A/N: Wow! Thank you for the wonderful reviews! I'm so excited that this fic is resonating, and I can't wait to see reactions to what's to come. I really appreciate those who take the time to leave comments, so seriously, thank you.
P.S. I like writing long chapters. :)
Chapter 2. The First Night
The greatest ashes, as half-acre tombs,
And by these hymns, all shall approve
Us canonized for Love.
- John Donne
Once upon a time, in a dry, hot junk shop dusted with sand, a little boy told a slightly older girl that he was going to marry her.
She laughed at him.
It was the very first time I met Anakin, shortly before Qui-Gon returned from his failed dealings with Watto and we made our hasty exit. Although I'd heard it at that point, I couldn't even remember the boy's name well enough to politely turn him down. He'd had to remind me of it just so I could reject him with a smile.
The Force spoke to Anakin— sometimes in whispers, sometimes like a battering ram— but always in ways unknown to me. From the start, it operated like an invisible third person in our relationship, though it only draped its arms around Ani's shoulders. While I ultimately trusted it, and in it, there were uncomfortable moments in our marriage when I felt like I was sharing my husband with a central player I could never hope to compete with. I had his heart, but it knew the oldest and most secret intimacies of his mind and soul, the backrooms he let no admittance for— not even me. When the Force showed him futures that pleased him, he believed it. And no matter how hard I tried, he chose its insight over mine when it warned him of coming dark threads of fate. It was his first friend before he knew what a friend was; his companion in life as constant as his own inner monologue. Yet as symbiotic as the relationship was, I could never tell if Anakin had more control over it or if it ruled him as much as his emotions did. That's the dogma of the Jedi, though, is it not? To let go of control, to not wrestle for dominance over the Force, but be one with it?
You pick up a few things when you're married to a Jedi.
For my part, I could only ever hope the Force was on our side; that the whispers this omnipotent spring spilled into my husband's ear steered us down the sunlit path.
Ultimately, I don't know if the particular vision of our union was more of a blessing or a curse for him, especially given its very early timing. Without question, the confidence it gave him boosted his pursuit of me years later. However, in the interim decade Anakin stayed attached to a promise that he alone carried the sweet burden of anticipating. He did think of me every day, and with this his expectations grew. He didn't allow me grace in remembering that the Force had not shown me any visions, had not proclaimed to me a fate I could trust as if I'd seen it clearly with my own eyes. In all those years, it never seemed to cross his mind that I might not be thinking of him as much as he did me.
Reality was unkind to Anakin's expectations. What resentment he could not swallow along with his disappointment was aimed squarely at me. I wish I could say he was over it by the time he knew he'd won my love— a love as deep and devoted as if I'd faithfully thought about him for a solid decade, too. But I know better. Anakin never truly forgot or forgave me the years I got to live with him on a shelf.
To him, I was a gently worn photograph he pulled out almost as often as he did his mother. Brought to life by his vivid imagination, I was an enraptured listener who he recounted his training triumphs to, and a soothing comfort on the nights he felt alone and depressed. He gave me bountiful credit for smiles and sympathies I never bestowed.
To me, he was a nice memory I picked up randomly, like an ornament that received a quick moment of cherished remembrance before being put back in the box. In the court of Anakin's standards, this was essentially a betrayal.
By the time we reunited I'd long forgotten about his marriage declaration. He hadn't. I wish I hadn't, because, truthfully, he made me two promises that day which both came true. The first was that he would marry me. The other came after I shot him down with the excuse that he was just a little boy. With a seriousness that would have humbled Master Yoda, he quietly warned me he wouldn't always be.
The feeling passed quickly, but it was the first time he ever made me nervous.
I watched her from the same distance. She was still standing, though her white robes were already tattered and scorched, her chestnut hair frayed and matted with ash. Blood trickled down the side of her face. Her mouth moved, forming the words, but no sound came out. I knew what she said all the same. "I'm so sorry."
The fire ignited and started to spread. But it moved impossibly slow, only swallowing the cruiser and the exit ramp in minuscule increments. Maybe, if I hurried fast enough, I could reach her in time. To get her out of the way. To save her.
"I've failed you, I've failed you..."
The faster I tried to move towards Cordé, the faster the fire spread. When I slowed, it slowed, but it wouldn't stop.
No!
Screams… screams of terror were shifting into screams of… celebration?
What began as an isolated collection of shouting exploded into an eruption of noise. Cheering.
Everything became very bright. To my left, a silver speeder with blue striping was surrounded by fans of all species, clamoring in adoration for the occupant inside. I looked closer and recognized the vehicle. It wasn't a speeder at all. It was Anakin Skywalker's winning podracer.
I walked to him, transported back in time, my original feelings of joy and relief at his safe return and what it all meant rushing back to me like I was experiencing them for the first time. We were going to get the hyperdrive. We were going to get off this forsaken planet. We'd be able to continue on our journey to get help. For Naboo. For home. All because of him.
Pushed forward by my happiness and gratitude, I approached the podracer. The crowd quieted and strangely parted for me, but, like you do in a dream, I didn't care about how strange that was enough to stop and question why. When the last person moved away from my path, I could finally see him. He was pulling his brown goggles off, already looking in my direction.
But where I expected to find the little boy at the tender age of nine, the Anakin of the future to come raised himself up out of the seat. He stood tall, regarding me above his worshipful crowd, before his impossibly long legs swung over the side of the speeder and he gracefully climbed down.
My mind began to grow confused, but my body was still following history's established rules of the game, and I went forward to embrace him in an emotional if platonic hug of thanks. He was staring at me with an intense gaze that made my breath catch. The crowd around us faded away until I don't think they were there anymore.
"We owe you everything, Ani..." I breathed. He smoothly stepped into my open arms. His own limbs wrapped around me, pulling me against him as we enveloped each other. I could feel the broadness of his shoulders under my hands. Following it word for word up till this point, my body finally broke with the old script and looked up at his face instead of down, at last realizing the change. I opened my mouth to speak, but he was leaning down, leaning in, eroding the distance between our lips as he came closer…
An unexpected noise roused me unevenly from my sleep. Groggy, I opened my eyes.
There was a figure in the doorway. The intruder was cased in darkness, the light from the living room behind shrouding him in a foreboding mold of black.
The assassin from the cruiser had come back to finish me off.
I sat up quickly, my mind already starting to think of ways to defend myself when my eyes took in the wide shoulders and the thin braid dangling from one side of the trespasser's head.
"Ani?" I peered at him, dazed from sleep. "Is something wrong?"
Perhaps noticing my struggle to see him, he stepped out of the shadows and better into the light coming in from the windows. The white and orange effects from Coruscant's traffic cast him in an ethereal glow and, involuntarily, I was stunned again by his handsome features.
"I was about to ask you the same thing. Were you having, ah, a dream?"
I rubbed my eyes, now growing slightly annoyed at his unexpected intrusion into my bedroom when no emergency was present. Suddenly, I remembered what I was dreaming about. My curled hand froze at my eyebrow. "What makes you say that?" I asked, wearily. When we were children, my sister Sola teased me about how I sometimes talked in my sleep.
