Chapter Four

"You're being very grumpy today."

"I have reason to be grumpy," Anakin retorts in a sullen tone, "I'm tired of being in this cell. How much longer can this go on?"

He's been in a foul mood since shortly after I arrived today, but I suspect his crankiness has very little do with the fact he's going stir crazy while waiting for his name to be cleared. I'm sure that factors in some way. After all, he's been confined here for seven days now. But that isn't the true source of his irritation.

Moments earlier, I revealed to him my intention to voluntarily resign from the Senate. He had not taken the news well. Essentially, he hasn't said a word about it since, or much of anything really. I've tried filling the ensuing silence by recounting the strides Bail is making as acting chancellor, but Anakin only half listens. He's too fixated with stewing over my choice. I suppose I should be used to this unenthusiastic response by now. My family was hardly thrilled either.

That awful conversation had taken place before bed last night and had resulted in a long, sleepless night for me. For the most part, my sister had taken my decision in stride. Sola was more concerned with the massive blows I've taken to my reputation than the actual demise of my political career. She's never understood my preoccupation with that at all given our paternalistic society. From her standpoint, a woman seeking that sort of power and station for herself was an exercise in masochism.

"It's not like here on Naboo," she would often tell me, "The Galaxy at large isn't as liberal as we are, Padmé. Out there, men will resent you for invading their space."

Sola had not been wrong. I had encountered that sort of blatant antipathy and disrespect since the moment I came to Coruscant. Just as there was a definitive preference for humans in power there was also an affinity towards those humans being male. That was the very reason that human males had primarily been the ones elected to the office of Supreme Chancellor for the last few decades. But it had not always been that way, and I had been filled with hope and determination that I could aid the Senate in returning to a time of parity between the sexes and species.

That seems like a lifetime ago to me now.

Given those circumstances, Sola couldn't be more thrilled over my resignation. Her primary concern has been expressing her misgivings (and quite vocally too) over my relationship with Anakin. She is leery of him and his motives. I have only myself to blame for that. After all, I had been the one to fill her head with stories about how callously he had broken my heart, to figuratively cry on her shoulder every time he rejected me. In hindsight, I wish I had shown more discretion. It stood to reason that she would form a decidedly low opinion of him when she only had my viewpoint to consider. Having my name smeared in the gossip cycle because of my association with him was only adding fuel to that fire.

My father's mindset is akin to my sister's, at least when it comes to politics. He had never wanted me to pursue public office in the first place, had even resisted the idea of my bid for queen. My mother had been my champion for those endeavors while my father had hung back with the attitude of "letting me be happy."

Much like Anakin, he's wary of governmental oversight and finds it lacking. He had felt that the Republic Senate was too full of corruption to operate effectively on behalf of its constituents. He found the same to be true regarding the Separatist Alliance. In his eyes, they were both equally unethical. For that reason, he maintained a politically neutral stance in all matters, seeing the shortcomings on both sides and choosing not to have dealings with either.

Certainly, this isn't the way he imagined that I would leave politics behind, but he was grateful that my eyes were "finally being opened." As for Anakin, he didn't seem to hold Sola's opinion that he was "unworthy" of me, probably because, until very recently, he hadn't even been aware that I had developed romantic feelings for any man at all. I had always been so focused on my career and life goals that I'd never given relationships a second thought. Consequently, my father was more curious about the young man who had managed to capture his youngest daughter's attention and heart than he was incensed by the fact that same young man had blown her life apart.

My mother, however, was not as magnanimous in her feelings. Not only did she deeply hate my decision to give up politics and seek a new direction in my life, which she deemed to be "one of the biggest mistakes I will ever make," she also deeply hates Anakin. She's deemed him the "second biggest mistake I will ever make." The more I defended him to her, the more intractable she had become. Her unflattering regard for him had mostly been formed by the salacious news reports that she had gleaned from the Holonet. In her eyes, he was a fallen Jedi and a dangerous criminal, destined to lead her impressionable and vulnerable daughter off into destruction.

I know that I will never change her mind with words. Nothing I can say will ever convince her that Anakin is not the monster the media paints him to be. She will have to meet Anakin in person. They all will have to meet him. Only then will they understand just why I love him so much.

Of course, I've told Anakin none of this. He is dealing with enough already without also having to bear the weight of my family's censure. My conscience niggles me about keeping him in the dark, especially after I've made such a production of him being honest with me. Still, I can't bring myself to tell him. He's in such an emotionally fragile place that I'm reluctant to stir up more anguish for him. He's already blaming himself for Order 66 and blaming himself for my current political woes. I don't want him also blaming himself because my family currently dislikes him.

