Chapter 14
He choked and coughed in the acrid smoke as he raced through the burning
city. Tears burned his eyes and ran down his cheeks as he followed the
desperate voice
"Anakin!" it screamed. "Ani, help me!" He pushed his legs harder, but they
felt heavier and heavier as he drew closer to the voice. "Hurry, Ani, hurry!"
it urged him.
He burst into a gutted building, straining to see in the semi-darkness.
"Ani," the voice came again, weaker this time. He lit his saber, throwing
its light across the room. A figure lay on the floor, its hands outstretched.
"Ani…"
"Mom!" he heard himself scream. He started to run her, but he couldn't
move. Something was holding him back. He jerked desperately against the
unseen force, but was unable to break free. Turning, he saw an arm protruding
from the shadows, a hand clutching his cloak in an iron grip. The arm was
clad the brown and tan sleeves of a Jedi cloak and tunic. The rest of the
owner was hidden. "Let me go!" Anakin cried. He screamed as crushing pain
enveloped his torso. Finally, he slipped out of his Jedi cloak, leaving
it hanging in the mysterious fist. High-pitched, cackling laughter echoed
around him as he ran to his mother, only to have her disappear in front
of his eyes. He threw back his head and howled, "Noooooooo!"
Anakin jerked awake with a sob. He sat up amidst his tangled sheets and
tried to calm his breathing. Did I scream out loud?
He swiped at the tears and looked around the darkened bedroom. Guards patrolled
the hallways of the Palace at all hours of the night. If he had screamed,
surely someone would be in here by now. Throwing the sheets aside, he got
out of bed and went out onto the balcony.
The cool breeze slipped across his bare chest, and he shivered. He closed
his eyes, taking in the muffled roar of the falls and the sweet floral
scents drifting up from the gardens. A small smile played across his face.
Padmé always made sure he had a room that overlooked the gardens.
And the falls had always fascinated him. So much water. It had taken several
trips to Naboo for him to realize that it was not being wasted.
His peace was only momentary, as his thoughts returned to his dream.
Mom is dead! Why I am still having it? Is the Force going to make
me relive her death over and over again?
He had stopped meditating at all since his mother's death. He had tried
once, the night before he and Padmé and Sabé left the Lars'
farm, and what he had felt frightened him so badly that he hadn't had the
courage to try again. Cold, black thoughts. An unbelievably searing heat,
burning him alive. Harsh, raspy breathing. Padmé, older, wiser,
and sadder.
Obi-Wan, he called. I need
you…help me…Nothing.
Anakin opened his eyes to see the barest peek of the sun over the horizon.
He wasn't going to get any more sleep, so he might as well start his day.
He returned to his room to get dressed, wondering if he could find something
a little more understated than the Naboo garments Padmé had provided
for him. Digging deep into the wardrobe, he came out with a simple white
tunic. The sleeves were a bit billowy for his taste, but it was less ostentatious
than most of the clothing. Thank the Force, he still had his Jedi trousers
and belt. But he wasn't sure how many more washings they would endure before
they fell apart.
Maybe he could get Padmé or one of the handmaidens to take him shopping.
There's no telling what kind of clown they'd have me looking like.
But then again, I'd wear the Queen's gowns and makeup if it meant spending
more time with her.
Padmé had been working almost nonstop since their arrival on Naboo,
and they had seen little of each other. He shouldn't really be upset about
it – she had dropped everything to chase him to Tatooine, and she had to
catch up sometime. But he sensed her emotional turmoil and knew that she
was avoiding him. Hiding behind Queen Amidala's cool façade. And
it hurt.
Maybe I shouldn't have told her yet. But he'd always had these feelings
for her, much more pure when he was younger, but they were there just the
same. He could no more deny them than he could stop the sun from rising.
He pulled on his clothes, grabbed his equipment and left the room.
*********************
Padmé hurried down the corridor toward her chambers, head spinning
with the details of her day's schedule. She worked long hours during normal
situations, and her absence from Court, along with the worries about the
Mandalore clones only made things worse. She wondered if she would ever
get caught up. She groaned inwardly as she envisioned endless meetings,
squabbling advisors, and fawning lobbyists. Not to mention throbbing headaches.
