Disclaimer: Star Wars is the property of George Lucas LTD and Disney. Anything you recognize belongs to one or the other.

Author's Note: I'm sorry it's been so long and this is so short, but I am working on part seven, so hopefully it will be up soon. Life just got away from me, but alas, here we are!

Also, I know I usually answer anonymous things here, please forgive me! I love all of your reviews, but I do not know where it was we left off. Please feel free to continue to share - I love all the things you guys have to say! And hopefully the next part will be up ASAP!

we are made of all those who have built and broken us.

—atticus poetry, "love her wild."

The capital building was a block away and as quick as they'd begun, they'd arrived. Padmè stood, staring up at it, remembering being just a ten year old and entering for the first time in her life, how Sachè would smile upon seeing her, how…

Padmè swallowed, trying to find her confidence, but this was different. She loved her handmaidens and cared for their families, but Sachè had been a handmaiden, had been in her life for a decade at least… Sachè was as a part of her as her lungs and her breaking heart.

Anakin's hand grazed hers and she looked up at him, but his eyes were on the building before him, soaking in the domed marble roof and limestone walls. She grazed his hand back, then began to climb the steps.

Artoo gave a whirl of complaint that earned a scold from his owner, and beyond that, it was a quiet and somber experience as Padmè hesitantly lead the way, her hands clasped firmly in front of her, chin high, and trying to find a sense of her political self.

If Padmè was petite, then Anakin didn't even know what word to describe Sachè.

The girl was small and quite beautiful. She had an elegant face marred by a horrific scar that ran from her right temple to, what he could tell, into her left shoulder and onto the exposed hand. Most would say it took from her beauty, but Anakin thought it added to it. It marked her as brave, and strong.

He was sure cosmetics would've hidden the scar, but she chose to expose it, to let it mark her as someone to not be trifled with.

Yanè had talked to him about the occupation of Naboo, how Sachè had been taken, and tortured, how her screams had filled the camp and how, despite being twelve, she never broke.

Sachè sat at her desk, reading a pad when Padmè knocked on the door frame.

When she looked up, her face broke into a wide grin. Jumping up, without a care for decorum or anything else, she ran and flung her arms around her old friend. "Padmè!" she said, her voice filled with so much love and warmth that it made Anakin's heart twinge in the same sadness he felt in Padmè from the force.

This girl's whole world was going to shatter, and she didn't even know it. He swallowed.

Sachè turned to him, looking up and up at him and he looked down at her. She barely grazed the bottom of his chest, and she grinned up at him. "Hello!"

He held out a hand and swallowed the one she returned. "Anakin," he introduced.

"Sachè," she said in return.

There was an obvious shift in the Force. This petite girl had marked him as an equal, as someone to trust, and he was touched by that. He wanted to shield her away from the pain, the grief that would consume her, but he couldn't. Instead, he looked to Padmè.

"I'll be just outside, down the hall a bit," he said, letting her know he respected this privacy. Sachè had the right to grieve, and not perform for his sake or anyone else's.

Padmè nodded, her eyes grateful and thanking him silently as he left. He kept a close enough distance in case an unlikely threat happened, but was far enough that their words were a muffled background noise to his well-tuned ears. Standing with legs apart and hands behind his back against a wall, he kept an eye to make sure no one bothered the office, closing his eyes and waited, dread coursing through his veins.

Then, he finally heard it: It was a heartbreaking, guttural sound, an uncontrollable anguish he hoped to never hear again, but he knew he would. For Padmè, this was just the beginning of a long line of mourners.

Sachè was on her knees, clutching her arms, sobs racking through her petite frame. Padmè tried to hold her, wanted to, but Sachè was, for the first time in their friendship, untouchable.

She wept Yanè's name, as if saying it enough times could summon her spirit or make it untrue, but neither were an option. Padmè looked on, helpless and afraid for her friend. She didn't know what to do, or who to call, or what would be the right thing — the thing Sachè needed.

It was obvious what Sachè needed was Yanè, but where did they go from here? Why hadn't all her training prepared her for this?

She swallowed, touching Sachè's shoulder again, but the girl yanked it away.

"This can't be possible! It can't be!" she screamed at the floor, her fist pounding into it and then again and again, and soon she was punching the floor and Padmè tried to stop her, but couldn't. The only thing, the only person she knew could help, was a stranger to her friend, but she saw that tether. Just like with all the other handmaidens, Anakin made himself a place in Sachè's spirit, and Padmè couldn't bring herself to question it as she went to the hall.

He stood there, stance strong and powerful, slightly intimidating even with closed eyes. His face was tilted toward the ceiling, but she knew he was aware of her presence before he turned to her. She opened her mouth, but words failed her. She needed help, but didn't know where to go or what the help should entail. Anakin, however, walked in effortlessly, not even pausing at the sight.

Bending down, he picked the smaller girl up effortlessly, letting her wail and cry into his cloak. "Let's take her home," he said.

