Chapter Six

When I finally find the energy to rouse myself from bed later that morning, it's as if I've been trampled by a herd of stampeding blurrgs. It's not unlike when I've indulged in too much fermented shuura fruit wine, and I wake with a pounding headache and a mouth that feels as dry as the Tatooinian desert. Only this time, I hadn't had the benefit of enjoying that sweet dessert wine as compensation for how undeniably awful I feel right now.

By the time I muster the energy to drag myself into the dining room, Shmi and Cliegg are already there looking bright and chipper and enjoying caf and a light breakfast together. Anakin sits with them, and I'm intensely aware of his presence there. He looks as weary as I feel right now. I don't dare make direct eye contact with him, but it doesn't appear that he's eating breakfast. There is a plate in front of him, but it is untouched. Likely his appetite is as nonexistent as mine.

I scrupulously avoid everyone's probing stares as I make my entrance and mumble my "good mornings." Unfortunately, I can't look at Shmi and Cliegg because I'm sure they're aware of the fight Anakin and I had last night. It would have been impossible for them not to be. By the end of it, he and I had essentially devolved into a screaming match. I avoid looking at Anakin because I simply refuse to acknowledge him. But that doesn't mean I'm not aware of his penetrating blue gaze on me the entire time.

In the interests of being a good host, I try to make inane small talk with both Shmi and Cliegg, but the need to flee quickly overwhelms me, especially because I can feel Anakin's silent entreaty to look at him. Though I curse myself for being a coward, I still seek refuge in the kitchen with the flimsy excuse of needing my own caf. My plan to fall apart once I reach sanctuary is thwarted, however. Threepio is already there working industriously, evidently in the middle of preparing an elaborate breakfast tray complete with caf, juice, fresh fruit, and flowers.

"Oh, Mistress Padmé!" he greets me jovially, "I was just about to bring you breakfast in bed. Master Anakin indicated you were feeling unwell."

"Did he?"

"He instructed that I should bring you something to eat straight away."

"There's no need. I'm fine, Threepio," I reply with a wan smile, "Thank you for your concern."

"Will you be taking this in your room then, or shall I set up breakfast for you in the dining room?"

Everything inside of me screams at me to choose the former option because I'm sure that if I'm within two feet of Anakin that I'm going to start crying again. But maintaining my composure has been deeply ingrained in me since I was serving as a young queen. I can endure a single, tension filled breakfast if I must. And so, I inform Threepio that I will be dining with my family because I refused to hide in my room while I nurse hurt feelings. After taking a single, steadying breath, I follow him back into the rancor's den, staunchly ignoring my clammy palms and racing heart.

I deliberately take my seat next to Shmi, avoiding the empty chair next to Anakin. The choice doesn't serve me well because it places me directly across from him at the table. I can feel his steady gaze boring into me the entire time. He refuses to look away! I try to concentrate on chewing my food, but it tastes like sawdust in my mouth. It's impossible for me to contribute any meaningful conversation and, as a result, Shmi and Cliegg do most of the talking. I'm fairly drowning in misery and about to lose my resolve to stay there altogether when I catch the tail end of Cliegg's statement to me.

"…for when you and Anakin start a family," he's saying with a gentle smile, "What do you think of that, Padmé?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch what you were saying," I utter, blinking dubiously, "What about Anakin and I starting a family?"

Anakin clears his throat and begins speaking full sentences for the first time since my arrival. "Before you arrived, I was explaining to Mom and Cliegg that we were considering different places to live," he says, "They suggested that we stay with them on Tatooine. Cliegg even offered to build an addition on the moisture farm so we could have more privacy."

Shmi pipes in as well. "With Owen and Beru gone, it's not like we won't have the space. We'd love to have you both stay with us."

"And I could definitely use some help on the farm," Cliegg adds with a meaningful glance at Anakin, "Threepio has never been in his element there. I can teach you everything I know."

"Sounds delightful," Anakin says, but his tone is severely underwhelmed.

"Anything is better than that infernal pod-racing," Shmi mutters, "The one good thing Chancellor Palpatine did was outlaw that barbaric sport."

Anakin makes a face at her. "I'm glad one of us is happy about it."

Despite the light-hearted exchange between them, I can't help but feel like I'm drowning. "I don't understand," I utter in a wooden tone, "What has that to do with starting a family?"

