Chapter Eight
I wake the following morning feeling solemn and subdued. My heart is a leaden weight in my chest. My sullen mood only plummets further when I realize I'm alone. I'm not surprised, because I had suspected that Anakin would be plagued with nightmares once sleep finally claimed him, but I'm saddened to know his night had not been restful, nonetheless. Neither had mine. It had been next to impossible to purge the graphic mental images Anakin's grim account had provoked. I'm sure the actual memories of those macabre events had to be much, much worse for someone who had lived through it.
In the bright light of day, I remain conflicted over the truths I've learned. On the one hand, I am genuinely sickened and horrified by Anakin's actions. That he could so coldly and efficiently slaughter children, hunt them like animals when they had trusted him to protect them, chills me to my marrow. I am repelled by that man entirely.
But on the other hand, I know that Anakin despises himself for his actions that night. After years of pushing the gravity of the atrocities he'd committed to the back of his consciousness and even justifying his actions, he was now beleaguered with having to relive that terrible night, not only in his nightmares but in his waking hours as well. Those long-repressed feelings have now risen to the surface, and it's become impossible for him to push them down again. Sometimes, I'm not even sure if he wants to.
I'm sure that some part of Anakin feels that it is a well-deserved penance. He's convinced that he's undeserving of happiness or forgiveness because he's somehow escaped punishment for his numerous crimes. And for that, Anakin chooses to punish himself. Rather than leave what he's done behind, he continues to carry the burden with him as a constant reminder of who he had been. It is the very definition of self-flagellation. I can't help but pity that man. I want to soothe his pain.
The problem is that they are the same man. The monster who murdered small children without compunction or compassion is also the same man that I love to distraction, the one I want to father my children. So, what exactly does that say about me? It's no wonder Anakin finds it so staggering that I could love him. For anyone else, I'm sure such a thing would be inconceivable given all that he's done. And yet, when I look at him, I don't see a callous monster. I see the man who sobbed in my arms like a child over the myriads of sins that he can never take back.
Anakin does have a point, though I'm loath to admit it. I have no idea how therapy can possibly assist him in coping. He has so many unresolved issues. The time traveling aspect only complicates matters further. How is a therapist supposed to help Anakin makes sense of his self-hatred and guilt over events that have technically never happened? And now that Anakin has altered the past so irrevocably, those events never will. That timeline doesn't exist at all any longer, but the remembrance of those years is forever imprinted upon Anakin.
What I don't understand is why. I can't make sense of it. How could this nebulous Force that he reveres so deeply grant him this incredible second chance and then, simultaneously, torture him with the life he left behind? Why offer him such a gift at all if he was only to suffer the consequences anyway?
I'm kept from brooding over it further and cursing the Force in general when my commlink suddenly chimes with an incoming transmission. Though it's not too early in the morning for conversation, I still can't imagine who could be reaching out to me at this hour. But when I do discover my unknown caller, I can't accept the transmission fast enough.
When I answer, Bail Organa's shimmering blue image materializes into view. "Good morning, my friend!" he greets jovially, "I trust you've been resting well during your much deserved vacation."
I squint at him in confusion. "Vacation? Bail, what are you talking about? I resigned a week ago," I remind him, wondering briefly if he's taken leave of his senses, "Surely you remember that."
"Oh, had I given you the mistaken impression that I intended to accept your resignation, Padmé?" he laughs lightly, "My sincerest apologies for the misunderstanding."
"Unfortunately, it doesn't work that way," I chuckle.
"You have too much value to simply be cast aside without protest," he argues.
"You're not casting me aside. I'm stepping aside. That's the difference."
"Still a waste," he insists, "And quite unnecessary."
"I doubt Mas Amedda shares your views. He has been smearing me across the Holonet every chance he gets."
It's been quite an endeavor holding Anakin back from gutting the Chagrian like a fish as retaliation for his slander. Though I'm not overjoyed that Anakin's first, and most enduring, instinct is to cut down his opposition without mercy, I'm heartened that he recognizes that doing so is no longer a viable solution and never has been. He is willing to check those darker impulses now. What is more, he wants to check them now.
