Chapter 18. Healing

Oh, that it were possible,
after long grief and pain,
to find the arms of my true love,
Around me once again.

- Alfred Lord Tennyson

The rocking of the wagon coming to a halt stirred me from my clumsy sleep. The first thing I sensed in my waking was a cocoon of warmth around my body. I was being held by a swaddling human form as I laid against a broad chest. More specifically, I realized I was wrapped like a child in Anakin's arms, my legs crossing over his thighs from my place in his lap. I'd fallen asleep with my head tucked under his chin.

I felt all this more than I saw it. The night was well and truly reigning the sky and all below it. The stars provided the only glow to see.

Brother Luke opened his door in the front cab of the speeder and began his dismount. Hearing this, I shifted, clearing my throat as I carefully unscrambled myself from Anakin before the holy man could find us in such a state. Ani let me break loose freely, silently watching as I scooted to a more proper distance on the other side of the wagon. "We're here?" I asked the obvious, my voice hoarse from my long flood of sobbing. I licked my lips and sensed their salty taste. My cheeks still felt damp and soft. I realized I'd continued crying even after I'd finally fallen asleep.

"Yes," Anakin answered softly. "How are you feeling?"

Before I could answer, Brother Luke's face appeared over the side of the wagon. First he looked at me, then he angled himself to get a better look at Anakin. Then back at me. He didn't quite seem to know what to say, and I looked down, understanding. Brother Luke would've undoubtedly heard my audible grief during the ride and the silence after. Not bothering to hide the act, I wiped at dried crusts in my lashes. The holy man's voice was low and solemn. "Her parents were glad you came."

"I hope so," I replied, dearly wishing his sentiment was true for both the father and the mother. Anakin nodded along with us, never taking his eyes off me.

I grew uncomfortable with his gaze. I shuffled my way closer towards the tailgate end of the wagon, and Brother Luke moved to help me down. "I'm alright," I mumbled, more to the man behind me than to the one in front. My back was stiff from not having stretched it in hours. "Right now I just want to get home."

Brother Luke took my hand and helped me navigate the deep step till I was safely on the ground, and Anakin followed smoothly after on his own. We thanked Luke with enormous gratitude for what he'd done for us. While turning to go, I noticed the holy man pass something to Anakin, but the move went too quickly for me to decipher what it was. As I was about to inquire what had happened, Brother Luke wished us a goodnight, which we returned in kind.

Turning from the dirt road, Anakin and I walked in silence towards the boat dock, neither one of us truly knowing what to say.

Melodic insects chirped themselves around us, creating their own music of the night. There was enough light from the stars that I was able to find my step, but twice I took Anakin's hand as he guided me over potentially dangerous elevated twines of root.

The water speeder was just where we'd left it. I went to help him untie the ropes, but his fingers were so nimble that they were all undone before I could do much at all. He held the boat steady as I lifted my robes and stepped in, and before long we were on our way across the water.

Our silence continued, the low hum of the engine now adding to the night's soundtrack. It was probably too dark for him to see them anyways, but I sat close to the edge of the speeder in order to let the mist from our wave breaking camouflage the two tears running down my cheeks.

It was Anakin's voice that broke the lull first.

"Cordé's death was not your fault."

I didn't pretend to be surprised. His introduction to it was blunt, but somehow I had expected this conversation to come. Anakin was too much of a gentleman not to say the customary words after witnessing my morose behavior. I could even appreciate that he'd gotten straight to what his point was inevitably going to be, however incorrect it was. He doesn't understand. I kept my gaze over the water as I spoke, my voice soft. "The captain said it himself— he thought we shouldn't go. He said it was too dangerous. Cordé only pushed for the flight to Coruscant because she knew how much it meant to me." My breath rattled and I closed my eyes, but I kept speaking. "I never would have traveled back if I'd known."

"But did you know?"

I opened my eyes and peered over my shoulder at him. "What?"

"Did you know about their discussions over security?"

"Not quite," I admitted quietly. "I knew there was a threat. That was never a secret. I sat in on discussions and made my opinion clearly known, but I never knew the situation was so grave that Typho didn't want to fly at all. And I didn't know Cordé had to persuade him."

Anakin didn't reply, instead seemingly strategically choosing to let my words hang in the air. We skimmed across the lake in a poignant silence as I wrestled with what I'd just said, but even thinking had grown cumbersome, tiring. I felt raw, like a fallen tree which had been scrapped hollow on the inside and out. I shifted my gaze back and forth from the stars to the dark shoreline, to the black jagged outline of the mountains around us. Eventually, I mostly just looked at Anakin in the moonlight. Even at night, he guided the water speeder across the lake like he'd been doing it all his life. I began to believe there wasn't a mechanized device in this galaxy he couldn't see and learn to operate just by touch.

