Chapter Fifteen

"I wasn't expecting to see you." They are the first words I speak to him after all my parents have shuffled from the room and left us alone.

The statement is soft, monotone, belying my current inner turmoil. For nearly five days, I have been anticipating this unavoidable confrontation, but now that he is standing less than six feet away from me, I feel dazed and unprepared. Every rehearsed word I had planned for this second flitters from my mind like the delicate petals of the ryoo flower being scattered in the wind. It doesn't help that he looks so impossibly beautiful dressed in his usual dark attire, the blond waves of his hair falling around his ears in tousled disarray. It also doesn't help that I've been so starved to see his face again either. I can only hope that I don't look as unnerved as I feel.

"What are you doing here, Anakin?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Anakin counters quietly, "You left me, remember?"

His response and the current of condemnation threaded though it provokes an immediate flare of annoyance from me. I scowl at him. "How do you always do that? It's an incredible talent!"

He eyes me warily. "Do what?"

"Create untenable situations and then proceed to act like the victim when you're faced with the consequences?"

"Again…you left me," he retorts hotly, "I was reeling and, while it's true that maybe I didn't handle that in the best way, I never left the planet! You did that, Padmé! You had three weeks to get used to the idea! You couldn't spare me more than two days to adjust?"

Though the accusation smarts because I know he has a point, I refuse to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging it and take a defensive posture instead. I spear him with a narrowed glare. "So, you call ignoring me for two days and then disappearing without a word an adjustment period?"

"It's not as if I had any other options besides acceptance, right? I needed time to get there."

"There weren't any other options to consider, Anakin," I reply implacably.

To my surprise he doesn't throw out a ready retort to that at all but, instead, reacts with an unprecedented verbal retreat. As quickly as his temper ignited, it also dies out, leaving behind an expression of weary detachment in its place. "I didn't travel all this way to pick a fight with you, Padmé."

"Then why did you come?"

The look Anakin gives me indicates that he thinks that answer should be obvious to me, but I'm not taking anything for granted right now. Finally, he sighs. "We should talk, don't you think?"

"Will talking change anything between us? You made your feelings clear the last time we were together, and so did I. I haven't changed my mind. I won't. Do you think it's possible for us to find common ground after that?"

Anakin averts his eyes, his features darkened with shame and regret when he mumbles, "I owe you an apology for what happened that day. I never should have asked you to do what I did or walked away from you afterwards. You were right. It was selfish." He looks at me then, his gaze heartfelt and almost desperate. "I would have never forced you to go through with it. You know that, right? I don't know if that's what made you leave, but…" He pauses to expel a shuddering breath. "I'm sorry if I made you feel cornered."

There's a tremor in his voice as he speaks right now, almost as if he expects I will doubt him and assume the worst. I feel an odd pang in my heart when I hear it, and it saddens me to know we've even reached this point where we readily expect rejection from each other. "I know that you wouldn't have forced me," I acknowledge softly, "But I…I couldn't do what you asked, Anakin. It would have broken me completely…" He makes another shaky exhalation as if he's fighting to keep himself composed and jerks his head in a nod of understanding. "Do you feel like I'm forcing you?"

His mouth twists in an embittered smile. "Contrary to what you may believe about me, breaking you doesn't happen to be an option for me," he replies hoarsely, "So, accepting this is my only alternative. Besides, this is my own fault. I should have been more careful."

It pains me to hear the self-denigrating regret in his tone, the clear indication that he still views this pregnancy as a mistake. "Star's end, Anakin!" I utter with a mixture of sorrow and exasperation, "It doesn't have to be the catastrophe you think it will be!"

"Think about it from my perspective for a minute. Every child that I've ever had any kind of influence or authority over, except for Ahsoka and even that's not saying much, has ended up dead because of my choices," he says in a hollow tone, "I have failed every, single one of them. I didn't want to take the chance of that happening ever again. That's all. I wasn't trying to hurt you."

"I understand. I do. And I don't want you to feel that way, Anakin. I don't want you to be afraid."

"But I am. I'm terrified."