Shmi gives my frigid fingers a squeeze and offers me a reassuring smile. "No one is saying that you and Anakin need to get started on that right away," she laughs, "You're young and you have plenty of time for that. But eventually, you're going to need the space."

"That's very kind of you, but…I don't think Anakin and I really know what we want right now."

"I know what I want," Anakin counters softly, the vibrating conviction in his words drawing all eyes to him, "I want you."

The fact that he makes no attempt to mask his devotion causes hot color to suffuse my face. He puts it all on display, his love and supplication plainly evident in his expression. Anakin is disquieting in his intensity and I'm not the only one who feels it. Cliegg is moved to cover his discomfiture with an exaggerated cough. Thankfully, Shmi diffuses the tension by excusing them both from the table with the excuse that she and Cliegg needed to do some last-minute packing before their afternoon transport back to Tatooine. But it's clear that her intent is to give Anakin and I an opportunity to talk in private.

"Why did you do that?" I hiss at him when we're alone.

"Do what?"

"Make it so obvious to them that we're in a fight! Honestly, Anakin!"

"What choice did you leave me? You wouldn't talk to me earlier," he reminds me gently.

"Do you blame me? And when I was willing to talk, you walked out. Remember?"

"You're right. I'm sorry." His quiet concession and lack of self-justification deflates my righteous ire. He must sense that because he asks, "Can we please talk now, Padmé?"

Rather than addressing the query directly, I counter with one of my own. "Did you tell your mother and Cliegg that we were thinking about children?" When he nods, I burst out, "Why would you do that? We agreed last night that we weren't ready."

"A lot of things happened last night. Things I regret. I didn't mean the things I said to you, Padmé."

"You didn't mean it when you said you don't want children?" He doesn't answer, but the way he averts his eyes at the question is enough. I stare down at my half-eaten food, suddenly weary beyond belief. "You have nothing to apologize for, Anakin. You feel what you feel."

"I love you. If you want a baby, we can have a baby," he utters, "I'm willing to do whatever you ask."

"But it's not what you want," I reply, "And, besides that, you're right. We're not ready. Contrary to what you might believe, I don't want to control you."

"But you do control me. Don't you understand that? You have all the power here, Padmé." He moves from his chair then and comes to kneel before me, pressing his face into my lap, his fists bunching fitfully into my dressing gown. "I don't want to lose you. Please, tell me I haven't. I can't live without you."

My resolve against him crumbles in that moment. I sift my fingers through the soft waves of his hair, my heart softening despite my better judgment. "We had a fight, Anakin. That's all. You're not going to lose me," I whisper to him in assurance, "I love you too, and I can't live without you either."

I allow him to take me to bed and make amends with his hands and his mouth and his body, but I don't have any real sense that we've resolved anything. He falls asleep afterward and, for once, he appears restful with none of the fitful twitching to which I've grown accustomed. I study his face in the gleaming sunlight because I'm unable to sleep myself, and marvel over how incredibly young he looks. He's so beautiful this way, relaxed and dreamless and at peace. I count his deep, cadenced breaths and wish devoutly that he could stay like this…but I know he won't, not until he's truly willing to confront the demons that gnaw away inside of him.

Later that afternoon, we both accompany Cliegg and Shmi to the transport station to see them off. Shmi and I lag behind the men, but they both seem oblivious to our dawdling as Cliegg is determined to convince Anakin of the joys of moisture farming and Anakin is struggling to find a tactful, non-offensive way of telling Cliegg that he is not interested. Shmi chuckles to herself as she watches their exchange.

"That man never gives up," she says to me with a laugh, "He's determined to rope Owen and Anakin into a family business whether they want it or not."

"Anything that keeps him away from podracing is fine with me," I tell her.

She loops her arm with mine and gives me a conspiratorial wink. "On that, we agree."

"I suspect that you and I agree on much more than that," I laugh wryly.

"Yes, we do." Her countenance becomes somber and thoughtful when she adds, "You tried to have the 'therapy talk' with him last night, didn't you?"

My cheeks grow warm with humiliated color. "He told you?" I conclude miserably.

"Of course, he didn't tell me," Shmi snorts, "But he had a similar reaction when I tried to have the same discussion with him so, it wasn't difficult to figure out."

