One second Padmé is pulling Anakin off of Clovis and the next Anakin is flying back to the temple. The moments in between are hazy – like they're a dream or someone else's memories.

It's been like that a lot lately – flitting from moment to moment, half-aware, letting the more un-Jedi-like parts of him take control of his body while his brain goes on vacation. At least since Ahsoka left. Probably since before. That's the trouble. A lot of his memories are fuzzy except for the clear, bright feeling of anger. This entire evening plays on loop in his brain, except he can't remember half of it.

Something – what, Anakin can't for the life of him remember, probably just the nagging voice in the back of his head telling him that Clovis is dangerous, a traitor, a threat – possessed him to check up on Padmé, to see if she was okay. Then – Padmé, too close to Clovis, and the rest – fog. A brief flash of fear like the ground was pulled out from under him, the slight sensation of falling, and the only way to hang on was to make sure Clovis was gone, that he couldn't hurt Padmé. That he couldn't hurt him. He knows, the same voice whispers to Anakin. Even if he doesn't, it suggests. The damage he'll do…

I trust Padmé, Anakin insists to himself. I trust her. He just doesn't really trust himself.

A long moment. Padmé backed away from him. She agreed to this, Anakin thought to himself scathingly, his rage directed towards Padmé for a moment. This is her fault. But Padmé wouldn't make eye contact with him, and the second she left the room the rage collapsed in on itself, and Anakin sunk into the couch until Padmé came out the bedroom – He's in your bed, the voice whispers – and they had an argument. Anakin doesn't remember it. Too tired to really argue, to pay attention to Padmé.

"I don't feel safe," she said, and he stood up to find her halfway across the room. He wanted to argue. He wanted to feel angry. "I don't think we should see each other anymore," she said, and for the second time that night, Anakin wasn't sure if the floor under his feet was really there at all.

At least he remembers that, he thinks, his hands shaking at the controls of his speeder. Lately – since Ahsoka left or since Obi-Wan died or since his mom died, he can't remember – he hasn't been around until someone drags him out. But he was around for that. He thinks he's grateful. At least he was present when Padmé toppled whatever was left of his life around him.

Padmé left the room, but Anakin stood there, his ears ringing. He watched her leave. Watched Captain Typho watch him. Then nothing. No fog, no vague memories of climbing into his speeder, leaving Padmé's apartment. Just suddenly realizing he's there – in his speeder – flying back to the temple, away from Padmé, away from Clovis. They're still together somewhere Anakin would like to call home. He's still shaking. He think he's angry. With Padmé? (Yes, says that voice in his head. This was Clovis' plan all along. She fell for it. Idiot.) No.

The temple. It looms ominously in front of him. Obi-Wan calls it home. He can feel the Jedi moving inside. Alive. Loud. The temple is silent this time of night, but it's always too loud for Anakin. He wants to go home, to be with Padmé. Padmé doesn't want him. His breath hitches as he parks his speeder. Tries not to break down. Clamps down on his feelings. Can't risk waking the temple. They'll know soon enough what he's done. Been doing. They'll boot him from the order and then where will he go? Make Padmé take you back, the voice suggests. Her fault. Your fault. Anakin shakes his head to clear the voices out of it. The cobwebs off his memories.

"Focus," he breathes. Still shaking. "Don't make a scene." An old mantra. His mother used to whisper it to him when he was small. Important to keep to the background as a slave, important to stay composed as a Jedi. He swallows the fear and the anger and tries not to vomit on the temple steps. The Council would chastise him. You're not a Padawan anymore, Skywalker, they would say, as if it were all part of some stupid adolescent rebellion. "Don't make a scene," Anakin says again. "Don't make a scene."

Except – he really, really wants to make a scene. He wants to sit out here and cry until he wakes up all the Jedi and the Council has to come out here and get him before he destroys half the city from the steps of the Jedi Temple. They can do whatever they want with him after. He just can't be quiet or still any longer. Something inside him – it's broken. He imagines briefly what it would feel like to collapse the Temple, tear it apart at the seams. He thinks he can do it. He can feel the foundation shake a little if he concentrates. He wonders how long it would take before the Jedi noticed and what they would do with him after. There's only so many things the Council can ignore. Destroying the temple without lifting a finger probably can't be one. They'd probably kill him. It doesn't seem so bad to Anakin.