She wiped her face with a towel, thinking that her morning exercise routine
was the only thing keeping her sane anymore. I might have to let up
some, she thought. Poor Rabé probably thought that her sovereign
was trying to kill her during their sparring session. Of course, Rabé
almost killed Sabé and me after a spending some time under the makeup.
Sabé thought that Padmé's frustration had another source.
The handmaiden quickly discovered that prodding and taunting her Queen
about it only resulted in Padmé kicking her butt as well as Rabé's.
"Must've hit a nerve, huh?" Sabé had said to Rabé as she
lay facedown on the mat, the Queen's foot pressed into her back. Rabé
had wisely said nothing, but her dark eyes danced with humor. Like Sabé,
she missed very little.
The worst part was that Sabé was right. She usually was. Maybe
I should fire them all and hire less perceptive handmaidens.
As Padmé passed by an auxiliary ballroom, a flurry of motion caught
her attention, along with a familiar humming sound. She stopped and looked
into the cavernous room. Oh, my...
Anakin was dueling with a seeker remote. His actions were fluid and swift,
almost completely silent. Naboo's brilliant morning sun streamed through
the floor-to-ceiling windows, and he had removed his tunic in response
to the heat. His skin glistened with a slight sheen of sweat. The amber
blade of the lightsaber arced gracefully as it deflected a tiny bolt away
from him. Again and again, his movements seemingly effortless. Padmé
gawked at him, mesmerized by the play of his well-toned back and arm muscles
as he swung the weapon. He's so beautiful. The thought formed before
she could stifle it. She felt decidedly… warm, all of a sudden.
She started to step into the room, then hesitated. Things had changed between
her and Anakin, in a way she wasn't entirely comfortable with. Their friendship
had evolved into something deeper during their time together on Tatooine.
And it wasn't just their shared kiss…
Since returning to Naboo, she had avoided him - and dealing with her unsettling
feelings - by throwing herself into her work. She saw Anakin only at meals,
which were crowded affairs filled with handmaidens and advisors. Not really
conducive to anything other than general conversation.
She was almost able to dismiss the feelings.
Almost.
Sabé continually nagged her about it, and Padmé rationalized
by saying that the work absolutely had to be done.
But that's so unfair to him, she realized with shame. He's lost
his mother, he feels abandoned by his Master, and his best friend withdraws
from him because of a few uncomfortable feelings. How selfish of me.
She stepped into the room, watching him unobtrusively from behind a column.
Sensing his audience, Anakin grinned to himself. Using the Force, he called
two more remotes. He stepped up his speed and added some jumps and spins.
When he felt that he had Padmé's full attention on him, he maneuvered
one of the seekers behind her. She jumped and gave a small shriek as a
tiny red bolt nipped her on the backside.
Deactivating the remotes and his saber, Anakin turned to face her. A cocky
grin spread across his face. "Good morning, Your Highness," he said with
a deep bow. "You're up and about early today."
"You'd better have a good explanation for that, Anakin Skywalker!" Padmé
glowered at him, rubbing her rear end.
I'd like to do that. The thought sprang into his head as he watched
her hand move. His eyes roamed over her, taking in her sweaty face, the
loose tunic and the form-fitting leggings before returning to stare at
her hand as it glided over her bottom.
"Do you mind?"
Her voice, sounding both amused and embarrassed, hit him like a splash
of cold water. He blushed furiously as he met her eyes, feeling like he
had when he was thirteen and Master Gallia caught him peeking into the
female Padawans' locker room. Recovering quickly, he smiled rakishly and
said, "There's no need to hide, Your Highness. Why would you want to be
a secret admirer?"
That was a loaded question if Padmé had ever heard one.
"So when did you build the new lightsaber?" she asked. "Sabé said
that you couldn't find a suitable crystal."
"I couldn't; this is just a training saber. The quality of the crystal
isn't as important. After all, it's just against remotes." Anakin gathered
up the remotes and put them and the saber in a carryall bag, next to the
wall. Then he snatched up his tunic and pulled it back on.
