Was stuck on a plane for 8+ hours from Europe back to the US... managed to finish this chapter up between writing a term paper and running a SW Prequel marathon.

Chapter 4

Dinner had been a somewhat uncomfortable affair. Anakin was an enigma to understand and she knew that the questioning he'd gone through had been too much for him to handle in his current state. Padme wanted desperately to reach out to him— to have him tell her everything, no matter how hard it was. She wanted to help, but she didn't know how. This wasn't like his mother's death where he had fallen to the floor and confided in her the dark deed her had committed. This wasn't something he had done but something he'd had to suffer through. She had been able to help him through almost all his other troubles caused by the war. He'd told her about the difficult choices he'd made as a general, how the death of his men weighed on him, how he had trouble understanding why things were they way they were. It had been easy for her to get him to talk to her then. This time it wouldn't be.

Padme had spared no expense when preparing dinner for them. She'd ordered the chef droid to prepare all of his favorites and had set up the small two chaired table in the private dining room to keep things small and simple. She'd hoped the sight and smell of it all would elicit some kind of reaction from him— maybe even a smile— but other than his eyes widening in surprise, he'd simply muttered a small "Thank you," and went on about how she didn't have to do all of this.

"I wanted to," She'd said, trying to get it across to him that it was okay to relax. He didn't seem to understand and so most of the dinner had gone by with few words spoken between them. Discretely, she watched him carefully, trying to read him, or get some kind of response from him. Her husband was normally a man who wore his heart on his sleeve and while he could keep secrets about most things, he was absolutely horrible about hiding how he felt— especially from her— but that didn't seem to be the case any more. When she looked at him, she could see his discomfort and uncertainty, but other than that, he was blank. He'd probably had to learn how to steel his heart to protect himself, and the thought that he had to go through that, hurt her terribly.

The chef droid silently cleared away their plates once they had finished eating. Anakin hadn't eaten as much as he usually did and his shoulders looked stiff from sitting up as straight as he was. Padme took one last sip of her wine before standing from the table, her husband standing as well, as if by command. Nothing looked like it would be easy going forward. But she loves him. And the Anakin Skywalker she knows is a man worth going through the impossible for. She held out her hand to him and he hesitated before taking her fingers delicately in his own. "Do you want to watch a pod race?" She asked and for the briefest of moments, his eyes seemed to light up.

"They aren't broadcast here…" He said.

Padme gave his hand a small tug and started to lead him to the sitting room where the holoprojector was set up. "That's never stopped you," She said with a shrug. She might not be as much of an engineering genius as he is, but Artoo is pretty good and she trusted that he with the help of Threepio would be able to pick up a decent frequency to watch a race on. The lights were already dimmed as they entered the room. The droids stood in the corner behind the projector, Artoo looking almost proud as he whistled in greeting while Threepio made some long-winded comment on how difficult the task had been. She shook her head at the droid's exacerbation before giving her thanks and dismissing them for the night. Anakin was already captivated by the race being broadcast from the Outer Rim. She wasn't sure about what planet it was on but it certainly wasn't Tattooine with its rundown urban architecture.

He had always loved racing and even now, still struggling with the aftermath of everything that had happened, she could see a small glimpse of the wide-eyed little boy who had been so excited to get his pod racer started. His full attention was on the race as he slowly sat on the couch, his elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forward in interest. Padme was not a fan of racing and barely understood any of it when her husband would talk endlessly about it. She wished he would say more even if it was just grease monkey stuff because at least then it would feel like her Ani was truly home.

Yoda's three fingers tapped absently at the Gimer stick in his hands, twisting the curved wood as Obi-Wan waited for an answer. The human Jedi was conflicted about what their next course of action should be. The general in him wanted to see the Zygerrian threat dealt with swiftly, but the Jedi and friend in him wanted to do what was easiest to allow Anakin the time he needed to recover. The Grand Master seemed to be similarly conflicted as their conversation weighed the good and bad of their options. "When last you spoke," Yoda started, "How feel, he?"