Padmè nodded dumbly, taking in the gentleness, how he was almost shielding her from onlookers.

"Is there a back way? Just so no one bothers us," he said and Padmè thought about it for a moment, remembering her days as queen, and nodded, leading the way down the hall to a portrait that opened out to a small hallway where Anakin had to crouch to fit into.

Anakin filled up the small space, but didn't complain as he held Sachè tight, whispering to her and she nodded, though her crying didn't ease, despite the wailing ending.

Padmè knew Sachè was young, but it wasn't until then that it struck her how young they really were. Padmè was nineteen, and her friend was seventeen, and yet Naboo hung on their shoulders, and she knew Sachè would've been seen as weak for her display, despite it being human, even age appropriate.

On Naboo, you became an adult at the age of fourteen, but Padmè had been playing politics longer than that. Their youngest queen had been a nine year old girl who served two terms, just as Padmè, and looking back at fourteen, it was insane to her. They'd been young and foolish, as any child should be. She hated thinking badly of her planet, even more so doubting her reign as queen, but something about adults putting their issues upon children to solve didn't sit right with her. Especially now.

Anakin whispered to her soothingly, but Padmè couldn't really hear it, and tried to let it be private between them. It made her heart soar to witness it, though: The unconditional love he'd spoken to her about. He didn't know Sachè beyond stories, and maybe it was for Yanè, a girl he knew and respected, but she didn't care about why. The fact was, Anakin was soothing her friend with no question or hesitancy made her almost fall into a metaphoric abyss.

Her heart had hovered there for a while since their meeting, as insane as that was. Padmè had never fallen in love. She wanted to, but it just never worked out. She never felt that tug, that connection, the spark; it was like she and Anakin were magnets, and no matter how hard she pulled away, the universe pulled her back, and now she felt that inevitable fall for the way he treated her friend — her family!

She walked a bit faster, as if trying to outrun this revelation. It wasn't the time, nor the place to be thinking about this.

When they finally got out onto the streets of Theed, Sachè had almost regained herself. Padmè took in a breath. "We'll take her home, stay with her a while," Padmè said and Anakin nodded, adjusted Sachè so she was more comfortable in his arms, and followed behind the tiny woman.

When they got to Sachè's place, Anakin used the force to open the door, vowing to go back to the building later and gather her things. Padmè was beyond care, though, for when the door opened, she saw the kids and swallowed. There weren't many, just five of them, ranging from as old as twelve to as young as maybe two or three, and they all crowded around the three, but Anakin cleared his throat, clearly used to younglings.

"Guys, give us some room, please!" he said, his voice somehow commanding, yet soft.

Padmè wrangled them up as questions came from all sides:

"Is she okay?!"

"What happened!?"

"Sachè, what's wrong?!"

It was a loud cacophony of noise, and Anakin walked straight to Sachè's room and Padmè held up her hands, causing the kids to settle. Biting her lip, she wasn't sure what to do or say about Yanè. She knew the kids knew Yanè, but…

"It's a long story," she explained with a sigh, suddenly the exhaustion hit her like a star freighter jumping into hyperspace. She sat on the couch and put her head in her hands, resisting the urge to cry suddenly. She balled her fists, this wasn't the time, but it was so much. Too fucking much.

The youngest girl came over and crawled into Padmè's lap, looking up at her.

She had light brown skin with braids in her hair, and the dress, Padmè could tell, was of Yanè's making, and her heart ached as she cuddled the tiny girl. Soon, the children piled on the couch, all holding one another. When Anakin walked out of the room, he paused, watching them. Padmè looked at him and saw a hint of a smile, the soft eyes, and when they locked eyes she saw a potential future and for a moment, she hung suspended there: He a pilot, she a school teacher, here on Naboo, in Varykino or the village she grew up in. She'd be a mother, he a father, and there'd be love, so much love. He'd come home and scoop their daughter up, their son would look like him, the girl would be a fighter and pilot like her dad, her son would be a diplomat — and then reality set in. He was a Jedi, she was a senator, and it was forbidden.

Looking away, she snuggled her face in the eldest boy, a twi'lek, holding the girl closer in her lap, letting the imagination blow away in the wind.

She heard Anakin walk, and he picked up a younger boy with red hair and missing front teeth and sat him in his lap as he touched Padmè's arm.

"She's asleep," he said quietly.

She nodded. "We should make them dinner. Are you guys hungry? Have you eaten?" She asked, confused, coming back from the trance.

"I'll take care of it," he said, ruffling the boy's hair and squeezing her arm gently.

Padmè gave him a grateful look, her brown eyes red-rimmed and tired. He gave her a small smile before standing, tossing the boy slightly with the boy, causing him to shriek and giggle with delight, and soon, Anakin was swarmed by the children desperate for a turn.

Padmè watched, smiling, and she thought, Yes… It would've been a nice life… A nice life, indeed…