It was great to see that there are still some people out there who are interested in my little story! Thank you for the reviews. Please, keep them coming. I would really love to hear some ideas of where you would like to see this story go next.
Without further ado, the next chapter. Please see author's notes at the end! Happy reading.
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The first time that Padmé's consciousness extended beyond the confines of her small, broken world, she was shocked at what she saw.
She'd been out once, maybe twice, since the events on Mustafar, and even then, she'd not dared to venture far from her apartment building, unwilling to incite her husband's wrath.
Now, as she traveled in the small, comfortable speeder throughout the once flourishing district of 500 Republica, she could not help but mourn for the world she had once dreamed of saving.
When Padmé had become Queen, she had been a mere fourteen years of age, a child in so many ways, but her strength had been her passion for her people and for her country. She had possessed an innate sense of social justice; her heart had cried out at the misfortune of others, and she had longed to save and redeem each and every one of them.
Though her political views were idealistic in nature, they had not changed as she aged. Senator Amidala had once been a beacon of hope in the Republic, a principled woman who would fight with her very last breath to protect the rights of the people. She had believed that she had the power to make lasting change.
Things were so different now.
Even in 500 Republica, the most affluent sector of the galaxy, things were in ruin. There were vagabonds and pariahs, hungrily roaming the streets, living on corners and sleeping under the shadows of tall skyscrapers. The Emperor no longer cared for the wellbeing of his people, though it was clear now that that had never been of importance to him. But with his new position of absolute power, there was no need to pursue a false agenda. It had only been a few months, but it was already evident in the city that Palpatine had new plans for this world he had constructed.
Padmé pressed her hand to the glass of the speeder window, as if she could reach out and touch all of Coruscant, heal them all with sheer force of will. But she knew that she was no longer their savior. Bitterly, she realized she never had been.
Padmé never forgot who it was that had placed Palpatine where he was today. She never failed to remember who had supported him in his campaign for Chancellor, who had toiled endlessly to make sure his bills were passed, who had believed first and foremost that he would ultimately bring peace to the galaxy.
Without Padmé, Palpatine would have never come to power.
And without Palpatine, Anakin never would have turned.
It seemed juvenile and egotistic to pinpoint the fall of an entire society on a single being's existence, but it seemed similarly wrong to ignore the fact that she had participated so actively in creating this world that she now wished fervently she could escape.
She had once been a warrior. She had once taken on droid armies and Sith Lords, Trade Federations and corrupt viceroys. She had once fought for justice.
Now, she was nothing more than a frail, weak wife, trapped in a hopeless situation, selfishly hiding out from the rest of the galaxy.
Leia cooed softly in her arms, bringing her mind back to the present reality. Padmé's eyes drifted over the face of her child, this being that she had created. Her eyes were heavy with tears as she realized that, in spite of everything she had lost, in spite of all her spectacular failures and endless shortcomings, these babies had still come into the world, alive and unharmed.
And that alone gave her hope that there was good left in the world, and that it was worth fighting for.
"My lady," Dormé said softly, pulling Padmé from her troubled thoughts. "We're here."
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"Senator Amidala."
Padmé felt bile rise in her throat, and had to will her body not to tremble.
Not more than twenty minutes after she arrived in her new quarters, one of Palpatine's bodyguards had come to inform her that her presence was requested in his office. She'd dressed in her senatorial robes and had made her way to the center of the Imperial Palace with confidence, but now, standing in front of him, she felt fear worm its way into her senses.
She'd grown up around this man; he'd once been her friend and confidante. But as she stared into his murky eyes and took in his horribly scarred complexion, she could not recall a single memory of how he had been before, friendly, bantering, and full of life.
"Chancellor," she addressed him, her tone cool and even.
He rose from his chair with all the strength of an old corpse, making it almost impossible to believe that this man had complete power over all the sentient beings in this galaxy. Padmé unconsciously took a step back, unable to stop her reaction to his marred form.
"I appreciate your sentimentality, but that title is no longer appropriate," he informed her, his tone just as even as hers.
"Palpatine, then?" she questioned, her expression innocent.
"Your quick tongue has always been your weakness, Senator," he spat at her, his eyes filled with venom. "After that has transpired, I find it laughable that you still attempt to defy me in whatever petty, juvenile ways you can." He drew his hood further around his face, and walked to the front of his desk.
Padmé watched him with even, wary eyes. "Lord Vader's medical condition remains unchanging," she spoke suddenly, surprised by her boldness. "I was under the impression that he would soon be undergoing reconstructive surgery."