We reached the landing dock of Varykino without another word haven been spoken between us. In an odd mirroring of the first time he'd helped me from the speeder in this very spot, Anakin stepped up onto the dock and turned round to extend a hand to me. Like matching choreography in a well-rehearsed dance, I placed my hand in his and let him pull me up. This time, he must've thought to adjust the strength which which he tugged, for instead of the momentum carrying me past him, I came to a stop in front of his chest. We made silent eye contact for a tangible moment before he then stepped around me to tie up the boat. I knew better this time than to try to help— I wasn't an imbecile, but he was just so capable and agile that'd only serve to be in his way.

I waited for him to finish before I continued forward off the landing. We walked side by side towards the house through the lower-level entrance, nodding at a stationed guardsman during our measured stroll. More silence.

I thought we were going to end the night this way until we reached the door leading into the garden entrance and the villa. I sprawled my palm and fingers out on the rustic wood to push in, but Anakin abruptly put his hand on mine, halting me. My eyes flew up to meet his.

"Are you an intelligent woman?"

I made a face. "Ani—"

"Padmé." He cut me off, but his voice was gentle. "Do you, and do others, consider you intelligent?"

One or two factions in the Senate and a certain trading viceroy might have their own answer to his question, but I was worn out and wanted to make this quick, so I simply replied, "Yes."

"Are you capable of making your own decisions?"

There was no pause. "Yes."

His hand still kept mine pinned under his on the door. The pressure was loose enough that I could have pulled it out from underneath his, but I didn't.

"Do you want your decisions over your own life and safety to be respected?"

He knew I did from the front row seat he'd had as soon as this protection assignment began. Anakin had been present for my parade of outcries in my apartment after Palpatine had ordered me off-planet, and for all the push back I'd given before and after.

Although not directed at him, residual ire laced my voice. "Most definitely."

He dropped his hand from its hold over mine to face me squarely. "And if she were still alive, would you have thought to give Cordé the same level of respect?"

I dropped my hand now, too. I'm wise enough to have guessed the point he was going to make, but I'd walked into the trap all the same. "Yes," I answered faintly. Truthfully.

{I look at it as coming alive. As being part of something greater than myself. There's work to do and I want to be a part of it}

She may as well have quoted my own dogma.

"I know why you would think it's your fault."

Presumptive of him, but I had a feeling I was going to hear this opinion one way or the other. "Let's hear it then."

His chin dipped as eyes drew invisible lines across my face. "You, Padmé, have been the one who so many have looked at to make the ultimate decision since you were Queen. You ruled as monarch for two terms. You've only been Senator for a short while, and you're younger than most of your colleagues, but even then— you've emerged as the leader of the opposition to one of the biggest pieces of legislation that's crossed the desk of the Senate in thousands of years. Senators twice your age don't command half your level of influence."

"You make it sound glamorous, Ani. That same influence put the target on my back."

"Hear me," he said, shifting his weight. "Through all of it, you haven't let this power go to your head. Well, not in the traditional sense— but in another way, you have." I looked at him quizzically, wondering where his point could possibly be heading now. "I suspect you're so used to situations and decisions resting on your shoulders alone that even when something negative happens, something that is beyond your control, you take on the mantle of responsibility."

"That's a very simplified way of looking at things, Anakin."

He was undeterred. "Am I wrong?"

Despite my best efforts, Anakin's view mulled over in my head the longer we stood there in the quiet moonlight.

"Can I ask you something else?"

I eyed him wearily, but mumbled, "Go ahead."

"Cordé worked with you against this legislation, right? Or she at least learned enough about it to grasp the Military Creation Act and its importance?"

"Of course." She'd been present for almost every meeting, even if she'd had to be in the background for most of them.

His eyes were kind, even as he guided me to the resolution he'd prepared for me. "So, don't you think she might've wanted you to return for the vote not just because it mattered to you, but because it mattered to her?"

I wanted to argue. To counter. Years and years of efficiently fined-tuned debate skills were poised at the ready, just waiting for my summons. Yet, instead of squaring my feet into my tell-tale verbal battle position, my shoulders relaxed as I let Anakin's words sink in. Cordé had been more involved than any of my handmaidens in my year long fight against the MCA. I'd told her multiple times that if she hadn't gone into protection detail, she should have gone into diplomatic service herself. She was destined for it.

