Author's Note: I'm going to have to up the rating soon. In this there is a little Anakin nakedness and a wee bit of… two naked bodies. But no sex, nothing like that. It's in italics at Padmé's bit but it's nothing really. I'm just warning you in case you are easily offended.

Part 9

He had to give it to her. She'd caught him entirely unawares and now he only had one arm and a stump left after his own stupidity. He should have seen it coming, really, he should have: he had seen her eying up his arms. It had seemed like an unexpected move – he'd blocked her shot and they were straining against one another's force and then she had jumped back and simply sliced through his arm. He hadn't realised what had happened at first, he'd even raised his hand to strike back at her but nothing happened. And then he saw it. His arm, still wielding the now lifeless lightsaber, laying on the ground. All he remembered after that was the apparent lack of blood on the floor.

Next thing he knew, he was awake in his cell again. He couldn't tell how long he'd been here, it could have been hours, or it could have been days. How long did someone normally stay unconscious after losing a limb? He had retched and vomited the bile in his stomach and his captor had been kind enough to leave him tied up in a sitting position so that when he did eventually waken and vomit around himself, he wouldn't suffocate. He grunted out a laugh at that; no, instead he'd vomit all down his front. He shook his head, trying to ward off the negative feelings of humiliation and hatred. But damn, it was hard. He couldn't help but hate her. He wanted Obi-Wan.

No, he wanted Padmé.

He wondered if she was okay, if anything had happened to her. If this malicious, evil bitch had taken his beautiful Padmé as well. His Padmé? She certainly was not his, but oh how he wanted her to be. It was thoughts of her that kept him at least half sane in here, thoughts that he would see her when the Jedi eventually came for him that stopped him impaling himself on her black blade.

The door to his prison opened, letting in a sharp ray of light directly onto Anakin's over sensitive eyes. He saw her silhouette in the doorway and he wanted to scream. He hated this woman. She had ruined him. He tried not to look down at the scabbed stump that was now his right arm. His lightsaber arm. He felt his stomach churn once more. What kind of Jedi would he be without an arm?

Who was he kidding? What kind of Jedi was he with two arms? Windu would be happy, with the perfect excuse to kick him out of the Order. And Yoda, too. Though the little dwarf seemed to accept him now, wasn't he the first one to refuse Anakin? And who would completely disregard a little boy right in front of him? He'll admit it, it had hurt to be rejected by the revered Master Yoda. He wanted to spit the name. Palpatine was right. The Jedi didn't respect his power.

Ha, he laughed internally. What power? He'd just had his arm chopped off by a woman.

"Anakin?"

He jerked his head up to look at her black eyes. She'd never called him simply 'Anakin'. It had always been Skywalker, or some form of derogatory nickname. He hated to admit it, but he liked the way his name sounded on her lips. She had an accent he couldn't place and she was difficult to understand sometimes because she spoke too quickly but he liked it. It was exotic and he had never heard anything like it before. He wondered, suddenly, what planet she was from.

He wanted to speak back to her but his stubbornness wouldn't allow it.

He could hear her sigh as the lights of the room came on and he squinted. She always knew how to have him at a disadvantage.

"I brought something for you to eat."

He was surprised at that. Normally he found a glass of murky water lying at the side of him that he was told held all the nutrients he would need and she would force him to drink it. He wondered if the food was poisoned.

He felt the shackle that was holding his single arm above his head come loose and it dropped like a dead stone to the floor. It didn't even hurt because it was so numb. He eyed her wearily once his vision returned and he had to fight against the urge to rub his left wrist with his right hand. He eyed her outfit – she wasn't wearing the customary black synthetic leather material she normally did. Instead she was wearing a simple grey dress that barely skimmed her thighs and black knee length trousers. Her hair was flat, a loose fringe sweeping across her forehead; her hair was longer than he thought it was and now that he saw how long it was, he wondered how she got it to stand on end. Maybe she just woke up and it was like that? He didn't know but he liked this side of her. She seemed so much more… normal. His eyes sought out the metal around her arms and he wondered again just what it was. Was it decoration? Or did it hold some sort of power?

"Where's Granta?" He asked her, his voice hoarse from not having been used for so long and burned by the acidy bile.

Her eyes stared into his and he thought he saw guilt fleet across her features but she looked down to the tray of food before he could be sure.