Yet somehow he makes it inside. Down the hall. He doesn't meet a single other Jedi. The temple is empty these days. Obi-Wan is here, awake somewhere. Worrying loudly into the Force. The few other Jedi that are awake are loud too. Padmé, his mother – the only two people in the whole galaxy who aren't loud.

Shields, he reminds himself urgently. He's worked up. Still shaking. His footsteps echo in the halls and he's paranoid he's going to get caught out of bed. When he was young he used to think the stars were loud. He'd never been any place that was so loud and so quiet until he'd come to Coruscant. It would have been easier to keep the Jedi out of his head if he had put his shields up before he got to the temple. Now – they're screaming. Worrying. Thinking they're all alone in their thoughts. Shields, Skywalker. He takes a deep breath, stops in front of his door. Pushes the other Jedi out.

Quiet. At last. Except for one nagging voice, like a fly buzzing in his ear. Different than the Force, but just as familiar.

"Master," Anakin croaks as he opens to door. Obi-Wan is sitting on his bed, for the second time today. (That memory feels fuzzy too. He wishes that he could focus for more than a few seconds at a time. He had an argument, had wanted to tell Obi-Wan the truth, couldn't. What else is new?) He wipes his face quickly before turning on the light. He's only a little shocked to find tears on his face. Unclips his lightsaber and throws it to where he knows Obi-Wan is sitting. Obi-Wan catches it and places it on Anakin's workbench as he sighs, stands up.

"Anakin," he says lightly. "You're up late."

"Working," Anakin grunts. Takes off his boots. Sits in Obi-Wan's recently vacated place. He runs his hands over the blanket. It's warm. It glows like Obi-Wan had been sitting there for hours. "Senator Amidala asked me to…uh…watch Clovis. Their –" Anakin cringes. "Date just finished. Told me I could leave." Not a lie exactly.

Obi-Wan looks at him warily. Anakin wipes his face again, making sure he's not crying. Draws his shields closer around his mind. "And you're…all right?" Obi-Wan asks.

"Yeah," he answers. "Tired."

"I sensed…" Obi-Wan starts with hesitation. Uncertainty fills the Force between them. "A disturbance."

"There's a war going on, Master," Anakin reminds him. "The Force is routinely disturbed."

Obi-Wan doesn't move a muscle, but Anakin can tell that annoys him. "Anakin," he starts, but it's clear he doesn't have a follow up.

"I just want to get some rest," Anakin insists, though now that he's here he doesn't think he can sleep.

"Okay," says Obi-Wan. He turns. Leaves. Anakin turns out the light with a flick of his hand. Silence. At last. Nothing to distract from the Force ringing in between his ears. It's begging him to go back out, do something dramatic. Padmé's face swims in his imagination. Her voice still echoing in the emptiness left by other Jedi.

I don't know who's in there sometimes.

I don't feel safe.

I don't think we should see each other anymore.

Rage builds back up in Anakin's chest, behind his eyes. His chest hurts, his stomach hurts. Suddenly hyperaware of how sore he is, how heavy his limbs feel. How hard it is to breathe. How nothing, for months but especially right now, feels real at all. A dream. Someone else's memories. Someone else's thoughts rattle around, pretending they're his own. Still, the fear settles itself deep in his heart – his fingers tingle like he dipped them in ice water. He runs them over the place where Obi-Wan sat, hoping his presence is still strong enough in the room that he can make himself warm. Someone else's thoughts won't leave him alone. Padmé hates you. Padmé hates you. I hate Padmé. I hate her. I hate her. I hate her.

"I don't," Anakin grumbles. He doesn't. He loves Padmé. And she's right. Anakin is dangerous, unstable. Half the time he doesn't even feel like himself. He buries his face in his pillow, chokes on a sob. Keeps his grief from bleeding into the Force. No more disturbances for Obi-Wan tonight. "I don't hate you, Padmé," he says, as if Padmé were here to hear him say it.

He wishes she were here. He wishes he hadn't been such a massive idiot. He still loves her. Nothing will ever stop him from loving her. But he's sure – so sure – that Padmé hates him now. And she has every right to. Everything he's done. The people he's let down. Padmé is right to be afraid of him. To not trust him. To hate him.