Anakin regarded me with compassionate eyes. "Padmé… I don't say this to hurt you— you know that— but you dishonor her memory by thinking of Cordé as a blind follower and not as an independently-thinking, strategic woman with her own vested care in the peace of the galaxy. Not to mention, as someone who was capable of deciding for herself what was best for her." He raised an eyebrow at me. "The same kind of woman you wished so much to be treated like this week. She ran the risks, same as Typho. She came up with a different answer. She made a mistake." He moved to stroke my cheek, but his hand fell before he made contact. "She made a terrible, tragic mistake. That doesn't mean she failed you. And that certainly doesn't mean you failed her." His low voice wasn't judgmental, it was only filled with tenderness. "You respect her memory by respecting her sacrifice— instead of lambasting yourself for it."

It was obvious Anakin had overheard more from his overlook on the gravel path than I'd anticipated when he'd given Typho and I privacy to talk, but I couldn't muster up the will to feel crossed. Truth be told, I was feeling that recognition again at how much Anakin had matured in the past ten years. Perhaps I shouldn't have been surprised that he spoke like someone who had lived and practiced alongside the Jedi for a decade, but the rash fire that almost always seemed to burn in him made moments like this still catch me by surprise. He was always catching me by surprise.

I indicated with a tilt of my head and my eyes that I was ready to enter the property, and he pushed the door open for us. We made our way through the inner yard, past Paddy's garden, and into the atrium of the house itself.

My thoughts bounced back and forth as we walked, the only sounds being our shoes on the paved walkway and subsequently the tile floors. We removed the robes and draped them over the banister of the staircase, not wanting to let their dirty hems track dirt into the house. We continued our movement side by side as we ascended the stairs. As we reached the spot where we would have to split to go to our separate rooms, I turned towards him and asked, "Meet me on the veranda?"

He bowed his head in silent consent, a shy smile on his lips. I departed for my room and he for his, and after a quick rendezvous in the fresher and draining a glass of water from the pitcher by my nightstand, I stepped through the curtains leading back out into the night.

I found Anakin leaning against the stone balustrade, looking out over the black water. He was standing between two pots brimming with red flowers, their crimson petals charcoal in the dim scene. Last night, when we'd stood by the pillars, the clouds hid the stars and moon from our sight, keeping the ground below indecipherable as well. Tonight, however, the sky was clear, and the moonlight reflecting across the lake was mesmerizing. Even at night, the lush Lake Country was a treasure to behold. Nevertheless, I found my gaze towards the view distracted by the silhouette of the man in front of me.

He must've heard me approach, but he didn't turn. Instead, he waited till I'd joined him— side by side once again— on the balcony. I rested my forearms on the cool stone as he did, breathing in the floral scent all around us. I didn't feel tired anymore. As I curved myself around the banister, he finally turned his eyes to meet mine. Their blue was unmistakable, even in the darkness.

This time I broke the silence first. "I would come out here as a little girl and pick out as many constellations as I could find." I looked up, and he followed my gaze into the wide expanse above our heads. The stars glittered like hot gems trying to poke their way through a black canvas, shimmering as they triumphantly fought their way in.

His voice was wistful, but I could detect the smile in it even as I kept my vision on the sky. "I used to tell my mother— and Qui-Gon once, actually— that I was going to visit them all. Ambitious words for a junk rat on Tatooine."

"Hmm. Not so impractical for a Jedi," I mused.

He chuckled. "Just add on a couple hundred thousand years to my life and I might be able to see half."

We fell into a comfortable silence. The night air was thick but pleasant. Birds had long gone home to nest, and the music of the night was composed by the nocturnal creatures. I felt a harmony coming on that I hadn't experienced in a long while. "Thank you for today."

"You're welcome." His features were soft and sincere, and they fluidly moved into a smile. "Besides, I think I should be thanking you. I've never seen a view like the one on the ride up the mountain. It's like this place just wants to be beautiful for the sake of it." He eyed me. "It's like beauty is the only resource it knows how to produce."

I knew Naboo was a crowning jewel in the galaxy, but I was likely biased, and even he had seen more planets than I had at this point in his career. "You've traveled for ten years with the Jedi, yet you act like you've never seen anything like Naboo?"

"I told you," he mused. I thought I saw him look down at my lips, but in the dark it was hard to tell. "This is special." There, again, his eyes flickered to just above my chin. "Beautiful."

"Maybe it comes from living on a desert planet the first half of your life," I ribbed. "Your standards are low."