Her brow furrowed in puzzlement. "Why are you working out in here? We have
a gym and a combat room, as you well know."
"There's no one else to practice with, and I wanted to be alone," he said.
"Besides, there's more room for the remotes in here."
She eyed the bag of training equipment. "Something like that is surely
no contest for someone of your skill," she said, lightly taunting. She
raised her eyebrows. "Good against remotes is one thing; good against the
living – that's something else."
"Why, Your Highness, are you challenging me?"
She hesitated. Why not? Padmé grinned wickedly at him. "Indeed
I am, Jedi Skywalker," she said haughtily, her hands on her hips. She checked
her chrono. "Unfortunately, I have business to attend to right now, so
meet me in the combat room tonight. One hour after dinner."
"Why not right after dinner?" he asked.
"I want to give your food time to settle. No sense in having to clean up
a mess after I wipe the floor with you." She gave him a sly smile
and sauntered out of the room.
Anakin stared after her for several minutes before he realized his mouth
was hanging open. Then he grabbed his bag. I need a shower. A COLD shower.
*************************
"…verified our suspicions of cloning, Your Highness. According to the reports
submitted by both Major Tarkin of the Supreme Chancellor's office and Obi-Wan
Kenobi, the task force on Sessone engaged in several skirmishes with these
clone soldiers. Republic Intelligence is now apparently in possession of
the clone bodies, along with the other material the task force gathered."
Queen Amidala's cool gaze swept over her Advisory Council, all of whom
looked shocked and horrified. Except for Captain Panaka, who just looked
grim. General Ceel, the Gungan military liaison to the Court, wore an inscrutable
expression. Amidala found herself looking more and more to Ceel for counsel.
The old Gungan was shrewd and cunning, as astute politically as he was
militarily.
She turned her attention back to Sio Bibble's hologram projected into the
center of the Throne Room. "And what of the Senate's reaction?" she asked.
Bibble exhaled audibly. "The Supreme Chancellor has not yet brought this
to the Senate as a whole, or even to the Defense Committee. I sat in on
an impromptu meeting in his office with Senators from some of the more
influential worlds, including Alderaan, Chandrila, Corellia, and several
Corporate Sector representatives. Senator Antilles announced his intent
to introduce legislation to unite the member militaries into a single Republic
Armed Force." He rubbed his forehead tiredly. "I'm sorry, Your Highness,
but the response to the news of the clones was lukewarm, at best. Alderaan,
of course, takes it seriously, and Senator Mon Mothma was appalled at the
notion of clone armies. But most of the others are skeptical, the Corporate
Worlds in particular. Especially after both Tarkin and Kenobi described
the clone soldiers as 'not especially competent.' The business types don't
think the threat is sufficient. And the taxes they pay on industry and
trade would largely fund this proposal, so they will have an inordinate
amount of influence over it."
Amidala stared impassively, her thoughts churning behind her serene mask.
No, the clone soldiers were not particularly effective. After all, she
and Sabé alone had destroyed what had to have been at least a platoon.
But they were brutal, soulless, and easily replaceable. Not unlike battle
droids. And they didn't need a control ship to function. That's what
they are, she realized. Sentient battle droids.
But how far would Bail Organa's legislation – and it was his, though Antilles
would submit it – go toward unifying the various armed forces? Would participation
by all worlds be mandatory? And the possibility of conscription? Amidala
didn't even want to think about that. The peaceful Naboo culture was still
adapting to the changes she'd implemented after the Trade Federation invasion.
The Naboo now had a small standing military, a core of professional soldiers
and pilots that formed the backbone of a citizen-based militia. All able-bodied
Naboo between the ages of eighteen and forty-five reported for training
for two weeks each year.
Her people had accepted that grudgingly, but Naboo's pacifist tendencies
were deeply ingrained. The Scar of Remembrance that split her lower lip
reminded Amidala of Naboo's painful past every time she looked in the mirror.
