A/N: This is set during "Star Wars: The Clone Wars" season 4 episode 9, so if you haven't seen that, you should watch first or read a summery. You only really need to see the first scene or two to understand honestly.
She spends most of the service watching him rather than listening to the beautiful words being spoken by Master Yoda, or even comforting the clearly heartbroken Duchess Satine beside her. Perhaps most shameful of all, she doesn't allow herself to grieve for the man whose memory gathers them all here, Jedi or not on this terrible day. But she thinks this is what he would have wanted, someone has to think about Anakin and if Obi-Wan can't be here to do it himself, then of course it must be her. She watches her husband watch the covered body of his former Master descend into the depths of the Temple with a haunted look in his eye, one she's never seen before in his beautiful azure eyes.
It's understandable of course, from what Ahsoka has told her, it was awful… His anguish and despair were like nothing the Padawan has ever witnessed in her short life thus far. Padme has seen it before, seen the half-crazed look in his eye that morning he returned from the Tuskan camp with his mother's limp body wrapped in coarse cloth. She's held him as sobs rocked his body, stroked his hair and wiped away his tears and her arms ache to do it again, now, here before everyone without care of their secrets being revealed.
She is his wife yet she's confined to standing off to the side while he mourns.
When the eulogies are over, Anakin turns without a word and storms out of the large chamber, and she watches him go for a moment, hesitating. If he wishes to be alone, shouldn't she respect that? Everyone mourns differently, perhaps she should let him go now, and if he wants her comfort he can come home to her... No, she can't leave him, not now. He needs her, and she needs to be with him.
It's easier than she imagined it would be to slip out of the room unnoticed, or if anyone does see, they do not comment or attempt to prevent her from wondering out into the grand hallways of the Temple and following the Chosen One as quickly as she can. It's not a short walk, but he moves so quickly, long legs carrying him almost faster than she can keep up with though somehow she manages not to lose him through the twists and turns of the mysterious building.
She wonders briefly if he's aware of her presence behind him, usually he always, always knows when she's nearby, the Force granting him the ability to reach out for the apparent presence within it she carries. He's tried to explain the ways of the Force with such things more than once but she's always left with far more questions than answers. She is a Senator after all, not a Jedi. Her question is answered when she takes the final turn and discovers a door left open for her, and after just one step inside, it slides closed behind her.
He's facing away from her, shrugging off his heavy cloak and throwing it carelessly over the small bed, much, much too small for his large body – and she makes a mental note to hang it up for him later. She wants to take a moment and truly look around the cramped space, to pick out all the little things that make it Anakin's but there's no time for that right now. Once the cloak is gone, she sees it, he's trembling, almost violently so, as if the grief he's suppressing is battling for a chance to voice itself.
The sight of him, attempting to remain strong, to follow the Jedi way is distressing and heart breaking. Anakin is an emotional creature by nature, built on the whirlwind that is his heart and denying himself how he feels… It never ends well. Especially where grief is concerned. It should be free to wash over you, then when a time has passed, freer still to ease itself away, out of your mind piece by piece until you hardly notice its absence any more. But Jedi don't mourn, he told her that once. They celebrate their fellow Jedi becoming one with the Force… It's a concept she doesn't quite understand, but that's alright, she doesn't have to.
"You…" He tries to speak, voice so full of restraint that it comes out hoarse, in a way that tells her he's trying not to cry, is heart-shattering. Her poor Ani… Right now there is nothing she wants more – other than bringing Obi-Wan back – than to take him into his arms like she did that day on Tatooine but she knows him better than that. If she rushes toward him with open arms, he'll reject her and close up immediately. Some things must be taken slowly where Anakin is concerned. "You, you don't have to be here." He attempts to swallow the lump in his throat to steady his voice, but to no avail. "Don't you have that meeting today? The one with that Senator from Corellia?" How amongst all this has he managed to find out her schedule for the day? Did he check, wondering if she'd be too busy to come?
Nothing – nothing – could have prevented her coming here today, not only for Anakin, but for Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan.
The mere thought of the man with the quiet but equally strong presence, who flirted with everything with a pulse, the way he stroked his beard when deep in thought, his sharp wit, the man who comforted her in her royal starship all those years ago when he found her alone, crying in fear for the people she left behind to suffer, for her family trapped in Naboo until she could reach the Senate to plead for their help, even though he believed her to be a mere handmaiden sobbing in fear for herself is more than enough to make Padme want to weep until she's run out of tears.
She fights the wave of stinging tears back, blinking furiously for a moment until she can see clearly once again because she must be the strong one right now. Anakin needs her, even if he will not admit it. She cannot pretend to truly comprehend how he feels right now, Obi-Wan was the closest thing he had to a father, a brother, the man stepped into the large shoes left behind by Qui-Gonn and took him under his wing. The loss… It must be overwhelming. In a sense, she thinks, it must be akin to being orphaned. With Shmi already gone, Obi-wan was all he had and now...
