Previously: "You love him," it was a fact. Obi-wan sighed with the directness of her approach, but disagreed not. "As much as you do. That is why I know you two can get past this, Padme. Love knows no bounds, including those put in place by grief, betrayal or death. It's what the Light is," love. That was all it was made of. That was what they fought for and sacrificed for; the most noble of causes. The only ideal worth not only dying for, but living for. Padme took in a deep breath, and released it. Her chest felt twenty pounds lighter immediately following. "In the morning, me and Ani will have a real talk," she decided resolutely. Obi-wan cocked an eyebrow, ducking his head to hide his smile as he began walking back to the room. "I wish you luck. Words aren't his specialty," he grunted. Padme followed, a slight spring in her step. "Love knows no bounds…" They had a lot of work to do, but hard work had never frightened her, treacherous roads were nothing but greater adventures, the hard way was often the only way, and she preferred it.
In the morning. That was the key word, wasn't it? In the morning. The words had always seemed less daunting when spoken the day before. Morning, after all, was whole light years away. It was the slow inching of the ship around the sun and the sun around the planet, it was ten thousand seconds of waiting and that waiting should have provided ample time to gather her nerve, ample time to think, to contemplate. To know the way.
But what way was there?
This, in turn, was her dilemma. When the iron bars of jail have surrounded you, when there is no one to shoot but yourself, then how do you find a way? What way is there form the dark when the light is superficial?
It was morning, and Padme Amidala was not ready.
She had been confident and brave the night before. She had known that this was right. But now with heart shattering with the remembered weight of anguish from the mistakes she had made, she knew that if there was one thing on the face of existence that she was not; it was ready. It was willing.
You could lose him.
The durasteel of the ship, Anakin's ship, passed by her vision in nauseating flashes of gray and some tiny pinpoints of white as she sidestepped clones and some brown when she came across Jedi. None spoke to her, or if they did she heard them not, for she was marching aimlessly into destruction. Again.
You could lose him.
But she already had, hadn't she? She had lost him once, been lost, known loss and why was this still new to her? After all that Padme had done and fought for what was one more war? What was one more fight to a fighter? What was one more talk amongst lifetimes of serious talks?
You could lose him.
Loss. Attachment led to fear of loss, and fear led to anger, anger led to hatred, hatred led to suffering. It was oft repeated aphorism, it was there, it was real and the truth of the matter was that Anakin had already passed fear.
He was fear. Padme had been able to see it the day he looked into her eyes and choked with stunning clarity, with a wisdom beyond the years he had lived "I'm a Jedi. I know I'm better than this!" A sucking bruise bleeding with fear and she had only poured salt into the gash for she had personified all he had feared to lose. Again.
Anakin was fear, but Padme was betrayal. There were reasons for her ignorance-for her idiocy. There always were. Anger always had a reason, but seldom a good one. The only way to fight mistrust was with trust. She had to trust that all would end up alright. If it weren't so hard, if it weren't morning, she might have been able to slow her heart, might have been able to talk herself into this.
She stopped outside with no recollection of having gotten up to see Anakin missing beside her and realizing, with gutting nervousness, that it was morning. The Queen of Naboo had never before feared a new day to this extent. She had never before hated the dawn for being there, as it was always there. She had no recollection of having gotten up, dressed, pinned her hair back, gone to meeting (what had been said?) talked to Ahsoka about Lux (was he alright?) and finally leaving the Twins with Master Tinn (his smile had been so bright. Had he thanked her?) before venturing to the one place a general of such status would be.
Padme halted outside of the door to the map room, inhaled once, twice, punched herself to make sure she was alive, to remind herself that as her heart bled she still had blood to bleed.
To remind herself that it was morning; and she had promised.
Jiro. Levi. Anakin. Shantra. These names had a new meaning. They brought with them a whole plethora of memories and agonies. Each name held a story, a face, a feeling… All these names were evidence of her betrayal. And she had come to face them down and say what had needed to be said for too long now.
"I'm sorry."
You could lose him.
And if they-he-turned her away at the remembrance of what she was, then she would have to let him go because what reason did she have to claim him? What answer was there when he asked "why should I?" because he would ask it, and she had no answer, knew only that if he left, her soul would leave too. Her heart, soul, mind.
But that was inconsequential, wasn't it? That was stupid. She had handed those things to him a long time ago, and he to her. She had already crushed his heart, why not let him crush hers in reply?
She had already lost him. It was just time to make it official.
"If you have any goodness at all," she begged the universe internally, knowing that it was a vain attempt for the universe had long ago showed her that it did not even understand the concept of goodness "Let me have him again," and so she opened the door.
Anakin Skywalker was as he always was, indescribable. He was so many things that even watching him staring at a map could not accurately describe him. He was staring at a map.
Surely these were the moves of a general? But no. He was not just staring at it, he was studying it as keenly as a little slave boy had studied her when she walked into Watto's shop on a hot day behind a reckless Jedi master.
He wasn't leaning over the map, hands flat on the control panel, he was crouching there as still as the young man who had stood over his mother's grave and been unaffected by the sandy winds.
His eyes did not flick from side to side, they slid like oil over the details as the warrior-man who had barreled into her room one late night and extinguished killer worms with a flick of his glowing stick.
The pale blue light did not cast dull shadows upon his face, but his face melted into the shadows, a predator of the dark, a deadly trained assassin who cut down flying, screeching Geonosians in underground caves with an emotionless face.
His face was not strained; it was focused as a dedicated general and serious freedom fighter who had long ago thrown the cloak of tradition and taken on the bronze sword of compassion.
