A/N: We have officially entered the realm of conflict. Don't come for me.

Chapter Five

"Padmé? I need to talk to you about something."

I open my eyes sleepily at Anakin's muffled pronouncement, vaguely sensing the underlying urgency in his tone. Despite the late hour, I gradually find myself being coaxed back to the edge of wakefulness. Precisely, it is the middle of the night. The apartment is silent save for the low hum R2 emits from just outside of our bedroom where he charges for the night in sleep mode. True to his word, Anakin had nudged me awake a short time earlier with sweet, murmured words of need. He had then proceeded to vigorously make up for ten days of enforced abstinence. I would expect for him to be exhausted after expending so much energy. I certainly am.

It feels good to share a bed with him again. I've missed being in the circle of his arms, having his leanly muscled frame curled around me, the radiating warmth of his bare skin against mine, his face nestled deep in my hair. All welcome realities that I didn't even know I needed until I lost them for a brief time. Anakin and I had only shared a bed for a grand total of three days before he was arrested and everything I knew was obliterated in a swirling vortex of political upheaval and yet, that is all the time it has taken for me to grow accustomed to having him sleep next to me.

With a contented sigh, I nestle deeper into the crook of his body, still floating somewhere between drowsiness and awareness. I'm about to drift back to sleep entirely when his urgent whisper sounds in my ear once more. "Padmé? Did you hear me? Are you awake?"

"Hmm…I am now," I croak in complaint, "What is it, Ani?"

"I've been thinking."

"It's the middle of the night," I mumble without opening my eyes, "Can't you think tomorrow?"

His answering chuckle rumbles against my ear. "I'm being serious. This is important. It can't wait."

I shift a half squint over my shoulder at him. "What can't wait?"

"We need to have a conversation. About birth control."

That firm assertion jars me into complete wakefulness, particularly due to its seeming randomness. I especially don't understand why he wants to talk about it right now, when we've just literally finished making love. But then I remember how he had been careful not to orgasm inside me earlier, how he had spilled his seed with a serrated moan across my abdomen instead. At the time, I had been too fascinated by the clear evidence of his desire for me cooling against my skin to question his actions, but now I find myself wondering if he'd had an underlying motive…like preventing a possible pregnancy. I shift around to face him with a befuddled frown.

"Birth control? Why do you suddenly want to talk about that?"

"Well, we are in a physical relationship. It seems appropriate."

"But this isn't our first time together, Anakin. So, why are we having this conversation now? Isn't that a bit like closing the pen after the shaak has escaped?"

He bites his lip in response and I suspect it's to keep from smiling at the irony of my succinct and somewhat grumpy summation. "You do have a point there, but… Better late than never, right?"

"Alright. So, what about birth control?"

"Specifically?" he ventures, "We're not using any…and we probably should."

I smile at him demurely, mainly because even while he is making this argument, he is skimming his fingers lightly across the bare flesh of my arm, igniting little fires of desire with each pass. And he knows it too. It's obvious from the way his eyes darken and the faint smile that ghosts his lips. I scoot closer to him, my hand embarking on its own trek across the corrugated ridges of his abdomen. His muscles flex and contract beneath my light touch.

"Don't you want to make a baby with me, Ani?"

"That's not the point," he grunts softly, catching hold of my questing fingers before they can descend lower. He tempers that implicit rejection of my touch with a firm kiss to the back of my hand. "The timing is hardly the best, wouldn't you agree?"

My playful mood is momentarily suspended with the serious edge I detect in his assertion. "Why do you say that?" He regards me dubiously, as if he can't understand why I would even ask the question at all. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Padmé, you can't be serious," he says, "Everything is uncertain right now. We're not married. We're both trying to figure out what we want for the future. We don't have any real means of supporting ourselves! And, let us not forget," he finishes with an expansive sigh, "your family hates me."

I groan aloud at the reminder. "Oh, all of that."

"Yes. All of that. Given the circumstances, we need to be more careful."

Part of me deeply regrets telling him about the situation with my family. Although he took the news rather impassively, probably because it wasn't anything he hadn't expected, I feel that revealing the truth did little more than add to the heavy emotional burden that is already weighing on him. I suspected that he would internalize it the same way he does everything else, and if this arbitrary conversation about birth control is any indication, that is exactly what he has done.

Still, Anakin and I have made a mutual agreement to be honest with each other in all things, and I know that if I expect him keep his end then I must be willing to do the same. I also recognize that I couldn't very well take him home to my family without giving him some forewarning first either. That doesn't mean, however, that I don't harbor misgivings about the possible psychological damage the knowledge has done to him.

"Those are all very good points. But, for the record, my family doesn't hate you," I reassure him earnestly and then attempt to make light of the subject by adding, "They strongly dislike you. There's a difference."

"Pardon me for not recognizing the distinction between the two," he retorts with a sardonic eye roll.

