nothing to hide, unless friendship is something to be ashamed of."
Anakin seemed to accept Padmé's word, and he breathed in deeply, exhaling slowly, calming himself. He turned to Obi-Wan, seemingly a bit more like his usual self. Or at least, his usual self before he began exploding in fits of anger almost daily, lashing out against both his master and his wife. More and more, it seemed his "usual self" was becoming a mere shadow of the bright boy they had once known. It was this upsetting change that was most frequently the topic of conversation between Obi-Wan and Padme during their hours together, and the two found comfort in each other's supportive friendship as they talked of their mutual fears and disappointments. And sometimes, like tonight, they merely chose to forget their worries and talk of other things. They made each other laugh; they provided each other with a distraction that couldn't be found anywhere else. But there was much that Padmé did not tell Obi-Wan, and he sensed it. He longed to be truly alone with her, to have her open her heart to him and tell him of the things that furrowed her pretty brow.
Anakin spoke and neither sensed any sarcasm in his words. "I know that neither of you would ever betray me," he said. Softly he added, "I know you would regret it immensely if you did." Padmé shuddered at the implication. She did not know if Obi-Wan was aware of Anakin's likely meaning: that HE would MAKE them regret it immensely. She knew what he was capable of. Did Obi-Wan? "However, I don't appreciate you going about behind my backs. I believe you both owe me an apology."
"I'm sorry," Padmé said immediately, taking her husband's hand. A strange, sick feeling came over Obi-Wan at the sight and the realization of how easily the once fearless woman submitted to this man, almost cowering in his wrath at times. A sudden well of emotion rose from somewhere within him, and he shook his head. "I owe you no apology, Anakin." His voice was full of raw emotion and he spoke passionately and with anger. "Your wife is a person, not an item to be owned, and we wouldn't have to meet like this if you weren't so damn possessive!" He slammed his fist down on the table with such a force it caused the glass top to crack, but he showed no signs of having experienced any pain.
Anakin grabbed Padmé's arm and yanked her from her chair with more force than he had intended. The action caused the woman to spill her drink down her front, and a small murmur of alarm went up around them from those whose attention had been caught by the unfolding scene. Padmé jerked her arm away from her husband and said angrily, "What are you doing?"
He did not even look at his wife, only glaring at Obi-Wan. "We're leaving," he said, his words directed at Padmé but his gaze still locked on his unblinking Master. "And if you're so wise, Obi-Wan, you'll know better than to follow us." Again, he grabbed her arm and led her out of the restaurant. Padmé looked over her shoulder sadly at the bearded Jedi in the corner as Anakin pulled her out the door, her eyes saying more than words ever could.
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"You made me get my shirt wet," Padmé grumbled when the two had arrived at the couple's apartment, sitting down heavily on the soft bed. She bit her bottom lip a bit nervously as her husband made his way to the end of the bed where she was sitting, and gasped aloud when he pulled her up by her armpits and gathered the damp material in his fist. With a ferocious rip, the fabric tore as he jerked it off her body.
Padmé's brows knitted together, alarmed and afraid at her husband's behavoir. She watched as he calmly walked to the waste reciptical in the corner and deposited her ruined shirt there. "I'll buy you a new one," he said, his back to her.
When he turned to face her again, she shifted uncomfortably under his roving gaze and moved to cover her exposed chest. Yes, he was her husband...but the way he looked at her sometimes made her feel downright violated and unrespected. Sometimes she wondered if she were more to him than just a sexual play thing to do with as he pleased. She folded her arms across her chest, and gathering her courage, said, "Don't look at me like that."
He advanced on her slowly, and upon reaching her, unfolded her arms from in front of her and pulled them behind her back. The rough motion made her whimper as her joints snapped in protest and Anakin's good hand held both her wrists tightly. "You're mine," he hissed into her ear. "I'll look at you however I please." He smiled and kissed her, awkwardly, as if he had just said something sweet and romantic. When he pulled away, he said, "Do you understand?" She shivered. Blast, how he scared her. She said nothing, which angered him. He hated when she didn't agree with him, when she didn't acquiesce to his every request. He had too many people working against him in his life -- especially that damned Obi-Wan Kenobi! -- to go home to someone who gave him further difficulty. "I said, do you understand?" he grunted.
A tear slid down Padmé's cheek before she could blink it back. What had she been reduced to? This was not the man she knew. This was not the man she fell in love with. This was not the man she had rolled in the grasses of Naboo with. The man she had loved was a different person entirely, and he would never do this to her. She was not a woman who let people walk over her, and yet, she felt so powerless against this stranger. Sincerely she feared him, so she choked out the only answer he would accept: "Yes, Anakin. I understand."
This seemed to satisfy him, and he released her, but only to move so he could kiss her and fondle her naked breasts with his good hand. She knew that she could never say no to his advances. As much as she desperately did not want to go to bed with him right now, saying so would only serve to further anger him, and she feared him so when he was angry. At least he was not so frightening like this, even if his touch, rough and sometimes that of cold metal, was heartbreaking.
As he moved inside her, he had only one sentence for her, where he used to speak words of love. "I never want to find you with Obi-Wan Kenobi again," he said fiercely.
Closing her eyes so that she did not have to look at him and fighting back the tears that threatened to spill past her lids at any moment, Padmé made a silent vow to herself. "You will never keep me away from the one person who brings me happiness," she thought angrily. "One day, I will run away from you, and I will be with him. And you will never find us, even if we have to hide for the rest of our lives." She almost hoped he sensed her thoughts, but he was too lost in his motions to notice.
A tear escaped and trickled down to Padmé's swollen lips. She could taste its bittersweetness, and her heart cried out for the only person who could soothe her aching pain.
Obi-Wan.