Disclaimer - I don't own any of it - if I did, RotS would have a happy ending.

I came up with this after having a dream in which I was writing a vig about Padme's death that began with the line "She was dead." After a day of musing over that, this is what I came up with.

Oh, and it's un-betaed as well...

He was here.

My Anakin was here, after saving our son from Palpatine and coming back to the light. Luke wasn't the only one to have forgiven him. Everyone I knew and more had gone to welcome him into this new world to thank him for fulfilling the prophecy. I, however, his wife, his beloved Padme, had instead chosen to wait and reminisce about old times as well as ponder what was to come in the next ten minutes or however long it took Anakin to find me.

I had imagined this moment many times in the twenty so years I had been dead and living in this afterlife. At first, I had been angry and bitter about what had happened. I had decided that I would march right up to him, in front of everyone, and tell him exactly how I felt when he had abandoned me and become that armored monster. I felt some sort of sadistic glee in that fantasy, I must admit. I may have been compassionate once, but I wanted to avenge my broken heart on him when he was at his most vulnerable. I wanted to see crystal tears fall from his startlingly blue eyes as I denounced him for what he had become. My favorite part of that was when I turned my back on him and walked out, ignoring his impassioned pleas for my love and promises he would no doubtedly break. Call me cruel, but what would you have done? Embraced him and looked past all of his failures and the crimes he had committed?

But I don't feel that anymore. I haven't wished for that to happen since my - our, actually - children turned six. At that time, my grief overwhelmed the rage that burned inside of me, replacing the hot spikes of anger with cool waves of pain.

What I remember most during that period were my tears that fell down my face, pooled in my gown, and left streaks down my cheeks. I couldn't hate Anakin then, though I'm not sure why. I mourned the loss of our children and our love every night. I often wondered what would have happened had I stayed with Anakin, had he not deserted me, cast me off like a too small tunic. I cursed my stubbornness during that time and wondered why I was so depressed if I was dead.

At this time, my fantasy had changed from me being angry to forgiving him for every depravity whenever I thought of it. If I had been given the opportunity to live again, at his side, I would have done so eagerly. I prayed for that, I recall.

I cringe whenever I remember that time. It is no shame to love the man who broke your heart, but to desire that he be given the chance to do it over and over again is terrible.

After a time, of course, my feelings dulled, and I grew, for the most part, content. I even grew to love my Ani again, not the man he had become, but the man he once was. My longing for him decreased and became bearable as my concern for my children's safety and wellbeing escalated greatly.

I didn't have any dreams of his death during this time, for I was too afraid that I would greet one or both of my children at death's door instead of my Ani, the way it was supposed to be. The way it is now.

Behind me I hear a sudden snap as well-worn boots break a fallen twig and I startle as I quickly turn around to spot the intruder of my garden haven.

Our eyes meet, my mouth drops open in surprise, and my heart drops into my stomach and leaps into my throat at the same time.

He looks exactly the same as when he left me, a lean but muscular, tanned body, golden locks that barely brushed his shoulders, and blue eyes that were as clear and wide as the lakes on Naboo.

"Ani," I whisper as my lower lip quivers.

In all of my imagining, I had never invented a situation such as this one.

"Padme," he murmurs huskily, and I can tell he's about to cry. "Padme."

I want to run to him so badly and at the same time, I don't want to. He thinks I haven't forgiven him, but I know I have from the way my heart beats wildly in my chest and the tear that finds its way down my cheek.

And then it's as if some chime has rung and time has begun again, because I see him walking to me, faster and faster, until he's so close I can reach my arm out and caress his cheek. It's incredibly tempting, as well, so I give in to the urge and trace his handsome features. His beautiful eyes haven't left mine at all during this entire time and now they seem to bore straight through the shell that's hiding my heart from his view.

"Anakin," I run my fingers over his lips and feel a smile start to tug at the corners of my mouth as he kisses them. "My love."

I reach for him and pull him as tightly as I can. I can feel his arms snake around my waist and his chin rest on my hair as I finally let go of my tears. A century later (it seems like forever, though it couldn't have been more than ten seconds) we break apart slightly, and I'm not the least bit surprised to see his face wet. His face comes closer to mine and our lips caress each other, and I wonder for the briefest second why I would have wanted to cause him unimaginable pain.

"Welcome home, Ani," I breathe as we pull apart. "Welcome home."