Chapter 26
Anakin Skywalker had never been a patient man. Waiting to hear from Dr. Deece on Polis Massa was pushing what little patience he had to the limit.
In an effort to make the time pass more quickly, he helped his mother-in-law by doing some home repairs that needed attending to. Anakin had always enjoyed fixing things, and had always found it helped him sort through things in his mind.
"This dishwasher has been leaking for almost three weeks," Jobal told him. "I've had a repair droid out here twice already, but they never seem to get it right. Perhaps it's time for a new one," she remarked.
"Let me have a look," Anakin said, rolling up his sleeves. "I'm pretty good at fixing things."
Anakin spent the next two hours taking apart the unit, while his mother-in-law watched anxiously. She had begun to regret letting him have a go at it when he emerged from under the unit. "Found the problem," he said, digging through the tool box Jobal had provided him with.
"You did?" she asked hopefully.
Anakin nodded. "Yes, it won't take a minute to fix," he said, and then disappeared under the unit once more. After a few moments, Jobal watched in amazement as he reassembled the unit in remarkably short order.
"Give it a try," he suggested as he put the tools he'd used back in the box. He watched with his arms folded over his chest as Jobal started up the machine.
"Normally there is a puddle on the floor within the first few minutes of the wash cycle," she told him, watching the spot on the floor, expecting to see an accumulation of water begin to form at any moment.
"Looks like that did it," she said, looking up at him with a smile. "Thank you."
Anakin smiled as he started rolling down his sleeves. "Not at all," he said. "It's the least I can do. You've been very kind to me, and I appreciate it more than I can say."
Jobal smiled. "You're family, Anakin," she told him. "Families help one another out."
Anakin nodded. "The only family I ever had was my mother," he told her. "When she died, I had no one really, at least until I married Padmé."
"And you will have her back, Anakin, I'm sure of it," Jobal replied. "We all will."
"I hope so," he said. "Now, is there anything else you need fixed around here?" he asked.
"Well, since you asked, there are a couple of things," she replied.
Anakin smiled. "Lead the way."
Padmé had ventured out to the quadrangle, the bright sunshine proving to be too tempting to resist. The fact that she had not taken her meds made her feel slightly guilty, and she half expected Palo or a nurse to show up at any minute to order her back to her room. She remembered Anakin's comment when she had told him how they would not allow her to leave her room until she had taken her meds. He had thought it unfair, and Padmé was starting to think that he was right.
Padmé put her hand in the pocket of her trousers and felt the japor snippet she had brought with her. She traced the grooves with her finger, the feel of the smooth wood somehow comforting to her. It was a connection to her past, and that brought her some comfort, despite the fact that she did not remember the day Anakin had given it to her. But I want to remember that day, she thought fervently. I want to remember the day we met, the day we were married…A thought struck her suddenly, and it only served to add to her anxiety. Do we have children? The thought that she possibly had children somewhere in the galaxy, children that she knew nothing of, not even their names, saddened her greatly; but made her desire to remember even greater. How many doses will I need to miss before I know if there has been a change? She wondered. She almost wished for it to be night time so that she could test Anakin's theory. But it's too soon – one dose will not make a difference.
"Padmé? Are you alright?"
Padmé looked around to see Palo.
"I'm fine," she said.
"Are you sure?" he asked, speaking in gentle tones.
"Yes, of course I'm sure," she replied, "why wouldn't I be?"
"Well, you've had a lot of upheaval the past few days," he said. "And I understand you resisted your meds again last night."
Padmé turned away from him, lest her face give away her thoughts. "I don't need them," she said.
"Padmé you know you do," he said in a patronizing tone. "You know what will happen if you don't take them."
"I don't know that for sure," she said, surprising herself with her nerve. Is this what the drugs do to me? Make me a meek, mindless zombie that cannot think for herself? She couldn't deny that even missing one dose had greatly clarified her mind, sharpened her wits. Even one missed dose had done that- what would happen if I stop taking them altogether?
"Padmé? Are you listening to me?"
Padmé turned to look at him. "I wasn't, no," she admitted.
Palo looked at her with a little smile. "See? You aren't right, are you? Perhaps you need some rest," he said, moving to take her by the arm. Padmé moved away from him.
"I said I'm fine," she told him.
Palo looked at her, looked at her eyes. They were clearer than they had been in a long time. Her attitude was different too, and he was certain he knew why.
"You didn't take your meds, did you?" he said.
Padmé frowned. "Would I be here if I hadn't?" she replied.
"I'm not sure, Padmé," he said. "You're not acting like yourself this morning. You're rather confrontational, and I'm not sure why that is, but I have a feeling it has something to do with this man who claims to be your husband."
"How do you know he isn't my husband?" Padmé replied.