Anakin loves her, but every time he thinks about her – beautiful, even when angry – he thinks about how cold she was to him, just an hour ago. And the tiny part of him that can barely remember insists he doesn't deserve her anger. Makes him angry. Brings him back to something he can barely think: I hate Padmé.

I hate her.

Eventually he falls asleep, wishing he was in Padmé's arms and hating her in equal measure.

He wakes to Obi-Wan's warm presence waiting stoically by his door. Anakin notices him before he even opens his eyes. Obi-Wan is more closed off than he was last night, and Anakin opens his eyes slowly to see his master standing over him, arms crossed, bemused smile on his face.

"How are we this morning?" asks Obi-Wan lightly, stroking his beard. Anakin closes his eyes and turns over. He fell asleep in his clothes and on top of the blanket, he remembers, but there's an extra blanket draped over his body. "Anakin?" Obi-Wan presses. Anakin doesn't answer. "Anakin, the Council –" Obi-Wan stops sharply. Sighs. Anakin imagines him running his hand through his beard thoughtfully. "Master Yoda wants to speak with you."

Anakin sits up, rubbing at his eyes, recalling the events of last night. Even with the rate of gossip in the Temple, it's early for news of his adventure with Clovis to have reached the Council just yet. He thinks. He looks out the window through the closed blinds, trying to get a gauge on the time. He gives up. "What about?" Anakin asks, fighting to keep his voice even. "I haven't done anything wrong."

"I don't know, Anakin," Obi-Wan says, affronted. "I'm not the one who took a trip to Senator Amidala's chambers last night and fought off an unknown assailant. But it might have something to do with that."

"Hmm."

"Would you like to tell me what exactly happened?" Obi-Wan asks. He's not exactly accusing, but he's also not exactly making Anakin feel like confessing. Besides, how would he explain it? His reaction. What happened afterwards.

"It's what Clovis says happened," Anakin answers, pulling on his boots. "I – sensed a disturbance." He cocks a smile in Obi-Wan's direction and hopes it looks convincing. "I got there in the nick of time."

"Hmm."

Anakin stands up, running a hand through his hair, hoping it looks presentable, and rubs the rest of the sleep out of his eyes. He's irritated that they woke him, since they can't discipline him. He's irritated that Clovis is covering for him and Padmé. He's irritated that the cover doesn't mean anything right now since Padmé broke up with him, as if marriage means nothing to her at all. "What does the Council want with me?" This time he doesn't try to keep the bitterness out of his tone. Tries to sound a little menacing. He prods Obi-Wan's chest with one finger for good measure.

Obi-Wan isn't fazed at all. "There are inconsistencies in Clovis' story," he says coolly. "Besides, weren't you the one that said we shouldn't trust him? I thought you'd be glad that the Council is finally listening to you."

Anakin scoffs and pushes past Obi-Wan into the hallway.

"It's not the whole Council, by the way," Obi-Wan adds quietly as a group of Padawans pass by them. "Master Yoda wants to speak with you alone. He's…concerned."

Judging by how carefully Obi-Wan is choosing his words, he's concerned too. "Fine," Anakin says, but dread has already settled into Anakin's stomach. He keeps his shields tightly drawn just in case. The Jedi are looking at him more warily than usual. His shields must not be strong enough.

"Should he be?" Obi-Wan asks, drawing Anakin to the side with a light touch at his elbow.

Anakin shakes his head. "No," he insists. "No. I'm fine." He doesn't feel fine, of course. Right now he feels a little like socking Obi-Wan in the face, and a lot like leaving the Order and never looking back just to prove to Padmé that he loves her. And a lot like the ground he's walking on isn't even there. Like if he looks down he'll see he's walked off a ledge – like in cartoons played on the HoloNet early in the morning on weekends. But he can't explain that to the Council. Not even to Obi-Wan.

"It's –" Obi-Wan starts but Anakin can't hear any more of it.

"I'm fine," Anakin says. "I'm fine."

Anakin sits in Yoda's chambers in silence for ten minutes before either of them say anything. Anakin is trying to figure out why Yoda wanted to speak to him alone, and whether Yoda is going to chastise him for what he did to Clovis. He knows Yoda knows what he did, but he just can't figure out how Yoda found out.

