Eerie silence seems to surround me in the two weeks that have gone by since the meeting with the Chancellor. I have not left the confines of my apartment for any type of meetings, vacations, or escapes. I have not received word from Bail or Mon Mothma about the status of the Petition or a solution to the war since we confronted Chancellor Palpatine himself. I have not had a single visitor to the apartment either. Not Bail, or a colleague, or Anakin.
I am beginning to get worried.
I sit in the green robe I wore for my meeting with the Senators and my conversation with Obi-Wan. Sprawled out across the couch, my dress hides my pregnancy so well, I almost forget that there is a baby belly underneath its volume. For a moment I seem to forget about all of its repercussions.
Hood down, sadness takes over my face as I look around the emptiness of the central room of my apartment. I am alone. My handmaidens have retired for the evening. Threepio is off cleaning up the veranda.
The silence is haunting. I close my eyes and think of Anakin—or what I remember of him. I think of our time on Naboo—the way we kissed on the garden terrace, in the open, clean air, surrounded by nature and the glistening lake. I think of our picnic in the meadows, frolicking and running around in the tall grass. Even as we sat by the fire after our flirtatious dinner, I could feel the romance between us. What happened to the two star-crossed lovers? What happened to the two humans from across the galaxy who defied all the odds and found love together?
All of that seems so long ago, now. It feels like a fairy tale or a made up story. I haven't seen him in so long. Are we still those star-crossed lovers? Has our love faded?
I know the truth. It hasn't. And it makes me feel guilty. In fact, if anything, it's grown stronger. Anakin loves me more than I know—more than I love him. He loves me so much, he's doing all he can to learn ways to save me from a death he's not even sure may come.
In my meditation I feel his presence. I feel him so genuinely; I swear he is in the room with me. It isn't until I open my eyes and look up around the room that I can confirm he isn't truly here. The room is empty, but for a slight instant, I swear I just saw the Jedi Council Chamber. I swear I see my husband.
Even though he may not be here, I know he is. I can feel it. I cannot explain the connection. I know I have no Force powers, or way of feeling him, but I do. In this moment, I know where he is. I know he is in the Council Chamber. I know he is looking in my direction, calling for me to go look back at him.
I stand, absentmindedly, and walk over to the window, looking into the deep, amber sunset. Through a small clearing between several neighboring skyscrapers, I see the Jedi Temple, far off in the distance, a tall monument which once was recognized and welcomed with smiles and pride. Now, I am conflict on what to accept it as. The role of the Jedi in the Republic seems to be in question now more than ever.
Focusing on the Jedi Temple, I can feel him more strongly than ever. I can feel his love for me. And I can also feel his fear. I can feel the fear that is eating at his heart—the fear that has been driving him away from me in search of more power that he could return with one day and use to protect me.
I hadn't known how terrible his fear was until this moment.
I'm not afraid to die. I say in my head, wishing, hoping that somehow, someway he could hear me and understand that my only fear is Anakin going another day not knowing how much I love him.
I told him that on Geonosis and its truth still resonates today.
A voice in my head that is not my own hears, Everything must die.
I feel the Force connection fade and I look down at my hands, which I didn't realize were trembling so severely. I place my hands on my pregnancy and feel for something, anything to take my mind off this.
"I truly, deeply love you, and before I die, I want you to know." I mouth to the Temple from my window, trying to force our love theme into my ears, to hear its sweet sound.
I hear the electronic steps of Threepio approaching, breaking my concentration.
I wipe a tear from my eye with the heel of my hand and look at him with a gracious smile. I'm ready to retire for the night.
However, something in my head haunts me.
Everything must die. I repeat in my head. Whose voice was that? Where did it come from?
It was a morbid thought, but it was true. I had never thought about death before. When I was fighting for Naboo, running through the palace, shooting at droids who were shooting at me, I never thought about dying. I never thought I could be struck down at any moment and leave this life.
I never thought about death as I watched the life leave Corde's eyes when the assassin destroyed our cruiser, or as I was about to die countless times on Geonosis. Something always brought me out of the danger. Death was never something for me to fear, because I never thought of experiencing its reality.
Now that I face reality, yes, everything must die. All things die. Even stars eventually burn out. I cannot live forever. Anakin must know this. Now, I too know this. Maybe I will die in childbirth. Maybe I do only have a little over a month to live. Maybe his dreams are more than just dreams.
I try to shake this personal thought from my head quickly. I do not want to develop a fear of death. I do not want to live these last few weeks in fear.
My life is for the greater good. It's always been. I've never feared death because I knew my life was devoted to democracy. If I were to die, the galaxy would still live on. The sun would still rise in the morning. This happens to everyone, and this is a revelation everyone, even I, Padme Amidala Skywalker, must come to understand sooner or later.
Everything must die.