Padmé didn't move.
This had never been a problem before.
She was always moving; always doing something. To stop would be against her nature.
And yet she had stopped.
The moment the healer at the Jedi Temple had informed her of the tiny human growing within her body, nothing else had mattered. The moment that minuscule heartbeat had stopped registering on the monitor, time had stopped. The moment that little life had slipped away, gone forever, was the moment Padmé felt her whole life come to a stop.
She remembered waking up on that cold, hard exam table, opening her eyes to the bright lights surrounding her, hearing the healer speaking quickly to the nurses beside him, Jedi, not droids; "Hurry, we're losing it!" He had rushed to her side at her first sign of consciousness, and told her. They tried so hard to save it, but the poison had reached the placenta, and it was over.
Padmé remembered asking the healer where Anakin was. He hadn't answered her; he hadn't even acknowledged her. She had pushed one of the Jedi nurses away, trying to get up. She remembered screaming Anakin's name, as the Jedi tried to hold her down. One of them passed a hand over her eyes, and the Force instantly calmed her body, though her mind was still in turmoil. She saw the door to the exam room open, and when she looked over, she saw Obi-Wan pushing through to her side. He reached for her hand.
"Obi-Wan," she cried. "Obi-Wan, where's Anakin? Is he alright? Obi-Wan, where is he…?"
"He's fine, Padmé," answered Obi-Wan, and his voice was calm, perfectly calm. It made no sense to her that he would be so calm in a moment such as this.
"Obi-Wan, he should be here…" she had whispered, as the tears started. Obi-Wan reached up and held her cheek, bowing his head as he used the Force to further calm her mind. Padmé remembered feeling her body relax, then closing her eyes and drifting off.
When she opened her eyes again, the room was empty. The lights had been dimmed and the machines were off. It was over. And she was numb.
Padmé did not speak when the healer discharged her. Anakin was by her side, holding her, comforting her as best he could. What connection she had to the Force was almost non-existent, but she could tell that Anakin was on edge. He was stressed, worried, anxious, and it made him rigid, and made his brow furrow. She had seen that look all too often, whenever she was in danger. Even before they had married, Anakin had been assigned to protect her many times, and he took the position seriously.
Upon departing the medical ward, Anakin had led Padmé to his apartment within the Jedi Temple. There, she had waited while he put together a bag of supplies. She didn't speak, or move, or wonder. There was a knock on the door, and Anakin answered. Captain Typho and Obi-Wan quickly entered, both carrying bags, and spoke quietly to Anakin. There was exchange of credits, and other such important things, and still Padmé didn't move.
She couldn't.
The numbness hurt.
She felt like she had nothing left to give.
Captain Typho came over and bowed to her. He was grim. "Godspeed, My Lady." And then he turned and left.
Obi-Wan came over to her as well, and folded his hands in front of him as he looked down. He was also grim.
"My deepest condolences, Padmé."
"Thank you, Obi-Wan," she whispered in turn.
"There is no record of this, if that is comforting."
"No record…" whispered Padmé. "It didn't happen."
"It did," said Anakin firmly, and his tone caused Padmé to stir and meet his eyes, which were hard as stone. "It did happen." He looked at Obi-Wan. "No one should know, except us."
"I did not tell the Council."
There was a moment of silence, and then Obi-Wan reached out his hand, and Anakin shook it. Obi-Wan shook his head, then reached over and took his former Padawan in a giant hug, to which Anakin did not pull away. And then Obi-Wan said his goodbye to Padmé, nodded once more to Anakin, and was gone.
Anakin stared at the closed door for a moment longer, then turned back to Padmé, with what appeared to be a forced smile on his grim face. She knew he was trying to reassure her and put her mind at ease. Which may have worked in a time past, but not now.
"Come on," he said. "We shouldn't hang out here."
Padmé stood up and reached for one of the bags brought in by Captain Typho. Anakin took it out of her hand, and handed her the smaller bag he had packed with items from his apartment. Then he grabbed both of the larger bags and signaled for her to go ahead of him. They left the apartment and he closed the door tightly behind them.
From there, they took back passages to exit the Temple. They did not encounter anyone on their way, and Anakin was on edge the entire time. The Jedi Temple was one of the safest places on Coruscant, and knowing that even here he was ill at ease made Padmé worried.
They eventually made their way to one of the lower flight decks. This one was below the surface, and reserved for more private shuttles or military transports leaving on special mission. A ship sat waiting for them, engines already warm. It wasn't sleek or sophisticated like the ones Padmé normally flew in, or even painted in red and yellow like the fighters and transports that Anakin flew. This one was plain, with no specific markings, and plenty of wear and tear from space travel through the years. It was old, but sturdy looking, with a design that would make it easy to fly and maneuver.
Inside, Anakin stowed the bags, then headed towards the cockpit, while Padmé stood in the main hold, looking around her. This was a dirty ship, covered in dust, with ripped cushions on most of the seats. She was afraid to touch anything, and yet she knew beggars couldn't be choosers at a time like this. Even as she looked around, Captain Typho left the cockpit, where he had been checking the systems pre-flight, and Anakin followed.
"She'll hold together," Captain Typho was saying. "Everything checks out, and she's fast. Plenty of stuff to work on, though, if you get bored. We figured you might approve of that."
"It's like you know me," grinned Anakin, then he looked over at Padmé, who was standing awkwardly in the middle of the main hold, looking very uncomfortable.
"If it's what you want, Anakin…" she said in a small voice, eying the walls of the ship's interior like they might suddenly fall apart.
Captain Typho took his leave then, and Padmé followed Anakin back into the cockpit. She sat down in the copilot seat, thinking how only days before she had been in the same spot, in a much nicer ship, on her honeymoon. She didn't understand how things could have changed so quickly.
"Where are we going?" she asked then, as Anakin went through his pre-flight routine. He didn't look at her, but she knew his attention was fully on her, and answering her question.
"We need to get out of the Republic, and avoid Separatist space," he answered. "I'm not sure where, but we need to go somewhere secluded, where we can't easily be found or traced. I have Artoo and Threepio in the back. They'll be powered down until we get where we're going. I don't want them being tracked, or having any knowledge of this."
Something flickered in Padmé's heart, then, almost a small hope. Maybe it was the thrill of a new adventure. She was always up for something new and exciting, and it was a nice distraction from the past few days. She looked down at her hands. She bent her fingers, suddenly aware how stiff they were, like she had been clenching them all morning.
"I'm sorry about the baby, Anakin," she said in a small voice. "I didn't know the birth control wouldn't work. I'm sorry if you feel like I lied to you."
"I don't feel that," he said in reply. "It's not your fault. We just didn't realize. Next time we'll be more careful."
"Next time?"
"Of course. Won't there be a next time?" His eyes twinkled at her.
"I thought…"
"You're my wife. There will be next times, for everything. That's what we do. And I love you."
"You love me?"
"Forever and always. To infinity and beyond. And beyond that, to the end of time."
"That's a long time, Anakin."
"It's worth it."
He sent her one more smile, then pushed the accelerator forward and the ship slipped out of the hanger in the early dark of morning, heading towards the stars.