Besides, their sweeping judgment of him is hardly fair. It's impossible to form an opinion about an individual without meeting them first. The Holonet reports don't reflect how brave and kind and incredibly passionate he is. They don't capture how heartwarming his smile can be or the infectious quality of his too rare laugh. I have no doubts that when that happens, Anakin will charm my family just as easily as he charmed me. Anakin Skywalker is quite irresistible when he lowers his defenses.

Though possibly not as irresistible at this precise moment, I reconsider, given his current, perpetual scowl of displeasure.

To his credit, Anakin has made some feeble attempts at conversation since I dropped my bombshell, but his single word, grunting replies can hardly be described as scintillating banter. I've carried most of the dialogue between us. And because I've grown tired of pretending not to notice his terrible mood, I decide to tackle the subject head on.

"Are we going to talk now?" I demand flatly, "Or do you intend to pout for the remainder of my visit?"

He levels me with a dark look that I'm sure has cowed grown men in the past, but instead makes me want to grin at him affectionately. I wisely refrain from doing so, however. "Aren't you the one always accusing me of making decisions without consulting you first?" he counters irritably, "So, what do you call your decision to resign from the Senate without discussing it with me beforehand? There's a word for people who say one thing but do another."

His curt response incurs an immediate frown from me. I don't know whether I should be offended by his tacit insinuation that I'm being a hypocrite or laugh outright because he is acting so petulant and indignant. In the end, I do neither and, instead, try to make an appeal to his sense of reason.

"Anakin, what is there to talk about?" I cry in defense, "The decision has already been made. Either I resign on the Senate's terms or on my own. Those are my options. I choose the latter."

"There's a third option you haven't considered at all," he argues, "You could wait until they finish gathering the evidence against Sidious. Once that happens, all this discussion about your resignation will be moot. Soon this entire nightmare will be over."

"And what difference will that make?"

"Sidious will be exposed for the treasonous tyrant that he was, and I will be exonerated," Anakin reasons, "The Senate will have no choice except to retract the calls for your resignation."

While the investigation into Palpatine's death and business dealings has been moving with painstaking slowness, every day new evidence alluding to his treachery is coming to light. Palpatine had been almost obsessively meticulous when it came to covering his tracks and keeping his identity as a Sith lord concealed. He had been careful not to leave a digital trail of his activities and would routinely destroy records that might implicate him. The sheer number of partial files and altered video feeds found posthumously among his personal effects was enough to raise suspicion, but not enough to incriminate him outright.

Thankfully, Anakin had been able to provide both the Jedi and the investigating authorities with secret codes that he had known in his previous timeline. With the use of those codes, they had been able to gain access to Palpatine's private vault and there found the evidence they needed. In recent days, a clear financial link between the Chancellor and the leader of the Separatist Army, Count Dooku, had been uncovered.

Anakin is right. It will only be a matter of time before the full truth about Sheev Palpatine is revealed to the Galaxy at large. And once the complete footage of the events that took place the night of his death has been reviewed, I have no doubts that Anakin will be cleared of all charges and set free. But none of those developments are likely to alter the downward trajectory of my political career. But when I tell that to Anakin, he launches into a frustrated rant.

"I can't believe you're just going to roll over and take this!"

"I'm not 'taking' anything!"

"Well, you're not pushing back either!"

"Anakin, my credibility has been destroyed! There's nothing left! There is no coming back from this!"

"Don't say that."

"Why? It's true."

"I really hope not. Because if it is true, how am I supposed to live with myself knowing that?" he asks me softly.

Only then do I fully discern the reason he's been so sullen this entire time. He's not frustrated with me because I won't fight. He's angry with himself. He blames himself for the circumstances in which I currently find myself. Upon realizing that, I sigh heavily and take the empty seat next to him on his cot. When he won't look at me, I take hold of his hand and loop my fingers through his. The small squeeze he gives in response encourages me. There was a time when he wouldn't have allowed the gesture, when he would have automatically pushed me away. I smile at him gently though he doesn't return it.

"I don't want you to blame yourself," I whisper, "I don't blame you."

As I make the avowal, I frankly consider the veracity of that claim. In the beginning, I had blamed him. When he first came to me after the world had tilted off of its axis, I had been angry that he'd chosen to fall into his old pattern of dealing with conflict rather than trusting in a more democratic approach. But after the other morning, when I watched officials who had been entrusted with the public's protection and interests, scrabble like womp rats over a fallen carcass for the power to control the Senate, I saw the same fissures that Anakin saw and felt the same futility.

These were not men and women driven by a deep-seeded desire to serve their fellow sentients. These were people bent on their own satisfaction and without any regard for the citizens they served. Though part of me recoils inwardly at the realization, I can finally see rhyme and reason in Anakin's ruthlessly bloody approach. Sometimes, it was necessary to raze everything and start anew.