Though I'm relieved to learn that I have a definite ally in her regarding this matter, I'm also disappointed to learn that she hadn't been any more successful at convincing Anakin than I had been. My hope that this problem might be more readily solved with her help diminishes somewhat. I drop my head forward with a rueful sigh.

"He doesn't want children," I confess to Shmi in a small, suffocated voice.

"Oh? That surprises me."

"It's the reason he doesn't want children," I emphasize to her, "Anakin mentioned to me that he talked to you about his past-future life. How much has he told you?"

"Enough to understand that he's done unspeakable things and that he's deeply ashamed of them now."

I throw a cautious glance ahead of me to ascertain whether Anakin and Cliegg are still preoccupied with their conversation, as if I fear Anakin might overhear me even with the large distance between us. Then again, I can't be too sure. Anakin is a Force sensitive, and he possesses a keen perception that I sometimes find unsettling. I also know that if he even suspected his mother and I might be discussing him at this moment, he would be infuriated.

Only when I'm sure that he is truly unaware and I'm probably being paranoid do I find the courage to ask Shmi, "Did he tell you what some of those things were?"

"He said that the first time the Jedi Purge happened in his timeline that he had been the one to lead it," she replies, "And that he had personally overseen the extermination of every Jedi master, knight, padawan…and youngling."

"So, then you know that…"

"…he did truly despicable things," she concludes thickly, "Yes, I know. He's been very open about the things he's done and yet, I can't reconcile them with the boy I raised or the man I see now. I cannot imagine how he could fall so far."

"Did he tell you why he did it?" She inclines her head in a sad nod. "And that's the reason. That's the reason he doesn't want children. Because of what happened in that timeline. He doesn't think he deserves to be a father. He doubts that he will make a good one."

"Are you truly surprised by that, Padmé?" Shmi considers with a mirthless, sideways smile, "He hardly believes he deserves you after all."

"But we've overcome that!"

"And how long did that take?"

I concede her point with a disenchanted grunt. "Months. And we have some way to go still. I want to help him, Shmi."

"He has to be willing to let you," Shmi replies, "We can't force him, my dear. The harder we push, the more he'll dig in his heels. He's been that way since he was a small child."

"You don't understand," I mumble helplessly, "Anakin once told me that he was broken in ways that I could never comprehend…and I didn't believe him. But he was right. There's so much pain and self-hatred inside of him, Shmi. It frightens me."

"And me as well," she confesses, her mournful gaze on her son's back, "I won't pretend that I can make sense of this time traveling tale or even comprehend how the young man in front of us could do any of the things he described.

"I don't know that person at all. When I look at him, I see my child. My little boy…and he's in incredible pain. All I can do is watch."

"Perhaps, if we spoke to him together…"

"He would be outraged, Padmé," Shmi cautions me, "The very fact we're having this conversation right now would only provoke a fit of temper from him. I think you know that. Otherwise, why would you keep glancing up at him as if you fear he might overhear us?"

I duck my head sheepishly with her knowing smile. "I can't understand why he's so stubborn about it," I mutter, more to myself than to her.

"He needs to come to terms with his demons in his own time and in his own way."

"What am I to do in the meantime?"

"Exactly as you have been doing, my dear. Love him fiercely."

"I do," I tell her earnestly, "I never knew it was possible to another person this much."

"Wait until you have a child," she replies wryly before rushing to add, "Not that I'm implying that you need to rush into that. Or marriage, for that matter."

I pin her with a startled glance. Anakin and I have yet to make any official plans to marry, but our unspoken intention to do so has been known to his family from the beginning. No one had ever voiced any doubts about that plan. In fact, they had all seemed excited by the prospect. So having Shmi to seemingly backpedal now, especially when she had been one of our biggest supporters, is terribly disheartening to me.

"Are you saying that you don't want Anakin and I to get married?"

"I'm saying that you're both still very young," she clarifies gently, "and you have all the time in the world to make that sort of commitment to one another. And when you do, you'll both be ready for the responsibility that comes with it."

"I'm ready to be Anakin's wife."

"Marriage is more than romantic love, Padmé. More than passion. Though those things are important, they are not the key to a lasting union. That involves patience, unfailing loyalty, and constant compromise even in the most difficult circumstances."

Her words, which I take as criticism, cause me to immediately stiffen in outrage. "You don't think I'm capable of those things?"