His candid admission pierces my heart, softens my anger to the point where I'm ready to put it aside completely for the sake of peace between us. Suddenly, it doesn't matter at all how we came to be in this place of hurt and miscommunication. All I really want is for us to get out of it.

"Can we please start again?" I entreat him, "I would like very much to put this behind us."

The wariness is back in his eyes once more and he appraises me almost mistrustfully. "What do you mean?"

"I know that you will be a good father. I don't believe for one second that you could hurt me or our child."

"Are you sure about that?" he challenges, "Because that's not what you said the last time we spoke."

It's only after Anakin makes that statement that I realize that his acquiescence doesn't mean we can easily surmount this latest hurdle. Though I would like to go running into his arms then, to close the distance between us, to kiss away the shame and self-loathing that darkens his countenance, I know that I can't. There is something in his guarded expression keeps me rooted in place. I'm not sure how I'm able to discern it or how I'm so certain of his feelings right then, but I can sense Anakin's rigid, desperate need to keep me at arm's length.

There is no doubt that he is full of contrition over what transpired between us. The regret radiates off him in powerful waves. But something fundamental has changed since I last saw him. I can no longer effortlessly read the love he feels for me in his eyes. In fact, I can't read beyond his remorse at all. There is a wall between us now, a wall that I strongly suspect Anakin wants to remain there.

I realize with a mournful, inward sigh that those thoughtless words I spoke in anger must have cut more deeply than I first imagined. "Is this about what I said to you that day?" I charge him, my voice thickened with regret, "Do you really think I see a murderer when I look at you?"

"Let's not pretend that you don't."

"Ani, you hurt me! I said what I did because I wanted to hurt you back! I spoke rashly but so did you! It's not fair to hold that against me!"

"I'm not," he says, "I don't hold anything against you, Padmé. And I'm not expecting an apology from you, nor do I deserve one. I only came here to reassure you that I will support you and the baby and that if you want a divorce, I won't contest it."

He's so matter of fact when he says that, so emotionless that I physically flinch. This isn't at all how I would have imagined this conversation going when I first saw him sitting there with my parents. I had assumed his arrival meant that he was finally ready to hash out the issues we have both been avoiding for nearly a week now. I had been prepared to fight with him, to passionately engage in our usual push and pull until we could finally reach an agreeable outcome for us both. Perhaps, in the end, we'd be able to reconcile with equal passion, and we could finally put these last four, horrible days behind us.

I hadn't anticipated that Anakin might wrongly assume I wanted a divorce, nor had I anticipated his calm acceptance of the prospect either. "What makes you think I want a divorce?"

"You're here right now," he argues, "You came back to Naboo for a reason, and I can only imagine that's because you're done with me. I am trying to respect what you want. Your parents mentioned that you went to Coruscant today to speak with Chancellor Organa about resuming your old senate seat. It's obvious that you're moving on with your life. I won't stand in your way."

"That's not true," I protest gruffly, "That's not what's happening. You have it all wrong. I don't want a divorce, Anakin. I came here to give you space, not because I wanted us to be apart." His expression doesn't so much as flicker with the reassurance but remains an inscrutable mask. A sinking sensation settles in the pit of my stomach because I can literally feel him pulling away from me as we speak, methodically reinforcing the protective shell that now surrounds his heart. "Do you want a divorce?"

"I want you to be happy. That's the most important thing to me. Nothing else matters."

My pulse quickens with the evasion. "That's not what I asked you."

He's so slow to respond that I don't even take another breath until he speaks again. "No. I don't want a divorce," he says, but the words sound like they are being ripped from his body "But none of this is about what I want."

"So, what do you want?" I counter softly, "Do…Do you still love me, Ani?"

That answer comes immediately, and I can't help but wilt with relief over his vehemence. "Of course, I do. Without question. I'll always love you."

"And I love you! I know we can work through this."

"There's nothing to 'work through,' Padmé," he says. There is a deadened quality to his tone that deeply alarms me, something that is deeply off-putting about his calm acceptance. "I promised you that I would fulfill my responsibility to you and the baby, and I will."