But while I've made my peace with this understanding, my dear Anakin is currently struggling. Despite my reassurances, he refuses to absolve himself. It seems incumbent upon him to remind me of all the reasons why I should hold him responsible.

"How can you not blame me, Padmé?" he utters mournfully, "I set this in motion. You asked me to wait on you and I didn't. As a result, you stand to lose your entire career due to my choices, my past mistakes! The only reason you're suffering right now is because you had the misfortune of loving me."

"Loving you is not a misfortune, Anakin."

"I have no idea how you can look me in the eye and say that with a straight face."

"Because it is not your fault." His reply to that is a dubious snort. "It's not," I insist, "Yes, what happened with Palpatine forced my hand but…this decision has been a long time coming, Ani."

He appraises me with blue eyes full of confused doubt. "What are you talking about?"

"You were right about the Republic," I tell him, "I can finally see what you've known this entire time. It is flawed and it's dying. And I'm not sure it can be fixed."

Before I'm even finished speaking, he is already shaking his head in denial. "No. This isn't you, Padmé," he declares grimly, "You're parroting my own talking points back at me."

"Are you saying you were wrong?"

"I'm saying that we don't see the world the same way and that's allowed. Just because I'm ready to write off the idea of democracy and government in general doesn't mean that you have to feel the same way."

"You don't think I know my own mind?" I challenge tartly, eyebrow arched, "I find that offensive!"

"It's not meant to be. But the last person who bought into my ideals ended up dead," he replies in a gruff tone, "I'd prefer if that didn't happen again."

The burgeoning irritation that I had begun to feel instantly fizzles into sympathy instead. Anakin doesn't often speak about Jett Vyde, but like many events from his past, he carries the oppressive guilt that comes with the boy's death everywhere he goes. I know that Jett never far from Anakin's thoughts. He's been dead for less than a month.

Anakin hasn't given himself much time to grieve that fact either. The few times that he's confided in me about that day's tragic events, it had been clear to me that he believed his own his apathy and cold-blooded determination to do whatever was necessary to end the war had warped Jett's view of the world. Because he had made it his mission to punish those responsible, Jett had set out to emulate him and that determination to follow in Anakin's footsteps had led him to take the horrific, irrevocable actions he had.

I give his hand another squeeze, silently coaxing him to meet my eyes before I make my reply. "Anakin, I'm not Jett," I tell him softly, "I'm not going to strap a bomb to my chest and walk into the middle of the Senate Rotunda demanding justice for the galaxy if that's what you fear."

"Maybe not. But you shouldn't let my views influence you or shape your values. I've seen horrible things, Padmé. I've done horrible things. And, because of that, I don't usually see the good in most people. I expect the worst. But that's not you. That's never been you…and I don't want that to change."

"If you think that I've given up on my ideals then you're wrong," I reassure him, "I still plan to fight on behalf of this galaxy…just in a different way."

"Padmé, please listen to me. I—,"

"—No, you listen to me," I rush out before he can start apologizing and blaming himself, "I still believe in the democratic process. That hasn't changed. But it can only work if the people in power believe in it too, and if they truly and earnestly do everything that they can to uphold it."

"And you no longer believe the Senate does that?"

I shake my head sadly. "Unfortunately, I don't. And, if I'm honest, I haven't believed it for a very long time, but I thought I could change it."

"So then, why are you leaving the Senate?" he asks me, "If you want to improve things, do it! Stay and fight! Use your voice."

"You didn't see them in there that day, Anakin," I say, my tone weary and disillusioned, "It was disgusting. Their Chancellor was dead. The Galaxy was still being torn apart by war. Those who had fought on the side of the Republic were being hunted down and exterminated. And the only thing any of them seemed to care about was who deserved to be the next supreme chancellor. The citizens of this galaxy weren't even a consideration!"

"I know that must have been disappointing for you."

"I realized then that Senate isn't where I need to be right now. It's not where I affect the most change. I want to make a difference, but I can't do it there. Surely, you understand that."

I know that he does. He's expressed the same sentiments to me regarding the Jedi Order. He might be the Chosen One and the most powerful force wielder to ever live, but he doesn't belong in the Jedi Order. It was only when Anakin accepted that truth and moved on from it that he was able to experience emotional growth. Because he understands me all too well, Anakin thankfully doesn't press me about reconsidering further. He sighs in acceptance instead.

"If you feel so strongly about all of this, then why are you helping my mother run for office?" he considers with a bewildered frown, "I would think that reaching out for public office would be the last thing you would encourage her to do."

