A/N: Woohoo. Had a bit of writers block, but I'm back. So this chapter is very fluffy. I mean to the point of cheese. But I'm kind of overcome with the Anakin/Padmé FEELS. You know? And tumblr does not help, goddamn that site. The chappie verges into slight M lemony-ness.

I'm sorry if the romantic, lovey dovey stuff bores you guys, but I f***ing love Anakin and Padmé. Okay? Next chapter will include the ass-kicking bad-assery we all love about our galaxy far, far away.

Thanks to froovygirl and QueenNaberrie for reviewing.


Chapter Four

Fixing Things

They were taken into the brown planet's gravitational pull. It took only minutes to break through the atmosphere, but it certainly didn't feel like minutes.

It may have for Obi-wan and Ahsoka.

But for Anakin it lasted hours. His thoughts stuck in some sort of suspended animation.

He forgot for a moment where he was and where he was going.

It was like a dream and he let himself fall into it.

There was a cool summer breeze. It washed over him, like a soft touch on his skin.

His surroundings were not the sterile, minimalist interior of their starship. There was green grass as far as he could see and he was suddenly a little bit younger, a teenager on the brink of twenty.

Padmé's face was turned toward the sun. Her brown curls brushed her shoulders, gold sun-kissed highlights in between strands of chocolate brown. Her cheeks were flushed pink with the feelings of love, the feelings he could feel inside himself as well.

She smiled and looked at him. Her brown eyes looked like amber, like topaz tinted glass as they caught the sunlight.

She laughed softly and it was like a song, the sound sweet in his ears.

"What?" She asked.

"Nothing."

"You look like you have something on your mind."

"Not much actually." He smiled back.

He paused and the smile on his face faded somewhat. It hurt. Sometimes his feelings for her were so strong they were like a pang in his chest. Especially in the moments where she was so heartbreakingly beautiful. Moments like now.

She was his and he knew that, but still. He ached for her.

Like lungs ached when they had no air.

Like the soul ached when a person missed someone.

He was sick, really. When he wasn't around her. When he couldn't touch her.

He was sick and he could only ever be cured when he was wrapped up in her. When he felt her small hands brush up on his skin. He could only ever be cured when he could feel the flutter of her heart against his own. When he felt her soft, rose petal lips move in harmony against his.

He was sick and he could only ever be cured with the sound of her quiet whimpers as he kissed the hollow of her neck.

He could only ever be cured when he held her in his arms and felt her cheek rest on his chest, when he felt her hug him back, her arms around his waist, pulling him tightly against her like she was a scared little animal looking for its mother.

He was sick and he could only ever be cured when he could feel her in his veins, in his blood, blooming inside his heart.

He could only ever be cured in the moments where they made love, when her body moved in time with his and they fit against each other like puzzle pieces, every hollow filled with its matching curve. An exhale that expanded his chest filling the valley of her soft belly when she breathed.

He could only ever be cured by the feeling of her silken hair, twined with his fingers. He could only ever be cured by the desperate way she wrapped her legs around his waist when he moved slowly inside her.

He was sick and he could only ever be cured by the gentle way she touched his back when he quivered with the after effects of orgasm.

She healed him.

There was an ache in him and she healed him.

She looked at him, the smile ever present on her face.

"What is it, Ani?"

"I love you." He said softly.

Her eyes were down-cast, long brown lashes over rosy cheeks. Her smile was sweeter then. And he didn't know how that was even possible.

It was the third day of their honeymoon in that meadow.

It was over a year ago. Days before he left her for a month for a mission.

He wondered as the memory played out in his mind, as she gazed back at him, if she was pregnant.

Or if they made their babies moments later when they slept together in the tall grasses of the field.

He could hear her laugh, an echo in the open wilderness. She was running from him.

He caught up with her, his arms wrapping around her from behind. She fought against him, giggling like a child.

"No." He said to her. "You're mine."

She was facing him suddenly. She touched his padawan braid, pulling it like an anchor until his mouth covered hers.

He was warm and the memory left him like he woken from a peaceful sleep.

He was sad for a moment. Sad that he couldn't recreate those memories over and over again.

That he wasn't with her.

He reminded himself with a glance at Obi-wan that he was doing something important. Something that his mother would have been proud of him for doing.

Something that would make Padmé happy even though he was so far away from her. Something that would give her hope that the galaxy wasn't falling to pieces. She had wanted to fix things. And now he was going to help her do that.

He locked their love away inside himself and the walls of steel inside his mind went up.

It was time to be strong. He had been dreaming of a beautiful place.

But the place they were going was not beautiful. It had very little to do with love. With goodness.

And in order for him to give his home love and goodness he had walk away from those things.

He had to be strong. He had to prepare himself for ugliness. For hate and wickedness.

Obi-wan patted Anakin's back reassuringly.

He smiled at his former Master.

There was a moment of silence and then he spoke.

"Ready?" Anakin asked roguishly.

Obi-wan smirked. "Always."

The star-ship hovered meters from the ground before it landed in the busy Tatooine spaceport.

Anakin had stopped being a Jedi for some time.

And now he was going to be one again.

And that felt good.

One adventure had ended.

Another adventure had begun.