Although Anakin responds with incredulous sarcasm, I'm not being entirely facetious. Since the revelation of Palpatine's crimes against the Galaxy and Anakin's subsequent acquittal in his death, my family's disdainful mistrust for him has lessened somewhat. My father and sister are, at least, willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, which is a vast improvement from a few days earlier when Sola had been ready to write him off completely and convince my father to do the same. My mother, on the other hand, remains just as adamant as ever that Anakin is no good for me at all. Sola was sure to forewarn me to that fact when I spoke to her earlier while Anakin soaked in his bath.

"I hope you're not expecting a warm welcome when you arrive here," she had warned direly me during our earlier communication, "You should know that Mom is on the warpath."

"She's going to have to get over it."

"That sounds strangely glib given the circumstances! Do you have any idea how huge this scandal is? You're lucky she's not in route to Coruscant as we speak!"

"Of course, I know how bad the scandal is, Sola! I'm currently living it! So yes, I know!"

"Then you might not want to be so dismissive of our mother's feelings. Considering everything that has happened, she has every reason to question your judgment, Padmé! We all do!"

"You're treating me like some wayward teen, and I don't deserve that! I have a proven track record of making very good decisions!"

"You also have a proven track record of acting rashly. Or should we just pretend that part of your personality doesn't exist?"

"He's not going anywhere, Sola! I intend to spend the rest of my life with him! I'm going to marry him. Anakin is my family now, whether you accept that or not!"

"Don't treat me like I'm the enemy, Padmé! If our roles were reversed, how would you feel?"

"I would think you had lost your mind," I had conceded to her but was quick to add before she could crow triumphantly, "But, I would also be willing to reserve judgment if it was evident to me that you were sure about your choice. That's all I ask, Sola. Just get to know him first."

"I am reserving judgment," she'd assured me, "I'm willing to do as you ask. You clearly love him a great deal. I want to understand why."

While Sola's response wasn't exactly the overwhelming enthusiasm that I hoped for, it was certainly enough for now. She promised me that she would do everything she could to calm our mother down in anticipation of our arrival. In the meantime, I planned to concentrate on preparing Anakin to bear the brunt of her wrath when we did. But it seemed that while I was worrying about how to facilitate a productive meeting between the man I loved and my family that wouldn't end in unmitigated disaster, Anakin had been preoccupied with babies…particularly not making any.

And while I hadn't really given any lasting thought to having a child before this moment, now that I am thinking about it, I don't find the idea objectionable at all. But it's a foolish notion to consider presently. The practical side of me wants to dismiss it entirely. After all, Anakin has made completely valid arguments. We've officially been together less than two weeks, and we are currently weathering our first obstacle as a couple. And, just that very morning, Anakin had been in a prison cell. We've been moving a breakneck speed so far, but a baby at this juncture would be too much.

This is hardly the time to be risking a pregnancy at all. Logically, I am fully aware of that. And yet, I can't deny that my heart is warmed by the idea of creating a new life with him. The image of a little boy with perfect blond curls and bright, blue eyes materializes in my mind and, once he does, I can't easily shake him loose.

"Would having a baby really be so terrible?" I ask him as I suddenly find myself considering it, "I have no doubts that a grandchild would help to soften my mother considerably. We should give it a try, just in case." I shift closer to him with a teasing smile, intending to kiss him, but he ducks away me. His uncharacteristic rejection causes me to rear back in surprise.

"Ani, what's wrong?"

"Padmé, we can't have a baby," he says quietly.

"The timing isn't that awful, Anakin. I'm not saying we should start trying seriously or anything but…if it happens, it happens. We can figure it out."

"And how will we do that? We don't even have an official place to live right now! You'll have to vacate this apartment in a few days' time. It's reserved for the next senator of Naboo! Or do you imagine that you, me, and a baby will fit in that tiny attic space back at the homestead on Tatooine?"

"We could find our own place. I have money and so do you. We're not destitute, Anakin. Besides, Bail said that I could stay here longer if I needed to. There's no rush for us to leave."

"That's only a short-term fix. What happens after his good will is exhausted?" Anakin argues, "We have enough to deal with already. Adding a baby to the mix would be…challenging, to say the least."

"I thought you liked challenges."

I'm not sure why I'm making an issue of this. It's not as if I've been harboring any secret desire to have a baby up until this point and I don't disagree that this probably isn't the best time. But now that we're talking about the possibility of children, I find myself excited by the idea. However, it is Anakin's lack of excitement, his almost recalcitrant resistance to the notion that is giving me pause. It bothers me for some reason. And strangely, the more he argues against it, the more determined I am to push the matter, possibly because I fear that this isn't some transitory thought that he's had but something that he has been pondering for a while now.