It's a good question, one that I have pondered several times since Shmi enlisted my help for her campaign. What had begun as a hypothetical scenario with Shmi seeking a senatorial seat had now blossomed into true ambition. Shmi Skywalker was so full of optimistic determination to improve conditions for the citizens of Tatooine and for other inhabitants of planets like it.

She displays the same fearless resolve that had punctuated the beginning of my own political career before the jaded cynicism began to creep in and slowly choke out my belief that I could make things better. Her enthusiasm for lasting change is infectious and calls deeply to the part of me that yearns for it as well. I want to help her achieve her goals, even while I believe that it is unlikely that she can do so…not with the Republic in its current state.

"I don't know, Ani," I sigh in answer to Anakin's question after a thoughtful silence, "She's so determined to be a voice for Tatooine, so full of zeal and fire that…I feel compelled to help her. I suppose I don't want to kill her hope."

"You mean like I killed yours?" he counters grimly.

"I thought we covered this already. My decision to resign has nothing to do with your actions," I reiterate, my words hard and intractable, "This is my choice. It's what I want."

"Deny it if you wish, but we both know the truth. It is all my doing," he insists, "And I'm truly sorry for that, Padmé."

"Stop it. No one is to blame, except maybe Palpatine. I don't have any regrets about this." He refuses to look at me directly, but his taut body language and hardened expression make it obvious that he doesn't believe a single word I've said. Exasperated but undiscouraged, I decide to try a different tactic instead. "Anakin, do you remember the night you told me about your past? I said that you were misguided in your thinking about government, and you responded that maybe I was the one who was misguided."

"Yes, I remember," he acknowledges, "I also recall that you looked like you wanted to slap me when I said it."

"I'll admit I was…insulted at the time," I concede with a wry smile, "But you weren't wrong. The Republic is crumbling. It's merely a shadow of the ideals that it should represent, and it needs to be dismantled and rebuilt again, but…I have no idea where to start. As it turns out, I don't have the answers either, Ani."

"But you seemed so sure of yourself before."

"I wanted to be sure…for your sake. I didn't want you to destroy yourself trying to bring an end to the war. That terrified me more than anything."

"I never intended for it to work out this way, Padmé."

"I know you didn't. You intended to die." He cringes in remorse at my blunt summation of the facts. "I haven't forgotten that you conspicuously left that part of your grand plan out of our conversations."

Anakin drops his head forward with a deeply mortified groan. "I'll never be able to apologize to you enough for that, will I? You're never going to let me live it down."

"No, Anakin. I will not."

Although I am being perfectly serious, we share a short, ironic grunt of laughter before he quickly sobers and asks, "Are you sure you want to be done with politics, Padmé? You say that the Republic needs to be torn down. Perhaps you're the person who needs to do that. Then you can help build it back into something that truly serves the people."

"I couldn't do that. Not now. Not when I have so much cynicism about the process and zero credibility." Anakin's jaw tightens with disappointment at my answer. I nudge against him with my shoulder. "I'm rather surprised you're taking this so hard. You hate politics. I thought you would be happy."

"Happy?" he balks sarcastically, "Why would I be happy? Because I don't have any direction in life and now neither do you? Oh, yes! What could possibly be more joyful than that? Of course, I'm ecstatic."

I am not the least bit deterred by his scorching pessimism. "I'd like to think of this as an opportunity for us both to embark on fantastic, new adventures together."

"It's called being unemployed, Padmé, and there's no glory in that."

"At least we'll be unemployed together," I wheedle with my sweetest smile.

"I can't help but feel that you're mocking me right now."

"Oh no, I would never do such a thing. I'd be much too frightened to mock a former Sith lord," I declare in my most serious tone, "Especially one who knows all my secret tickle spots." I spy the small, answering smile tugging at the corners of his mouth despite his determination to maintain his dark scowl. "Do you really want to waste this limited time we have together being disagreeable, Ani?" I sigh in chagrin, "Your guard will be returning to drag me out of here soon."

"I am not disagreeable!" he protests hotly.

I roll my eyes at that ridiculous claim. "I beg to differ. You are disagreeable every day, all day, Anakin Skywalker."

"Fine. What would you prefer to do instead, milady?"

I'm practically beaming when I raise my shoulders in a nonchalant shrug and answer, "Kissing you senseless would be an acceptable alternative."

The smile he gives me in return is so brilliant that I honestly think my heart might burst open with joy at the sight of it. The love I feel for him right then is overwhelming. I would gladly go through a thousand fiery tests just like the one I'm currently experiencing if it meant I could see him smile like this every day for the rest of my life.

"Well then, what are you waiting for?" he laughs, dragging me against him for an eager kiss, "You should have made that suggestion an hour ago!"