The Trade Federation War had left the Queen with two very difficult tasks:
to engage Naboo further into the Republic politically, to take advantage
of the protection it offered, while reducing her planet's dependence on
the outside resources that had left it so vulnerable to the Nemoidians'
depredations in the first place.
The age-old questions: balancing love of life with the need to protect
it, and weighing the needs of the people against those of the planet itself.
Amidala suddenly felt old and tired.
"I will need to speak to the Viceroy about the details of his proposal"
– and not just that one – "before I can give you any instructions,
Senator." Bibble nodded and Amidala noticed how pale and drawn he looked,
even with the generally poor resolution of the Holonet. He did not seem
well, though his tongue and wit were as sharp as ever. Ten years on
Coruscant could do that to a person, she thought with a twinge of guilt.
Bibble's appointment as Senator was supposed to have been temporary, until
elections for a new representative could be held. But his candor and dedication
were like a breath of fresh air in the Senate, and the people liked him,
so they had not called for new elections. Amidala could have done so herself,
but had not, following the apparent will of the people. She hoped her inaction
had not cost Bibble his health.
"With your permission, then, Your Highness?" She nodded and Bibble bowed
slightly as he terminated the connection.
Her Advisory Council immediately burst into argument over the news of Alderaan's
impending bill. Only General Ceel remained quiet, his eyestalks swiveling
as he studied the rest of the Council impassively. Amidala let them bicker
for several minutes before raising a slim hand to halt the debate.
"It does little good to debate an issue when we are not in possession of
all the facts." She wondered how Palpatine stood doing this with the thousands
of delegates in the Republic Senate. Her composed stare wandered over her
advisors. "But I will expect that by the time we have the details, you
will be ready to outline for me the effects that this legislation could
have on us. Particularly from the economic and military manpower aspects
of it. General Ceel," she said, turning to him, "I would be most interested
in the Gungan perspective on this proposal. As we move toward greater unity,
this could have a very strong impact on your people." The Gungans still
made up the bulk of the planet's standing military forces, though they
were not yet fully integrated with those of the Naboo.
He inclined his head fractionally. "I will be discussin' it with the Bosses
when I return to Otoh Gunga."
"Thank you. And on that note," she said, looking at her Minister of the
Interior, "I would like to know the status of the transport passageway
from Theed to Otoh Gunga."
The Minister consulted his datapad. "The engineers are entering the final
design phase, Your Highness. There were some issues over whether to use
Naboo or Gungan design and construction techniques. By necessity, Naboo
concepts will be used on the surface portion, with the Gungans handling
the underwater portions. The remaining problems involve joining the two
at the meeting point in the Solleu."
A movement at the back of the Throne Room caught Amidala's attention, and
she glanced over to see Anakin slip into the room. A small smile flitted
across her lips. Anakin had apparently given up on his remaining Jedi clothing
– he wore a Royal Pilot's uniform, minus the helmet and long coat. The
Minister's voice went on. Amidala listened with half an ear to potential
construction concerns with sea predators, worker safety, budgets, and other
issues, the rest of her attention held by Anakin, though she concealed
it well. He looks so dashing. The uniform really suits him.
Anakin stood quietly to the side and slightly behind Captain Panaka, his
hands clasped at the small of his back. His mouth quirked in a little half-smile
as he realized he was distracting her. Not obviously – her painted face
still wore its placid expression – but the occasional flick of her eyes
in his direction gave her away. Sabé caught his eye from her seat
to Amidala's right, and winked. The bodyguard was almost as attuned to
the Queen as he was, and she could see the effect his presence had on her
sovereign, though it was transparent to anyone else in the room.
Anakin stifled a yawn as the meeting wore on. Reports from the Minister
of the Economy and the Royal Treasurer, the status of pending Senate trade
legislation, and the seemingly mindless debate on the other day-to-day
issues of government began to run together in his mind. He wondered how
Amidala stood it. If he had to sit and listen to stuff like this all the
time, he'd Force-choke someone.