To dispel that sudden dread welling inside me, I lean forward feather a tentative kiss across his lips. I'm disappointed when he doesn't kiss me back and, instead, his expression becomes shuttered with doubt and another emotion I can't quite discern. But I suspect that it's fear. I regard him with a pensive frown.

"Anakin, talk to me. What's really bothering you right now?"

"I'm not sure if I should be a father, Padmé," he confesses in a hoarse whisper, "I don't feel confident that I would make a good one."

"That's nonsense."

"You're talking to a man who is responsible for the death of his unborn child. It's not nonsense to me."

"That never happened, Anakin."

"It didn't happen to you," he insists quietly, "But it did happen. It happened to me. And I can't forget it, Padmé."

This is the part of Anakin's past that always causes me the most difficulty. It's strange and off-putting to watch him struggle with sins that have no bearing on the life we are currently living. He has spoken to me on occasion of the lives he's taken in his past, lives that were restored when he returned and altered the timeline. Yet, Anakin continues to carry the burden of guilt that came with those previous deaths. He continues to punish himself for them, even while his former victims thrive and flourish. But the death he punishes himself for the most is mine.

I take hold of his hand now and press it to me cheek fervently and then to my heart. "Look at me," I urge him, "Feel me. Feel my heart beating. I am right here, Anakin. You did not kill me, and you did not kill our child. That's not real!"

"It's not real to you. But I see it every night, Padmé. I remember those last moments with you. I close my eyes and I can still see the look on your face. I can see you lying on the ground afterwards. It's like I'm watching someone else attack you, but it's me. It's always me."

"Anakin, you changed all of that. You are not that man anymore, and I am not that woman."

"How can you know that for sure? I don't!"

"You wouldn't be here right now if you were," I tell him with absolute conviction, "I couldn't love you this much if you were."

"I love you too. I love you so much, but I'm afraid, Padmé. And I'm not ready to be a father."

"So, what are you saying? You don't want to have children with me at all?"

He won't look at me directly when he answers, and I know that it's never a good sign when Anakin starts to fidget. "It's not forever," he reassures me weakly, "Just for now. I have to feel ready and…I'm not ready."

"And in the meantime, you want us to use some type of contraceptive?" I conclude softly.

"It would be for the best, don't you think?"

I know it would be for the best. But that's not the issue for me at all. I'm not struggling with his argument against the timing. What unnerves me the most are the reasons for his reluctance. They have nothing to do with wanting us to be stable and secure before we start a family or wanting us to have more time alone as a couple first. This has everything to do with fear. His fear of himself. His fear of failure. But mostly his fear that he might somehow repeat his past mistakes.

Those psychological obstacles won't be easily overcome at all. And because I recognize that, I can imagine Anakin being resistant to the idea of having children indefinitely. It is possible that he won't ever change his mind about it because the scars he bears are so very deep. I'm not sure how that makes me feel or even if it's a reality I can accept.

But rather than call him out on it and, thereby, provoke an argument with him that I have no chance of winning, not when he has years and years of past emotional trauma crippling him, I say instead, "Yes. Sure. I agree. We should take precautions from now on."

His relieved sigh echoes in the silence. "Good. I'm glad we talked about this."

"Of course," I reply, forcing a smile, "I can make an appointment with a physician once we're on Naboo."

"We can use contraceptive sheaths in the meantime," he says, drawing me back against him, the tension from earlier finally leaving him, "I can purchase some tomorrow morning."

"Whatever you think is best."

Anakin doesn't miss the subdued quality of my response and scrutinizes me closely in the dim light. "Are you sure you're not upset with me?" he asks gently.

"I'm not upset." But it's clear from the strangled quality of my words that I am. He knows it. The skepticism in his eyes is easy to read.

I honestly want to leave it there, but I also know that would be the coward's path to avoid conflict. I can't remain silent when I can see how his continual wrestling with the past is keeping him from living in the present. Nothing will change at all if we don't confront it. It could adversely affect our future together if we don't. And so, capriciously reversing my earlier decision to keep quiet about it, I swallow hard and gather the courage to tackle the conversation I have been avoiding for days now.

"Anakin, I'm not angry with you but…I think that you should talk to someone."

"Talk to someone?" he echoes blankly, "I'm talking to you."

"No, I mean a professional someone," I emphasize in a careful tone.

He frowns when he discerns my meaning. "You mean like a therapist?" I jerk a nod. His frown deepens then, and he immediately props himself up onto his elbow to glare at me. "You think I need therapy because I told you I didn't want to have children?"

"No. I'm not saying that at all," I reply evenly, determined to maintain my composure because I suspect he is about to lose his, "I think you need therapy because you have nightmares almost every night and because you internalize your pain and because I'm fairly certain that you hate yourself. None of that is healthy."

I watch in frustrated disappointment as his expression becomes remote and he flops back into the bed. "I don't want to talk about this."