"As well as can be expected, I suppose," He answered, folding his arms over his chest. "I worry he will never truly recover from this."

"A trial this was."

Obi-Wan shook his head, "The trials aren't meant to torture us," He said.

"Torture, no. Test our limits, yes," Yoda said, standing and hobbling to the window, his stick tapping with each step. "Mysterious, the Force is. A plan it has, for young Skywalker."

"The Force didn't leave him behind," Obi-Wan argued, "We did. We abandoned him to that woman for two years. I wouldn't blame him if he lost faith in the Order— in the Force even."

Yoda grunted as he stroked his chin tenderly, "Curious, your words are," He said, "Tell me, how feel him?"

"I told—"

"—How feel he, in the Force?"

His eyes widened slowly as he thought back to when he had spoken to Anakin. The man's emotions had been so intense, it had been difficult to feel him in the Force. But Anakin's presence had always been strong, to not sense it had felt strange, but easily disregarded with everything the man was feeling. What did it mean?

The green Jedi made another grunt as he tapped his Gimer stick on the tiled floor, "Sensed it, I did. Blocked, the Force is."

Obi-Wan looked down at Yoda in disbelief, "I don't understand," He said, "How is that possible?"

"A defense, it is," He said. "Protect himself, he must. Shield him the Force has. Shield him still, it does. Protect him from pain, it does. But, home, he is. Safe. Yet, still, present the shield is… A dark presence, I sense."

His frown deepened as he spoke, "What do you mean?"

With eyes closed, the older Jedi rained his head up and turned it towards the window, "Clouded, the future is," He said, "A growing darkness, I sense… close to the Chancellor it is… as well young Skywalker."

Obi-Wan's brow furrowed at Yoda. Relations between the Jedi and Palpatine had been growing tense over the past few months as calls to prolong the war rang out in the Senate. There was only a small group of Senators openly opposed to that line of thinking but, recently, some of those voices had started to go quiet. The Jedi were rightfully worried about what a prolonged war effort would mean, especially when it seemed that Palpatine's control over the Senate grew with every session. The Jedi Council had only spoken of the dark cloud that seemed to follow the Chancellor in passing, but never has it been mentioned as being a viable concern as it sounds now. Obi-Wan didn't want to think what that might mean. He didn't want to think that the very center of the Republic was compromised. "What does that mean for Anakin?" He asked.

"Watch him carefully, we must."

He took a moment to think about what that meant, before reluctantly bowing to Yoda and leaving the chamber. His mind was a blur, trying to find some semblance of peace in the chaos, but all his senses had been on edge ever since the prison with Anakin. So distracted by his own thoughts, he barely even registered the familiar Togruta girl before she was right in front of him. She was leaning against the door to his quarters, her hands folded in front of her as she tapped her feet. Her eyes perked up when he approached and she stood tall, nodding her head to him. "I heard what happened," She said, her eyes were sympathetic as she rocked on her heels, "Master…I-I don't understand," She said.

Obi-Wan smiled at her kindly and opened the door to his room, silently inviting her inside. His quarters were bare and simple. A small bed sat in the corner while a small table sat in the middle of the room, with two tea cups and a kettle sitting in the middle of it. Ahsoka took a seat at the table and waited patiently while he prepared tea for them. He could sense her confusion, her worry, and even her anger and it reminded him a great deal of Anakin when he had been her age. It was around that age where he had started questioning the Jedi and his place in the Order and he had worried that Anakin might decide to leave. Part of him wondered now if Ahsoka was considering the same.

He placed a hot cup of tea in front of the young Padawan before taking a seat himself and taking a sip of his own tea. "What's on your mind?" He asked.

Ahsoka tapped her fingers on the rim of the cup, "The Zygerrian Queen. She-She did such horrible things to Anakin. But, when he was given the chance to set the record straight… he didn't…"

He took a breath as he placed his cup on the table, "I think Anakin is the only one who can answer that."