"Why are you making it sound that way?" I ask him in a careful tone, "Like you're only performing a duty and nothing more?"

"It is my duty, is it not?"

"Stop it! Don't be like this! You said you wanted to talk, but this isn't talking, Anakin!"

"I don't know what you mean."

"Yes, you do! You're being so detached and mechanical right now! That's not you! Honestly, I'd prefer fighting with you to this!"

"Fighting doesn't get us anywhere," he sighs wearily, "Fighting only leads to more pain, and I'm tired of fighting with you. I need to know how we move forward from here."

"Do you even want to move forward, Anakin?"

"I came to you, didn't I?" he replies as if that should be reasoning enough, "You decide where we go from here, Padmé. If we both agree that divorce isn't the answer, then I would like for you to come home with me. Will you do that, please?"

I don't know why the pronouncement stirs up mixed feelings, but it does. After all, isn't this exactly what I wanted? That he would come to terms with the pregnancy and embrace the idea of us becoming a family? He's asking me to go home with him now. He's saying all the right things. I should feel reassured, imbued with hope and relief for finally turning this painful corner with him, but I'm not. There is something that nags at me about his disposition. It doesn't escape my notice that, despite this stunning turnabout, he remains just as indifferent to this pregnancy as ever. He's willing to accept it now, but he still doesn't want it. That much is clear.

It's impossible to ignore how disengaged he seems. Resigned. Withdrawn. It feels wrong. I look at him and I note his subdued posture, his lusterless stare, the rigid monotone that typifies his every word and gesture, and I still can't feel relief because this isn't what I want from him. I don't want him beaten and devoid of hope. Perhaps I'm being selfish and unrealistic, but his passive acceptance isn't enough for me. I need more from him. And I don't know what to make of this personality shift, this aloof stranger that now wears my husband's face.

This is not my Anakin. My Anakin is full of fierce, unbridled passion, wild impulse, and fiery temper. He would never pass up a single opportunity to push back at me, could never blithely accept all that has happened without so much as a single dramatic protest. He would kick and protest and resist tenaciously because he would refuse to allow his fears to be invalidated.

I'm not trying to be contrary either. It's not that I want him to be resistant and I certainly don't want this to escalate into another fight. At the same time, I can't abide this neutered version of him either. I'm not familiar with this Anakin at all, this fractured, reserved, joyless automaton who claims to want his wife and family with all the intensity and fervor that one would display during their daily, morning commute. I'm not sure how I should best approach this change in him either, but I know that I cannot allow it to go unaddressed.

"Anakin, I can't help but notice that you seem very…resigned right now," I begin carefully, "It doesn't seem to me that you want to do any of this, but that you feel that you must and…I don't want that. I want you to be happy too."

"Why should that matter?"

"Of course, it matters!" I cry, "How you feel matters to me! You say that you're going to support me and take responsibility but…you haven't said anything about how you feel. Aren't you even a little excited about the baby?"

"No, Padmé. I'm not. I'm sorry. I'm not in that place yet."

"Anakin—,"

"It feels like when you were pregnant before and all I could see was you dying over and over again," he says gruffly, "Whether I was asleep or awake, I couldn't escape it. That's what this is like right now. All I know is dread and fear and the many ways that this can go wrong because it always goes wrong."

"Anakin, you are not going to hurt this baby," I say again, my tone firm with confidence, "You're not going to hurt me."

He shakes his head in emphatic denial, eyes glittering. "Stop saying things like that! Others have that luxury, Padmé, but we don't! We can't make sweeping statements of, 'You could never,' or 'You would never,' because that isn't me and never has been!" he flares, "Because I could, and I have, and I've proven that to myself and you countless times. And I refuse to lie about what I am or pretend otherwise. We wouldn't be having this conversation right now if my fears were unwarranted."

Once again, I must check the impulse to comfort him because I have no doubts that he'll reject my efforts and simply dig in his heels even more. Instead, I try once again to apologize, to appeal to his reason rather than emotion. "I never should have said that to you. I know how you feel about your actions during the Purge, and I should have never thrown that in your face," I tell him earnestly, "Please, don't internalize what I said to you. Don't take it as confirmation of your worst beliefs about yourself!"