He paused, then finally pointed in explanation to the barely perceptible box up in the corner of the room. It had been painted the same colors of the walls upon installation to blend in. "The camera."
He'd been watching me.
Security cameras were a fact of life for government officials, even in their residences, and I'd reluctantly gotten used to the invasion of my privacy during my queenship. I hardly noticed them anymore. But the more influence you usually had as a politician, the more cameras you tended to get.
Deciding it was best to change the subject as swiftly as possible, I gestured to the droid resting near the wall who I had come to see as a friend. "This is R2-D2. Before I got in bed, I instructed him to alert you if something…" my voice drifted, "happens. Don't worry, you'll know. When he gets set off about something, you'd need to be off-planet with earplugs not to hear it."
Artoo beeped indignantly at my ungraceful description.
"Artoo?" Ani turned to the droid, an energized grin spreading across his face.
"You know him?"
"Of course!" He walked over to the mechanical individual. "You don't forget the first droid you ever flew into battle with, especially not one like this one. Pleased to see you again, Artoo."
My sleep fog finally cleared enough for me to remember. Ani and Artoo had not only been good companions ten years ago when they'd met on Tatooine, they'd been an instrumental team in blowing up the Trade Federation's Droid Control Ship. But as much as the capabilities of R2-D2 continued to amaze me, I wasn't entirely sure how far back astromech droid's memories go until Artoo beeped a gleeful greeting. He remembered Ani, too.
As wonderful as all this is, I thought wryly. There's still the matter of that camera. And the other camera. And his far too interested blue eyes. And me laying here in bed in my night dress.
"That will be all, Ani." He looked up from the hand he'd affectionately placed on the top of Artoo's silver and blue dome. My strict tone seemed to have caught him off guard. It was a clear dismissal.
He gave the droid a last warm smile, and then looked me over quite differently. There was something unashamedly bold and unrepentant in the way he regarded me, and I was about to call him out for it when he said, "Sleep well, milady." He daringly kept his eyes on me as he backed up out of the room without turning, never once breaking his gaze until we were completely out of sight of each other.
I watched the corridor suspiciously, as if expecting him to reappear in it. When he didn't, I burrowed myself back under my glossy sheets. I shook off the feeling of confusion, questioning whether I'd imagined the unexpected tone of his goodbye.
I laid on my right side, and through the blinds of the window watched Coruscant's traffic move in crisscrossing streams. Most nights it was pacifying, even hypnotic. Not tonight.
My mind jumped as sleep alluded me, and the more I thought, the more I woke myself up. Whether opened or closed, the events on the landing platform replayed in front of my eyes, only now the barbarism of reality mixed with the cruelty of my nightmare. In somber hologram calls that evening, I'd made oaths to seven families for the quick capture of their loved one's murderer. These were promises I wasn't sure I'd be able to keep.
I flipped over on to my back and stared at the rounded ceiling.
{My lady, so sorry… I've failed you, Senator.}
"Why?" My voice was barely louder than a breath. "Why could you ever think that, Cordé?"
As grateful as I was for the services of the Jedi, they were no closer to finding the assassin by simply locking down my apartment. If anything, they were sure to drive the threat away— which, I did understand, was entirely the point of the Jedi's presence. But, for the first time— and to my horror— I truly pictured what the coming days would be like. Was I to walk the halls of the Senate flanked by Obi-Wan and Anakin on either side, their eyes moving like human surveillance cameras? It wasn't unheard of, but no other senator, to my knowledge, currently had Jedi in their protection escort. I would stick out like a sore thumb. It wasn't the appearance for appearance's sake that I cared about— I was the face of the opposition against the Military Creation Act, and what good would it do if someone striving to be the emblem of peace and diplomacy walked around with the highest level of security guards possible? My message of pacifism would be ironically lost if people only saw me in a protection bubble, actively defended from lethal threats. How long could this Jedi entourage last without a concurring investigation going on— days? Weeks? Months?
The fact that Master Windu and Master Yoda hadn't even listened to my theory that Count Dooku orchestrated the attack only infuriated me more. Mace Windu practically seemed condescending in his shut down of the idea. At present, a few influential senators were— or at least were pretending to be— on the fence as to how they'd vote on the MCA. Some of their intelligences I respected enough to believe they'd surmise for themselves that Dooku was behind the assassination attempt. If they saw me paired up with Jedi-level security on my way into the chamber to call for peace…
All hope or want of returning to the land of sleep evaporated.
Fueled by frustration and the need to act, I made a snap decision, rose from my bed, and marched towards the doorway. I blinked back at the bright lights of the well-lit reception room as I stepped into it.
In my haste, I forgot one very important thing.
My robe.
This only dawned on me the split-second before Ani— and Ani alone, in the living area— lifted his head to look at me. The half-smile that was already on his lips as he heard me approach froze as his eyes actually took me in.
"Pad—Sena—milady?"
He'd been sitting on the couch furthest from me, the one with the most direct view towards my bedroom doorway. Upon my arrival, he stood to his feet at attention.
I'd chosen a full-length night dress with long sleeves, specifically because they covered the bruises on my elbows. However, I never actually thought I'd be standing sans a robe in front of anyone besides Dormé. Ani had already seen me. It would feel comically embarrassing to go back and retrieve a robe now.
Besides, it was only Ani. Right?
If I'd ventured out to find Ani and Obi-Wan, Typho, etc. gathered in the living room, I would've promptly excused myself to go put on another layer. However, unaware yet of who exactly I was dealing with, I decided to allow my current state under the poor misconception that Ani was still too young and innocent to warrant me fretting about it.
It was one of many laughable errors in judgment I made in those early days. Despite all the evidence before me, I naively, willfully mistook Anakin Skywalker for still being a child. Little did I realize the deep-set eyes watching me belonged to very much a man, one who'd dreamed of me with decreasing innocence throughout his puberty.
Not only that, but it was a stupid move that inadvertently set me up for sending him mixed messages with my clothing from the beginning— even when it was a truly honest blunder.
Despite my decision to stay, I can say I was self-conscious enough to restart my walk and move behind the closest couch, promptly hiding at least half of me. Standing opposite him, I placed my hands primly on the back of the taunt yellow fabric, my chin as high and my expression as regal as if I were wearing a dress from my days as queen. Although I indeed felt partially ridiculous, I nevertheless looked back at him evenly, practically daring him to make a comment. Ani had a nervous energy to him at my abrupt appearance, but said nothing.
Under the full light of the living room, I could see his grown figure more accurately. He was even more athletically built than I'd guessed earlier when he'd been draped in his Jedi cloak. I'd thought the heavy garment had added on several inches to his frame, making him seem deceptively taller and broader than he actually was, but it most certainly had not. Unhindered from the weight of his robe, the edges of his synthetic leather tabbard shot out over the tops of his shoulders, further enhancing their width. Most of the Jedi I'd seen typically wore beige attire. Anakin cut a dramatic figure in dark brown and black.
"Where is Master Kenobi?"