************************
Padmé sighed with relief as she shrugged out of the heavy brocade
gown and let it crumple to the floor. She sat down at the vanity and wiped
the white makeup from her face. Behind her, Rabé's nimble fingers
pulled the retaining pins from the headpiece. Padmé sighed again
as her hair tumbled loose down her back. She wound her fingers through
it and scratched vigorously, then relaxed as Rabé took up the hairbrush
and worked the kinks out, leaving soft waves flowing over her shoulders.
Sabé leaned against the wall by the vanity and eyed her Queen with
suspicion as Padmé quickly pulled her hair back from her face, securing
it into a neat bun with an elastic band. She then went to the dresser,
took out a set of workout clothes and put them on. "Going somewhere, Your
Highness?" Sabé asked.
"Out," Padmé replied shortly, pulling on a long burgundy handmaiden's
cloak.
Sabé cocked an eyebrow at her. Something's changed. Dinner
tonight had been fairly relaxed, still crowded with advisors, but the Queen
had forbidden any shoptalk and had invited Anakin to sit next to her. They
could not have had any type of substantial conversation, but Sabé
had been happy to see them looking more at ease than they had in a while.
And Amidala had dismissed everyone afterwards, saying that she was going
to take the evening off.
"Care to tell your bodyguard where you're going?" Sabé asked.
"No," said Padmé, "I don't." She raised the hood of her cloak and
slipped out of her chambers.
Rabé and Sabé looked at each other and shrugged. Whatever
it was that had gotten into the Queen, Anakin had something to do with
it, Sabé was sure. Then she grinned evilly and beckoned the rest
of the handmaidens from their rooms. They huddled together, whooping with
excitement as they listened to their leader.
Padmé arrived in the combat room to find Anakin already there, in
a most unusual position. Upside down, standing on his hands in the center
of the big sparring mat, eyes closed. As she watched, he lifted one hand
from the mat so that he supported himself with one arm. His balance never
faltered. Then he slowly pushed up until he was balanced on one finger,
holding perfectly still.
Then his blue eyes snapped open, and he grinned at her. She let out a breath
she didn't realize she'd been holding. She felt a flicker of irritation.
"Show-off," she said acidly.
He gracefully rolled down to a seated position. "Merely warming up, Your
Highness," he said, favoring her with a lop-sided grin. He got to his feet
and began hopping up and down, rotating his neck and shoulders to loosen
them up. "What, no handmaidens? No guards?"
"Now why would I want to humiliate you in front of an audience?" Padmé
took off her cloak and hung it up on one of the wall hooks, then began
her own series of stretches and warm-ups, centering her mind and body.
Anakin tried not to stare as she loosened up, but it was difficult. She
wore a form-fitting black bodysuit and soft-soled black boots. That's
going to be distracting as all get out, he thought. I wonder if
she wore that deliberately.
"So, Your Highness, will it be weapons?" he asked. "Or hand-to-hand?"
Hand-to-hand? I just bet he'd like that. The next thought popped up
before she could escape it. So would you, Padmé. "Weapons,"
she replied. "Would you care to choose?"
"I bow to your wisdom, Your Highness," he said with another grin.
"Please don't call me that, Ani. Not in here." Padmé went to the
weapons locker and mulled over the choices. With his height, he would have
the reach advantage using any weapon. She needed something that she knew
she had more experience with. Saber, epee, sword…no, with his lightsaber
training, he'd be too hard to beat. Ah, there…She reached into the
locker and came out with two pugil sticks, long lightly padded staffs with
large cushioned ends. She tossed one at Anakin.
"What's this?" He eyed the long staff with trepidation, watching her as
she twirled hers around deftly.
"Pugil sticks," she said. "Use two hands. Like this." She held her staff
up, hands grasping it shoulder-width apart in an over-under grip. "A win
comes by pinning your opponent, back or front, a kill point, same as a
saber, or forcing your opponent out of the boundaries." She gestured at
the large white ring drawn on the mat. "Or a knockout," she added with
a smile. "And no crazy somersaulting or anything like that."
"I can't use the Force?"