Not surprisingly, Anakin fails to acknowledge a single word I've said, which only proves that he's done the exactly as I feared. He's taken the words that I'd said in a flash of outraged anguish as condemnation of himself, as proof that he is unworthy. It's maddening and heartbreaking especially because I know that there is very little that I can do to convince him otherwise.

I am still mourning that awful reality when he asks in a deflated tone, "Will you return with me to Tatooine or not?"

Defeated, I roll my shoulders forward with a heavy sigh. "It's getting late, and I haven't eaten yet. Could we discuss this more in the morning?"

"Of course. Take all the time you need. I can return whenever you're ready to talk about it further."

"Return?" I grimace at him. "What do you mean? Aren't you staying the night?"

"I rented a room in the city. I wouldn't want to impose on your family."

"It wouldn't be an imposition. Anakin, this is your family too. You should stay here," I urge him, "My parents will be expecting it."

"Very well. I will make the arrangements then."

Though it's ridiculous, I'm even disappointed when he doesn't put up a protest about that either. He is being so docile and accommodating that I'm beginning to find his behavior a little frustrating. His responses are so atypical of what I know of him, that I can't help but feel uneasy and wonder despondently where my husband has gone.

Dinner is a quiet and awkward affair, with my parents carrying a sizable chunk of the conversation. Anakin splits his time between nibbling sullenly at the food on his plate and responding to Pooja's endless chatter with a half-hearted smile. He seems impervious to the penetrating glares my sister continually shoots in his direction, or the questioning looks she directs at me. Unfortunately, I can't provide her with any answers because I am just as confused as she is.

Whereas only an hour before I had been at least partially certain of my future, now I don't know how to feel about anything because, while Anakin is here and finally saying all the things I've yearned to hear since this whole debacle began, none of it feels right. His misery is so palpable that it's impossible for me to feel happiness about it, or much of anything for that matter. I had been bubbling with anticipation to share the details of my new role with my family but now even that seems joyless and ungratifying now. That doesn't, however, keep my mother from pressing the subject despite my obvious attempts to avoid talking about it.

"Padmé," she says just as dessert is being served, "please stop being coy, my dear. You must tell us how your meeting with Chancellor Organa went. Have you decided to resume your senate seat after all?"

"I have not," I tell her, acutely cognizant of Anakin's subtle stiffening when I answer, "Queen Jamillia should announce the election to appoint my successor soon. However, I have decided to take on another role entirely." I continue to covertly observe Anakin's reaction in my peripheral vision as I conclude, "I will be personally overseeing a new program designed to help integrate former clone soldiers into society by providing them with jobs and education."

For the first time since our conversation in the sitting room, Anakin's aloof mask slips considerably, and I finally see a glimpse of my Anakin. He favors me with a startled, sweetly open smile. "Really? The Chancellor consented to your proposal? That's incredible!"

"Your proposal," I correct him softly, "It was your idea, remember?"

"No. I was just ranting incoherently. You're the one who came up with an actual solution to the problem. This is going to change those troopers' lives!"

"Bail is going to make me director of the entire program, but don't get too excited," I warn him, "The motion has yet to pass in the Senate. And if it does, I have a lot of work ahead of me."

"You'll do great," he says with genuine conviction, "This is a good thing. A needed thing. Congratulations! I'm glad he entrusted you to see it through, Padmé."

Unfortunately, my mother does not share a similar viewpoint. "Why would you want to oversee a program for clone soldiers?" she asks, visibly unimpressed with the news, "How is that of any benefit? The war is over. What purpose does it serve?"

Anakin is already responding to her dismissive line of questioning before I can even open my mouth. "The clones were essentially slaves to the Republic, milady. They were never given a choice about serving in the army. This is about righting an egregious wrong."

"But…but isn't that what they were bred to do?" my mother protests.

"Perhaps. But they are human," Anakin insists firmly, "We shouldn't discard them simply because we have no immediate use for them any longer. They should be afforded the same rights that we have."