"Mas Amedda is on his way out," Bail tells me now, "Along with the rest of those corrupt senators who were deep in Palpatine's pocket. You have no idea how extensive this conspiracy truly is, Padmé."
"I have some idea," I murmur wryly.
"Oh yes, that's right," he says, "You were aware of Chancellor Palpatine's duplicity from the start."
"I wouldn't say 'from the start,'" I clarify with some guilty unease, "But, it's true. I did know. But I couldn't say anything to you, Bail. I would have placed Anakin in jeopardy if I had, and the entire Jedi Order. I needed to maintain discretion."
"I understand. But now the danger has passed, and it is time for us to get back to the business of diplomacy. We need someone principled to help set new and stricter regulations for maintaining a Senate seat."
"And you believe that is me?" I scoff, "The Galaxy thinks I'm little more than a Jedi sycophant and harlot. That's hardly a ringing endorsement on my behalf."
"That is only here on Coruscant," he tells me, "And that narrative is mostly maintained by those who hate you. I think the Galaxy can see that we're making a true effort to change things."
"But is it too late?" I wonder.
"I don't believe that and neither do you," Bail declares knowingly, "There is much work to do. I know that, but we can make the Republic what it should have been all along."
"That is your concern now, my friend," I remind him, "My priorities have changed."
"So, you're saying that you have no interest in the new initiatives I am proposing?"
Before I can stop myself, I take the bait. "What initiatives?"
Thankfully, he doesn't let me twist for very long (though his smug smile is more than enough), and generously explains his plans for the Galaxy without much prodding from me. "Although, Palpatine was less than transparent in his actions, he had a point about needing a formalized military," Bail says, "I have decided that we will preserve the GAR, but it will be based on voluntary enlistment from now on and not conscription."
"Will only the clones be expected to enlist?" I ask.
"No. I want to open that opportunity to all citizens of the Galaxy," Bail says, "And for their service, they will be paid will a monthly stipend that will include government sponsored healthcare and free education and housing."
"That's quite a project."
"In addition to that, I want to create a special regulatory branch who will be responsible for monitoring possible threats across the galaxy and neutralizing them before they can disrupt peace."
"Isn't that the responsibility of the Jedi?" I ask.
"No. Not any longer. Master Yoda has informed me that they're objective is to keep the peace and provide relief for the suffering. The duties of this taskforce will be to enforce that peace and to root out corruption."
"How is that any different from the arrangement we have now?"
"The Jedi will not be beholden to the Senate or any political entity," Bail explains, "They will work closely with this task force which will also not be subject to political sway. I would like to ask Anakin to lead this galactic task force, which I am calling the Galactic Federation and Counter-Terrorist Agency or GFCA. Do you think he might be interested in taking on this project of mine?"
The question is superfluous. I don't think Anakin would be interested at all. I know he would be interested. He'd be ecstatic over the idea, especially because he would be able to work with the Jedi without being subject to the constraints that bound the Order. My concern isn't his enthusiasm, but whether Anakin is in a mental space where he can take on such a lofty project. As Bail goes on to explain how he would task Anakin with building, not only a homebase on Coruscant for the GFCA, but satellite offices across the galaxy and also entrust him to oversee the recruitment for those offices, I become less and less sure.
"I don't know, Bail," I hedge when he's finished speaking, "Anakin and I are focusing on each other right now. I'm not sure that either of us is up to a project of that scale."
"There's no hurry," he assures me, "We still must pass several bills before I can even begin to bring this plan into fruition. And, before that can happen, we need to focus on filling our empty Senate seats. Please don't make me add yours to the list, Padmé."
"It already has been added. Don't grasp onto false hope."
"Not officially," he argues, "Take a few weeks more with your former Jedi Knight. Talk to him and think about what I've said. I'll be in touch when I know more."
