George Lucas pretty much owns everything in the Star Wars universe. My use is in no way meant to challenge his copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned (or any other) copyright. Any similarity to any events or persons, either real or fictional, is unintended.
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Author's Note: Amazing – the inspiration continues. This is a reworking of the scenes where Anakin and Padme leave Naboo, and then when they talk after Anakin whacks the Tuscan Raiders. Feel free to fire away with comments/criticisms. Oh, and just in case you're tempted to comment about Padme being OOC, let me say this: I don't have her any more OOC than The Formerly Revered Mr. Lucas did. (I mean, really, has anyone tried to put themselves in Padme's shoes and wonder just what in the hell she saw in Anakin? It's that very matter which I address herein…) I guess this is a sorta sequel to my recent ficlet, Soul Mates?.
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No, Seriously… We're Soul Mates?
by Nevermore
Padme walked cautiously onto the balcony, wondering why she felt drawn so strongly to the young Padawan that served as her bodyguard. She wanted to talk, but found him meditating. Boy's definitely got issues, she reminded herself. It seemed only right that she should give him as much time as possible to work through his problems.
"No, don't go," he muttered, just as she was turning to leave.
"I don't want to disturb you," she replied, looking him over, noting for perhaps the first time that when he actually kept his mouth shut, he wasn't entirely unattractive.
"Your presence is soothing," he assured her. She wondered how to answer, but found herself speaking before she'd even decided on the right words.
"You had a nightmare again last night," she said, letting him know that she was well aware of the inner demons his Jedi training seemed incapable of helping him exorcise.
"Jedi don't have nightmares," he returned evenly, his tone brooking no argument on the matter.
"I heard you," she responded. Either you had a nightmare, or there was some really funky stuff going on in your room last night, she thought silently, immediately trying to focus on the moment rather than her own inner mirth.
"I saw my mother," Anakin told her. "I saw her as clearly as I see you know. She's suffering, Padme. She's in pain… they're killing her." He rose to his feet, his eyes becoming clearer as he began to focus more on his surroundings and less on his own private thoughts and emotions. Padme's heart ached as she heard him speak. She was dubious about his claims that he could sense his mother's pain, but he was a Jedi, after all. She didn't even to pretend to know what members of their Order could or couldn't do. For a brief moment she thought of her own family, and couldn't imagine how she would react if she were in his position. To know a loved one is in pain, and to be able to do nothing about it, she pondered. It must be terrible for him.
"I know I'm disobeying my mandate to protect you, Senator," Anakin continued. "I know I'll be punished and possibly thrown out of the Jedi Order, but I must go. I have to help her. I'm sorry, Padme . . . I don't have a choice." He looked deeply into her eyes, his expression full of pain. Padme was relieved that he seemed completely unaware of the fact that she wanted to smack him.
Yes, you don't have a choice, she agreed silently. You took an oath, but obviously that doesn't matter one bit to you, she fumed. You think I was happy to flee Naboo when my people were invaded by the Trade Federation? You think I enjoyed the constant whispers in the back of my head – the doubts, the fears? You think I enjoyed wondering whether my family was dead or alive? Of course not, but I had a duty, just as you do now. It's called responsibility, Anakin. You do what you need to, not what you want to. Just like I would have preferred to stay at Coruscant rather than run to the farthest reaches of the galaxy. But Palpatine and the Jedi were right – I can't afford to play fast and loose with my life. I have a responsibility to stay alive, so here I am – whether I like it or not. How hard is that to understand?
How did I ever get stuck with this kid? she wondered, once again trying to find the logic in having an undisciplined Padawan assigned as her guard. And now what the hell am I supposed to do? I came out here with this brat because I was assured he would do his job, that I would be safe. Now he's gonna run off and leave me behind to get snuffed by an assassin? She looked at her bodyguard, trying to decide the merit of arguing against his decision. She could see he'd firmly made up his mind.
"Annie, I told you I wouldn't let you give up your future for me," she said to him. "I'll go with you. That way you can continue to protect me, and you won't be disobeying your mandate." She saw the look in his eyes – he was overwhelmed with joy. . . and desire. Once more, she wanted to smack him. I can understand your pain, Annie, she admitted to herself, but don't think my decision to go with you means I want to shag or anything. If you wanted to impress me, you should have displayed inner torment at having to stay to protect me, despite your certainty that your mother would be made to suffer as a result. You should have made it clear that no matter the cost, you would have done your duty. Hell, if you'd said that, I probably would have been the one to suggest leaving. You would have gotten your way and actually scored major points with me by exhibiting a mature, honorable side of your personality that has thus far been nonexistent. Too bad you're a tool. At least this way I get to stay with my bodyguard. That seems like a good idea right now, given the fact that there've already been multiple attempts on my life.
"What about Master Obi-wan?" Anakin asked. Oh, only now you think of him? Padme wondered. Am I supposed to say I'll take care of that problem for you? Jeez, Anakin, you decide you're going to leave come hell or high water, and after I agree to go with you you're suddenly concerned about how you can avoid getting grounded? Might have been a good idea to consider this five minutes ago…
"I guess we won't tell him, will we?" Padme suggested, stating the obvious. She could only imagine how the Jedi had managed to exist for so long, especially when a sniveling weasel like Anakin was their 'Chosen One.'