"Hmm. True." He cocked an eyebrow and his lips curled up impishly. "Tatooine isn't known for its trees."

I felt a smile spread on my cheeks. I hadn't thought that would happen today of all days. "No." Did I just laugh? "I suppose not." My tone was surprisingly light. "If you want to see another amazing water view, I can show you something remarkable, even for Naboo."

He fixed me with a confused, but intrigued look. "Better than that?" He pointed at the lake before us.

"Well, let me put it this way— have you ever seen rows of water fall out of the sky on a sunny day?"

He knew that I knew he hadn't, but he indulged me anyways. "Can't say I've had the pleasure."

"Get some sleep tonight. Tomorrow, we're going on a picnic."

He hesitated, suddenly seemingly torn between excitement and reluctance. "Is it far? Are we meeting any more last minute invitees?"

I shook my head at my dedicated protector. "The grass fields are close. And no. Just us."

He displayed his brilliantly white smile. "What time?"

"Let's not set an exact time." I sighed, but not unhappily. Deeply. More deeply than I had in a long time. "Sometime around lunch?" I inhaled the floral scent again. Something felt different, and I only ventured the following words because I dared to believe I might actually follow through with them. "I think it would be good for me to sleep in tomorrow."

"This plan has more merits the more I hear it. Just let me know when you've woken up." He shuffled his weight underneath him and then reached behind his back. "I have something for you."

Intrigued, I raised an eyebrow as he fished a pale yellow something from his back pocket before holding it out to me expectantly. Unsure, I took it in investigatory fingers. They needed to explore the light object in the dark to truly understanding what they were grasping. I turned it over in my hands, letting out a quiet gasp when I realized what it was.

"A lantern," I breathed. I looked back up at him, utterly bewildered. "When? How did you…?"

He was watching me carefully, but he seemed relieved at my reaction. "When I told Brother Luke to meet us on the road, I asked him to secure one for me. Well, for you." He smiled. "I don't think Cordé will mind one late lantern."

A fresh wave of tears— the truly touched, uplifting kind— glazed over my eyes.

"Oh, Anakin," I whispered. "I…" I didn't have words to convey how much his gesture meant to me. I hoped the expression on my face would say what my verbal skills could not. "Thank you."

He didn't say anything— he only stared back at me with the signature look that made me feel like he saw and understood all. After a beat, he asked, "How do we do it?" He tilted his head back to indicate the motion of flight.

I studied the device. It had been folded many times to fit in Anakin's pocket, but as I carefully unraveled it, I saw it had otherwise been delicately handled all the same. The spherical shape came back into form, with only minor lines hinting it had ever been compacted for travel.

I pulled out the tight string attached to the bottom of the orb. "We need a fire spark, something to light this tiny rope here." I started racking my mind for where the nearest lighter might be— I had no clue, and it was too late to rouse Paddy over the matter.

Anakin stepped a few long steps away from me. Suddenly, a cerulean hue illuminated the space between us. The unmistakable sound of a lightsaber coming to life was startlingly loud in the quiet air, and I found my breath catching— for that, and other reasons. Blue shadows contoured Anakin's face, giving him the appearance of a supernatural creation of night. The blue of his eyes became even more striking as they reflected the color of his blade.

His right arm was extended out at chest-level. In it, he held the hilt horizontal in his steady hand, the beam a safe three feet from me.

Anakin peered at me over the humming bar of light between us. "Ready?"

I carefully stepped forward and paused. I'd never seen an activated lightsaber up close before, and I took a moment to appreciate the mesmerizing sight. It was amazing how it imbued both threat and harmony in its controlled balance. A lightsaber in action was truly a thing to behold, but one had only to see the weapon up close, even in a passive state, to appreciate why only Force users were capable of brandishing them.

My hair had become an unraveled mess during my sleep in the wagon cruiser. As I leaned slightly yet safely forward to examine the blade, a long curl originating from around my temple fell loose from behind my ear. I was already still, but I absolutely froze as I watched it swing forward, the impetuous lock of hair coming to a stop just two inches before the blue sword. My gaze immediately met Anakin's, and although our eyes were both wide, we shared an amused look. I took an exaggerated step back. "Don't let that thing singe my hair, or a bounty hunter will be the least of your problems."

He chuckled but nodded in full agreement. "I would never dream of it, milady."

