The air was possessed of a long-forgotten scent, foreign and lovingly familiar at the same time. She did not know where she was, or how exactly she had gotten there, but she knew that she had been waiting a long time. She looked around, treading on soft, solid ground. Her surroundings now came into view.
Below her bare feet grew a luscious green grass that appeared perfect in every detail. Other than the luscious grass, she could not see much of anything else because of a dense fog, which made her a little chilly. However, she noticed that there were no particularly outlined paths to indicate direction. Looking ahead, she noticed a well made of gray stone. It was full of water.
It was also the only thing other than grass in sight.
As if a moth attracted to light, she walked forward, wondering the significance of the serene well. She noticed that the water was completely undisturbed as she bent over it. She felt a strange, needy desire to touch it. To disturb its equilibrium. She felt that it wasn't meant to simply be peaceful and still. It was meant to move.
A single finger later, and slow ripples made their way across the surface.
That's when the fog dissipated completely.
"Padme."
She whipped around as the reflection of a man formed in the moving water. She found that he too was familiar. It now occurred to her to wonder where she was. Her mind was coming back to her. She had questions.
"Who are you?"
The youngish looking man smiled genuinely. His blue eyes twinkled with a caring light as he held out his hand.
Barely a moment passed before she took it. She felt that she could trust him. Yes, their hands molded perfectly with each other. The cold she had felt before faded when she touched him - he was warm.
"Walk with me."
She found that she didn't need to nod, or even indicate approval. She followed silently.
"I'm sorry," he said suddenly.
"For what?"
"Come to the well again, and I can show you." He took her hand again. He was going to jump into the well with her.
She was apprehensive now. What else was there besides moving, ever-chaotic water?
"Please," his eyes pleaded, "trust me."
She closed her eyes as they jumped in. There was no wetness, she realized, as she opened them again. She also realized that the scenery had changed - she was looking at two small girls, romping in tall grass. They were laughing and teasing each other happily.
They were sisters.
"Do you see?" The blond man whispered.
Shakily, she answered, "Yes. It is. . . me. I remember us. I remember Sola, and Mother, and Father. We're in our home in the country. I am six years old, and Sola is almost nine."
The scene changed as she finished. A young brunette girl in a formal red robe was addressing a room of people, anxious and confident. She was passionate and compassionate, her words struck through to the core. People clapped and smiled, and she was smiling on the inside and outside, for once.
"My debut as an Apprentice Legislator. I was eleven." She watched in awe as her past played out, then faded to a new vision.
The girl appeared much older, covered in stark white makeup and clothed in majestic and elaborate dresses. Her air was regal and austere, but inside she sensed her own nervousness. Her fear and uncertainty made her stiff and overly alert. While decked glamorously on the exterior she felt ever the child and fraud beneath her royal mask.
"I am Queen Amidala, fourteen years old and newly elected."
The apparitions didn't fade. Instead, they were prolonged and she took everything in.
"Are you an angel?" She noticed that the man beside her fidgeted.
"What?" She replied, taken aback.
"An angel. I've heard the deep space pilots talk about them. They're the most beautiful creatures in the universe. They live on the moon of Iego, I think."
She smiled kindly, as if indulging in the gibberish of a small child. "You're a funny little boy. How do you know so much?"
It was later, when he told her his name, she realized maybe he wasn't as small a child as she had thought.
"I'm a person and my name is Anakin!"
Anyone else might have been annoyed with his tempered words; she was only moved. She stayed silent this time, not even bothering to recall the events that were slowly coming back to her mind and memory.
"I made this for you. So you'll remember me. I carved it out of a japor snippet. It'll bring you good fortune." Little Anakin held a small, off-white stone.
"It's beautiful. But I don't need this to remember you by." There was a pause. She hated to deceive this boy, whom she had so grown to care for. But if she did not, she risked lives, including her own.
"Many things will change when we reach the Capital, Ani. But my caring for you will remain."
She had been wholly honest. As the nine year old Anakin fell asleep, things changed again. She saw herself drawn up with more womanly experience and confidence.
"Wake up, Senators... you must wake up! If we offer the Separatists violence, they can only show us violence in return! Many will lose their lives. All will lose their freedom." There was desperation in her headstrong speech. Maybe unconsciously, she had known where things would lead. It was only a primal instinct to defend after being offended. Negotiation was only second to that.
"Ani? My goodness, you've grown." Yes, into a young man. Had she really known him all those years ago?
She looked to her left. Anakin was standing there, an indescribable look on his face.
"You're not all powerful, Ani." Grief, she knew, was probably the first step to acceptance. That, and a degree of denial. He needed to accept the flow of life and death - they were natural. Grieving and denial could only last so long before they turned bitter.
"I truly...deeply...love you...and before we die I want you to know." It was true. He had matured from the nine year old podracer he once was. Instead, he was a handsome padawan. He understood her and loved her for who she was, every single bit of her. She loved him for his goodness, his newfound wisdom, his recklessness, his charm.
The real Anakin brushed his fingers against hers. She smiled. However, he kept still with anticipation.
"Ani. . . I'm pregnant." It was to the point. For all of her diplomatic finesse, these moments with her husband were the times where she found herself easier to express with more bluntness. Her anxiety was alleviated when she saw joy spreading across his face.
"I want more. . . but I know I shouldn't." Was he turning his head in shame? His eyes, the beautiful blue orbs, were clouded.
"I can't believe what I'm hearing. Obi-Wan was right. You've changed."
Padme found herself crying as she watched her own downfall. She remembered. She had been Padme for twenty-seven conscious years, Sabe for eleven others. Eleven wasted years, they were.
Back on the grass, Padme sobbed into her knees, sitting.
"Padme." Anakin placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"Anakin." Her voice was breaking.
"I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry."
Wiping away the tears, Padme met his eyes. "And what am I supposed to say? I can't forgive you Anakin! I know what became of the man named Vader! I know of all the atrocities you committed. Now I remember every single detail of the day you left everything behind." She was standing, her voice considerably louder now. Anger and misery was flowing through her veins.
"You left me, and our children behind! Because of you they grew up without true parents, without us! You took that away from me. Because of you I spent half my life without a memory and had to work my way to survive. Because of you I can't feel anything anymore! I've been drifting by without happiness and love, only pain. Every day that you left me, Anakin, was another day of torment."
Her husband's head was bowed. He was ashamed, but that fact gave her little satisfaction. It only frustrated her more that he didn't try to deny her accusations. "What are you even doing. . . wherever here is?"
"Luke."
"What?"
"He saw what you saw. He turned me back. I killed the Emperor."
There's good in him. . . I know, I know there's. . . still.