My father murmurs his agreement with Anakin's declaration, noting almost proudly, "Such strong convictions. It's very admirable. I trust that you will support Padmé fully as she takes on this new task."

"Of course, I will," Anakin promises and when he looks at me it feels as if he's vowing to do much more. But I'm not sure if that's truly the case or if I'm reading into his words because I want it to be true.

"Actually, Dad," I interject because I want to make it abundantly clear to Anakin that I am supportive of him too, "Anakin is the one who inspired me to take up this cause in the first place." I reach over to squeeze his hand and offer him a small smile, and though he doesn't pull his hand away he also barely returns my smile and that saddens me a little. "He has always felt strongly about these sorts of things."

Mom grunts disapprovingly. "Why does that not surprise me in the least? Before I know it, you two will be conducting relief missions on every Force-forsaken hole in the galaxy in the name of social reform and dragging my poor grandchild along with you!"

"Jobal, please…" Dad groans, "Must you be so contentious about everything? Can't we simply celebrate our daughter's accomplishment and be done with it?"

Thankfully, she concedes, though not without significant grumbling, and I think it's rather ironic that my mother with all her negativity is imagining a brighter future for me and Anakin than we can for ourselves right now. Once again, it stuns me that a baby could cause this much discord between us. Not for the first time, I wonder if we would have been better served to work out these issues before we got married. Then again, hindsight is always the sharpest.

Dessert proceeds rather uneventfully after that and I'm strangely grateful for the monotony. Once the plates are cleared away, however, and the time comes for me and Anakin to retire for the evening, the earlier tension that permeated our interactions all evening reasserts itself with a vengeance. The prospect of sharing a bed with him again, after nearly five days of sleeping without him, is a daunting one though not something I want to avoid.

I know that there is much that remains unspoken between us, but the need I have to get lost in his kisses, to be as close to him as I possibly can is undeniable. Maybe then I can break past this barrier he's erected between us. I know the circumstances aren't ideal, but at least there are no more secrets, no more illusions, no question of where we both stand with each other. And he's here now. He's willing to move forward with our new normal even if he is mostly unenthusiastic about it. I'm convinced that reestablishing intimacy between us will only further that momentum. Or maybe I'm just anxious to get back to a place where it feels like we're connected again.

With only some half-formed plan for seduction in mind and before I lose my nerve completely, I creep up behind him where he stands, apparently lost in thought, at the bedroom window and slip my arms around his waist from behind. Anakin stiffens briefly at my touch but doesn't shrug from my hold. He relaxes against me instead. I'm encouraged enough by that to feather a soft kiss to the middle of his back. He shudders in response.

"Do you want to go to bed now?" I whisper into his back.

Anakin trembles once more before gradually shifting out of my arms altogether. He fails to meet my eyes directly when he answers. "Sure. It's been a long day. I'm tired."

Disappointed by his lukewarm response but not entirely discouraged, I pluck at his shirtfront. "I wasn't implying that we should sleep, Anakin."

"I know," he whispers.

I regard him with a nervous look, my tone tentative and probing when I say, "It's been a long time. Haven't you missed being close to me?" I swallow past the hard lump of emotion forming in my throat to add, "I miss being close to you."

"Yes, I miss being close to you." Relieved, I offer him a quivering smile, but when I try to pull him into my arms again, he sidesteps my attempt. "We can't, Padmé."

"I don't understand," I huff in frustration, "Why can't we?"

His actions feel reminiscent of the early days in our courtship when he had been so adamant about pushing me away because he didn't trust himself. He hadn't believed himself to be worthy. Perhaps that fear had never gone away but had merely lain dormant beneath the surface of his fractured psyche. And now that it's reasserted itself, Anakin has fallen right back into old habits, clinging tightly to the tried and true. I can't see myself tolerating his self-isolation a second time, however. It seems ridiculous to me that he should do the same thing now when we are married and expecting a child.

"Anakin, please don't start this again."

