Some days she pretends she's someone else. Well, actually she pretends that every day to everyone else. But sometimes she pretends it to herself.
She makes up her place in life. To everyone else, she's always been Rabe, a refugee from Naboo. She has just enough to get on with if she's careful, though she works a simple, light job. She shares a small, sad smile with everyone and always speaks tenderly and softly. People come to her for advice and she makes peace among them. Some say Rabe should run for office, but she always shakes her head and murmurs a gentle no. She says she likes her simple life. Many people say that she's suited for it. She couldn't be a politician any way; she's not made for that type of life. A type of life that has grown far more dangerous since the Empire rose.
Most of the time she's content with that. But some days she pretends what she could be.
Some days she pretends she a brave Rebel Leader. With the most daring of plans, conviction and belief in all her words, her resolve inspiring in nature and her cunning evident to any who sees her strategies. Her spirit is undeniable and her determination unwavering. Protecting the universe from tyranny, fighting for what she believes in every step of the way, and dying with freedom's sweet taste on her lips.
She could be, but she's not. She only pretends it on some days.
Some days she pretends she's a noble Imperial Lady. With the finest of robes, jewels and precious metals making up all that she owns, her furniture rich with luxury, and her homes flaunting wealth to any who laid eyes upon them. Her husband's position is unshakable and her place in court unmistakable. Living a life she was trained for, taking her political competitors in a storm they cannot prepare for, and dying only to find immortality as a legend.
She could be, but she's not. She only pretends it on some days.
She makes up her family. To everyone else the rest of her family is dead. Her child died right after birth and her husband right before. Everyone always says how sad it is that Rabe has no children to learn from her and follow in her footsteps. If only she had a daughter as beautiful and kind; or a son as incisive and forgiving. And isn't it a pity that Rabe's husband's dead? Someone like her deserves to be swept off her feet in a sudden rush of romance. She deserves a man who will declare she's the caretaker of his heart and soul and that he would do anything for her. Die, kill, lay the universe at her feet – swearing she's worthy of it all and more. Everything a girl ever dreamed of they claim she deserves.
Most of the time it's easier to believe that. But some days she pretends what could be.
Some days she pretends that she goes and finds her children. They love her instantly and are the prefect mix of her and her beloved. The three of them save the universe and, more importantly, save her mate. Then all four live contently together until the children grow and form families of their own. Their family bond can never be severed. And the children forgave and forgot long ago her abandonment at their birth.
It could be, but it's not. She only pretends it on some days.
Some days she pretends that her husband comes and finds her. Their love is stronger than ever and he sweeps her off to the new world he's created. They rule the universe and, more importantly, find their children. Then the galaxy is finally at peace while they make fair and just laws to insure that fear will never again find a foothold. No deception can tear them apart. And they forgave and forgot long ago the actions at Mustafar.
It could be, but it's not. She only pretends it on some days.
She never makes up her past. She let the others do that, Bail and Obi-Wan. It was simple really. She was just another poor refugee. People have heard that type of story before; she's not the only one. They don't talk about it much.
She never pretends about what should have happened in her past. But some days she pretends what shouldn't have been.
She pretends that she didn't hide herself from democracy when it needed her most. She pretends she doesn't know what good she could do if she had her husband's ear. She pretends that she didn't give away her children right after naming them. She pretends that she didn't let her husband think she was dead. She pretends it wasn't her vote of "no confidence" that started the world on its way to damnation. She pretends it wasn't her vow of "I do" that paved the pathway to hell. She pretends she wasn't there, listening and not speaking when democracy died. She pretends she didn't see yellow eyes instead of blue and didn't feel invisible hands around her throat.
Most of the time she forces herself to live her new life and isolates herself from the rest of the universe. But sometimes she sees a newscast or a neighbor will tell her what's happening "out there" or sometimes something happens that reminds her of her past in a way that can't be pushed aside and forgotten. Then she pretends very hard. It's difficult, but she doesn't know how her heart will survive if she doesn't.
Some days she pretends she doesn't love him, so some days she can pretend it doesn't hurt.