Now it's my turn to lean over him. Now that I have the momentum, I'm not going to let him retreat from this. "That's the problem. You never want to talk about it."

His eyes glitter at me in the darkness. "I haven't kept anything from you, Padmé."

"How you feel, Anakin," I emphasize, tapping on his chest just above his heart, "Not what you've done. You don't confront your feelings and they're consuming you."

"You have no idea what you're talking about, and you're wrong! My problem has never been the lack of feeling but that I feel too much!"

"And what do you feel, Anakin?" I prod him softly.

"I really don't want to talk to talk about this," he reiterates, dragging his hands down the face with a mournful groan, "Will you please drop it?"

"No. I can't. I want you to see someone."

"That's not going to happen."

"Anakin, you're not being reasonable," I argue, "If therapy can help you, why would you be so resistant to trying? I don't understand!"

"I told you that I'm not doing it!"

His sharp vehemence stuns me into silence, the force of his anger literally shattering a small, glass sculpture on my nightstand. I glance over at the jagged shards in horror, but it's not until Anakin abruptly jumps from the bed and stalks over to the bureau to yank out his clothes that I truly start to become alarmed. I watch him throw on his clothing with a growing sense of panic.

"Anakin, what are you doing?"

"I need some air! I'm going out for a while!"

Propelled by the need to gain control of the situation before it completely spirals out of control, I hop out of bed too, quickly retrieving my nightgown as I do. I dog his steps as he stomps from one corner of the room to the another, collecting various articles of his clothing as I shrug back into my own. He barely acknowledges my efforts to defuse his anger.

"Please, stay and talk this out with me!" I implore him when it becomes apparent that he's intent on leaving no matter what I say, "Don't do this!"

"Do what?" he retorts tautly as he pulls on his boots.

"This!" I gesture wildly regarding his current actions. "You always do this! You're throwing up a wall between us because you're scared!"

"I'm not scared, Padmé," he clips, leveling me with a dark look, "I'm furious right now! You tell me to be honest with you, that you want me to share my feelings! I do that. And then, when you don't like what you hear, you make me out to be some sort of aberration because I don't feel what you want me to!"

"That's not true!"

"Not being ready to have a child does not mean I need therapy, Padmé!"

"It's not your feelings that are the problem, Ani! It's your reason! Despite everything you've overcome to be here, to be with me, you're still trapped in that other timeline! Can't you see that it's paralyzing you?" I make a desperate grab for his arm when he heads for the door, seemingly impervious to my words. "I love you! I just want to help you!"

He jerks from my hold with a furious glower. "No, you don't want to help me," he spits bitterly, "You want to control me! And I've had plenty of people trying to do that my entire life! I won't tolerate it from you."

"Please don't leave, Anakin! It's late!" I cry out tearfully at his back, "Where are you even going?"

"Somewhere you're not! Don't wait up for me."

But I do. I sit on the edge of my bed and wait for him to come back, sobbing quietly into my fist. I can't understand how something so well intentioned could devolve into a screaming match and harsh accusations. I curse myself for pushing him to talk when he expressly asked me not to, but I also curse him for rejecting me when all I had truly wanted was to help him.

After an hour goes by and he doesn't return, I rise mechanically to clean up the broken glass scattered across the floor. Once the task is complete, I numbly crawl back into bed and curl into a tiny ball beneath the covers. But I don't sleep at all.

He creeps back into the bedroom shortly before dawn, and by then, my aching heart has hardened with resentment and seething anger. When I detect his approach from behind, I pretend to be asleep. I concentrate on remaining perfectly still, on taking each measured breath because I can sense him staring at me. But it isn't until I feel the bed dip as he crawls in next to me that I stop breathing altogether in anticipation of what comes next. I don't have a long wait.

Anakin whispers my name. The gruff remorse in his tone is tangible. I can practically feel him his silent entreaty for me to turn and look at him, to accept his penitent kisses, to forgive his thoughtless actions. But I am not in a forgiving mood right now, not after I've spent the last several hours crying over him. The instant I feel his fingers tentatively brush against my shoulder I jerk away from his touch as if I've been burned.

"Don't touch me!" I am surprised to realize that I mean the words utterly, "Go away, Anakin."

But he doesn't and his unwillingness to leave, now when I want him to, angers me further. I bunch my fist into the sheets, biting back the torrent of seething rebukes that threaten to erupt. Even with my silence, however, he recoils from my harsh rejection. He continues to linger, nonetheless.

I staunchly keep my back to him, don't dare to glance over my shoulder at what I am sure is his stricken expression, his eyes brimming with tears. I'm fighting back tears myself at this point, and if I look at him, I know I'm going to fall apart. He remains suspended behind me, as if he is trying to decide between whether he should stay and attempt to soften me once more or give me my space and retreat. In the end, he retreats and only when he is gone do I release the sobs that I have been holding back since his quiet arrival.