A long arm swung in indication of the exit. "Inspecting the building. He's only just left— it'll probably be a while before he's back. It's a big building." He made a sudden gesture as if to move towards the elevator, even taking a quick half-step in its direction. "Do you need me to get him for you?"
Corralling Obi-Wan into my endeavor would surely only prevent it. This one-on-one with my ally was much better. "No, no, Ani. I want to speak to you about something. Just you."
"Alright." I got the impression he was fighting to keep his eyes locked on my face and not… downwards.
My dress wasn't sheer, but it was loose and low on my shoulders, exposing the breadth of my collar bone. His respectful efforts failed for a moment, and his eyes dipped below my throat. I reflexively crossed my arms over my chest, one hand sneaking up to hold the divided strips of my dress together at the neckline.
Holding such a pose was unnatural with the formal tone and air I was trying to compensate with. "I agree with what you said to Master Kenobi earlier about the need for investigation as well as protection."
"You agree with me?" For some reason, this made his face light up.
"Yes. I said I want to find out who's trying to kill me. I meant it. I was glad to see you and I are on the same page, but—"
"—He's taking the assignment too literally! Under his scope we're no more than glorified doormen."
I rose an eyebrow, but offered a kind smile, even as I guided, "But your argument lacked gentility. I don't think your master approved."
At my words, he grinned, totally unconcerned. "Nah, Master Obi-Wan is used to me by now. Trust me, it's not the first time I've offered an… alternative viewpoint to one of his ideas." His swagger softened, and an ounce of maturity seeped into his adolescence. "I am sorry if it made you feel uncomfortable, though."
Were I conversing with any other Padawan I would have smiled politely and said 'Not at all'. But despite his height and the many years since I'd last looked out for the little boy from Tatooine, I still felt a part-motherly, part-big-sisterly tug towards Ani. While I didn't want to intrude on any boundaries, the quality of this particular apprentice-master relationship mattered to me. "It just seemed… impassioned." I almost said 'hostile'.
"Well," his eyes bore into mine. "It's your safety we're talking about. You mean a great deal more to me than the run-of-the-mill politician we might get assigned to." Without warning, his demeanor shifted from adamant to sour, as if I'd somehow offended him. "That's a surprise to you."
Despite the fondness for each other we'd shared in our childhood, I was a little taken aback that he would be so forthcoming in his first sentiment. Then the hurt in his subsequent tone caught me even more off-guard. In between which quiet breaths had I insulted him? "No, no. That's sweet, Ani," I offered back, albeit weakly.
I couldn't read his expression as he continued to regard my own with a sculptor's scrutinizing eye. Whatever he saw there didn't seem to satisfy him. He shuffled his weight on his feet, seeming to mull something over in his head before finally muttering, "Ten years is a long time."
Did I imagine the trace of accusation in his voice?
"Yes, it is."
"Longer for some than for others."
When I didn't have an answer to that, the young man let out a visible sigh. Ani was proctor and grader, and I got the innate feeling I'd failed a test.
Only semi-conscious of the move, I pulled my forearms tighter around my front. Somewhere the conversation had veered wildly off track. Unless we're talking about Ani's years at his master's side? "I'm sorry to hear you and Obi-Wan bump heads so often."
Ani shrugged and began to stroll slowly towards an expansive window on my side of the room— which effectively removed the couch as our makeshift decency barrier. But his vision was aimed at the nighttime skyline before him.
Anakin had a unique way of walking, as if his very shoulders sliced into the air to make room for his stride. The ability only magnified as he got older, but even as a teenager his presence filled a room.
He came to a stop on my left just before the curve of the glass, and I watched his profile as he spoke. "Don't worry. It's not that often. But he wins more than I do— if anything, because he plays the 'Master' card. Just for that, I should've known better than to challenge him with polite company around." His shoulders stayed square with the view, but his face turned to look at me intently. "I'm not sorry for speaking up for your sake." He relaxed again, and the amused, youthful smile came back. "But you'd think I would've learned the best way to suggest an idea to Obi-Wan after ten years by his side."
This brief monologue, I'd come to learn, was a microcosm example of who the mercurial, grown-up Anakin was. One moment cavalier, the next somberly reflective, the next reaching a level of intensity that froze you in your shoes, and then just as your breath was catching in your throat, he was back to winning you over with his smile. He was a human pendulum swing.
I smiled cooperatively at his slight self-deprecation. Ani was the boy wonder turned champion, who'd navigated a podracer to victory despite the odds against his species and age. "All those quick Jedi reflexes, and yet you're a slow learner?"
He replied first with an even bigger rendition of that exuberant grin, then, "The Force had to balance me out somehow, I guess."
I caught myself smiling back at him, our eyes locked, in a silence that was comfortable— until an awareness crept in at how long it was lasting. I cleared my throat and straightened myself. Back to business. "Well. I have an idea on how we can do this."
He waved a hand for me to continue as he moved back to the other couch, though he remained standing. "I'm all ears, milady."
"The best way to lure the assassin in is to make them believe they have a window of opportunity."
He nodded. "A trap."
"Precisely."
I watched his face as different scenarios weighed their pros and cons in his mind. "Alright, so we go somewhere and entice them in. Another landing platform would be suicide, it's far too exposed— maybe the Senate hall?" Even as he said it, he seemed less than pleased on the idea. Before I could interject that putting anyone else in danger was out of the question, he continued, "I don't like the idea of risking more lives than we have to. Especially members of the public."
"No, not tomorrow. Tonight. Here." The fingers holding together the cloth at my neckline released, and the fists of both hands tapped emphatically on the back of the couch as I spoke. I was too caught up in planning my last stand to care about the state of my nightgown. "Typho has this place lit up like a shopping galleria. My room and Dormé's are the only ones dark. Lower all the lights on this floor, especially out here. Make it look like we don't suspect an another attempt will come tonight." I looked around at the otherwise empty living room and put two and two together. "Typho's guards should stay downstairs. We must let whoever is doing this think they have an opening."
Ani's arms crossed over his chest. He rolled on to the toes of his boots, as if physically struggling to hold back words. He'd found a flaw in the plan.
"What is it?"
"I wouldn't forgive myself if something happened to you, and I don't like the idea of just waiting around for you to be in mortal danger." I was surprised at the stark vulnerability in his eyes. It went beyond what one would expect in a Jedi protector, even one I had a history with. "It's like dangling you over a Sarlacc pit and hoping for the best. Maybe this assassin's only style is big explosions, like with the cruiser. Or, maybe he can adapt and be more stealthy— do something we won't see coming. Maybe it's not even one guy. Or a guy."
"I think if whoever's behind this wanted to blast me out of the sky with a laser cannon aimed at my apartment we wouldn't be having this discussion." I refused to let his misplaced over-protectiveness cloud the situation. "Don't worry, we have Artoo. I trust that droid in there with my life. He will alert you if anything happens."
"Look, I'm as big a fan of R2-D2 as anyone," he offered, putting his hands up with widely spaced fingers in a plaintive expression of defense. "But he's an astromech. They're not designed for security surveillance, not on this level. We're talking about leaving you exposed with the goal of drawing a killer in. We can't be leaving things to chance, Padmé— not when it comes to you. You mean too much—" his cheek quivered on a corner of his lips as he paused for the briefest moment, "to Naboo. To the Senate."