Palpatine was slow to reply. "I am sure your patience will be rewarded," he said finally. "Meanwhile, my medical staff continues to provide him with the best treatment and care available. Surely you have no further complaints on the matter?"
Padmé felt her blood boil, knowing she could say nothing. Dismally, she realized that Palpatine had probably never indented for Vader to be physically well ever again; a dependant slave was probably a much more loyal one. She wanted to vomit. "No," she said simply. "Though while we are on the subject of my various complaints, I am unappreciative of how little say I have had in the upbringing of my children."
Palpatine paced to the window overlooking the city, turning his face from her. "Odile and Cadeius are strong in the Force, Padmé," he spoke, his voice pitching low. "As strong as their father. As their mother, I am sure that you must want their talents fostered and looked after." He turned to face her, his lips drawn in a frozen, diplomatic smile. "I foresee the younglings—once they are stronger—bringing much peace and prosperity to this new era."
Padmé willed herself not to scream in frustration.
"Senator," Palpatine began, heavily settling back into his chair, "much has transpired since the unfortunate fall of the Jedi Order. And you, my dear, have been quite unwell. Vader tells me of your sullen moods, your childish displays of inflexibility. I so strongly wish to see you well and like yourself again."
Padmé's fists clenched so tightly that she felt her nails cut into the skin of her palms.
"Don't feel betrayed, Senator," Palpatine assured her, his voice sweet as honey. "I can assure you, Lord Vader cares deeply for your emotional state and confides in me only out of husbandly concern." He pressed a button on the surface of his desk, activating his comlink. "Yes, Lord Tarkin. Please send Dr. Ruskin to Senator Amidala's quarters later this afternoon. Yes. Thank you." When he had received confirmation of his orders, he cut the connection.
Padmé exhaled slowly through her nose. "Your Excellency," she choked out. "I am in the best of health, I can assure you. My only concern is for my husband and children."
"As it should be," he was quick to agree, lacing his tone with sympathy. "Senator, please, I beg of you. It is merely a precaution. It is your husband's—and my—dearest wish to see you well."
Padmé knew that she had been defeated. How could you contradict the king of everything? How could you tell him he was wrong? "I will see Dr. Ruskin," she agreed begrudgingly. "But I wish to speak with you again soon."
"Of course," he agreed, standing, indicating that her presence here was no longer appropriate. "Your husband is like a son to me," he spoke, his tone so repulsively tender. "And you are his family. There are no closed doors here." He smiled, one last time, and extended his arm towards the door where she should exit.
Padmé nodded her head. "Thank you," she mumbled, and quickly left his presence.
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Only a few hours later, Padmé was startled when a knock came on her bedroom door, waking her from her troubled nap. Tiredly, she rose from her chair by the window where she'd fallen into slumber, and crossed to the closed door. When she opened it, was she surprised to see an entirely unfamiliar face.
Her gaze settled upon an older man, a Rodian with deep set eyes and a green design on his face. "Senator," he greeted her, his voice gruff. "If you please, I've been instructed to evaluate you."
Padmé quickly regained her composure. "Doctor Ruskin."
Dr. Ruskin pulled a datapad from his cloak, and looked at her with careful eyes. "Please, Senator, take a seat," he instructed her, gesturing to the bed. Slowly, Padmé seated herself on the mattress, her hands folded neatly in her lap.
Dr. Ruskin activated the datapad, and spoke in a calm, professional tone. "I'm just here to ask you a few questions," he said, his gaze careful and observant. "Please answer as honestly as you can." Padmé nodded, and he continued, reading from his screen. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm feeling all right," Padmé spoke vaguely, by way of answer. "Just a bit tired."
Ruskin gave an acknowledging "hmm" and entered some information into the datapad. "How has your mood been over the past couple of weeks?"
"My mood?" she asked, her voice wary. "I was under the impression this would be a physical evaluation."
Ruskin gave her a brief, dismissive glance before returning his eyes to his datapad. "His Excellency ordered a full evaluation. The psychiatric aspect is merely standard procedure. Please try to answer as honestly as you can. Let's start out with how your mood has been over the past few weeks, please?"
Padmé felt an uneasy heaviness in her stomach. "I've been fine," she said, her voice a bit shaky. "As normal as can be expected, given the circumstances."
"I see. How has your memory been?"
"Normal," Padmé replied, disturbed by his cool air of nonchalance.
"Do you feel happy?"
"I haven't had much cause for it lately."