"Afraid you can't beat me without it?" His scowl told her that her jab
had hit the mark. "Ready?" Now she wore the cocky grin, watching as he
hefted the weapon uncertainly and placed his hands.
"Ready." He grasped the stick firmly, bouncing lightly on the balls of
his feet. Their eyes met and he winked.
Arrogant git, she thought irritably, then calmed herself. She circled
him patiently, watching him, waiting for him to make the first move. She
often used this strategy when sparring with Sabé, whose patience
was woefully limited.
Anakin watched her closely as she circled him like a predator. Just like
Obi-Wan, waiting for his aggressive Padawan to take the offensive. Well,
he wouldn't disappoint her. He lunged, swinging the staff in a downward
arc toward her head.
She parried easily, knocking his weapon aside. Her follow-through brought
one of the cushioned ends across his jaw. Hard. He staggered back and stared
at her in disbelief. She smiled sweetly at him.
"Very impressive," he said, working his jaw and checking for missing teeth.
They all seemed to be there. For now. He lunged at her again, swinging
harder and faster. She blocked everything, and managed to get in a few
bruising jabs to his midsection in the process. His weapon had yet to touch
her body. He backed off and circled. "So where did you get the training?"
He struck out at her again.
She blocked it, just barely. "A Queen has to able to defend herself, you
know. I don't spend all of my time listening to the babble of bureaucrats."
She knew the chatter was meant to distract her. Even when he didn't consciously
use the Force, he was probably always instinctively drawing on it, so he
could easily handle it. But she needed to concentrate, especially with
his height advantage. "Why does that surprise you? You've seen me fight
before."
"With a blaster," Anakin said. "Not close-quarters." His pugil stick flashed
out again.
Padmé turned to block, but he abruptly changed directions and brought
the staff around to land across her shoulder blades. She rolled with the
blow, barely making her feet before he was on her again, his pugil stick
twirling and jabbing as he looked for an opening. She retreated, now completely
on the defensive as she parried strike after strike. He had an enormous
strength advantage over her, in addition to his height. It took all of
her energy just to ward off the forceful blows. She was already puffing,
while he hardly seemed to be tired at all. At least he's not going easy
on me.
"You're very good, Padmé," he said, lightly mocking. "Keep practicing,
and one day you'll actually be able to challenge me."
"Oh, is that so?" she retorted. She ducked another swing and brought her
staff around to rap him across the knuckles. He yelped and let go with
that hand. She pressed her advantage, jabbing and slashing while he parried
one-handed.
Anakin backed up before her attack, genuinely impressed by her quickness
and strength. But she was visibly tiring. She had the superior skill, but
he was stronger; all he had to do was fend her off until she exhausted
herself. "Come on," he taunted. "Hit me!"
"I'm trying!" she ground out between clenched teeth.
"No!" he said, imitating Yoda's voice. "Do…or do not. There is no try."
He grinned and blocked another jab, still using one hand.
Padmé suppressed her annoyance. She knew he was teasing her, trying
to distract her. She needed to end it quickly, before her fatigue caused
her to make a mistake. But she could not summon the strength for an all-out
attack. Maybe I shouldn't have taken on both Rabé and Sabé
this morning.
She pushed a wet strand of hair out of her face and tried to regulate her
breathing. She noticed Anakin's eyes lingering on her bodysuit, made even
clingier by her sweat. She blushed, suddenly acutely aware of how well
the suit showed off her body.
But she could use that to her advantage. She pulled her staff in to touch
her body, just below her breasts. The movement drew his eyes, and in that
split second, she rapped his other hand, forcing him to drop his weapon.
Anakin's eyes widened as she attacked furiously. He jumped, spun and rolled,
trying to avoid the kill point. She chased him around the mat, thrusting
and swinging with the pugil stick.
"Why don't you quit while you still have some dignity?" she teased.
"No way! I'm not letting you win that easily!" He dove desperately for
his weapon. When his fingers closed around it, he rolled and took a wild,
one-handed swing at her legs. Padmé leaped to avoid the blow, but
tripped when she landed, falling on her backside.
"Whose dignity's at stake now?" Anakin asked with a smirk.