Both Anakin and Yoda are sitting cross-legged in Yoda's chambers. The blinds are half-drawn, and Yoda is smiling a little, but even after all these years Anakin has trouble reading Yoda, except to know that Yoda has no trouble reading him. When Anakin walked in, Yoda smiled at him in a way that a lot of the other Jedi thought was friendly and comforting, and in way that Anakin found condescending and irritating.

"Meditate with me, will you, young Skywalker?" Yoda asked him, and Anakin knew better than to refuse. But as usual, meditating under pressure made it impossible for Anakin to achieve whatever it was that Yoda thought he should.

After only ten excruciating minutes, Yoda opens his eyes and looks over Anakin seriously. "Troubled, are you?" he asks.

"No, Master," Anakin answers through clenched teeth.

"Lie to me, you cannot," Yoda reminds him, a sly smile creeping over his face. "Feel your anger, I can. The whole Temple can."

"Sorry, Master," Anakin grumbles. Anakin wishes he could read the other Jedi at least half as well as the other Jedi could read him. "I am…angry." He wishes Yoda would stay out of his head.

"About Senator Amidala's relationship with Clovis?" Yoda wonders, his eyes watching Anakin carefully. "None of your business it is I thought we agreed."

"Yes, Master, but –" Anakin stammers. "Padmé isn't – she's not thinking clearly."

Yoda grunts thoughtfully. "Requested you be kept away from her investigation this morning she did," Yoda tells Anakin. Anakin's heart sinks. The temperature in the room plummets. "Upset are you, by this news?"

"Yes, Master," Anakin says, deciding that it's pointless to pretend with Yoda watching him so closely. "Senator Amidala needs someone to protect her."

Yoda laughs. It always startles Anakin to hear him laugh. "Never that has Senator Amidala needed," Yoda says dryly. "Someone to protect Clovis from her, he will need, if he is as you believe." Anakin chuckles a little too, in spite of himself, at the idea of what Padmé would do if Clovis trying to come between her and her Republic. "What did you do, Skywalker, for Senator Amidala to make this request?"

"What makes you think I did anything?" Anakin asks, immediately defensive.

Yoda looks at him slyly. "A report to the Jedi Council this morning, Senator Clovis made," Yoda says slowly. "An unnamed assailant into Senator Amidala's apartment came, and attack Clovis they did. Not buy his own story, Clovis did." Anakin shifts uncomfortably. "Know anything about this incident, do you?"

"Master, I can explain –" Anakin starts frantically, though he doesn't know what he's going to say to defend himself.

"Explain yourself do not, Skywalker," Yoda says sternly. For all his size, Yoda can be terrifying when angry. Even though Anakin is sure Yoda has never liked him, it's the first time in all these years Anakin thinks Yoda is angry with him. "To not press charges, Senator Clovis has decided. Brought it to the attention of the Jedi Council to deal with internally he did." Yoda, usually so unreadable, grows very large before Anakin, and Anakin can't help but shrink before him. "Removed from active duty immediately, you will be, until an investigation the Jedi can complete. Understand, do you, Skywalker?"

"Yes, Master," Anakin concedes, swallowing back every defense he had prepared. He feels like a stupid kid again, and it's all he can do stop himself from crying. Grow up, Skywalker, he urges himself. "I'm sorry, Master," he adds. "I'm…I really am sorry." Anakin ignores the stinging in his eyes, how thin the air in this room has grown.

Master Yoda softens a little. "Control the Jedi way is, Young Skywalker," he says quietly. "Learn it you must."

"I know, Master."

Yoda shakes his head. "Whatever the Council finds, unlikely it is that expelled you will be from the Order," he says regretfully. "A family you have here, Anakin. Embrace the Jedi you must. Embrace the Force."

"I'm trying."

"Know you are, I do," Yoda says, much closer to his original size. Yoda stands up. Anakin stands too. "To me or to any of the Master you may come if any difficulties you have," Yoda reminds him as Anakin leaves. Anakin wishes he could believe it.

He stands in the shadows and watches Padme smile at Clovis in the Senate as he grabs power that Anakin thought he beat out of him. There's a dark bruise blooming underneath his eye, and from here Anakin can tell he's still a little shaken up. And that he's up to no good. Padme doesn't care. She's smart enough to know Anakin is here – she looks over to where he's standing every few minutes, glowering in his direction – but she won't let him in.