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Padme carried the food into the garage, hoping against hope that Anakin would be in a more talkative mood than he'd been since returning with his mother's corpse. "I brought you something," she said softly, trying to exude compassion with her voice. It was something she knew she was good at – she was a politician, after all. "Are you hungry?"
"The shifter broke," he said, gesturing to the speeder he was working on. "Life seems so much simpler when you're fixing things. I'm good at fixing things . . . always was. But I couldn't…" He stopped his work suddenly, fighting a losing battle against the grief that caused tears to well up in his eyes. "Why did she have to die? Why couldn't I save her? I know I could have!"
"Sometimes there are things no one can fix," Padme replied, stating the obvious. She could only wonder at how sheltered Anakin had been as a Padawan. No nineteen-year-old should be so completely irrational. Especially one who's the object of prophecy, like this one is always claiming to be. Am I completely out of line expecting at least a modicum of maturity here? "You're not all powerful, Annie."
"I should be!" he growled. At that moment, despite all of her previous thoughts and feelings, Padme saw something wonderful in Anakin. All of her professional experiences melted away in her mind. She no longer cared about her own desires and goals. She forgot about a lifetime of the highest quality of education and the utmost devotion to public service. All that mattered to her was Anakin. She completely disregarded the fact that she was a twenty-eight year old senator who had already given a lifetime's worth of commitment to her people. She forgot that up until that point she had seen nothing in Anakin that would lead her to believe he was anything other than an immature, self-involved teen. Defying all reason and explanation, she found herself enraptured with her sophomoric bodyguard. "I will be the most powerful Jedi ever!" he boasted. "I promise you, I will even learn to stop people from dying." Of course you will, Padme swooned. Oh, Annie, you're soooooooooo cool.
"Anakin…" she muttered, trying to find something endearing to say.
"It's all Obi-wan's fault," Anakin declared. "He's jealous! He knows I'm already more powerful than he is. He's holding me back!" Damn right he is, Padme agreed silently. He's a right bastard, he is. Just because he's a Jedi Master, and you're only a Padawan, he thinks he's so great. But he's not, really. You're the man, Annie.
Suddenly, Anakin hurled his wrench across the garage, and for the briefest of moments Padme felt her rapturous interest in her bodyguard melt away. She once again wondered when he would grow up, when he would… But just as quickly as her clarity had come, it vanished, again leaving her in a cloud of irrational, amorous bliss.
"Annie, what's wrong?"
"I . . . I killed them," he answered. "I killed them all. They're dead, every single one of them." Padme tried to answer, she tried to tell him that she was sure that whoever 'they' were, she was sure they deserved it. After all, she knew it wasn't like Jedi to go around murdering those that didn't have it coming. Before she could get her assuring words out, though, he continued. "Not just the men, but the women and the children, too. They're like animals, and I slaughtered them like animals. I hate them!" And well you should, she thought gleefully. I know I've devoted myself to the ideal of peace, that I've endangered not only my life but the lives of all those near me in standing up for the pacifist ideals that now seem endangered by the specter of interstellar civil war, but hot damn! I just love this little mass murderer! Boy will my sister be jealous when she finds out I'm boinking a genocidal war criminal. Gee, I don't know why I was so against genocide not too long ago. I mean, I even risked my life defending the Gungans – the Gungans!!! – in the name of what I wholeheartedly believed was right. But hearing Anakin talk about the slaughter of innocents just gets me so hot. And look at his face – he's so cute that even the murder of every man, woman and child in a village, based only on the crimes of a few of those present, seems completely reasonable to me.
Anakin finally broke down, sobbing, and Padme could only wonder why he was so upset. Like any self-respecting person would be aghast at what you just said, she thought. Look at me – I'm a Republic Senator, and I'm perfectly fine with what you just told me. Don't get so worked up.
"Why do I hate them?" Anakin asked her. "I didn't . . . I couldn't . . . I couldn't control myself. I . . . I don't want to hate them. But I just can't forgive them."
"To be angry is to be human," she explained to him, hoping she could get him to understand that what he'd done was completely acceptable. In fact, as I think about it, I might have to reevaluate my relationship with Jar-Jar. Maybe I could have my bodyguard . . . ummm . . . talk to that irritating Gungan.
"To control your anger is to be a Jedi," he retorted, disappointing her with a pathetic attempt to introduce logic to the conversation.
"Shhh, you're human," she reminded him.
"No, I'm a Jedi," he insisted, making Padme wonder if being a human and being a Jedi were mutually exclusive states of existence. She couldn't remember ever hearing such a thing, but she was certain that if Anakin said it, it had to be true. Just look at those brooding eyes, she thought happily. No one who has the emotionally tortured rebel routine down so well could ever possibly be wrong. "I know better than this," Anakin told her. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
"You're like everyone else," Padme assured him, trying to find the mental Rolodex in which she kept a list of all the other angry, disaffected teen sociopaths she knew and loved. Strangely, she found it more difficult than she'd expected to think of anyone else that had ever done what Anakin did. Not that it bothered her, though. She was still certain there was nothing disturbingly abnormal about his behavior or his apparent emotional instability. It'll all work out fine in the end, she knew. It's no big deal. It's not like Anakin's gonna be the end of the Republic or anything.
Fin