Now I am quietly waiting for
the catastrophe of my personality
to seem beautiful again,
and interesting, and modern.
Frank O'Hara, Mayakovsky
"You know, your funeral's tomorrow, Ani." Padme brushed back a bit of hair from his face. "They keep asking for me to come speak. A eulogy for the hero with no fear." Her voice shook ever so slightly. "I keep telling them that I'm still recovering, since I caught just... just the edge of that blast."
She paused a long moment, watching his chest rise and fall. The medical equipment gave a soft and steady beep. "You'd be proud of Ahsoka, you know. They say she can barely get out of bed - something about the contaminant they used, how it hits Jedi a lot worse than others - but she still wants to do most of the planning for your funeral. Obi-Wan's taken her as an apprentice. I think... I think they'll be a good team."
Another strong breeze blew in from over the lake, making the curtains flutter. "I haven't told them. I know that's... I know it's selfish of me." Her voice was shaking in earnest now. "I'll wait until you wake up. You can decide how to tell them, when you wake up."
"...if you wake up."
Out on the lake, a Naboo heron gave a call. Its mate answered in a clear and gentle hoot. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the flutter of movement, though she didn't turn her head to see if it was the sheer curtains or the birds themselves. The daylilies were starting to bloom, and they gently perfumed the breeze. Padme remembered that when she had last seen them, they were just barely buds. It had been a month and a half since she was last here at the lakehouse.
It had been a month since Ryzea.
Padme had been assured by all the medical experts that memory loss around the source of a traumatic event was a perfectly normal part of emotional and physical processing. She did remember the acrid smell of the grenade as it hit. She distinctly remembered the gunpowder tartness of spent explosives. She had been lucky; there was a wall between her and the blast. Anakin had always made sure she would be protected, whenever he knew she was on the battlefield...
The toxin was clear but she felt it stinging in her eyes. All she saw was Ventress lying on the ground, and Anakin near her, both their sabers still drawn. Anakin's lightsaber had already started to gently bite into the concrete of the droid production floor. She felt her knees going weak, but she had to drag him over, away from the epicenter. There was no time to think of Obi-Wan and Ahsoka in the next room over. There was just a pressing need to run, and she was thankful that her handmaidens, her personal guard, were there - open arms to fall into.
Maybe it had been the Force screaming at her. The second explosion proved her gut right, but she didn't know it until a week later, and not after many smooth and calm voices talking to her about toxicity studies and biochemical agents and kolto instead of bacta...
Padme paused and reached over to gently pet some of the hair out of Anakin's eyes. She had to watch for a few long moments, reassuring herself that his chest was still rising and falling with each soft breath.
"Maybe we've given enough," she murmured, her voice cracking in earnest. "I can... Sabe can take over for me. I'll just edit her speeches every so often. She's already spent years learning to imitate my every move. And you..." Her lip trembled. "They keep saying it will be a miracle if you walk again. Maybe it's - maybe it's enough, to give that much for the Republic."
She gave a small laugh, tears spilling onto her cheeks, before reaching up to wipe them away with the edge of her draping sleeve. "Maybe I just need you to wake up and call me a coward." After a long pause she flung herself at him, clinging to him closely before rolling over on the wide bed to clutch at his arm and nuzzle against his shoulder.
"Perhaps it's all right to dream of running away from this. ...At least, until you wake up."