When our transmission ends, I'm overwhelmed with a confusing mix of emotions. I can't deny I'm excited by the prospective changes Bail has proposed. I would dearly love to be a part of this governmental remodeling, but at the same time, the timing is terrible. I wasn't being coy with Bail when I told him that my priorities have changed. At one time, my career had certainly taken precedence over everything else. Duty had been the fundamental principle driving my every action. Now the thing, the person that drives me is Anakin and he needs my focus now.
I'm not sure if I will mention Bail's proposal to Anakin, at least not right away. After all, it has only been two weeks since the entire galaxy turned on its axis. Anakin has barely had time to acclimate to this new normal and neither have I. The last thing either of us needs is to be dragged back into the middle of galactic conflict, especially now.
However, I also recognize that I cannot make this decision on Anakin's behalf. He is not a child, and he would deeply resent any efforts on my part to regulate his personal decisions. I know I'm going to have to talk to him about this eventually…but that doesn't have to be today.
Not wanting to dwell on it further, I roll from bed and head into the fresher to brush my teeth and shower before finally embarking on a search for Anakin. I half expect to find him out on the balcony in brooding solitude but instead I discover him having breakfast in the dining room along with the rest of my family. My steps falter in surprise as I approach the entry and catch the tail end of the discussion currently at hand.
"…love your daughter deeply, milady," Anakin is saying, "I am devoted to her."
"Be that as it may," my mother replies crisply, "Her relationship with you has sullied her reputation, possibly beyond repair. You have destroyed in just a few weeks what it took Padmé a lifetime to build. And you expect me not to resent you for it?"
"I don't have that expectation at all. Your anger is warranted. But our priorities are the same. I don't want Padmé to sacrifice her career any more than you do."
"Does she even have a career still?" Mom mutters, "To the galaxy, she's nothing more than a fallen Jedi's whore!"
"Mother, please!" Sola admonishes her sharply, "Language! There are tender ears in the vicinity."
"My apologies, Ryoo and Pooja. Your grandmama became too passionate just now. Forgive me."
I am hoping that will be the end of it, but then I hear Ryoo ask in that direct, pointed way she does with everything, "Mama, what's a 'whore?'"
Mortified, I quickly decide to announce my presence then before the conversation can deteriorate any further. I sail into the dining room, hoping to mask my embarrassment behind an overly cheerful smile. "Good morning, everyone!"
Four pairs of guilty eyes immediately skitter in my direction as I'm treated to simultaneous mumbled greetings with varied enthusiasm in return. Only Ryoo and Pooja seem genuinely excited by my arrival. They come bounding out of their chairs to give me welcoming hugs, both eager to discuss their plans for the day with me. I take my time chatting with them both before glancing up to address my mother, father, and sister. "What have I missed?"
"Absolutely nothing," my father reassures me with a tight, uncomfortable smile, "We've only just sat down for breakfast."
"Excellent."
I turn my attention to Anakin then, who has meticulously avoided meeting my eyes since the moment I came in. I wonder how much of that has to do with the painful conversation that had been unfolding moments earlier and how much of it is lingering shame over the things he'd confessed to me last night. Whatever the reasons for his discomfiture, I'm suddenly compelled with the need to dispel any doubts he might be harboring and reassure him of my continued love.
With a confidence I didn't know I even possessed until this very moment, I stride over to him, take his face in my hands, and press a sweet kiss to his mouth. I hope to express to him through my actions that my feelings for him have not changed at all. Anakin seems to get the message. Though he is startled by my unanticipated public display of affection, he kisses me back. I smile against his lips, trying not to giggle as Ryoo and Pooja fall into a round of disgusted gagging at the display.
"Good morning, my love," I whisper to him.
Anakin expels a tiny sigh of relief, nuzzling against me as he whispers back, "Good morning."
"Honestly, Padmé!" my mother huffs in exasperation, "Must you really put on such a shameless presentation?"
"It's just a kiss, Mother," I reply mildly as I slide into the empty seat next to Anakin, "It's not like I tossed him across the table and ravished him right here in the middle of everything!"
Beside me, Anakin makes a sputtering sound that is somewhere between choked laughter and a mortified groan. I'm not entirely sure what has gotten into me, but I am discovering that I like this new approach of expressing exactly what is on my mind without any concern for delicate finesse. It's extremely refreshing. Exhilarating even. No wonder Anakin is always so unapologetically blunt. He's known the secret all along.