It was an oddly dramatic finish, but as I listened to him a connection fell into place. The brash stranger who'd antagonistically pushed backed against Obi-Wan this afternoon was unknown to me. In contrast, the resistance now was plainly intermixed with benign caring. This wasn't boundary-pushing self-glorification, this was heart. A sudden memory came to me— an insistent boy at his mother's kitchen table, working to convince her of his sincerity and see his point of view. Far more so than any other moment since he'd arrived, I recognized my thoughtful young friend from Mos Espa.
I smiled, finally feeling like I was reuniting with little Ani for the first time.
My tone was playful. "Do you think I would've kept Artoo by my side all these years without making any upgrades to him? He can do a lot more than the basic tricks, like, helping you fly into battle, or fixing a shield generator in the middle of a space fight."
Ani heard the humor in my voice and returned it with a grin in kind. "Hey now, careful, he might hear you." After a beat, he nodded, but the gravity returned to his eyes. "I'll amend what I said— not designed for security on the level I'd feel comfortable with. You're still waiting on the hook on the other end of this proverbial fishing line."
"Well then, I guess I better hope you learned how to fish on Tatooine." I gestured in the direction of the elevator. "Did you have any plans on your social calendar to be elsewhere tonight?"
It was almost too easy to make him smile, even when he was trying to be serious with me. "No. I'm all booked up here. Tatooine isn't renowned for its fishing prospects." His eyes glinted in the light. "But I'm up to speed on learning that one."
I grinned at him again. "Excellent." I lightly beat the back of the couch once more, as if the matter had been settled and my small hands were gravels. "You and Obi-Wan will safeguard me from out here and give the assassin enough space to make their play."
"And then we catch him."
"And then you catch him."
It was an odd thing— to feel an abrupt rush of relief at convincing your own security to give your would-be murderer a better window of opportunity for the kill.
Ani hedged, but he was still smiling. He eyed me with warning. "If I get nagged on for this, I'm telling Obi-Wan it was your idea." There was more than a hint of real trepidation in his voice, and I knew he would hold true to his threat.
I chuckled, as nonchalant about the idea of a disapproving Jedi Master as Ani had been when I brought up his own reprimanding. "Trust me— if he wants to scold me, he'll be waiting in line behind Captain Typho." We grinned at each other again, and after a moment I looked down at the metallic cylinder resting at his hip. I shook my head in amazed disbelief. "You have a lightsaber."
It was obvious, of course— both that he had one, and why he would. Surely, he'd been using one for years. Nevertheless, that matronly instinct returned, and it wanted to rush to caution a nine year old child with handling such a dangerous weapon. I had to remind my irrational impulse that Ani was not a kid who'd snuck off with Qui-Gon or Obi-Wan's laser sword. Yet, I couldn't stop the words from coming out of my mouth, as if I were cautioning a little boy holding a sharp knife. "Be careful with that."
He took my borderline patronizing well. "I will do my best. I, ah, I hope you don't ever have to see me wield it in person."
His conviction fell flat. There was a clear indication of dissatisfaction in his eyes and in the way he'd spoken. I got the sense that Ani was proud of his saber skills, and regretted that I would not get to witness them in action.
But I'd seen enough action for one day. Enough threat. Enough death.
As the true purpose behind his weapon sunk in, the idea of this innocent apprentice, my recently-reunited young friend, putting himself between me and a lethal attacker— lightsaber or no— seized my heart enough to make me momentarily question the entire plan. I don't like anyone in danger on my behalf to begin with, but just as he'd declared I was no ordinary senator to him, Ani was no random Padawan to me. The odds were slim, but these were Jedi— I could hope that if anything happened tonight, it could somehow be resolved without anyone's saber igniting. Couldn't I?
{Perhaps with merely your presence, the mystery surrounding this threat will be revealed.}
I'd meant the words as a smooth-over to dispel the tension in this very room. Now, I silently repeated a version of them as a prayer.
I moved to the panel on the wall that controlled the lights and adjusted the dimness to a much lower setting. The residual soft auxiliary glow came from wall décor, which no one looking in with enhanced vision scopes would question. I knew Jedi had heightened senses, but I didn't dare risk leaving Ani and Obi-Wan without enough light to move around the space.
"There. Suitable?" Keeping my hand on the control dial just in case, I turned over my shoulder to look at him.
He was standing where he'd been for most of our conversation— in front of the couch that faced the balcony, positioned with the bench behind him and the glass table near his legs.
Mere moments ago, I was warning him about his own weapon as if he were a child ineligible for brandishing it. Yet when I looked at him now, as he stood silently there in the dark, he couldn't have looked less like a youngling. Shadows emerged with the lost light, enunciating the lines of his mature features. He'd had a round face as a child, with cheeks that were practically chubby with leftover baby fat. Now the jawline was pronounced, and the tightened skin overall only magnified the prominence of his eyes.
Eyes which were watching me closely.
The magnetism and supernatural connection between Anakin and I— which would become a familiar, comforting, enlivening pull in my life as tangible as Baskar steel— was frighteningly new to my consciousness at this stage. What I only grasped on this night was that something about seeing Anakin look at me with such singular focus, even when I was doing something as simple as lowering the light around us… it made the air change in a way I didn't understand. I became sharply aware of the feminine delicateness of my nightgown, of the way my half-pinned up hair spread curled streams down my collarbone and back. Even the naked bareness of my feet on the carpet fibers felt intimate. I swallowed, unsure why I was suddenly nervous.
"That dress is quite b-becoming on you."
The words fell out of his mouth clunky, as if their origin world was dry and unpracticed.
Without waiting any longer for an answer to my question, and unwilling to muster up a reply to his compliment, I spun on my heel and began making my way towards my bedroom.
"Goodnight, Ani," I forced out, my eyes following the path before me. I walked with more speed than necessity required, escaping from him just as much as I was escaping the sudden thickness of the air.
As soon as I was back inside my room I snatched on a thick robe. Then I grabbed lightweight but dense-enough scarves and other pieces of fabric. Being the wardrobe heiress I was, I had plenty to work with. The ceilings of my bedroom were very high, but rounded, and luckily the two wide-angle lens cameras were only slightly above the midpoint up the ceiling. I dragged a nearby chair across the floor, and although it took some inventive maneuvering with a few reckless hops, both cameras were covered in record time. Satisfied, I climbed down, put the chair back, and took one last inspection of my handiwork.
In a way I could not explain if I tried, I suddenly felt bereft.
This hadn't been part of our plan at all, and it more than escalated the risks. I held my breath, waiting to see if Ani would come around the corner to protest. Certainly, I'd hear his boots on the carpet first. My ears strained for the most minute of sound.
Nothing.
The unexpected feeling of bereavement hadn't abated.
There was a moment's pause wherein I considered taking the camera coverings down. Considered dropping my robe. And, in a split-second suggestion that came from an inner voice I had no knowledge of possessing… dropping my night dress.