"But he won't," She argued. "I don't even think he'll tell Padme."

Obi-Wan dropped his gaze down to the tea cups, watching the steam rise slowly from them, "He might, in time," He said. "Or, he might not. This isn't like when we were captured by pirates or Dooku. This is something that… has lasting effects."

The Togruta nodded but bit her lip before she continued, "If he said something, he could put that woman away for good though."

"Yes… but, that would also make public what happened. And maybe he doesn't want that. Maybe for him it's easier to suffer quietly than to get justice at the cost of his privacy."

"You don't agree with that though, do you?" She asked.

Obi-Wan shook his head, "I don't agree, no. I want the Queen to go to prison for her crimes as much as you. But I can't force him to give a statement—"

"—I don't want to force him either," She grumbled, "But, if they let her go—"

He gave a shrug as he took another sip of tea, "We can't help it then," He said. Obi-Wan leaned back in his seat and glanced at the ceiling, heaving a heavy sigh, "We'll do what we can to see that justice is served," He declared, "But, as for Anakin…" His eyes closed at the thought of his friend, and a feeling of helplessness washed over him, "All we can do is be there when he wants us to be there for him."

The final lap of racing was always the best part for Anakin. It was always interesting to see what the racers did to try and pull up in the ranks and watch as some managed to inch one spot forward or to crash horribly and dash their chances of even finishing. Having raced himself, and at higher stakes than just the winning pot, he knew that the final lap was when just about anything could happen. The first three racers were neck and neck as they battled for a lead. The second to last turn gave the underdog of the entire race a full length lead as the other two got caught in the corner. The commentators remarked how it looked like a decisive win. But as the final turn neared, the underdog's engine blew. Smoke and fire erupted from the left engine as the racer crashed into the ground, the pilot's seat being thrown high in the air, twisting as it snapped the fuel lines and landed in a heap. The racer directly behind him lost control as he veered to avoid the crash, only to send his right engine flying into the left as the third racer blasted past both of them, stealing the win.

Anakin let out a huff and shook his head at the outcome. It was an exciting race for sure, but the winner did not impress him. aggressive, and cocky, he seemed like the kind of racer who would cheat to win— and maybe he had, no one would know, nor would they care. Cheating was in some ways as much a part of the race as the actual racing. There was no way to stop cheating in the sport. Leaning back into the couch, he stretched his arms and legs before a yawn overtook him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his wife shift and stand from the couch.

"It's late, do you want to go to bed?"

Bed.

That word meant so many things… did she mean sleep? Or perhaps she expected more? It has been so long since he'd been here, so long since he'd been alone with her… Anakin gave a faint nod before standing and following her up to the master bedroom. Barely anything had changed since the last time he had been here with her. The sheets looked new, and maybe a painting or two was new but, for the most part it looked exactly the same. He took a minute to simply look around. So many pleasant memories were made here, and he'd dreamt of this place many times over the past two years.

"Anakin?" His head turned sharply and found Padme standing next to the bed, a pile of dark clothing stacked neatly in her hands. She smiled as she held the pile out to him and he took them from her offering hands. "You can change in the fresher, if you want," She said, uncertainty laced in her words. This wasn't how they'd normally get ready for bed. There had been a time when they'd spend most of the night passionately making love, their naked bodies pressed intimately together before drifting off to sleep sated and so in love. Even on the nights when they were too tired for intimacy, they normally didn't have any problems sharing the fresher as they got changed. But now, it didn't feel right for him.

Wordlessly, he walked passed her and into the fresher, making sure to close and lock the door. Anakin placed the pile of clothes on the counter top, catching his own eye in the mirror. Dark half circles were forming under his eyes and streaks of read could be seen in the white. Where his shoulders had once been broad and looked as though they could carry the weight of an army on them, they now looked as though the weight was crushing him, or that the force of gravity was pulling him in on himself. His hands hesitated at his belt, shaking slightly as he pulled it free before taking the black leather glove off his right prothetic hand and started to slowly take off the heavy layers of his Jedi robes. His eyes closed as he parted the final layer and let them fall from his shoulders to pool at the floor. His breath stuttered once, twice, before he lifted his gaze to the mirror.