"What kind of a husband would he be, Padmé?" he asked her in that same condescending tone that was beginning to get on her nerves. "I found you wandering the streets of Theed. If he truly were your husband, why would you have been in such a destitute state? You've been here for close to twenty years now," he reminded her. "Where has he been for twenty years, Padmé? Have you considered that?"
"He told me that he thought I was dead," she told him. "And that he had just found out mere days ago that I was alive."
"I see," Palo said, nodding his head. "Does that make sense to you, Padmé? Really?"
"I don't know," she admitted, "all I know is that he has told me more about the person I was in the short time I've spent with him than anyone else has in the twenty years I've been in this place."
Palo frowned. "I don't think I like what you're implying Padmé," he said. "You sound as though you don't appreciate all that we have done for you here," he said in an injured tone. "We've done all we can to help you, surely you know that."
Padmé did not reply, his words upsetting her. Yes, she was certainly grateful to Palo for having found her, for giving her a place to live, for caring for her; but how must that gratitude extend? Did it make her beholden to Palo for the rest of her life, precluding any chance of exerting any level of independence? Did it mean that she ought to believe him and trust him implicitly, even when her instincts were beginning to tell her not to?
"I appreciate everything you've done for me," Padmé said, realizing she ought to tread carefully lest she give him too much reason to suspect her of duplicity. "Surely you know that. But you can't blame me for wanting to learn everything I can about my past, Palo. Put yourself in my place, wouldn't you want to know?"
"Yes, of course I would," he replied. "Anyone would. But I just don't want to see you hurt by someone who may not have your best interests at heart, that's all."
Padmé made no reply, for in her mind she was considering the irony of his words. Anakin had said virtually the same thing about Palo; who was she to believe? Who was she to trust? Her mind was not yet clear enough to know, but her instincts, which had always served her well, left little room for doubt. They told her who she ought to place her trust in. And it was not the man standing before her.
"That's very sweet," she told him, giving him a dazzling smile. "I am very lucky to have you as my champion, Palo."
Palo was sufficiently placated by her reply, and let the matter go for the moment. In his mind, though, he made a mental note to keep a close eye on Padmé, and to be sure that a certain Anakin Skywalker was not permitted within the walls of the facility which housed her.
"I have a meeting with my bankers," he told her, glancing at his wrist chrono. "So I need to leave. I do wish you would take some rest, Padmé," he said. "I'm concerned about you."
"I will, later," she told him. "I promise."
"Very well," he said, giving her a light pack on the cheek. "I'll check in on you later."
Padmé watched him leave, the smile pasted on her face until he was out of sight. When she was certain that he was gone, she pulled the japor snippet from her pocket and looked at it closely, determined to use it to unlock the mystery that was her life.
"Doctor Deese, I've been anxious to hear from you," Anakin said as he sat before the comm. screen. It had been several hours since he had sent her Padmé's medical files. The hours had passed by slowly as he waited for her response.
"I'm sorry for the delay," she replied. "I had a few babies to deliver," she told him with a smile.
"Of course," Anakin replied. "I should have realized that. What can you tell me? Were you able to make any sense of my wife's unusual condition?"
"Yes, I have," she said. "You were right," she told him. "The medication, Tharandon, is no longer used to treat her type of condition because the side effects of long term use far outweigh any positive benefits."
"What side effects?" Anakin asked, the anger slowly building within him.
"If used for prolonged periods, Tharandon can be debilitating and can cause long term memory loss which may in some cases be irreversible." She paused, unnerved by the look in Anakin's eyes, by his silence. He wanted to know the truth, but was he truly prepared for it? She pressed on. "No reputable doctor would even prescribe Tharandon any more," she continued. "And I worry that if she does not stop taking these medications immediately she will eventually become bedridden and unresponsive over time." She stopped again. "You need to get your wife out of that facility, and immediately. That is my advice to you."
Anakin nodded, trying to wrap his mind around all that the physician had just told him. Inside of him, his rage was building, churning, smoldering like the molten rivers of fire that had all but destroyed him two decades earlier. He had not felt rage like this in a very long time, and it filled him with a darkness that he thought he had long since abandoned.
"Would you be willing to put this report into writing?" he asked at last.
"I already have," she said, holding up a datadisc. "I took the liberty of writing up a report for you, figuring you would need proof of your allegations of malpractice. Here it is, the proof you need," she said, feeding the datadisc into her computer. "I wish you luck with your quest. If there is anything else I can do for you, please do not hesitate to ask."
"I will," Anakin replied. "And I thank you."
"I'm glad I could help," she replied. "I hope you make the people who did this to her pay."
"Oh they will pay, make no mistake," Anakin assured her, his fists clenched tightly as they rested on the armrests of the chair. "They will pay."