"There's no need to be unpleasant, Padmé," Dad reprimands me in a gentle tone, "We are all still growing accustomed to your new relationship. Do be patient with us."
"Of course." I incline a remorseful nod towards him and then at my mother. "My apologies, Mother, if I came off as disrespectful just now."
"So, I am to be 'mother' now, am I?" she replies primly.
"Yes. When you blame Anakin for things that are not his fault, you are 'mother,'" I reply tartly, "He isn't responsible for my destroyed reputation. You can thank the current vice chair of the Senate for that. And, if you must know, Mas Amedda's vitriol has nothing to do with my perceived lack of virtue or decorum. He's punishing me for daring to speak out against him and label him as the spineless apple-polisher that he is!"
"All the more reason for you to retain your senate seat and continue voicing your opposition," Mom argues primly, largely ignoring Sola and Anakin's snickering laughter over my reply, "Resigning only gives him power over you!"
I'm about to volley back a retort when my father breaks his silence and interjects with a pointed glance in Anakin's direction, "I'm sure you understand now where Padmé gets her unremitting tenacity, Anakin." He spares an affectionate glance over at my mother. "She comes by it honestly. It's a trait I find simultaneously maddening and delightful."
"I can empathize with that sentiment, my lord."
Warmed by his response, though I will never admit it out loud, I pin Anakin with a playfully narrowed glare. "Traitor," I mutter under my breath, though the accusation is given more with affection than fire, "And to think I was going to treat you to a picnic today."
"A picnic?" Pooja exclaims in excitement, "I love picnics! Can I come too? I want to go on your picnic, Auntie Padmé!"
While I search for a gentle way of disappointing my young niece with the news that she won't be extended an invitation to this particular picnic after all, my sister decides to bluntly state the obvious instead. "I think your aunt means for this to be a special picnic for Anakin and her alone, my dear."
"What kind of special picnic?" Pooja wonders in wide-eyed innocence, "Is it because they're going to have special treats?"
"Oh yes, Pooja," Sola says, her lips twitching with laughter as she watches both Anakin and I squirm, "I'm certain there will be 'special treats' involved. Isn't that right, dear sister?"
Anakin immediately chokes on his tea. While I pat his back when he falls into an immediate coughing fit in between daggered glares at my sister, my father unsuccessfully masks his chuckle behind some exaggerated coughing of his own. Only my mother remains unamused.
"Sola, honestly!" my mother gasps in exasperation, "Sometimes you are really too much."
Once breakfast is concluded, I waste no time making the arrangements for me and Anakin to travel out to Varykino, my family's lakeside estate. I'm already aware that he's been there before. He told me long ago that we had been married there in his previous timeline. I don't anticipate that I will be showing him anything new with this visit. My most pressing need is to be alone with him so that we might have the freeness to talk about the previous night without the fear of watchful eyes or prying ears.
Anakin is inordinately quiet during the boat ride there, which I find surprising. I had anticipated that he would be in better spirts, at least compared to last night, but instead he seems to have grown moody, pensive, and wary since breakfast. My assumption that he's merely preoccupied with other thoughts escalates into concern when, after arriving at Varykino and embarking on our journey to the picnic site, he begins increasingly distant. The greater distance we cover, the less and less he says, until he's barely responding to me at all.
Rather than walking along in continued silence, pretending to be unaware of his wordless distress simply because I'm not ready to begin rehashing last night's discussion, I decide to swallow my own anxiety and ask him what he's thinking. He stops short at my question and surveys me with a quizzical expression, his blue eyes flinty and inscrutable. His expression appears vaguely angry, which takes me aback.
"Was the true reason you asked me on this picnic because you wanted to isolate me from your family?" he demands frankly, "Were you afraid of how I might react in front of them when you reject me?"
That is the last thing I expect him to ask. I'm so shocked that I whip to face him with a dumbfounded doubletake. "What? Reject you?" I squint at him in confusion. "Anakin, what are you talking about?"