When he sees her after he tries to corner her, but she brushes him aside like she doesn't even see him with a cold, "Excuse me, Master Jedi," and stomps off.

Follow her, he thinks. Make her listen. Something keeps him rooted in place, watching her leave, linking arms with Rush Clovis, his blood boiling.

The Chancellor claps Anakin gently on the shoulder, surprising him. "My boy," he croons. "I can tell you are upset by all of this." Anakin doesn't answer for a second, lets himself get swept away with Palpatine's entourage.

"I don't think we should trust Senator Clovis," Anakin croaks out after her realizes the Chancellor is waiting for a response.

"Don't worry, Anakin," answers the Chancellor with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Nor do I. In fact, I think it would be best for you to keep an eye on him."

"Oh." Anakin's heart skips in his chest. "Well, sir…" he stammers. Thinking of the fear in Padmé's eyes the other night. "Senator Amidala doesn't want me interfering in her investigation. She asked Master Yoda for me to be kept away."

"Then they're sending you back out then?" the Chancellor asks casually.

"No, sir," Anakin answers. They're at the Chancellor's office. Palpatine sends the last of his entourage away with the wave of his hands so it's just him and Anakin who walk inside. "I'm on…leave."

"Well that's good," says the Chancellor encouragingly. "You look tired, my boy. It's good to see the Jedi aren't taking advantage of you."

Anakin humphs. Sits in one of the Chancellor's chairs and picks at the patchy upholstery. "They don't trust me," he admits. "They think I overreacted."

"To what, my boy?" The Chancellor is looking right at him, his chin resting delicately on his fingertips. "To Clovis." He shakes his head. "Anakin whatever it is the Jedi think you did, I'm sure you had your reasons. He is not to be trusted."

"Yeah," Anakin mutters. He half buys it. Yoda didn't even ask him what happened. How is he supposed to complete an investigation if he doesn't ask Anakin what happened? Anger wiggles its way into his heart.

Anakin tries to ignore it but he is still fuming in the Chancellor's office a week later. The week passes in a fog. Floating from one room to another. In the past he would have had Ahsoka to talk to, or Padmé. And the Chancellor is a busy man. So, except for the occasional word to a fellow Jedi, Anakin barely speaks to or sees another soul for the whole week. The Chancellor finally finds some time for him, just when Anakin thinks he might really be losing it. At first he's relieved it see the Chancellor, to have someone listen to him. He can't tell him everything, but he can at least share his frustration at the Council, at Clovis, at Padmé. But at the end of an hour, Anakin is properly stewing, itching for a fight.

He hasn't seen Padmé. The Jedi won't talk to him. They reassigned Obi-Wan the morning after Anakin attacked Clovis, but Anakin has been stuck on Coruscant while the investigation concludes. The only place Anakin can breathe is with the Chancellor. He is with the Chancellor when Padmé calls, and Anakin suddenly can't breathe there either.

The fog lifts, but he's not feeling any better.

And then time stops.

Padmé, as always, is heart-stoppingly beautiful. It takes a few moments before Anakin can even hear what she's saying. Just in time to hear her say she's in danger. Scipio is being invaded. She can't get off the planet.

"Surely you can find a ship," Anakin hears himself saying. He can't see a thing but Padmé. Can't feel a thing at all.

"General Skywalker," Padmé says calculatingly. Through the hologram she's looking him dead in the eyes, and in spite of the fuzzy reception, Anakin can imagine taking her hand, pulling her out of danger. "I'm afraid I'm trapped." A droid enters the projection, grabs her, takes her away. The holo cuts out. Padmé is gone, but Anakin can't tear his eyes away from the spot she was standing. Wasn't standing. He couldn't do anything to save her. She's on a different planet. On the other end of the galaxy. You couldn't do anything. You aren't there. He tries not to make it sound like an indictment.

It feels like hours before the Chancellor's warm hand on his shoulder draws him back. "My boy," he says quietly. Surely. Anakin doesn't know how the Chancellor remains so calm in these situations. "I feel it is only right for you to handle this matter. A lot will be entrusted to you." Anakin nods dumbly and turns back to where Padmé had been. He should go. He will go. The Chancellor asked him to go. Only –

"Chancellor!" Anakin calls, rooted to the spot. The Chancellor turns to him.

