Many thanks to the reviewers! Next update will be on Monday... Happy Weekend!

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Part IV

Padmé was waiting for Anakin when he reached the bunker. Her trunks were already packed and placed on the loading dock, awaiting the airbus that would take them to travel as refugees back to her homeworld.


"Ani?" she asked, sensing his hesitation towards her. "Are you all right?"


"I'm fine," he replied curtly, ducking his head so she would be unable to read his expression. "Just... eager to get out of Coruscant. I feel a thousand eyes watching me, expecting me to buckle."


"Hold on, Ani," she whispered, leaning her shoulder to his. "Just hold on a few more hours and we can be free to live our lives..."


He took a breath and tried to figure out how to break the news that soon after their wedding he would have to return to the hell where they'd barely escaped with their lives. He decided not to tell her just yet, it would only make her even more irrate. "I feel like we're about to commit something deadly, like treason."


"Anakin," she said, her voice level. "We are."


"Oh," he replied, spotting the bright lights of the airbus swooping down upon them. "Well maybe..."


He didn't have a chance to finish, as the bus had come to a halt and they both lifted their luggage aboard. As they walked, Anakin heard a familiar beep behind him, along with an irritated mechanical voice.


"Where are you going now, you stupid droid?" C3P0 snapped, walking up the bus steps. "You have no sense of direction."


The R2 unit blew a cold stream of insults back at C3P0, to which C3P0 just sighed. "Mindless little droid," he said, almost sadly.


Anakin and Padmé exchanged a smile. He suddenly felt a whole lot better about traveling with the two argumentative droids, even as they served as protection for Padmé. He was still silent about his wedding gift, in which he was bestowing C3P0 to her and her family, knowing the droid would be useful around the house.


Now that the doors had closed and the bus lifted into the sky, Anakin could feel all his worries slip away.



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Padmé was watching Anakin as the airbus came to a halt. Taking a deep breath, she lifted her single trunk and pulled it behind her, the wheels squealing tightly in protest to her forceable yank. Anakin walked silently beside her, avoiding her eyes as though he were planning something robust. "What is it?"


"I was just thinking about my Mother," he replied softly. "She would have adored you. I just wish you would have had a chance to meet her before I..."


"I know," Padmé replied, tucking her hand into his elbow. "I would have loved to meet her. She must have been an extraordinary woman, raising you as a son."


Anakin turned to her, the beginnings of a smile on his lips. "I wasn't that bad you know. I spent most of my time with Watto in the shop, building my pod racers, things that you wouldn't begin to understand."


"Like what?" she asked as they saw the lines waiting to board the refugee airbus back to Naboo.


"Sand painting," Anakin said softly. "It was one of my Mother's favorite passtimes. She adored taking handfulls of sand and painting it into a single color, and then taking many colors, making a pattern and melting them into the heat of a fire. I didn't have time to take any with me before Qui-Gon took me from home. I completely forgot to see if she did it while she was with Kreeg on the moisture farm."


Padmé listened to him talk, a pang in her heart at the wistfulness he completely ignored in his voice. "Sand painting does not sound that odd to me," she replied, turning her face to him as he helped her board the bus. They found their seats quickly. "At least your Mother wasn't heavily involved in making sure her two children were heavily involved in daily activities to stay out of trouble."


"My Mother was afraid of me getting myself killed," Anakin said. "She kept telling me that podracing was too dangerous, that I wasn't serious enough about being safe and that I was always taking risks... well... if she could see me now, do you think she'd be proud?"


"She loved you," Padmé whispered, reaching across the table to touch his face. He moved into her touch before pulling away. "She tried to tell you, didn't she?"


"Her last words," Anakin admitted in a low voice. "It didn't matter to me that she'd been trapped, barely alive and could barely tell me she loved me. I know she did. All that mattered to me were that the bastards who put her there would die, because they had taken the one thing from me I had always counted on the most." He paused. "Until you."


"You miss her," Padmé observed.


"I will for a long time," Anakin replied. "When you lose someone you love, it takes years, if ever, for the pain to go away. What was it that Master Windu always told me? A Jedi should not know fear, or hatred, or love? What about sadness? The deep despair you feel when you lose someone so close to you, you can't breathe and all that's left is hate?"


Padmé looked away. "I can't answer that," she replied, biting her lip as she turned back to him.


"What about your Mother?" Anakin asked, trying to delve off the depressing subject into clearer waters. "What would she think of me?"


"Her daughter, a former Queen and current Senator, marrying a Jedi Padawan? Oh, she'll just love it!" she replied with a hearty grin. "Just you wait."


"When will you tell her?" he asked.


"As soon as I get home."


"How do you think she'll take the news?"


"I think we'll be counting on these two droids to witness our ceremony."


Anakin paused a moment, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "I was thinking about our ceremony... what type do you want? Flowers? Sand paintings? Birds?"


"I want to get married at the place where we first kissed," Padmé replied, a faint blush tinting her cheeks. "I want to remember that spot forever, because it was where I first realized how deeply, truly I still loved you."


He seemed lost a moment before leaning across, touching her lips with his. "It's almost time, look!" he said, pointing out the window, into the starry expanse. "We'll be there soon."


"I can hardly wait," she whispered.


"Neither can I," he replied, trying to ease the butterflies rumbling in his stomach. "Neither can I."