Scars littered his torso. Long and short scratches that looked as though he had battled a young nexu. He had a few bite marks on his pectorals and some closer to his neck, and as he ran his fingers over them, he felt a shiver down his spine as though simply touching it felt like the moment he had received them. The memories of it all were too clear. The weight of her on top of him, the feel of her breasts against his chest. He could still smell her and taste her on his lips even… Anakin shook his head, letting out a whimper as he grabbed at the loose shirt on the counter and quickly threw it on, wrapping it around his body as if hiding the scars could erase them. He turned his back to the mirror as he changed his pants, before turning back to the counter and turning on the water. Leaning forward, he rested his forehead against the mirror, dunking his left hand under the water to gather a pool of it in his hand before splashing it on his face. Anakin pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. He couldn't think about her while he was in his wife's apartment. It felt wrong— it was wrong. He knew Padme would never blame him for what happened… but, that didn't stop him from blaming himself. Anything would have been better than betraying the vows he made to Padme. But, he had. And there was no forgiveness for that.

He gathered his clothes off the floor and left the fresher. Padme had gotten changed into a light blue nightgown, her hair undone and resting in flowing curls at her shoulders as she stood at the bedroom door with Threepio, a data pad in her hands as she scrolled through the information. "Send my apologies to Senator Mon Mothma and reschedule for next week," She told the droid as she bit her lip and looked at something else on the datapad.

"Next week?" Threepio muttered, "But we're scheduled for a conference on Alderaann next week in regards to the refugee crisis."

She let out a sigh as she handed the datapad back to him, "It can't be helped, Threepio," She said.

Anakin's brow knit tightly as he watched her run a hand through her hair, "Is it because of me?" He asked, calling attention their attention to him. "You're rearranging your schedule because of me?" It wasn't like her to do that. More often than not if he wanted to whisk his wife away just to spend time together, he'd have to fight her tooth and nail to get her to even consider doing something like that. For her to do it now, it didn't give him the sense of satisfaction that it normally would. Guilt was all he felt. They don't really care about you, the Queen had once told him. You're more of a burden to them. They can't see the potential you have… Maybe she was right.

"No," Padme said, giving him a small smile before she closed the distance between them until she stood within a yard from him before she slowed her pace, closing the rest of the distance as if afraid to spook a young shaak. "There's more immediate concerns here," She said, "The fact that I can spend more time here with you is just a bonus." Her hand hesitated before coming to rest on his chest. She cast a sad smile as she looked at her hand then slowly let her gaze rise to meet his, her smile widening as she inched closer, her arms coming to wrap around his waist. Anakin tensed at the feel of her warmth so close to him, her head resting on his chest, snuggling against him as she inhaled deeply. "I've missed this," She said. "I missed you."

Anakin stiffened as he gently pried her arms from around him. The look of hurt on her face killed him, but he gave her a rueful smile, "I…I'm sorry, Padme. I'm just… tired." He said, moving slowly to the bed. The hurt look on her face disappeared as she moved to her side of the bed and pulled back the covers.

"Of course," She said as they slipped into bed. He lay on his back, his eyes firmly fixed to the ceiling as his wife shifted beside him. Her hand lightly touched his bicep and he jumped as she inched closer to him. Padme pulled back her hand as she lay her head on the pillows, "Anakin," She started, "I-I don't expect anything from you," She said.

His jaw clenched as he shifted onto his side facing away from her, "I know," He mumbled, as anger had him grit his teeth.

Her silence had him worried that she would keep pressing, or that she would try to soothe him but after a moment, he heard her sigh as she settled beside him. "I love you," She whispered as the lights dimmed, leaving only the light blue from the city outside illuminate the room.

He wanted to say that he loved her too, but the words got caught in his throat.