"I cleared by schedule and cancelled my appointments for the day. I had to be here." She speaks quietly, almost whispering the words as if speaking too loudly will distress him further. For a moment, she's struck by how much like a wild animal he is, purposely looking away from her in these tiny quarters. Backed into a corner the way he is, he will either break or he'll roar and she isn't sure which frightens her more.
When he says nothing, she finally works up the nerve to step toward him, taking the few steps between them and reaches out to first touch his arm, then when he doesn't turn to look her in the eye, lays her palm on his back. "Ani…" She whispers, a quiet plea to let her in. She wants to help him; he only has to let her. He releases a long, shuddering breath, then after a few more moments of hesitation, meets her gaze at last. Despair, shame, rage, sorrow… They're all swirling in his cerulean eyes, far too intensely to comprehend fully… He's always been a storm of feelings, ruled by his heart over his mind. It's something she's always admired greatly about him, but now… Feeling so deeply in all things carries with it a heavy price and he's paying it now, before her very eyes.
Just when she thinks he's going to speak, or perhaps cry, one of his gloved hands – he's been wearing two recently, for reasons he hasn't explained – reaches to cup the back of her head gently, fingers tangling into, and ruining the elaborate braid Dorme twisted her hair into this morning, however the gentleness vanishes quickly, and a moment later he bends down, using the hand on her head to pull her up to meet him halfway and kisses her so hard that she almost cries out. An act that usually begins so tenderly for them comes much too quickly and too roughly for her to keep up this time; she almost thinks her lips will be bruised when he releases her. After a moment or two his lips nudge hers apart and his tongue slides into her mouth uninvited, his free hand too, is far from idle, moving everywhere, touching her wherever he can. She feels it on her breast, on her backside, squeezing harshly and if this happened any other time she'd have pushed him back, shocked and perhaps a little angry but here, now, he's desperate… Desperate to dull the pain of his loss in any way he can, how can she deny him that?
After a moment or two her own hands come to life, one tangling itself in his ever growing hair and grabbing on tightly, while the other curls under his arm and around his body to rest on his back. Shared grief fuels them, but the usual flame of their passion comes to life between the thunder of their hearts pounding in their chests, unaffected by his anguish or her worry. Her response only inflames him further, giving his mouth further cause to continue mauling hers. It's only when he bites her lip just a little too hard that she finally draws back, gasping, mouth filling with the metallic taste of blood. He didn't mean it, she tells herself, he doesn't even realise he did it.
They're both left panting by the kiss, chests heaving, cheeks flushed and for a moment she thinks he's about to tear her clothes off of her body and take her right here, in the the Temple of all places, but instead, as he's done so many times before, he buries his face in the crook of her neck. This, she knows, this, Padme can handle. Her fingers run through his hair again, softly this time as she holds him, half afraid of what he's going to do next.
He surprises her though, there are no violent outbursts or declarations of hate for whatever scum did this or even promises of vengeance. It's heartbreakingly the opposite, instead of all that, he shatters in her arms.
It starts quietly, his body begins to tremble with restrained sobs, its soft but she feels it as her eyes close in despair while she whispers, "it's alright Ani… It's alright." And those few words undo him utterly. It only takes a moment, then he's howling against her skin, weeping for the second father figure to be torn from him in one lifetime, the third parent senselessly murdered and ripped from his life and this time without as much as a true goodbye.
Anakin loved Obi-Wan.
And everybody who ever had the pleasure of hearing the two grown men bicker like children or fight side by side knows the feeling was mutual.
This time Padme can't stop her own tears from spilling over onto her cheeks, one, sometimes two at a time. It's not fair… None of this is fair. If anyone deserved to live through this war to see its end, it was Obi-Wan. If anyone deserves to live the rest of their lives without knowing such loss again, it's Anakin. For the first time Padme understands why he hates politics and politicians alike, it's their fault… All of them, including her. This war came about because they failed to stop it, and now day by day they all face the true cost… Life. Precious lives all across the galaxy. Be it the lives of innocents lost, or the lives of the heroes who work tirelessly to keep them safe. This has truly – at last – opened her eyes to the danger out there… And… And… What if, one day it's the very man she holds in her arms now being lowered into the pyre beneath the cold stone of the Temple? Who'd be there to comfort her if she loses him? What if this war makes a widow of her? Suddenly, after everything Anakin has told her about Obi-Wan and Satine she wishes she'd reached out to the grieving Duchess while she wept.