His shoulders were not tense, they were ready as that Jedi Padawan who had stood back to back with her and held his weapon before him, ready to die in an arena, willing to go down if only he took some of the sleemo's with him.
He was everything. General. Warrior. Jedi. Father. Husband. Son. Forgotten. Unredeemable. He was Anakin, and for that reason he took her breath away and left her standing there bereft of any thought besides that it was morning. And she wasn't ready, had never been ready.
Obi-wan had said that love conquered all, but it had been love to get them here in the first place. What logical answer was there for that? What inspirational saying could explain why love always led to pain? She had bene duped by the negotiator. Duped by her heart. Duped by the feelings stirring within her now as the indescribable shadow looked up, and smiled uncomfortably when he saw her. There used to be such easy camaraderie between them.
Where was it? His eyes lit up and he straightened, taller, more powerful, someone who could snap her neck with a mere wave of his hand. And he had thrown her mistakes to the wind carelessly when there were so many out there who wanted him more…Who would give him more…
You could lose him.
"Padme," she was alone with him. The doors had closed. The lights were dimmed. "What's wrong?" He knew something was. She hoped he couldn't hear her heart, then discarded the thought. He was Jedi. Of course he could sense it. That was why he had asked.
"Anakin," she wanted to say Ani, should she say Ani? No. Not now. Not when there was such unease between them that she could not deny because she felt it too. That was the presumed reason she wanted to flee for her life after all. Just the sight of him looking at her made her feel filthy, soiled with the dirt of disloyalty, soaked in the retches of wickedness.
"We need to talk," so far, so good. Her beating heart didn't matter. Nothing mattered. He needed to hear the truth, he deserved to know why and she in turn wanted to know what now. An answer for an answer. A heart for a heart. A trust for a trust.
"Oh," he turned completely, crossed his arms. He narrowed his eyes at her. He probably knew what this was about, but like her, he was not ready. It was morning, and neither of them wanted to see the sun. They had preferred to stay in the dark because then at least they didn't have to look at the demons.
They didn't have to face the devils prowling in the darkness and know that they were demons whose faces reflected their own. "What about?" Stupid, stupid man. Why did he feel the need to make her say it? Why make the road bumpier just because you didn't want to face the bumps already in the road?
"Courascant."
He paled. Her breath hitched. They were afraid. She, the fearless politician in court and the demanding fighter in battle was terrified of one word. Him, the Hero with no Fear, the charming crusader had paled at the statement. Most people would, granted. Courascant was the Sith home world after all. But it was not only that to them. To them, Courascant was everything that had torn them apart.
"You…" he gulped, shifted. She looked down, clenched her jaw. "You want to talk about this? You really do? Because you know we don't have too. We don't need to…" he was trying to escape. Padme did not blame him, for she felt the same. If she could escape then by all means she wanted too, but escape wasn't what they needed. It was not what was going to keep them together. Love was not an escape, it was a truth.
You could lose him.
She steeled herself for the carnage. "We do need too," she determined softly, hardly able to get the whisper past her throat, which ached with tears already too close to the surface. Anakin studied her expressionlessly before he spoke. "Now?" He wondered.
Padme nodded. "If you aren't busy," she knew he wasn't. He had been staring at a map of something he already knew intimately. That hardly said 'busy,' more of trying to avoid something or someone. Padme could only hope that it hadn't been her.
She knew that it was, but hoping and knowing are two different functions that often did not get along very well for one was of the heart and the other the brain. Those two had long been enemies, far longer than she and Anakin had been amongst living beings.
A sigh from him. He glanced around, as if trying to find something to do that would distract his attention. Padme half hoped that he would find something so that she in turn could find something. It never hurt to stay in the dark a little, did it? Sometimes ignorance was the best shield. Sometimes the light just didn't help. "I'm… Not," he admitted.
Despite that, the Light did always win. Padme exhaled shakily, scared and worried, but knowing that it was inevitable now. She accepted her fate, accepted that this was going to hurt. Because just as Anakin was a salty bleeding wound of fear, she was a gaping black hole of betrayal, sucking everything in but always remaining empty.
What happened when you tried to sew a wound close and fill a black hole?
Anakin was looking around in earnest now. "Not here," he breathed. Padme gazed at him in confusion. "Not here," he said again with more confidence this time. He looked at her with eyes that were so dark they could have been black hole themselves, trying to devour the reality and finding out that it was actually devouring him.
"Where else is there to go?" She asked softly, wondering if perhaps he just didn't want to be anywhere near her, and was trying to find a different way of saying it. Anakin played with the hem of his pants and glanced around, as if trying to find a corner to crawl into.
"Ilum," he decided after a moment. Padme stared. Ilum? The ice planet that they were defending? That Ilum? "Not here," Anakin repeated thrice. "This ship…The Force…It's a war ship; and the Force…" He trailed off, but Padme understood anyway.
Aboard this ship, bustling with Jedi, clones and every other manner of people all preparing to fight, the Force was preparing itself for war. And they were trying to end war. He could not focus on ending something that in the atmosphere of this cold place was just beginning.
"Alright," she unclenched her fists, nodding to let him know that she understood. "Alright. Let's go to Ilum."
If anyone asks me where this came from, I answer thus: I have absolutely no idea. But in light of recalling some pleading reviews for this scene during the Strength of the Sacrifice that I never put in, I decided I owed my readers at least a chance at reconciliation with Padme, even if that was supposed to come later. Anyway, next chapter up soon!
~QueenYoda