Now it was her turn to dodge and spin. He forced her toward the edge of
the circle. She parried his strikes from a deep crouch, mind racing as
she considered her options. Very limited, it appeared.
Then he shifted his stance and Padmé saw her chance. Quick as a
flash, she rolled between his legs, then thrust her staff back through
them as he turned. The weapon caught him across the ankles, taking his
feet from under him. He fell flat on his back, his breath leaving him with
a loud WHOOSH!
Padmé was on him instantly, straddling his waist, her pugil stick
pressed across his chest. "Pin!" she crowed triumphantly. She grinned down
at him. "Focusing on the wrong things, Anakin? Or maybe your legs are just
too damn long."
Anakin looked utterly deflated. Defeated by a Force-blind slip of a Queen.
The look was only momentary; his familiar rakish grin reappeared quickly.
"You know, Padmé, if you wanted me on my back, all you had to do
was say so. No need to go to all this trouble."
She rolled her eyes and reached up to push a sweaty strand of hair from
her face. In that instant, he knocked her pugil stick aside and rolled
her over, stretching his body over hers and pinning her wrists to the mat.
"Anakin!" she gasped.
"I'd say my focus is where it needs to be," he said, his voice low, his
face centimeters from hers.
They stared at each other, brown eyes locked on blue. Anakin swallowed
heavily and licked his suddenly dry lips. He felt her heart hammering against
his chest, almost perfectly in time with his own. She was sweaty and panting,
and he wanted nothing more than to…
Padmé closed her eyes in defense against his proximity. She felt
his warm breath on her face and the barest brush across her mouth, so faint
she might have imagined it. Just admit it. You're not fooling him or
anyone else. She opened her eyes. Including yourself. "Ani…let
me up…please." It came out like a command.
Stung by her tone, Anakin slowly pushed himself off her and stood up. He
took her hand and drew her to her feet. "Sorry, Your Highness," he said
nonchalantly. He tried to pull his hand away.
Gods, I'm messing this up, she thought as she saw his jaw tighten.
"Please don't call me that, Ani." She clung to his hand, not wanting him
to leave in anger.
Anakin looked down at her uncertainly, then leaned toward her, closing
his eyes. Padmé tipped her face up, waiting for him…Love? So
soon?
Her eyes snapped open and she stepped back from him. "I…I'm sorry, Ani."
She looked everywhere but at his face, not wanting to see the hurt she
knew would be there. She tried to tug her hand from his.
He gripped it tighter, closing his other hand around it as well, frustrated
by her mixed signals. He could feel her attraction pulsing in his Force-sense,
like a thing alive. "Padmé…don't you know that I can feel what you
feel?" He caressed her fingers. "Why are you fighting it?"
Why, indeed… "It's more than just you and me, Anakin." She spoke in
the low tones she used as Queen, trying to withdraw into Amidala's cool
detachment. "I have my planet and my people to consider. I can't put anything
ahead of them." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Not even you."
But you already did. When you went to Tatooine to get him and left Rabé
to speak for Naboo. She tried to free her hand again, but he clutched
it harder.
"I never did say 'Thank you' for that. For coming after me." He drew her
closer, raising her hand to his mouth to kiss her fingers. She shivered.
"And I'm not asking you to. You've always kept them separate, Padmé
and Amidala," he said. "Why can't Padmé Naberrie love Anakin Skywalker
without sacrificing Queen Amidala's love for her people?" His eyes bored
into hers. "What are you afraid of?"
She stared back at him, her stomach twisting as his question hit home.
How did he do that? Every time she thought she had herself under control,
that she could bury these feelings for him, he found a way to weaken her
resolve. Too soon? You've known him for ten years; it's not like you
just met…
(What are you afraid of?)
She hated to admit it, but she was afraid – afraid of the intensity
of these feelings. She couldn't evaluate them coolly, she couldn't deny
them – they were just there.
He placed her hand on his chest so that she could feel his pounding heartbeat.
"Padmé, I—"
SW Episode II: Insert Pretentious Title Here
By: jedijae