The outlandish, salacious thought absolutely stunned me, and I rushed myself towards my bed. I threw the robe to the side with gusto, as if shooing the absurd notion away itself.
I'd just finished drifting back to sleep when the sound of a lightsaber screaming to life flew my eyes open. As if that hadn't been more than enough to rouse me, I was jolted by the weight of another lunging on to my mattress, and I shot up straight with a gasp. Blue eyes, their hue magnified dramatically by the color of the saber, stared down at me with such intensity that I immediately froze. I was trying to register what the hell was going on, why Ani was kneeling over me on my bed— panting hard, his eyes wildly checking over my body without constraint— when the sound of shattered glass forced my attention away. A figure in beige had been standing in the background of my vision, but now there was just empty space— shards of glass left in the wake. Stunned, I realized Obi-Wan Kenobi had just jumped out my bedroom window.
The trap worked! But where—?
"Stay here!" Ani barked at me, ridiculously. As if I was debating following his master through the jagged glass hole in my nightgown.
He was off at a run. My eyes followed him as he sped out of the room, my body unconsciously leaning after him. It was only after Dormé interrupted my view of him that I realized she'd rushed into the room and was now sitting in front of me with concerned eyes. Now it was her turn to frantically examine me, though this inspection was kept solely to my face. What she saw there, I do not know.
"Are you alright, milady?"
I nodded, quick to ask, "Is anyone hurt?" The assassin had already proven they were willing to mow down innocents to get to me. My lungs were paralyzed at the terrifying possibility that others had been unintentionally caught in the crossfire again. This trap had been my idea.
Dormé must've seen the fear in my eyes, as she assured me with a swift reply and a hand over mine, "No, no it doesn't look that way. I've been awake in my room and this is the first disturbance I've heard all night."
I wouldn't be satisfied till a full comms check was run through, but Dormé's answer was a start. I made myself intake of a deep breath— and immediately wished I had not. The air smelled foul. A burnt odor was filling my nose. I peered at the floor, past Dormé. Then I looked up at the other shape I could make out in the dark. "Turn on the light, Captain." His hands were already at the dial, and within a moment the room was flooded with bright light. I blinked, trying my best to focus and adjust my eyes, until I cringed at the four pieces of millipedes in a heap on my bedroom carpet. A small but clearly visible slimy residue— bug guts—was sprayed waist-height on the wall. Dormé let out a short, grossed squeal.
"Kouhuns," Typho breathed, a wealth of horror laced in his one word.
Ani had been right. The assassin shifted to more subtle tactics. The burning eyes which scanned my body with so much attention suddenly made startlingly sense. By the proximity of the lightsaber when I awoke and the stricken look on my rescuer's face, it seems the danger had come exceptionally close.
Anakin had just saved my life.
"Careful," I warned the others in my room. "Artoo can collect them safely. I don't want anyone else handling them."
The woman next to me gave a look like I didn't need to tell her twice.
"What in the Sith spawn is this?!"
Uh-oh. Captain Typho had just discovered my draped-over security cameras.
I flung a hand in pleading dismissal, not going there. "Don't ask."
My admonishing captain refused to let Dormé or me leave the bed until the Kouhuns had been removed and the broken glass was completely recovered from the floor. I think he would've made us stay put until the slime was off the walls as well, but I spoke up then at his overreaction. In my obviously unbiased opinion, he was taking his attitude about my covering of the cameras a little too far.
Later, after telling Dormé for the hundredth time that I was alright, I sent her back to her bed. We had no idea how long or short the time would be before we found out if the Jedi were successful in their pursuit. I didn't even know if the apprentice had caught up with his master— unfortunately for Obi-Wan, the senior Jedi looked like he'd had a good head start on wherever he was going, and the hanger bay where the speeders were kept— surely where Anakin was headed— wasn't on my floor. Unable to guess the soonest we'd have news, and needing private time to collect my thoughts, I hastened my friend back to her rest. On the heels of a second attack and the Jedi who knows where, Captain Typho had the entire security team on even higher alert. Three armed pod droids flew in continuous circles outside around my two floors. No one was getting into my apartment uninvited, no matter how many legs sought to scurry them in.
My bedroom was going to be unusable till morning at the earliest. Wanting to be useful, Jar Jar had been able to handle making an emergency appointment for an air droid team to come fix the window. But it seemed that while the droids themselves were available to fly, the replacement glass was not as readily in stock. The sound-proof reflector that wrapped around the Senatorial building on 500 Republica— home to many an esteemed politician— was not to be underestimated. Its cool shimmer beguiled the heavy protection built into it from all manners of violations. The assassin's droid must've had a very powerful laser to cut the glass. Whoever planned this assassination thought it through.
Anger rose up within me. For all their scheming, if that murderer had accidentally sent the venomous Kouhuns to Dormé's window— or if she and I had switched rooms, an idea that had actually been floated briefly by Dormé herself before being deemed unnecessary by the Jedi— this may have been a very different night.
I'd almost lost two handmaidens just hours apart after losing none to violence in ten years. Not only this, but I didn't even know what trouble Obi-Wan and Ani had run into. I understood they were capable, but the last I'd seen of Master Kenobi he was flying out a window several hundreds of stories up— without a jet pack.
I didn't even care that I had almost been killed. Again. I was only furious that others were in danger on my behalf. Knowing how much Captain Typho would hate it but doing it anyways, I headed to my most favorite spot in my home. I imagined he was swearing through the security camera lens as I traveled down the stairs to the open veranda off my bedroom, but I was too provoked to care. And, truth be told, an irrational part of me wanted to be exposed. I sensed in my body the charge and readiness for a fight that I hadn't felt since storming to retake my own palace during the invasion. I wanted to draw in the attacker once and for all to finally to face them myself. If I should not be victorious— which, yes, was likely— at least the threat against those around me would finally end.
I walked to the beige couch on my right and, sitting in it, curled my legs up underneath me. Not exactly a battle-ready position, but it would have to do. There was a blanket nearby; I wrapped it around myself loosely. There had been plenty of practical reasons why choosing this apartment to be my residence made sense at the time, but this veranda, and this view, were the emotional reasons as to why I'd ultimately said yes. It very quickly became my literal comfort zone. How ironic, or perfect, that if a sniper's blaster bolt should be strong enough to break through the invisible protective shield cascading up and down the open expanse near the ledge, I would die in a spot I'd always found peace in. One should be so lucky as to meet death in a place they feel at home.
But tonight, the adrenaline of yet another assassination attempt brought back fresh memories of the first.
{I failed you, Senator…}
From my quiet perch, I replayed those moments on the landing dock more times than was healthy. If Cordé had only been a few steps farther away from the ramp, would the injuries still have been fatal? I'd been rushed off the platform so quickly— if we'd stayed, might we have been able to render lifesaving aid to any of the others? And what made Cordé, my steadfast, loyal Cordé, think she had failed me?
My thoughts drifted to the Military Creation Act. If whoever was behind this— Count Dooku, Nute Gunray, disgruntled spice miners— thought they could intimidate me, they were dead wrong. The attacks were having the opposite effect. I felt more committed than ever.
