The bounty hunter calling himself Cad Bane had disappeared through the atrium's main archway, leaving a bruised and battered Anakin Skywalker crumpled limp on the polished marble in front of them, and a group of scarred and grizzled mercenaries standing over and around them.
Riyo Chuchi had wasted no time tending to Anakin as best she could, laying his head on her lap, his brown locks spilling across her thighs and revealing a darkening, purple bump forming on his temple.
All she could do was keep his head elevated, and make herself as soft as possible for him.
Padme busied herself with observing their captors. On the surface, appearing just as frightened and uncertain as the rest, but Riyo knew her well enough by now to recognize the act. There was no panic in her eyes. She was watching and waiting. Waiting for what, Riyo couldn't guess.
Anakin gave a quiet moan, his head shifting weakly in her lap, and she turned back to him, gently combing her fingers through his hair, careful to avoid the no-doubt throbbing wound troubling him even in his sleep. The uncaring wound of a brute.
She forced herself not to look at the men—if they could call themselves that—standing over them, and her touch through his hair became more gentle. He didn't deserve this. He had tried to protect them, and his reward was a scar.
The newest among many.
She slid her hand to his forehead, and traced her thumb over the old line that marred his brow. How many times had he sacrificed himself for someone else? How many scars did he bear under those robes, hidden away like shameful secrets? With nothing more than a pitiful hand on the head to comfort him?
She sighed, and let the ridges of the scar pass softly under her touch, committing every bump and valley to memory. How many times had he simply suffered it alone? Without even the pitiful hand?
With no one there to even offer it.
"It's one of the great tragedies of the galaxy that Jedi aren't allowed someone to love them, isn't it, Padme?" She didn't know what made her say it out loud. Maybe a desperation to break the silence hanging over them like an executioner's blade.
Padme faltered in studying their surroundings, but recovered within the same moment, smiling politely, if somewhat forced. "Indeed."
"Even more so that they protect us and ask nothing in return. Who else but them deserves someone waiting to welcome them home?"
Padme paused, seeming more caught-off-guard than when the armed men above them marched through the doors. "I... wasn't aware you felt so strongly about it." Her gaze then fell to Riyo's hand brushing gentle strokes through his hair, and she arched a mild brow. "Or is it something more personal than that?"
Riyo shrugged gently. "His duties often bring him to the Senate Hall. I've noticed him, of course. But I could never act on my attraction. He would be forced to turn me down. Or worse, be tempted to accept. I could never put him in that position."
Padme looked away, and fiddled with the lavender lacing of her sleeve. "Indeed."
"No." She smiled wanly and brushed aside a lock of deep brown hair that had fallen across his forehead. "My attraction is to remain a tragic one. All I can offer is this. And hope that one day this war will be over."
Padme rolled the hem of her sleeve back-and-forth between her fingers.
"In the mean time, I suppose all we can do is provide some measure of comfort to those who cannot love us back."
Padme smiled, but the crinkling around her gaze held no joy, and she didn't meet her eyes anymore as Cad Bane reappeared in the doorway, and his boot-steps thunked in the atrium.
"Indeed, Riyo." She swallowed. "Indeed."