"You're going to tell me that it's over between us, aren't you?"
I sputter in response, unable to fathom how he's come to this conclusion at all but, conversely, not entirely surprised either. After all, Anakin's most natural impulse is always to jump to the worst possible conclusion. "No," I reassure him, trying to suppress my immediate irritation with him, "That's the furthest thing from my mind."
He snorts his disbelief. "I'm sure it is."
"I don't understand where this is coming from! I thought I made my intentions plain to you this morning."
Anakin glares down at me, his arms folded in belligerent contradiction. "Is that what you were doing? I thought perhaps that entire display might have been about aggravating your mother rather than how you felt about me," he challenges, "At least, that's how it appears."
For a moment, all I can do is gape at him incredulously. I'm too stunned to react with anger. "Where are you getting all this?" I cry in frustration, "I asked you out here today because I wanted to be alone with you. That was my sole motivation."
"And I'm to believe that you still want that…even after what I told you last night? Are you sure we're not here because you don't want to lose face in front of your family?" He expels serrated sigh, his jaw tight and eyes glittering when he says, "If we're over, Padmé, then just tell me now and be done with it!"
"You must truly think very little of me if you expect that I would engage in such childish games," I balk with a deep frown of angry affront, "If that's how you feel then I can't imagine why you would want my company at all! So, I won't impose on you further! I'm sure you'll have no trouble finding your way back!"
When I start to flounce away back in the direction from which we have come, he catches hold of my arm to stop me. The instant he grabs me, I yank away from his grasp with an infuriated glower. It is just the catalyst needed to cause my aggravation with him to boil over.
"What is your problem? This was supposed to be a relaxing day, Anakin! Why are you being so paranoid?"
"You didn't answer my question."
"Did you even ask a question at all?" I scoff coldly, "All I've heard thus far are baseless accusations and you maligning my character!"
"Do you feel differently about me after last night, Padmé?" he insists, "Tell me the truth."
"What are you asking me? Was I repulsed by what you did? Yes! Of course, I was! How could I not be? You murdered children, Anakin!" I rant wildly, stunned by the sudden anger I feel, "It was reprehensible!"
I'm furious that he's doomed himself to carrying this burden for the remainder of his life and furious that I must now carry it with him as well. I'm angry with him for not making better choices, for being so foolishly myopic, for allowing his fear to consume him and make him over into something depraved. But mostly I'm angry with Palpatine, who is now dead and, by all intentions, free of the terrible consequences that he's unleashed on so many lives.
I shake my head at Anakin sadly as the full weight of everything comes settling down on me at once. "I can't understand how you could do something so unspeakable. Why? Why?"
"I don't know…" Anakin weeps gruffly, "At the time, it made sense…it seemed like the only option I had…"
Just as quickly as my fury with him had flared, it dissipates with equal swiftness, and I'm left heartbroken, weary, and confused. "What made you think that I…that she would ever condone what you had done, especially if you were doing it in her name?"
"I couldn't see anything past saving your life, Padmé," he replies with equal weariness, "And Palpatine gave me the permission I needed."
"Permission to do what?"
"To act with impunity."
I don't need him to explain further. I understand completely then. Palpatine had not censored Anakin or placed any restrictive parameters on his actions. He hadn't appealed to Anakin's sense of morality, but instead had encouraged him to discard it completely. He had given Anakin approval to lean into his fear and insecurities, to stoke that small, destructive fire that lived inside of him into a raging inferno so that it could consume everything in its path.
He had wanted Anakin to become destruction personified, had urged him to yield to those darker impulses. Essentially, Palpatine had given Anakin what he needed at that desperate time, his authorization for Anakin to commit murder and have it deemed as righteous. Once I realize that fully, I tell Anakin now that I hope that he's not expecting something similar from me.
"Of course not!" he replies vehemently, "You hold me accountable, Padmé. You don't justify my actions and you don't excuse them. I need that." His voice lowers to a trembling whisper when he adds, "I want that."