I lost track of time staring out over the city. I didn't hear Ani come down the stairs and approach, which was either a testament to how lost in thought I was or to his natural Jedi sleuth skills.
"Are you alright?"
I jumped in my seat. I looked up to find blue eyes staring down at me under the lines of a furrowed brow. I couldn't help but note the fervid way he'd asked, or the concentrated way he was studying my face.
"I'm more worried about the paint on my wall." I raised a rueful eyebrow. "That residue looked acidic."
He lifted a shoulder. "It probably was."
I scanned him from blond spikes down to dusted boots, concern replacing wry humor. I didn't see anything physically wrong with him, but asked all the same, "Are you alright?"
Ani exhaled deeply but nodded. "Yes."
He stood there awkwardly now, seemingly unsure of what to do next. Eventually, he decided to take his own seat on my couch. There were two extended, plush lounges on the veranda mirroring each other, but Ani nestled himself down not too far away from my tucked knees.
Despite his answer, as he walked to and adjusted himself on the sofa, I could see he was favoring his left side. It was barely perceptible, but I was sure I even saw him wince while lowering himself into a sit.
I sat up straighter, leaning towards him slightly. "You're hurt?"
He waved me off with a small smile. "It's nothing. I had a tiny fall and, um, my feet caught up with me after I'd already hit the ground." My eyes widened and I opened my mouth, but he repeated, "It's nothing." With a cocky grin, he finished, as if proud, "Trust me, I've fallen from much higher."
Surrendering to his reassurance— or teenage bravado— I leaned back against the couch once more. I figured he would have reported something already if there was very good news, or very bad, but I was still too riled up for patience.
"Did you catch who did it?"
All casualness disappeared from his face, and he bit down on his bottom lip. "Yes and no. The assassination droid outside your window was shot down— while Master Obi-Wan was still holding on to it, actually. We managed to catch up with the shooter, and were just about to get the name of a bounty hunter out of her," one of his hands clenched up into a tight fist, "when the bounty hunter himself terminated her from a distance before we could." He looked at me, apologetic. "He got a good look at us before he went, too. If the person behind all this didn't know before that you have two Jedi protecting you, they know now. We just lost the element of surprise."
There was a lot in what he just said that I wanted to go back to, but first I questioned, "Obi-Wan is unharmed?"
He nodded. "I think one of his fingers got a little cut up in the initial jump through the glass, but he'll be fine. Nothing a bacta bandage can't remedy within a day." Amazing. For a man to leap out a window from the top of a building and only come away with a scratched finger… Ani grimaced, but then obviously failed to hide a small smile. "Yeah, he, ah, he probably got it the worst when I flew us near some power couplings."
His last comment aside, this was all a relief. The only thing worse than the assailant not being captured was one of my heroic protectors being maimed or killed in the process. "Where is he now?"
"At the Temple. He's trying to find out what we can from the droid operator's body and the toxic dart that killed her. I wanted to get back to you."
Ani proceeded to give me a more detailed rundown of everything that happened after the Jedi left— through their various methods— my bedroom. He answered my questions as best he could, and shushed me when I reacted with incredulity to his reckless jump and fall through Coruscant's traffic lanes. In the end though, as I sat there impressed by the overall report, he only seemed disappointed in himself.
"You set a perfect net… I'm sorry we couldn't follow through." His voice had an emotional edge to it, and his jaw clenched. "I'm sorry it came so close."
He was looking down into his lap, fidgeting with his fingers there. I tilted my head down and out, silently trying to encourage him to meet my gaze. When he did, I said, sincerely, "Thank you for saving my life."
A soft smile surfaced, yet his eyes spoke of his seriousness. "You don't need to thank me for that, Padmé." Blue orbs scanned my face. He was close enough for me to notice the small mole to the left of his lower lip for the first time. A minor dimple line attractively divided the middle of his chin. Unexpectedly, he put his hands down to scoot himself even closer on the bench. His left thigh and my knees were a few centimeters away from making contact.
I brought the blanket a little tighter around my shoulders.
"Well, thank you all the same." With an acknowledging shrug, mimicking his words to Obi-Wan, I teased, "It sounds like this wasn't a job for local security after all." Instinctively, given his increasing proximity and focus, I worried if it was unwise for me to voice more appreciation. But it needed to be said after all he'd done tonight. "I'm glad you were here."
"There's no place I'd rather be."
My skin grew warm as he continued to blatantly stare at me like a man who either did not know the social permissions or held no regard for them. In the resulting silence, I realized he was near enough for me to hear his soft breathing. This made me register that I had more or less stopped the function on my end.
His nearest hand twitched, as if he was resisting the urge to lift it. Instead of graciously removing myself from the situation, I darted my eyes off to the skyline, pointedly ignoring his intensity. I could just make out one of the air security droids finishing another rotation around the building, the hum of its engine barely reaching my ears. The uncomfortable actress, I exaggerated my abrupt interest in the city beyond the veranda, far to the left of Ani's invading eyes. This whole exchange, both his stare and my obvious passive avoidance of it, quickly turned the atmosphere awkward.
We were such novice initiates to the game, him and I.
After yet an another painfully graceless moment sat between us, Ani's gaze shifted to the view, too. As his face turned away, I felt my respiratory system kick in again. "I'm not comfortable with you being out here so exposed, Padmé." I must've looked tired, because when he looked back at me he added, "And you need some sleep."
I could've said the same about him. In an instant, he suddenly looked exhausted. There was a weariness to Ani that seeped into his lean frame, weighing his spine down into a distinct curve. I did not yet know about the numerous sleepless nights he'd already endured, plagued by nightmares of his mother. And I certainly didn't know about the emotional riptides happening within him ever since he'd learned we were to reunite, nor what my presence and continued danger were doing to him. Much more than I realized in this moment, it had been a very long day for both of us.
As for his point about me, though, I couldn't argue. An hour had already gone by since I'd been jarred awake (by him, for the second time tonight). Tomorrow would be another long day. I'd need to reach out to my counterparts in the Senate and arrange meetings— hopefully another with the chancellor to get the MCA vote scheduled immediately while momentum was, under regrettable circumstances, in my favor. This was the final stretch of a year of work— likely the most important of my life. The breakdown of a twenty-five thousand year old republic was on the line. Stopping it on six hours sleep sounded better than trying to stop it on three.
An inner wall slipped, and I uncharacteristically admitted, "I feel like I haven't had a good night's sleep in years."
Ani and I were both looking out over the city skyline. He let out a sigh like the weight of the galaxy was on his shoulders, then replied, "I can relate to the feeling." A tan hand came up and massaged the back of his neck. Then his face turned and blue eyes met mine. "How's your neck?"
I blinked at him, dumbfounded. "My neck?"
"It was bothering you earlier."
"I didn't tell you that." I hadn't told anyone about that— only Dormé's keen eye, polished under years of training, had noticed the way I'd compensated for it under my headdress this afternoon. I hadn't even told Captain Typho of my small injury from the explosion.
"Well," Ani shrugged, "I could tell."