"I cannot make that determination for you, my dear," she replies, seemingly unruffled by my sharpness, "But I ask you to consider this…is Anakin capable? Is he truly ready to be your husband?"

Once again, her question leaves me anxious and filled with doubt. "You don't think Anakin wants to marry me?"

"I think that Ani is only just beginning to understand what it means to be a functioning individual," she considers, "How do you imagine that he could make you a suitable husband, Padmé?"

Her quiet, unfettered logic quickly diffuses my temper and leaves me feeling humbled in the aftermath. "I suppose you have a point."

"And let's not forget that you have your own trials to endure after the loss of your Senate seat," she says, "Can you truly tell me that you don't resent Ani for it just the tiniest bit?"

"Of course not! Never!"

"Well, if not, you're a better woman than I," Shmi sighs with a pensive frown, "I suspect that it must be very difficult to lose something so dear for a man who continues to hold you at an emotional distance."

"Why are you saying these things? Do you want me to hate him?" I demand irritably, "It's done now. We can do nothing to change matters!"

"Just as Anakin needs to confront his own demons to be made whole, you must be willing to do the same, Padmé," she advises, "Otherwise, the things that you leave unspoken will destroy you. Not every problem can be solved with sex, dear one."

I emit a discomfited squeak, blinking rapidly as I vainly attempt to regain my composure in the face of her unapologetic candor. Now I know where from whom Anakin gets his forthright demeanor. Shmi Skywalker is not a woman who is timid about speaking her mind. That will serve her well in her future political endeavors.

"Are…are we truly going to have this discussion?" I sputter.

"You are to be a daughter to me," she says, "I will be as frank with you as I am with all of my children."

Her unspoken confirmation that she's had a similar conversation with Anakin causes my face to flood with embarrassed heat for a second time. It is difficult to meet her gaze directly, but I force myself to do so. "Anakin and I don't use sex to solve our problems." The look she gives me response to that is so full of dubious skepticism that I'm compelled to justify myself. "We don't! I like being close to him in that way! Why is that wrong?"

"I'm not saying that it is. But if it keeps you from having the conversations that you ought to have then it becomes an impediment that drives you further apart rather than bringing you together."

Suddenly, I feel like a little girl rather than savvy woman of twenty-five years. Though I've had a wealth of world experience and socialized frequently with high, government officials and even once ruled an entire planet, I know very little about being in a relationship. I know even less about being in love. What I do know is that what I feel for Anakin consumes me in every way. And my need for him goes far beyond physical desire, though that is a part of it. Truly, however, I've simply stopped being able to perceive who I am as a person without him. I'm beginning to question whether that is a good thing.

"Should we stop being intimate?" I ask her, nibbling my lip, "Is that what you're saying?"

"You should talk to each other," she insists, and I don't miss the fact that she avoids giving me a direct answer, "When you make love, let it be because you want to be close to one another and not because you're avoiding saying the things that need to be said. Can you do that for me?"

I give her a grateful squeeze and favor her with a watery smile. "I can. Thank you, Shmi."

As Anakin and I stand on the visitors' platform and watch Shmi and Cliegg's transport slowly ascend into the atmosphere, I feel a genuine sense of sadness because I realize I am going to miss Shmi Skywalker terribly. In these last ensuing days while Anakin was detained, I've come to deeply value her serene, unflappable presence, and straightforward demeanor. She is, perhaps, one of the strongest women I've ever met. I've heard frightful stories from married friends over the years concerning the contentious, hostile relationships they endure with their own mothers-in-law. I'm grateful to realize that I won't have that type of relationship with mine at all.

"You're going to miss her," Anakin notes in surprise when he catches me covertly brushing away my tears.

"Of course. Aren't you?"

"I'll see her again in a few weeks," he considers with a careless shrug as we turn together to head back to the speeder, "Besides, I could do without her incessant nagging for a while."

"She only nags because she loves you."

He merely grunts in response before appraising me with a disapproving, askew glance. "Don't think I'm not aware that you two were talking about me the entire time," he says flatly, "Even without the Force, you make it obvious."

I groan inwardly, but don't bother to deny the allegation. "Are you angry?"

"More like irritated. You know I hate it when you do that."

"Why?"

"Because I know exactly what you're discussing."

"And what's that, oh knowing one?" I challenge sardonically.

"The many ways that I can't be fixed."

