Note from the Author

Sorry, guys! I just love leading you on! But don't worry, the wait will be over very soon, not only for you, my readers, but also for the paparazzi in this story. They will get their story! Well, no, not them, but you guys will!

Enjoy!

Chapter Fourteen

The village in which Anakin and Padmé were staying was a smaller one, very primitive in their connection with the outside world. Although they had state of the art technology at their hands, the village was difficult to reach by land. The paparazzi, meanwhile, were not given access to any of the air space around the village, although Chancellor Palpatine had demanded they be let through. For this, Anakin was grateful. They were not aided in their attempts to reach the village, either, and as such, none dared traverse the wilds of Corellia to fulfill their task.

It was a very relaxing few days that Anakin and Padmé resided on Corellia. Anakin spent the majority of his time working on the Whispering Winds, tinkering with R2, playing with the dogs, or meditating; anything to keep him away from Padmé. He could feel her simmering in the Force, not necessarily in anger, but in fear. She was afraid of their duties, and the knowledge that she had had a moment of weakness that almost cost her… it was too much for her to take.

Padmé, meanwhile, spent her time resting, relaxing in the jet tub, and avoiding Anakin as much as she could. She kept herself busy reading the latest reports from the Senate and the front lines. As such, when a particularly infuriating news article came up on the last day of their stay, she saw it first. She was in the jet tub when she saw it, and was out in a second, stomping around the fresher in anger as she rushed to dry herself off and get dressed.

"Look at this!" she exclaimed, wrapping her wet hair in a towel as she came out of the fresher. Anakin was sprawled on the bed using Thunder as his pillow and Lady as his leg-rest. He did not seem surprised by his young wife's exclamation, and only raised an eyebrow in acknowledgement of her presence.

"They pulled the troops away from the front lines!" said Padmé, her eyes flashing as she handed Anakin the holopad. He took it and casually skimmed the article. "A full retreat from Boz Pity and Saleucami!"

"I see it," answered Anakin, setting down the holopad and closing his eyes.

"Oh, right, you see it, you just don't care."

"Padmé…"

She stormed out of the room, slamming the door to the fresher as she did so. For a minute, Anakin couldn't understand what was going on. He swore his wife was bipolar. That, or he had missed the Hormones 101 course at the Jedi Temple. Provided they had one. He was on his feet in a second and leaning against the doorframe to the fresher.

"Padmé, come on, don't do this…"

"You don't even care!" She was crying. Anakin didn't need physical proof; he could feel it in the Force. He really didn't like this Force connection thing.

"I care, sweetheart, I do," he said in a calm voice. He wasn't lying. He was the Hero With No Fear, the one who had led the invasions of both Boz Pity and Saleucami, and to see them given up in favor of a Republic retreat infuriated him. His hard work, the lives of his men, the price they had paid for that ground… it was all for nothing. And just because the Chancellor woke up one morning and decided that his troops were better staged closer to home. It left Anakin livid, bitterly angry, a feeling he knew he should not have as a Jedi. And all he could do was hide it.

"Padmé, please come out…"

"No! Not until you prove to me that you're human!"

"And how would I do that?"

"Aren't you upset by this?!"

"Of course I am! But what do you want me to do? Go out and fight back that territory?"

"They should never have given it up to begin with!"

"Then you want me to go to the Chancellor and tell him to give it back to me?"

"I want you to stop this war!"

The war didn't stop, but Anakin sure did. He stood there against the doorframe in silence, unable to say anything. He had never seen Padmé so vulnerable before. She had always been the political leader, the Queen, the Senator, the person in charge. She had been against the war from the beginning; they both had. And when the fighting began, she did everything she could to fight for the end of it. Even if it meant going to the front lines herself, she would do it. She had sent flaming words towards the Chancellor and the Jedi Council, demanding an end to the fighting, and no one had listened. She had never shed a tear, but now she was. Either she was passionate for the fighting to end, or she was exhausted.

Anakin was certain it was the latter.

It didn't help either, to be a Queen from the age of thirteen, and then a Senator, and now the wife of a prestigious Jedi Knight, for the single purpose of supplying powerful offspring for the Jedi Order. Anakin had been given rest. He was forced on meditative retreats all the time. Padmé, on the other hand, was never given rest. Ever. Even now.

Not that she hadn't brought this upon herself. I mean, really. Checking the latest Senate reports while she was supposed to be on her honeymoon. A bomb just ready to go off. And sure enough, it had.

"Padmé, I can't stop the war," said Anakin softly through the door. "But as long as I'm here, the war will never get to you. Nothing will hurt you, I promise."

"What about Mandalore?" came the tearful response on the other side. Anakin did not answer.

"Padmé, please open the door."

"You can't protect me, Anakin." She did not say it angrily. She said it as one with no hope.

"Yes I can. Just let me in."

There was no response. And then the hopelessness became real, very real, and a wave of fear passed through Anakin. It was going to kill her. The stress, the pain, it was going to take her out. One way or another, it would. And without thinking, Anakin used the Force to alter the lock on the door, breaking it open as he did so.

He grabbed Padmé, twisting her around to face him as he wrapped his strong arms around her. She was consumed by sobs, the kind that surely would kill a person if continued very long, and her hands were shaking. He did not let her go, but held her as tight as he could, stroking the wet hair away from her face.

And then Anakin picked up Padmé and carried her out of the fresher and back to the bedroom they shared, where Thunder and Lady watched him with questioning eyes. And sitting down in an armchair by the fire, Anakin held Padmé tightly in his arms, her head tucked up under his chin, and a shaking hand resting against his chest. Slowly, ever so slowly, he passed strength from himself through the Force to her, and slowly, ever so slowly, she closed her eyes, ceased her shaking, and slipped into a restful sleep. And still he sat there, holding her in his arms.

The fight was over.