"Do you remember when you asked me for space?" he reminds me quietly, "You said it was because you couldn't think when we were…" He pauses to take a deep, unsteady breath, as if he's regathering his scattered thoughts and then he continues, solemn appeal vibrating in his every word, "That's how I feel right now. I can't think when we're together like that either. I get lost in you."

The unreserved honesty of his admission only makes me more determined to tear down the barrier he's erected between us. "Why is that a bad thing? What do you need to think about, Anakin?"

"If I can really be the man that you need me to be."

"You already are that man," I insist fervently.

"We both know that isn't true, Padmé," he says, "I need to figure out a way to be better than this. And neither of us are served if we complicate things between us while I do."

"So, what are you suggesting? We're married now. You can't simply pretend I don't exist for six months while you sort it out! I won't do that again!"

"That's not what I'm suggesting," he acknowledges, "But…maybe it would be more advantageous if we kept focused on preparing for the child. That's the most important thing. Right?"

"And what about our marriage? What happens between us, Anakin?"

"I meant what I told you earlier. I don't want a divorce," he says, "I love you, Padmé, but I'm not sure that everything can go back to the way it was before."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that maybe we need to keep things neutral between us for now…for the greater good."

"Neutral?" I parrot blankly. It's such an innocuous word, but the connotations associated with it are endless. His lips say "neutral," and yet I know he means something else entirely and I'm not sure that I like it. "Anakin, holding me at arm's length isn't going to fix anything!"

"But having sex will?" he counters almost angrily.

"I think it can," I whisper in response, "You say that you want to move forward. Making amends with each other…making love is part of that too."

Our surprising role reversal in this regard would be quite amusing if his aggravated resistance wasn't so uncharacteristic for him in the first place. I've never had to talk Anakin into sex before, especially when it's evident that he wants me. And I know he does. He's fighting it, just as he's been fighting our emotional connection this entire time. That much is apparent in the rigid line of his jaw and the way he stubbornly refuses to meet my eyes. It's almost as if he resents me for making the overture at all and resents himself for wanting to respond.

Hoping to soften him with my touch, I take several tentative steps forward and reach up to brush his messy curls back from his forehead, smiling at him gently. My fingers skim the high ridge of his cheekbones before coming to rest against his lips. He makes no move to grab my hand and pull it away, though I can tell by his expression that he wants to….and he also doesn't.

I can sense the conflict in him, like violent, pitching waves on the sea. He's waging an internal battle between his inherent yearning for me and his fear of giving into that desire. But when I dare to raise up on my toes and nibble at the delicate pulse beating in his throat, he whimpers and backs away from me then, shaking his head emphatically.

"Please don't do that! This is for you as much as it is for me. I need to do this at my own pace, Padmé," he says gruffly, "I don't want you to feel isolated or alone during your pregnancy. I will support you in every way I can, but I need time to get to a place where this baby doesn't feel like looming disaster to me. It's not fair to be with you when I'm still conflicted that way. Do you understand?"

It's impossible to argue with the earnest despair that drives his plea and so I nod. I understand then that his aim hasn't been to distance himself from me at all, but to give me the freedom to leave him if that should ultimately be my choice. He must be expecting that result on some level, and this is his way of preparing himself emotionally. He is trying to regain command of a situation that he believes is spiraling far beyond his well-ordered control.

At his core, Anakin remains the person he's always been, a helpless, little boy terrified of losing everything and everyone he holds dear. The more frightened he is, the more withdrawn and controlling he becomes. That has been a longstanding issue for as long as we've been together, and I know it isn't character flaw that will be eradicated overnight. Being patient with him is my only option.

In the end, I don't try to change his mind or even stop him when he carefully sidles around me and begins readying himself for bed. The truth is, I can sympathize with what Anakin is feeling and why he feels that way. I'm intimately familiar with his ongoing struggle to regain a sense of self-worth. He doesn't trust himself. After all he has seen and done, I suppose his fears are more than valid. That is perhaps is the most heartbreaking knowledge of all. Because I also recognize that there isn't a single thing that I can do to alleviate those fears for him either.

He needs to work them out on his own. And harder still, I have no choice except to stand aside and watch him try.