"Good," I reply with a nod of unspoken forgiveness, "Because I could never walk down that dark path with you. You should know that right now, Anakin. I won't. Not ever."
"I would never expect you to. I don't plan to travel it again myself."
"Good," I say again.
"You still haven't answered my question," he presses quietly, "Does it change how you feel about me?"
There is no hesitation when I answer him. "No. Perhaps it should, but it doesn't." When he practically shrivels with relief I ask with some exasperation, "Did you honestly think that it would?"
"How could it not? You're clearly disgusted with me. Don't deny it."
"Your actions, Ani," I clarify for him meaningfully, "Not you. Besides, it was hardly new information. I've known about your past since the beginning."
"There's a difference between knowing and knowing," he emphasizes, "And now you know. You know everything." He surveys me carefully, almost fearfully. "So, what happens between us now?"
It becomes apparent to me then what he is asking. Before last night, there had been a hazy quality to his past. I had known about the events that had shaped the man he became, but I didn't know the details, had not ever seen them through his eyes. From a distance, I could process that Anakin was guilty of heinous acts. However, they'd been merely conceptual, an abstract reality that could be referenced without true accountability. But when I stepped closer and turned them over in my hands from his perspective, studied them in their stark, unforgiving clarity, I had to acknowledge that what Anakin had done prior to coming to this time had been nothing short of horrifying.
On some level, I would always know that he was capable of truly despicable actions. He was that man. And yet, conversely, he was not. Because that man would have never wept so bitterly for the lives he had taken. And so, I recognize that he cannot be both…not at the same time. That is the reason I can love him without reserve now because I have no doubts that the man he'd once been no longer existed. He had been erased with that altered timeline.
"I love you, Anakin," I whisper, "I know who you are and that man who killed those younglings that night, who committed all those unspeakable horrors in the years that followed, is dead now. He's gone. Let him go. Lay him to rest, my love. Please…"
"I'm trying, Padmé," he tells me earnestly, opening his arms to me, "I swear it."
I go into his embrace without hesitation, my breath escaping me in a contented sigh when I feel his arms encircle me tightly. We stay that way for a long time, just holding one another firmly as if our embrace is the only thing keeping us anchored to the ground. When I'm feeling less overwhelmed, I tip back my head and offer Anakin a wry smile.
"If you've had enough emotional purging for one day, do you think you and I could finally get down to the business of picnicking now?"
"I would love that."
We choose a relatively isolated spot to set up our picnic. Except for the lumbering herd of shaaks grazing on the grasslands just beyond us, there isn't another living creature in sight. The next hour is the most relaxed either of us have been in days. While we nibble on meat and bread and fruit, we run the gambit of topic from deep, philosophical debates to frivolous, lighthearted banter. We discuss the ailing Republic and whether it can truly be saved, and what the future might hold for the Jedi Order. We also tease each other mercilessly. Anakin makes fun of the holos he's seen around the house from my gangly teenage years. I poke fun at Pooja's obvious crush on him as well as his inability to weather my sister's irreverent humor without blushing multiple shades of crimson.
"She reminds me of Owen," he says, "Are all older siblings always so obnoxious or is it just ours?"
"I'm sure it's all of them," I reply dryly, "They probably have a handbook…101 Ways to Annoy Your Younger Sibling and Still Come Out on Top."
When he laughs at my joke, a laugh so pure and uninhibited that it makes my heart flutter in response, I'm driven towards impulsivity for the second time today. I lean over and kiss him soundly on the mouth. His smile slackens a bit with the gesture, but in surprise and not disappointment. I try not to fidget as his blue eyes dart across my face in bewildered inquiry.
"That's the second time you've kissed me today," he points out inanely.
"I know."
"What does it mean?" he whispers.
"That I like kissing you," I whisper back.
The corner of his mouth tilts in a crooked smile. "What happened to needing space?"
"I believe I've had enough of that now."
He inches closer to me, his eyes dropping to my lips in a very deliberate manner. "Are you sure?"
"Without question."
"I was so hoping you might say that," he declares with a mad grin, right before tackling me to the ground and claiming my lips in a wildly enthusiastic kiss.