We don't have any further discussion about it and make the remainder of our journey back to the Senate complex in relative silence. The entire ride there, I meditate on the insightful exchange I had with Shmi and the advice she gave me. I don't suppose I've realized just what a difficult time Anakin and I have navigating sensitive subjects together, especially where they pertain to his mental health. He's so defensive about it that, unconsciously, I've been taking the path of least resistance and avoiding all conversation about it entirely. But it's always there between us, whether it remains unvoiced or not.

I'm still vacillating about whether I truly want to poke around in that festering wound again, especially so soon after our previous fight, but Anakin inadvertently makes the decision for me when we arrive back at the apartment. My plan to preoccupy myself with packing and attempt to collect my thoughts is thwarted when he comes up behind me and begins pressing warm kisses down the column of my neck. He pulls me closer. But before he can embolden his caresses, his desire to resume what we started earlier that afternoon quickly becoming apparent, I shrug out of his hold with a plaintive sigh.

"You're still angry with me," he discerns when I meet his questioning stare.

"No, I'm not angry. But we should talk, Ani."

"I thought we did talk."

"We did a lot of things. Talking was not one of them."

"Alright," he says, his expression becoming instantly inaccessible. He crosses his arms in a defensive posture. "Go ahead. Talk."

"I'm not going to force you into therapy, if that's what you're expecting," I reassure him. Gradually, his features soften though he remains guarded. "I think you need it, but I won't make the decision for you."

"Thank you."

"We're not going to agree on everything, Anakin. But you can't just walk out when you don't like what you hear. I don't do that to you."

"I know that. And I'm sorry, Padmé."

"That's not good enough!" I flare angrily, "You have turned my entire life upside down, and I haven't left you! Not once. But you keep doing it to me."

"The last time I tried to hold onto you at all costs, you ended up dead," he reminds me brutally, "I'm a little reluctant to repeat those same mistakes!"

"So, you intend to make all new ones then?"

"What do you want from me, Padmé?"

I can feel his frustration and fear. They mirror my own. I empathize fully with his pain and confusion, but I don't know how to help him. I can't even help myself. "I don't know, Anakin. I think I need some space."

He absorbs that admission with surprising calm. "Space like you want me to leave?" he asks thickly.

"Perhaps we should slow things down between us," I clarify.

"Slow things down? What does that mean?"

"You know…take a step back and reevaluate what we feel for each other…what we want…"

"You mean like being friends," he practically balks, "I cannot go back to just being your friend, Padmé. That's impossible!"

"That's not what I meant!"

"Then what do you mean?"

"I don't know!" I cry a little wildly, "But every time I'm with you like that, I get more and more confused."

His stunned expression attest that he had never considered that possibility at all. "Oh."

"It's like we jumped right from kissing straight into sex, and my head has been spinning ever since!"

"Do you feel like I coerced you? Forced you?"

"No! But it doesn't help that you're so much more experienced than I am!"

"Experienced?" he scoffs incredulously, "You're the only woman I've ever been with! All my 'experience' has been with you!"

"No. That was with her," I argue softly, "That other Padmé. And I'm not her, Anakin. I'm not content to bury my head in the sand and watch you spiral for the sake of maintaining some fantasized love affair!"

"That's not fair," he utters, visibly flustered by my blunt assessment, "And that's not what happened."

"Isn't it?" I challenge harshly, "Because I can't imagine that she was blind to your inner turmoil! There is no possible way that she could have been, but what did she do about it?"

"It wasn't her responsibility…" He throws up his hands in obvious aggravation before he amends fervently, "…your responsibility to save me, Padmé! That was mine alone! None of that was your fault!"

"Her fault," I insist stubbornly, "I will not be held accountable for her failures."

"You're talking to me like you're two separate people and you're not!"

"We are. The Padmé you married in that other timeline spent three years pretending not to love you, Anakin," I tell him, "She hid her feelings away like they were a shameful secret. She lived a lie every day. I know all that deceit must have cost her dearly. And it cost you too. I won't live that way. I won't live a lie with you."

"And what lie would you be living, Padmé? Our relationship is hardly a secret this time around!"

"But the underlying problem is still the same," I reply, shaking my head sadly, "You seem to think that for us to survive as a couple, we must avoid our problems rather than facing them head on. I don't agree. And, what's more, I don't intend to repeat those same mistakes."