AUTHOR'S NOTE

Just a tiny bit more angst before we head to the Star Destroyer. I apologise up front for the emotional content in this short chapter, but I feel it is essential in establishing the state of their relationship later on in the story.

Chapter 9: Movent de Resonat

—PART ONE—

Padmè had no idea how long she'd been sitting there. Watching. Waiting. Staring at the cot. Praying to Shiraya and pleading for her to make Anakin understand. At some point she'd have to go back out there. Try talking to him again. Smooth things over before he left for Coruscant. She loved him. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt him. But he had to know that what he'd done was wrong.

She rose from the bed and straightened her tunic. It was starting to cling around her stomach, hugging the small bump that was just beginning to show. It wouldn't be long now before she'd need to buy new clothes again. Bigger ones. Loose enough to disguise the baby growing inside her. Maybe she could do that when she returned to the Capitol. It's not like there were any dress shops out here she could go to.

Thinking of their new baby brought a tear to her eye. She suddenly needed to hold Anakin. To squeeze him tight and remind him just how much she still loved him. Who knew how long it was going to be before they could be together again? She hurried for the door. He'd had more than enough time to calm down.

Running into the main chamber, she skidded to a stop and stared.

"He's gone, Padmè."

The sound of Obi-wan's voice startled her. He was sitting by himself in the recliner, the one by the glass doors that he seemed to have claimed for his bed. "I'm sorry. What?" she asked.

He nodded to the balcony.

Padmè looked to the cityscape. "No... please, no." She hurried to the glass doors and threw them open. The ice-cold wind cut through her tunic, yanked at her hair and chilled her to the core. Search lights shone up from the rooftops. A deep rumbling echoed from the city. And in the distance, shimmering amidst the rain and slowly lifting into the air, was a white lambda-class shuttle. She grabbed hold of the wet railing. The ship gracefully unfolded its wings and took off, ascending high into the night sky.

"He waited as long as he could, Padmè," Obi-wan said, draping his heavy robe over her shoulders. "But in the end, he had to go. They were calling him."

She choked back a sob and turned around. "He never even said goodbye, Obi-wan."

He put his arms around her and pulled her close. "He didn't wish to upset you any further." He guided her back in from the balcony. "Come on. You know he wouldn't want you standing out in the rain."

Padmè followed him back inside and slumped onto the other recliner — the one her husband usually sat in. Obi-wan returned to his seat opposite. It was starting to annoy her, how everyone else seemed to be getting along with her Sith husband except her. Even Obi-wan, his former Jedi master who'd cut off his legs and left him to burn, was able to have meaningful conversations with him without it turning into a heated argument.

Why not her? Was it because she was his wife and he believed that he owned her? Was she just a possession that he refused to let go of? Even before, when he was still a Jedi, he'd said some pretty questionable things. Things that back then had made her wonder.

A loud sigh echoed between them. Padmè glared at its source. She wanted to know, why. "How come you can talk to him all of a sudden?" she demanded.

His grey eyes drifted back from across the room to her. "It's because of our Force-bond. I know his triggers and avoid them." He stroked his beard and disappeared into thought. "I also know what was going on inside that chaotic mind of his when he left here. It ... it wasn't what you think."

Obi-wan rustled in his belt. He retrieved a shiny disc and started to turn it around in his hand. "That reminds me, Padmè. He left something for you on the dresser. He asked me to make sure that you found it."

"He left me something?" she asked, pushing forward in the seat. "Did he say what?"

"No. He was quite guarded about it. Why don't you go see for yourself?"

Padmè jumped up from the recliner and rushed back to their bedroom. She spotted something on the dresser. A small box covered with black leather and intricate stitching. She walked to the bed, sat down and lifted the hinged lid back. Her heart skipped a beat.

Inside, nestled within a cocoon of luxurious black velvet was a gauntleted wrist-com, complete with tiny obsidian and red crystal shards. It was so perfect ... and so Anakin. Fingers trembling, she gently pulled it out and turned it over. Underneath, inscribed in delicate calligraphy, was the message: For my Angel. My love. My life.

She burst into tears and shakily fastened it on her left wrist, mentally vowing never to take it off. It fit her perfectly, the softened leather cuff wrapping around her skin like a warm blanket. She tapped the screen and instantly a top-of-the-range full colour hologram of her fully suited husband appeared before her. She turned the volume up.

"Padmè. This wrist-com is the key to your ship. I named her: The Dark Angel. I have also programmed my own personal frequency into the transponder, so you know you can always contact me. It is long-range, so distance will not be an issue."

He looked around and sat down on what appeared to be some sort of bed. Was he inside her new cruiser?

"This ship. It is so beautiful ... but ... haunting at the same time. The moment I stepped foot inside I ... I started to remember things. Things I had not realized I had forgotten."

He sighed and turned his mask, so she was now looking at his profile.

"Do you remember the trip back to Naboo, when I first got my new hand after Geonosis? How we ran away from Typho and Dormè? And we hid together in a small storage closet not far from the hyperdrive. Do you remember that? It was so small. And my legs were too long, so you straddled my lap?"

He shook his masked head and chuckled.

"We laughed and kissed for so long, Padmè. I could not get enough. I remember your hands searching all over my tunic, trying to find a way to undo it."

"Then I got a little too excited, and I just knew you had felt it. The rosy blush in your cheeks. The tiny kink in your smile. The seductive promise in your eyes that always seemed to hold mine captive. They all gave you away. Just like when we wrestled that day at the meadow. After I fell off that shaak and joked around, pretending to be injured. I knew you had noticed it then, too."

"I was so nervous and embarrassed. But when your soft hands found my skin, and you started to massage my chest ... the nervousness changed. I wanted you. I had no real idea how. I had never been with anyone before. But I knew that I wanted you. And at that very moment you decided to rock back on my hips, stare into my eyes and kiss me so deep that I ... well..."

He chuckled again and shrugged his armoured shoulders.

"Well, you know what I'm like. I had made quite a mess of myself. And you wondered why I insisted on having a shower as soon as we arrived. I couldn't exactly stay like that, now could I?"

Vader sighed and stopped talking. He dropped his head lower and stared down. "I had forgotten those days, Padmè. Everything before ... it's ... it's a blur. I ... I wish ... I'm sorry I ... I..."

He growled and clenched his fists tight.

"To hell with it," he hissed in Huttese, his slave tongue flowing awkwardly through the vocoder.

The vision flickered and when he came back, his mask was off. His eyes were like blue crystals, glistening in the hologram. His every breath was shallow and laboured.

"I ... I should never have touched you like that." He turned his head away and choked. "It was ... wrong of me." He gasped for air; the pain written all over his face. When he looked back his eyes were smouldering, the molten amber-gold returning to his irises. He must have known, because he immediately squeezed them shut and clenched his jaw.

When did he record this? Was this just before he came back to her? Had he actually come to apologise and she'd cut him off, too angry to listen?

"I can't ... I just want to ... why?" He shook his head and gasped for breath again. "Why must everything ... be ... so ... damned hard?"

Padmè watched as the very last trace of colour left his face. He started to hyperventilate, his armoured chest heaving up and down. His jaw clamped again. "I miss you... so ... so much," he said through his teeth.

Then he broke. Just like all those years ago on Tatooine. He dropped his scarred, tormented face into his gloved hand and broke. A pained howl crackled through the speaker. The hologram vibrated, shuddered then jumped to the ceiling. Then all she saw was the black flash of his cloak and the recording ended.

Padmè wiped her eyes and sniffled. "Oh, Ani..." she whispered, pulling out the japoor snippet hanging on her necklace and squeezing it tight. "I miss you too."