"Do you ever experience feelings of panic?"
Padmé's hands fidgeted in her lap. "No," she assured him.
Ruskin eyed her. "Please try to relax, Senator," he instructed her. She nodded. "Have you experienced a change in appetite, loss of pleasure in activities that used to interest you, or a feeling of emotional numbness lately?"
"Nothing out of the ordinary, no."
He observed her for once tense moment before entering some more information into his datapad.
"Dr. Ruskin, I don't mean to be rude," she spoke carefully. "I know you've been instructed to give me a psychiatric evaluation, but I can promise you that I am fine. These questions are unnecessary."
Ruskin gave her a long, cold stare. "Well, Senator, that is for me to decide. I should warn you though, that prior to this evaluation, I spoke with Lord Vader."
"Regarding?" she snapped.
"Regarding your mental health, Senator." He set down his datapad, hands coming to rest on his knees, evaluating her carefully. "He's concerned for well-being, as is Lord Vader. Your husband spoke to me about your frequent bouts of depression. Quite frankly, the fact that you've been reluctant to admit them to me is somewhat concerning."
A lump was forming in her throat, making her words sound small. "No, Dr., my husband misunderstands me. I'm not mentally ill, I've simply been through a great deal-"
"Yes, much of your life has changed, no doubt," the doctor agreed with her. "Some level of depression following such large life changes is rather normal. However, in addition, your husband described violent mood swings, out-of-character behavior, and some level of paranoia about His Excellency, believing that he is somehow out to get you and your family."
She fumbled for words. "No, that's not it," she insisted, her words becoming jumbled. "I am merely expressing my concern-"
"Have you always experience some level of paranoia? Are you experiencing feelings of being watched, or followed?"
She felt tears welling to the surface of her eyes. He wasn't listening. "Dr.-"
"Senator, it is my professional opinion that you are suffering from bouts of hysteria," he spoke, putting his datapad aside, and suddenly, Padmé understood what this whole meeting had been about.
Palpatine had no intention of allowing her to be an inconvenience to his new Empire. He had to make sure that her voice was effectively silenced.
Padmé felt the tears running down her cheeks, knowing they were doing nothing to help her case.
Ruskin continued. "You seem to experience bouts of paranoia as well as depressive episodes, and you are unwilling to admit the level of distress you are experiencing. I'm rather tempted to place you under psychiatric care, but I know you are a new mother and I don't want to separate you from your children this early in their development."
"I don't need psychiatric care," Padmé hissed, her voice filled with an odd mixture of venom and fear. "My world has been turned upside down. Of course it's distressing."
"Yes, of course it is," the doctor said, his tone bordering on condescending. "Naturally, you are having some trouble adjusting. Although I think twenty-four psychiatric care would benefit you, I would be willing to try a medication regimen until further symptoms produce themselves or your current condition subsides."
Padmé was at a complete loss for words. "Medication?" she asked breathlessly. "Do I have a say in the matter?"
The doctor once again gave her a puzzled, weary look. "No one is going to force you to take your medication, Senator," he spoke, and she could see that once again she'd chosen the wrong words. "However, I'll be much more inclined to allow you to remain with your family if I see that you are being cooperative with your treatment."
Padmé wiped the tears from her eyes, unable to form a retort. Ruskin's comlink beeped, signaling that he was needed elsewhere. He stood up, making his way to the door. "It would do you well to rest," he instructed her. "A nurse will return later this evening to administer your medication. You are, of course, free to refuse it, but be mindful of the consequences that could follow. Good day, Senator."
Infuriated, Padmé's hands fumbled blindly for something—anything. She snatched pretty blue base in the corner and hurled it against the wall, smashing into a million irreparable fragments. Somewhere beyond the all-consuming rage, she heard Dormé enter the room.
"He is not going to get away with this," Padmé cried, more at herself than anyone else. "This fight isn't over until I say it is."
She cursed him, vowing, somewhere deep inside her heart, that she would not let Palpatine destroy her family. Perhaps it was too late to save the galaxy, but her little corner of the world was not going down without a fight.
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To be continued…
To my dear, lovely lurkers:
I love you all so much. Nothing could possibly make me love you more...EXCEPT maybe coming out of hiding and leaving me some feedback. =]
Without your incredibly helpful input, this story might completely crash and burn, and spiral into deep, dark, fanfiction hell. I don't trust myself not to try turn this into a Padme and JarJar love story (new title suggestions, anyone?) when that days happens. Just saying.
Love, Marisa