Inaccurately, I credited it to an unanticipated Jedi ability.
"It's better, thank you. I think I'm ready to sleep now."
"Are you going to bunk with Dormé?"
"No," I replied, shaking my head. "I don't want to risk waking her up. She won't let herself go back to sleep until she's made sure a dozen more times that I'm okay. It's the couch for me."
His eyes held no room for negotiation. "Not here."
I would've much preferred to fall asleep to the sounds of the melodic fountain nearby and the light breeze, but I understood. I was lucky he and whoever was sweating on the other side of the security cameras let me sit out here as long as they had. I'd fallen asleep on the yellow couches in the reception room after reading committee reports and drafted bills more times than I could count. They were reliable and comfortable and would do their job again tonight.
This time, well aware of the fact that I had my 'becoming" night dress on underneath it, I kept my blanket-now-shawl wrapped around me as I rose and made for the stairs. Ani followed quietly behind. I led us out of the veranda and up to my dark bedroom, where the wind whirled loudly through the sizable hole in the glass. Our route wasn't finished, but I paused my step as I stared at the bed I'd almost died in. Ani came around and stopped at my side. I could tell in my peripheral vision that he was examining me, but he momentarily fell into the background of my awareness.
Twice. I'd barely escaped dying in horrific ways twice today. I made my peace with death years ago, and I'd never been dissuaded by it nor second-guessed my service. I knew I was fighting for the right cause. But staring at my almost deathbed, for the first time since the attacks began, I felt the cold, mortal fear of being prey.
Just because I'd made my peace with death did not mean I wanted to die.
I'd just spent an evening making consolation calls to seven families. Who would be the one to call mine? Typho? Queen Jamillia?
I tore my focus from the bed to the spots on the floor where the halved Kouhons landed. With a brush of paint, the wall might be spared from the corrosive residue. But there were faint stains on the carpet fibers below— a permanent reminder of what would have been had Ani arrived a second later.
I looked up at him. Ani was staring at the same mark on the floor where my eyes just left. The ivory light coming through the blinds cast horizontal lines across his torso and face. His expression was hard, almost frightening in the dark, but his features softened as his gaze trailed up to meet mine.
There's a unique intimacy that forms between two people when one of them has saved the life of the other, and we looked at each other for a long moment as the weight of it sunk in. A silent yet poignant communication passed between us.
Would Anakin and I have bonded so quickly and deeply over the coming days if he had not saved my life in the first eight hours of our reunion? I can only offer that it didn't hurt the odds.
This wasn't the first time someone had rescued me from possible death. I still remember the name of every person who ever stood by my side and fired a blaster (or swung a lightsaber, though that list was much shorter) in my defense. I'd been a target since I was a child-queen, but I never forgot the face of any soul who used their skills to keep me safe. Across ten years of activism, this roster had gotten long. But maybe because it happened in the sacredness of my own bedroom, maybe because the Kouhuns had gotten so close, maybe because we'd schemed together and tempted fate to bring the whole thing about— maybe because of the way Anakin's intense stare affected me… this just felt different. More intimate.
After several heartbeats, Anakin pointedly glanced down at the lightsaber attached to his hip, then back up to me, and a corner of his lips tugged up. "You did tell me to be careful with it."
I smiled, shaking my head. After resuming our walk, I led us out into the very room I'd given him that matronly warning in just hours ago.
In the busy aftermath of the night's event, all the lights had been turned back on. Now there were two guards stationed far on the opposite wall on the path towards the elevator, and they gave us a respectful nod when we came into view. For the second time tonight, I walked to the light panel. This time I turned everything but the auxiliary lights all the way off. The guards still lingered on in their light in the entry hallway, but they stood back to back in their respective stances, their attentions focused away from us in profile.
It was dark in the living room, but not so much that the faint illumination from the sleepless city beyond the giant windows couldn't lead the rest of my way. I sank down into the same couch I'd sat receiving the Jedi on earlier, the same one I'd used as a decency barrier. I was getting a lot of use out of it today. A loud sigh escaped me, followed by a long yawn. The couch was very curved in its design and not exactly ideal for sleeping, but I made do by laying down on my side in an extended "C" shape. As I did, I grabbed one of the blue decorative pillows and bunched it up to support my head. I spread the blanket around me more comfortably, entirely ready for sleep to claim me. To my surprise, Ani removed his boots and plopped down on the couch opposite me, his drawn-out legs stretching down the extent of it to the point where his feet hung off the edge. He placed his folded arms underneath his head, leisurely making himself at home.
{Our presence here will be invisible my lady, I can assure you.}
Apparently not.
"You're going to sleep here, too?" I'll admit, my voice didn't exactly sound welcoming.
He peered over at me, but otherwise didn't move. "Um, I think we're low on options. The security staff bunks are too far away from you for my comfort after what just happened."
I had to admit, he had a point. With the culprit still out there, Obi-Wan at the Temple, and Anakin having barely made it in time with his saber when he was fully awake and just outside my room, this was the safest, most logical call. Even Jedi needed to sleep. But I'd never slept in the same room as a man before. The guards at present were doing their duty far out of my sight, and were reasonably out of earshot as long as Ani and I didn't talk loudly. It was easy to forget they were even there.
We certainly weren't on beds, or even on the same couch, but even falling asleep in the same room as Anakin on two separate pieces of furniture was enough to unsettle me.
Accepting my silence as the allowance it was, he nodded once and closed his eyes. I, however, looked on at him from my viewpoint on the other side of the space. It was the first chance I'd had to study him privately. When I met him as a child, he was always garbed in beige— a byproduct of the sandy planet he'd come from, no doubt. Yet again, I couldn't help but notice the contrasting effect his dark brown and black attire had in enhancing his presence. His eyes were still closed, so my survey of the distinct outline his facial profile continued in more detail. The bottom lip, more full than the top. Neat sideburns which came to a stop mid-ear. There was the steady way his chest swelled and fell with each complete breath. The masculine prominence of his Adam's apple. The absolute length of him. I, as a petite girl of fourteen who'd always been small for her age, once had to crouch down to my knees to hug him after his podrace victory. Now I'd have to stretch up on my tippy-toes to do the same.
The comparison came to me with a start, as I recalled that I now had the visuals of a recent dream to back that theory up.
Even as my gaze lingered on him, the events of the night replayed on repeat in my head. With each rerun I paused longer and longer on select moments— Anakin moments. How he'd looked at me in the dim reception room when I'd first turned down the lights, the expression on his face as he'd stared down at me on the mattress, the anxiety in his voice when he'd returned without his master to ask if I was alright. Did he treat all wards under his protection with so much concern?
He didn't stir as R2-D2 rolled into the room and stopped near the foot of my couch. If it is possible for a droid without a face to still give an apologetic look, this astromech achieved it. Driving the point home, he quietly trilled a remorseful series of sad, baby-like coos.
I put my index finger to my lips and shook my head at him, confused. The Jedi came in and killed the Kouhuns. I was alive. Whatever happened in that bedroom, Artoo had obviously done his job beautifully.