"Yes, Anakin?" he asks curiously.

"The Jedi, they –" Anakin stammers. The Jedi don't trust him and they don't trust the Chancellor. And even though they feel Anakin was out of line, they still need him. They don't need Padmé. They won't risk him for this. They won't risk sending him back into the field and causing a scene for some silly banking scandal, for Padmé. "They won't let me."

"Of course they will, Anakin," the Chancellor assures him. "The fate of the galaxy rests in your hands. And Senator Amidala's life." Anakin's stomach twists uncomfortably. The Chancellor leaves the room. Anakin still can't move.

Anakin's nerves are still fried when he finds Master Yoda a few hours later. The sight of Padmé ripped out of his line of vision haunts him. And Master Windu is with him, unsmiling, and looking a lot like he would have liked a lot more than a week of vacation as punishment for Anakin's transgression. They've approved his mission, but Yoda has come to see him off. Unnecessarily to remind him of the stakes. To remind him to control himself. To test him, interrogate him, when all he can think about is Padmé –dead.

"Great emotion you will find on Scipio, will you not?" Yoda asks him.

Anakin falters. He wasn't listening to what Yoda was saying before that. He looks at Master Windu carefully. Opens his mouth. Closes it again. "I am worried for Senator Amidala," Anakin says slowly. "I'm afraid it might already be too late." He clenches his fist to stop the emotion from seeping through his tone, the Force.

"Let go of your selfishness you must if you are to see clearly," says Yoda sagely. Master Windu trains his eyes on Anakin, and Anakin pretends he can't see him. "Not everything is as it seems."

"I understand, Master," Anakin says with a curt bow. He turns away from them, and breaks out into a run. Rex is already on board, waiting at attention. Anakin makes eye contact with him, and Rex relaxes, falling into step with Anakin. Away from the bridge, away from the rest of the clones.

Rex clears his throat awkwardly. "I know this may not be my place, General, but…" Rex stops suddenly, and looks Anakin right in the eye. "I know how much this means to you. We'll get Senator Amidala back."

Anakin doesn't say anything. Overcome with how grateful he is to have Rex here, still, after everything. He just nods.

"General?" Rex asks, looking abashed.

"Yeah?"

"The 501st was notified that we were going to be reassigned," he states. He drops his gaze from Anakin quickly, and Anakin is grateful. "Is it true?"

Anakin clears his throat. "No," he says. Hopes it sounds like the truth. "I…um…The Council needed to investigate Rush Clovis' claim that I saved his life. The issue seems to have been resolved."

Rex raises an eyebrow, but doesn't say anything.

"Anything else, Rex?"

"No, sir."

"Good."

Anakin turns away from him, his jaw clenched painfully.

"Sir?" asks Rex again. Anakin doesn't turn back towards him. Clenches his fists. Anakin trusts Rex. He trusts Rex with his life, with Ahsoka's life, with more of his secrets than he ever trusted anyone else with. Rex looks out for him. He's overstepping, a voice whispers. Maintain control of the situation. Anakin pushes that voice away. But he doesn't look at Rex. "You're the one who attacked Clovis. It's a rumor. We heard you were going to be expelled from the Order."

Anakin whips around to look at him. His gratitude replaced by fury. His vision blurring. It's all true, but the clones talking about it, about him, behind his back. Especially Rex, who he trusts. Rex grimaces at him, but he doesn't back down, even though they can both feel the ship rumbling beneath them, even though they're still docked. Control, Skywalker, Anakin reminds himself. Besides, it wouldn't look good if he lost it before they even left Coruscant. "I'd appreciate discretion, Rex," Anakin says at last. "The Jedi didn't find anything. I just want to do my job."

"Of course, sir," Rex agrees. "So do we." Rex pauses, chuckles to himself. "I can't imagine Senator Amidala is very pleased with you." He's trying to joke, but his expression changes as soon as he looks at Anakin.

"She's not," Anakin says stonily. "Let's go."

Rex nods, puts his helmet on, and leads the way back to the bridge.

They arrive at Scipio in a couple of hours, load onto gunships. Rex stands by his side, scanning the planet tersely for signs of life – for signs of Senator Amidala. Rex says something about her being alive, and Anakin's heart flutters with relief, but he's too focused on keeping himself steady to think about much else. He's going to see Padmé again – and he knows that she'll accept the rescue, but their future is still up in the air. That's always going to scare Anakin more than any battle could. If they get there, and Padmé doesn't take him back –

That is, if she's still alive.