"He's not here," she said coldly and he wondered idly if she'd killed him. He wanted to chuckle but he didn't. He watched as he sat down beside him and leaned back against the cold wall, crossing her legs as she did so. "You should eat some of this," she said and motioned towards the food. He eyed it and the simple offering of bread and some fruit was mouth-wateringly tempting. "There's nothing wrong with it. There's no use in killing you now is there?" She chuckled softly and he eyed her again before reaching out and picking up the piece of bread from the tray. He noticed there was some sort of jam on it and he took a tentative bite. It wasn't half bad. He finished the bread and started on the fruit. It was a little bitter for his tastes but he wasn't going to say no. He was starving. "Would you like a shower?" She asked and he saw her looking at his chest that was covered in his dried in sick. He nodded slowly.

Why was she being so nice to him now?

He saw her pass her hand in the general direction of a control on the other side of the room and the next thing he knew he was in a shower room somewhere. She walked to the unit and pressed a few buttons and then two jet streams started behind the frosted glass door and he watched as she turned back to him with a confused expression on her face, as though even she didn't understand what was happening.

He didn't need to strip off, he was already naked and so he walked to the door, passing by her, making sure he didn't touch her; the last time he did, he'd felt like his heart would give way from the sheer surge of electricity that passed through him at her touch. He reached out to the door and then stumbled, realising once again that he had no right hand. He tried not to let her see his reaction.

The hot water that glided over him was a welcome escape. He felt the clumps of vomit slide off his body and he pushed them away with his left hand. A harder jet pushed into the small of his back and he could feel the muscles automatically loosen. He leaned his head against the tiled wall and let the water soak into his skin for several minutes. His thoughts wandered but he tried to control them, knowing that she could feel his emotions. Obi-Wan had once told him that Anakin's presence in the Force was so over-whelming normally, never mind when he was feeling emotional. It was a colourful wave that had often woken Obi-Wan at night when Anakin was thinking about his mother, or Padmé or Qui-Gon… or anything that he'd lost.

He opened his eyes, refusing to admit that the rivulets of water running down his face could well be tears. He searched for some soap and found a liquid tube hanging at the other side of the cubicle. He leaned over and picked it up, and tried to balance it between his arm and body while squeezing some onto his hand. After his fifth failed attempt he swore and dropped it once again. He leaned down to pick it up and what he saw there shocked him so much he stumbled back and almost hit his head on the wall.

She was standing in the cubicle.

And she was naked.

Anakin automatically closed his eyes and turned away. What in the galaxy did she think she was doing? Wasn't it bad enough that she left him naked, had chopped his arm off and now she was coming into the shower with him? Oh Gods, oh Gods…

"Don't worry, I'm just going to help you," she murmured and he felt her pry the bottle of soap from his hand.

"Why?" He asked forcefully and spun around, using his good arm to ring her throat and push her against the wall. He wanted to squeeze her throat until she couldn't breathe. He saw her face change, becoming a stone mask and he wondered how she would retaliate. But it never came.

"I have to."

He let go of her and looked at her. She had seemed so vulnerable and scared as she stared at him with those eyes; it had taken his breath away.

What in the name of the Sith was going on here?

--

Padmé sprang up in bed, her heart racing.

Obi-Wan was missing.

Anakin was missing.

Siri Tachi was missing.

So was her Padawan.

She tried to control her breathing but she couldn't. She was no Force sensitive being but she felt that something else was going on here. Something was happening within the Jedi Order that she was sure even the Jedi Order were scared of. She had seen the glances that the old Masters shared with one another across the communication room when Siri's message had come in.

But it was none of this that had woken her from her rested sleep.

It had to have been a dream but... it seemed so real. She sat up and set her feet on the cool floor. Her heart was thundering in her chest, aching slightly. It was ridiculous but she could feel tears burn at the back of her eyes. She closed her eyes and licked her lips, replaying the images in her mind.

His lips descended harshly onto hers, devouring, biting, torturing. His hand grasped her head, pushing her into a wet, tiled wall but pulling her to him at the same time. His wet, naked body was pressed against hers, pushing them into the wall.

Padmé was even enjoying the dream, until they were leaving the shower and she caught sight of the reflection in the mirror.

Anakin pushed her against the wall outside the shower and she glanced over his shoulder to the steamed up mirror. Somehow, the mirror wiped clean revealing cold black eyes staring back at her, framed with dripping wet white hair. The smirk was malicious, evil and Padmé knew then that it was definitely not her.

She wanted to believe that it was just a dream. But something in the back of her mind was nagging at her. Why would she dream of someone else with Anakin? Goodness, it hurt more than she wanted it to.

She moved to the 'fresher and splashed water onto her face and looked at her own reflection in the mirror. She stared into her eyes and jumped back when she saw another image, unbidden and unwanted.