Such thoughts encourage her cling to him tighter, even as his entire body quakes beneath sob after sob tears its way through him. She can't bear to let him go, not even for a moment. He's always the one making promises of a brighter future for them, one day, when the war ends, but right now, it's her whispering before she's aware of what's leaving her mouth. "This war will end Anakin, I promise… You'll never have to go through this again, it'll be over…"
He pulls away unexpectedly, leaving her arms still open and empty for a moment as he turns his back on her again, lifting his durasteel arm up to roughly wipe away any lingering tears from his face. Then his palms are pressed flat against the small desk beside the bed as he hunches over it. Whatever the reason he turned away, she's not about to give up comforting him… Not after the way he just broke before her. One hand lifts to stroke his back gently, up and down, up and down, in what she hopes is a soothing manner.
"It's not your fault." She states simply. Ahsoka told her what happened, Anakin had been on pursuit of the sniper, giving chase and unfortunately losing them… She knows her husband well enough to know he'll tear himself apart over this. "You can't blame yourself."
"You're wrong." He barks back, palms curling into tight fists against the desk and she swears the room trembles around them for a moment. "I should have sensed it coming! If I'd known there was any danger, I could have… I would have been able to…" The voice coming from his throat is hoarse and rough and angry. But more than that, he is crippled beneath his grief and the all-consuming guilt. She knows that voice; it's the very same one that recounted the slaughter of the sand people a few years ago, only deeper, altered by his becoming a man. Hearing it resurface, now, in such circumstances tells her… It tells her…
Padme loves him, she loves him to the depths of her very soul but that love has not blinded her to his faults. She knows all too well the darkness that lurks within him, pacing, biding its time until it has a chance to seep out and take control. The voice she hears now – the voice she heard in his step-father's garage back then – is the voice of that side of him emerging… And hearing it now tells her he's on the edge of doing something terrible, and it scares her.
"Nobody could have seen it coming! You can't blame yourself Ani, that's not what Obi-Wan would have wanted…" He only tenses further beneath her touch, and she feels it again, the room shaking beneath the power of his rage. She has to pull him back, whatever way she can. She cannot let him run off on a crusade to find whoever did this; Force only know what would happen then. Surprisingly his head turns so he faces her, and it's not rage she sees on his face, it something between devastation and self-loathing.
"How am I supposed to destroy the Sith and bring balance to the Force if I can't even sense a damned snipper aiming for my friend?!" The anger floods back with a vengeance suddenly and he pushes the desk over, sending it flying to the other side of the room, making her jump and step back. She doesn't need the Force to feel the frustration coursing through him right now… Even the least Force-sensitive being alive would be able to sense it from him. Part of her thinks, it's a valid question he's asking her... But the other part only longs to hold him until such questions die in his mouth.
"You expect too much of yourself Anakin… Please, stop this and calm down!" There will be time for stopping the Sith and balancing the Force another day, today he's mourning his friend, half of the legendary pairing of Skywalker and Kenobi. The prophesy can be forgotten for now. He told her once her presence is soothing; right now she wishes she actually knew how to soothe him… They may be love each other, but they've far from perfected their own partnership. Not enough time spent together means even in their third year of marriage she isn't sure what he needs from her, so she resorts to the words she doesn't tell him nearly enough, "I love you…"
He says nothing, just moves to look out the window once more and exhales loudly. He's trying to calm down; at least, she hopes that's what he's doing… He may just be ignoring her completely. Maybe she's done less to comfort him and more to agitate him… She watches his shoulders set, and silences falls around them, filling the room, suffocating everything as they stand there, not speaking. It lasts forever, and yet it's probably no more than a few standard minutes in total, but each second drags past agonisingly slowly, a true form of torture.
Finally, unable to stand this any longer, Padme sighs, tempted to simply turn around and slip out of the quarters but she doesn't move. If she's going to leave, she isn't going to do it without at least offering him a goodbye… Leaving is the last thing she wants to do, but if he's content to shuther out, then what more can she do? He's not an easy man to love, not by any means. "Do you want to be alone for a while? I can go if you'd rath-"she begins softly, sadly even. Anakin turns around suddenly, twin trails of tears racing down the lengths of his cheeks that she would never have guessed were there.
He inhales one sharp, yet shuddering breath, then shakes his head and manages to break her heart all over again with only three words as his weapons.
"Please don't go." He sounds so small, so broken that it tears a choked sob from her own lips as she approaches him again arms open and he meets her half-way and this is how it should be… Supporting each other through this harrowing time, not one shutting the other out. "Stay with me." He chokes out, on the verge of tears all over again, and she knows it's dangerous, they're in the Jedi Temple for the Gods sake, they could be caught at any moment by anyone here but she's not going to worry about any of that right now. They need each other, need to grieve together and find a way through this together.
She stays.