A sudden idea popped into my head. I peeked another look at Ani even as I debated whether or not to follow through.
My morbid curiosity eventually won out, and I gathered myself up into a sitting position as silently as I could. Then I rose and walked to an armchair in the corner of the long room, directing Artoo to follow me. The droid came dutifully, seemingly aware enough of the hour and my quiet movements to not make any unnecessary noises of his own.
After I'd positioned myself in the chair, I gestured for Artoo to come even closer. Once he complied, I took a deep breath and whispered, "Show me what you have of the Kouhouns and the aftermath."
Artoo immediately made a series of protesting beeps, and I hurried to shush and soothe him. "It's fine!" My voice was an urgent whisper. "I just want to see whatever footage you have."
My loyal astromech grumbled out another compliant, but his projector lens flared to life with a blue stream of light. The image of my bedroom from his vantage point— diagonal from the bed— came into view.
I looked closer at the still image of my room. This can't be right. Anakin was already in the frame, his saber clearly activated. "Artoo, is this the beginning?"
I quickly learned that Artoo had no footage of the Kouhouns infiltrating the bedroom, which was mostly to be expected. But I was surprised to discover that the droid didn't even seem to truly come out of night mode until Anakin was already running towards my bed.
I wasn't exactly sure what I'd been expecting, but I'd assumed the Jedi had rushed into the room after R2-D2 alerted them to danger. However, if there had been anything to warrant such a signal, it would've been recorded by the droid.
My eyes lifted from the holographic image to the blue and chrome sentient machine. His baleful wail over by the couch suddenly made sense.
I placed a loving hand on the top of his dome, not unlike how Ani had earlier. Artoo picked up on my new understanding, and he let out a quiet, guilty coo.
I smiled warmly at him. All was already forgiven. "It's alright, Artoo. You're still my irreplaceable hero." My voice was barely above the volume of a breath. "Now, let's see this video. Wait—" I stole another look at the long form on the couch. It was too dark to know for sure, but I thought his eyes were still closed. "Play it at the lowest volume," I cautioned, cognizant that at some point soon a lightsaber was going to ignite in this recording.
The footage began a second before Anakin's long leap on to my bed. He'd cleared the wide bench at the foot of it with ease. I could barely make out the Kouhouns a split-second before they were cleaved in two by Anakin's lightsaber, but I saw the remnants as they flew out of frame, and I'm sure if the playback was louder I would've heard them making contact with the wall. As it was, even with the volume so low, I could hear the hum of Anakin's sword as it swooped over me in two quick successions. The smooth blade came so close that anyone watching who didn't know what happened would've thought I'd been struck, and reflexively I brought a hand to my forehead— as if needing to assure an irrational part of my brain that I indeed hadn't been scarred.
I watched as I sat up in shock and took in the face I could now only see the back of the head of. Artoo had kept his camera on me and Anakin, so all I saw of Obi-Wan was his lower half before he suddenly ran out of frame. A second later the much tempered sound of the window erupting came from Artoo's speaker. The droid kept his focus on Anakin, though, all the way up to the moment when the Padawan ran out of the room after ordering me to stay put.
"That's enough, Artoo," I whispered, and the blue media paused. I stilled as I took in the residual picture Artoo happened to freeze the video on. It was an image of me. I was sitting up in bed, looking out in the direction Anakin had rushed off in.
My curiosity had been satisfied. But after a slight hesitation, I said in my lowest whisper yet, "Play it again."
It was astounding to watch his lightsaber swing, as gracefully and decisively as if it had all been a carefully choreographed dance with fate.
I will confess to watching the gallant rescue three more times before finally thanking Artoo and returning to the couch.
I slipped back into my original position in my makeshift bed as noiselessly as I could. When I peered over at the figure opposite me, there was an eeriness to his stillness. It seemed forced.
I quietly ventured, "Ani?"
His eyes opened too quickly for him to have been asleep. After meeting my gaze, he turned on his side to look at me fully. "Hmm?"
"Artoo didn't come out of night mode until after you'd entered my bedroom. How did you know the Kouhons were there?"
Ani paused, as if in thought about how he wanted to give his reply, and then cracked a dazzlingly smile. He tapped the side of his forehead with mischievous air. "Jedi," he answered theatrically, as if that one word said enough. Truthfully, it likely did, so much so that I suddenly felt moronic for asking.
He winked at me. "Let's not hold this against Artoo. We heroes of Naboo have reputations to maintain."
My lip spread into a wide grin even as I said, "My lips are sealed."
Watching me, Ani's face shifted, morphing into that piercing stare I was starting to become accustomed to— accustomed in the sense of recognizing that he did it often, not that I was at all becoming used to handling it. His voice was low, almost strained. "You don't know how much I've missed that smile."
The air changed again, and I felt myself tense with the uncertainty of how to handle it. For the umpteenth time since he'd walked back into my life, I found myself struggling with finding the right thing to say. I wasn't used to speechlessness, and there was no escaping to my bedroom this time.
Almost cowardly, I shut my eyes, but I could still sense his on me. Uneasy, I turned over and faced the inside of the couch. It was far less comfy this way because of the curve of the bench, but I hoped that if I stayed here long enough, both Ani and I would be asleep by the time my body shifted itself back over.
Several minutes went by. The electric quality of the atmosphere didn't change, regardless of my switched position. I could practically feel Anakin's eyes travel from the crown of my head, across the fanned-out curls of my hair, down my spine, and up and around the curve of my hips. The blanket I'd brought from the veranda was supple but not thick— draped over my body, it would've left little of my outline to the imagination. I had to fight to keep my breathing measured and quiet.
The fact that my attention was focused on this in light of yet another, near fatal assassination attempt underscored the power of being in Anakin's company. My heart was beating harder now that it had after Obi-Wan aerially escorted himself out of the building.
After some time with my back to him in the dark, it was easier to force the pretending that the person on the couch behind me was a barely four-foot tall little boy, with a bright blond bowl of hair around his head and no post-pubescent traits of sideburns or Adam's apples or defined jawlines in him at all.
Into the stillness, to that nine year old ghost, I whispered, "Good night, Ani."
There was a long moment, and then a very awake, very low, and very non-child voice replied, "Good night, Padmé."
It took longer than it should have, but I eventually fell asleep.
In the morning I told myself I had imagined the electrifying quality of the air, the accelerated heartbeat, and the bold eyes that burned tattoos into my back.
Belated A/N: The switches from Padmé using "Ani" and "Anakin" are intentional. Not that this should be taken too literally, but, in general, she's struggling between seeing him as a child and a young man, and the names are a reflection of that. This early on he's almost always Ani, but he's Anakin at breakthrough moments when she's truly seeing him as a contemporary. As their relationship evolves and she sees him less and less as a kid, he'll almost exclusively become Anakin. That being said, "omniscient, future voice Padmé" almost always refers to him as Anakin, because she knows full well that he isn't a child. I think post AOTC-era, Ani made a comeback as an endearing nickname as Miss Compartmentalization no longer felt a need to make a distinction.
I hope you all are enjoying the slow burn as much as I'm enjoying writing it. Thanks for reading!