A rugged hand, undoubtedly Anakin's, trailed down a pale, toned body, framing a face as sickening as it was unfamiliar.

She was simply remembering part of her dream. She had to be. She sighed and let out a breath of air that was stuck between a laugh and a sob. Why was her mind torturing her like this?

She quickly changed into a pair of slack trousers and a tunic that the Jedi had mustered up for her. Even though she wasn't allowed to leave the temple, she was allowed to wander the halls and some rooms unattended but she had to have an escort if she was coming to the quarters or the Council chambers. But she wasn't going to either of those places. No. She wanted to relax and quiet her mind before she tried to get back to sleep.

She walked down the halls, twisting around the temple and descending staircases that she was so sure a few days ago that she would never remember and came to the room at the centre of the underground facility in the Temple: the room of a thousand fountains. Yoda had brought her down here only a few days before, after Obi-Wan had left and taught her how to meditate to calm herself down. He had told her that her turbulent emotions were upsetting some of the younglings and she had to learn to control herself. She had taken it all in her stride and though she found it difficult to close her mind completely, she had mastered it – or at least enough to find some inner calm.

She didn't understand why Anakin hated it so much.

She searched for a quiet spot and found one under a tree native to her home world, Naboo, and she relaxed against its thick trunk. She didn't even feel the bark through the material of her skin.

There was a few rivers nearby that led to a small waterfall and she let the moving water freshen her mind and ease her tension. She'd always loved the water. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes and instantly wished she hadn't.

"Anakin! Oh Gods, Anakin! Obi-Wan help! Help me!" She knew it was futile, Obi-Wan was too far away to hear her or be able to reach her in time to help Anakin. She knew she should jump in and try to help him herself but there was something, some invisible force holding her in place.

She groaned out loud and opened her eyes, stretching the muscles in her neck and shoulders. She wouldn't let her own feelings of guilt and shame affect the Younglings in the temple. She closed her eyes and tried again.

As time passed, images swirled together until they were just a blend of different colours and she felt tranquillity seep through her veins. Her body was becoming heavy and she knew her head would be bobbing on her shoulders but she didn't care about how she looked right then.

"Miss Padmé," a voice interrupted her and Padmé had to bite back the groan at having been interrupted.

She looked up at her escort, a young force sensitive man – she said young but he was probably the same age as her – who had never been chosen as a Padawan. When he had told her his story, Padmé's heart had gone out to him but he didn't seem phased. He liked his job in the Temple anyway. He was an aide in the healers ward, often telling stories to the younglings or young Padawans who were sick or – something that was happening more and more – injured. He had a soothing presence that even Padmé could sense and she knew that the healing environment was the place he should be.

He was attractive too. Not like Anakin's ruggedness, no. This man – Talin – was more boyish, with his cherub like face that made him look years younger than he was and his dark chocolate brown hair and hazel eyes made sure he turned a few heads out in the world.

"Hello Talin," she smiled up at him and motioned to her side to let him know that he could sit down. He nodded and did as he was told. She smiled at that.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, staring around the room, noticing the Masters and Padawans sitting cross-legged together, obviously in meditation.

"I went to your room but you weren't there. I hope you don't mind, but I… I used the Force to find you," he said timidly and Padmé smiled at him. She knew he wasn't shy at all, if anything he was very mature and out-going and she wondered why he was suddenly so shy.

"Is there something wrong?" She asked suddenly, alarmed.

"No! Not at all, no. Master Yoda contacted me and told me he sensed you in some distress and asked if I would come to you and ensure you were okay. He would have come himself but he important business to attend to, you see."

Padmé nodded. It was only natural that the members of the Council would be overly occupied, what with the disappearance of four of their own in the span of a week.

"I had an unpleasant dream that's all. I'm fine," she assured him and leaned against the tree once again, finding comfort in its strength.

Her dream replayed in her mind once again and she tried to file it away and analyse it at a later time. She could feel his eyes on her as though he was searching for something. For some hint of lie in her face. She turned to him and smiled softly, hoping to eradicate any doubt from his mind. He must have sensed that she didn't want to talk about it because she saw him nod and turn away again.

"Very well." They sat in silence for a few minutes once more and Padmé wondered if he was going to stay and talk, or if he was going to leave. She didn't mind either way, after all, she rather enjoyed his presence. "If you don't mind, I'd like to stay and meditate with you."

Padmé thought about it. She found it difficult to meditate when others were around but his calm demeanour had already affected her.

"Of course, you are more than welcome."

He smiled at her and Padmé smiled back, before looking away and closing her eyes.

Something definitely wasn't right.