Anakin takes a deep, shuddering breath, grateful that he's surrounded by clones and not Jedi. Rex jostles his shoulder. It could be an accident. They are entering the atmosphere under enemy fire. It's not. "I'm sure Senator Amidala is fine, sir," Rex assures him. "I'm sure it's all…going to be fine." Rex is steady next to him, a rock solid weight near his arm. It's a good feeling, knowing that he can always count on Rex. That Rex will always be on his side, even when his side isn't all that reliable or steady. When Anakin barely knows what side he's on himself.

They touch down with a thud, and the 501st spills out of the gunships. For the first time in weeks Anakin feels free, like a tether around his mind is finally cut loose. He whips out his lightsaber and thrashes his way through the droids in his way. Rex is still just two steps behind.

"I'm going to get Padmé," Anakin calls. "Stay and hold the line here."

"Yes, sir," Rex answers. Good to know that when it counts, Rex has his back.

Anakin makes his way through the city, cutting down droids as he passes them. He can feel Padmé, not far away. A little scared. Very angry.

Clovis' building. Flanked by droids at each floor. His heart beats faster as he gets closer to Padmé. It nearly stops when he sees her. She too is guarded by droids, arguing with Clovis. No time to waste. The droids are gone in less than a heartbeat. Clovis holds a blaster to Padmé's temple.

He wouldn't, Anakin thinks. He knows how Clovis feels about Padmé. That Clovis has made abundantly clear. But he's desperate. Desperate to prove that he's an unwilling participant in the Dooku's plans, that he never meant for any of this to happen.

The slightest movement and Padmé's dead. Anakin can hear himself trying to reason with Clovis. Clovis' finger trembles at the trigger. Anakin swallows. He can't hear a word anyone is saying, just the sound of blood pounding through his ears. He can't take his eyes off Padmé, trying to shake the very real feeling that she's going to die, and they're never going to make up. And then –

Something, a piece fallen off a gunship, a rogue droid, crashes into the building, and the top tower of the building collapses, turning over on its side. Clovis grabs Padmé to protect her from the crash – glass flying everywhere, smoke and shrapnel obscuring their vision – but he slips down the slope of the floor, and Padmé falls too.

Anakin lunges after them before it even happens, grabbing them just in the nick of time. A second later they would both be dead. A second earlier and no one would be hanging off the edge of this building. Padmé holds his hand in both of hers, swinging precariously above the earth below. Clovis hangs onto his other. He wants to shake Clovis off and pull Padmé up, but he can't. He can't. I should have been quicker, he thinks. He's shaking again. He can't hold them both. He can't lose Padmé.

"Let go of me!" Clovis insists. Anakin can feel his despair. His life, his career – it's over. He can't let Padmé die. That makes two of them, at least.

"No! Anakin, no!" Padmé insists, trying to pull herself up the length of Anakin's arm.

Padmé's hands slip a little. Anakin holds tighter. "I'm losing you," he growls. It's cold. Padmé's fingers look red from the cold, and Anakin is shaking. It must be from the cold. And he can't lose her. He can't. He can't.

Clovis lets go, and Anakin doesn't watch for long. Long enough to see his body hit the ground. Long enough to know he's dead, and it doesn't feel the way he thought it would. Not like victory. A lot like grief. It must be Padmé's. He pulls her up and away from the ledge. Padmé still watches, but Anakin's arms are secure around her waist. She's shaking too. It's the cold, it must be the cold. But Padmé is apologizing to him, trying not to cry, laying her head against Anakin's chest.

It feels right. It's the first time in almost a month he's held his wife. They're both shaking, and there's a battle still raging around them, but at least she's there, she's close. She's not angry with him, she's not pulling away. He wraps his arms tighter around her, lays his face in her hair, takes in her scent. "It's over," he sighs. "It's all over now."

Rex finds them like that, not long after. It's just him, alone. Steady and unfazed. He helps Padmé onto sturdy ground and mutters something about her looking cold. He gives Anakin a hand up. Rex nods. Not a word to the Jedi or the clones about the sight. Rex is in on a secret very few others are. It's good to know he's not all alone.

Padmé comes back to the cruiser in Anakin's gunship, and she's on the line with the Chancellor before they even lift off Scipio. Something Anakin doesn't understand about the politics of banking. He just watches Padmé's lips tighten at something the Chancellor says. A Muun says something else, and Padmé doesn't look any happier.

On the cruiser, she takes her own chambers. Anakin wants to protest, but discretion is key – even when there are no Jedi around. And he doesn't know if she's forgiven him, even after she runs a hand across his as she passes when she thinks no one will notice. But Anakin wants to be with her, be near her. He needs to be. Her presence on the Cruiser is intoxicating, like it was when they were first married. He can't think – not even when he's talking to Obi-Wan.

"And Senator Amidala is safe?" he asks, his hologram momentarily fuzzing out of sight. It's back again in a moment. Anakin blinks. He was watching Padmé talk to Jesse from across the room. He looks back at Obi-Wan.

"Yes, Padmé is safe," he answers.

"Then we'll count this one as a win," Obi-Wan sighs. "I'm having no such luck on my side. I'm being called back to Coruscant to complete your investigation, and then we'll both be redeployed."

"My investigation?" Anakin asks indignantly, snapping his attention back to Obi-Wan. "But I –"

"Anakin it is no secret that you attacked a Senator," Obi-Wan tells him tiredly. "At least, not a big one. If we can keep the public from knowing, that will be a win as well. And your motivations –" Obi-Wan sighs. "They're not a secret, either."

"What will the Council decide?" Anakin wonders, picking at the edge of his robe.

"I don't know, Anakin," Obi-Wan tells him. "Your behavior concerning Rush Clovis –we can't ignore it."

"I know, Master," Anakin says regretfully. "I am sorry."

"We shall see what happens," says Obi-Wan at last after a long silence. "All is as the Force wills it." Anakin grunts in reply. "I'll see you in a few days, Anakin. Try to get some rest."

"I'll try, Master," Anakin concedes. Obi-Wan winks out.

Anakin lays with Padmé for the first time in weeks, and he is – for a moment at least – at peace. The past few weeks, since he picked up Padmé on Scipio or even before that, fall away. All he's done doesn't matter, as long as he's wrapped up in Padmé. They lay together in her bed, her head against his chest, his hand tracing circles on her shoulder. Anakin knows this memory will be fuzzy – but there's nothing to remember, except that he's warm, and Padmé's warm, and they're both just floating on the edge of sleep. No pressure to remember anything, except that he's happy. He loves her. So easy to forget.

"I love you," Padmé murmurs, snaking her arms around him, pulling him – keeping him – close. Anakin's heart still flutters at her every touch.

"I love you," he echoes. Now, Padmé is radiant and cool, bright enough to light up the whole room. He wonders what Padmé sees when she looks at him, without the Force to guide her, especially like this. He feels golden for a second, like a setting sun. Can Padmé feel the warmth not coming from his body? Can she see the hazy edges of his person the way he can feel them? He expects not, or at least, not the way he feels them, the way he could see them if he could see himself in the Force.

Padmé sits up, reaching for a hairbrush, one hand still lingering on Anakin's chest. His skin tingles where her fingers rest. She brushes her hair, looking at him thoughtfully.

"I'm sorry," Anakin says at last. "I'm sorry about Clovis."

Padmé looks surprised. "Oh?"

"I wish I could have saved him," he admits. "And…I wish I had been wrong about him."

"Oh." Padmé shakes her head. She lays back down. Her hands find their way into Anakin's hair. He wants to kiss her, but Padmé looks like she has something important to say. "Me too." She kisses him. "I love you," she promises. "I do."

Anakin kisses her back. He has to. He wants to. He grabs her waist roughly. He can't stand for any space between them. If he could dissolve into the Force and take Padmé with him, he would do it. He wants them to be one. There's nothing giddy about this like their first time. Just desire, need. His and Padmé's. Like if they don't, their marriage will fall apart again, like they'll remember what drove them apart in the first place, and what drove them together.

Padmé bites his lip. Anakin remembers that, clearly, forever.

A/N: Did you ask for some melodramatic Anakin angst on this Tuesday evening? If you didn't, here it is anyway. Also, alternative title for this piece is: "The Jedi made too many exceptions for Anakin, holy crap!"