I raised the lantern directly in front of my chest, then I closed my eyes. I took a private moment as I pictured Cordé's face again. This time, I only saw the good memories, successfully keeping the living and dreaming nightmares of the landing platform at bay. I saw the grin of my friend, my ally, my confidant. I heard her laughter. I remembered and permanently stowed away echoes of sage wisdom she'd given. At last, I thanked her, most profoundly, for her sacrifice— not just given for me, but for Naboo, and for every being that might be touched by war legislation; I vowed it would not be in vain.

When I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw were Anakin's. He was regarding me with a somber expression of his own, but I smiled at him to show that I was alright. "Now, I'm ready."

He nodded, and I approached the saber once again. I lifted the lantern high above the blade, then gradually lowered it as ceremoniously as the day I'd placed The Globe of Peace in Boss Nass' hands.

When the tiny rope at the bottom of the orb hovered a little less than an inch from the saber, it ignited with a quiet flicker. Anakin deactivated his sword, and I lost sight of him in the resulting immediate darkness. The orange ember at the bottom of the string was faint but present, a floating atom of light between me and wherever Anakin stood. My eyes adjusted quickly with the help of the moonlight on the water, but I was focused on the lantern in my hands.

"For Cordé."

"For Cordé," Anakin repeated in a whisper.

I watched as the lantern gradually filled with smoke. It became more and more weightless in between my palms until I felt like I was simply holding air. When the moment felt right, I released it. The hollow marble bobbed in the air for only a moment, and then it gracefully ascended from the veranda.

Free from my suppression, a single tear rolled down my left cheek. I didn't brush it away.

We watched as the lantern floated high above us, until the wind caught it and carried it out over the black water of the lake. Following its trail, I turned and relaxed onto the balcony again, and Anakin joined me at my side. We stood in silence as we followed the sphere for as long as our eyes would allow before it flew too high and too far, becoming indistinguishable from the stars themselves.

Once it was gone from sight, I took a deep breath and shifted my gaze to the young man next to me. He turned his face to look at me in kind, and again, our eyes had an exchange spoken words were not needed for.

It was time to go. Arguably, there was nothing left to say, but I couldn't bring myself to leave just yet. Anakin seemed to feel the same. We kept our easy poses on the balcony, staring at each other, smiling softly, though I couldn't recall when our lips first curved up.

"I meant it," I said, my smile only fading to showcase my sincerity. "Thank you for today. Not just for signing off on it, not just for the lantern, but for…" I paused, not quite able to articulate what I wanted to express. It wasn't usual for me to struggle with words. "I won't apologize for feeling blame over their deaths, and if Obi-Wan can't find justice for Cordé and my servicemen, I'll go out there and find it myself." Peaceful, I openly waited for the pressure of tears to come. But though feelings of sadness and loss floated around me like the caressing fingertips of ghosts, it was in a healthier, more manageable manner than before. "I can't forget what happened to my friend, but I see the situation differently now than I did— in no small part to you." My smile returned. "The Jedi Masters would be proud."

One corner of Anakin's mouth went up in that heart melting smile. "If my supervisors ask you for a review after this assignment ends, I hope you'll rate me highly."

I laughed again, on a day when I previously could not fathom doing so even once. I pressed myself against the balcony and sighed weightlessly. "I'll put in a good word for you."

His impressive smile faded, and I watched his face grow more intent. A familiar look seeped back into his eyes. "I don't want to take any more time for granted."

I couldn't tell if it was my imagination or my less-than-perfect vision in the dark, but I felt more than saw Anakin slowly start to lean in closer. I swallowed to open my suddenly constricted throat, feeling off-balance. At some point I couldn't discern, the energy in the air had changed— become more intimate— and my heartbeat accelerated under his intense gaze. While I felt better and freer than I had in days, I wasn't ready for more exposure. Not tonight.

I stepped back, my body rebelling as I dragged my own self away from the banister. Anakin watched me move away without any vocalized protest, but his eyes called me back like a thwarted siren. The further away I stepped, the more enshrouded in black he became. At last, I spoke to an indiscernible form in the dark, my voice barely venturing above a whisper. "Good night, Anakin."

I turned. After walking my half of the veranda but before I reached the curtains, I felt the definite flicker of a touch at the base of my neck, and I turned suddenly while raising a palm to cover the spot reflexively. To my surprise, Anakin was still standing where I'd left him, though now he was only the outline of a figure in the black blanket of the night. From across the short distance, his low voice floated through my ears. "Sleep well, Padmé."

Forcing one foot in front of the other, I made my way into my bedroom. After showering, I changed into the white, thin-strapped nightdress Dormé had packed— the very same one I'd sworn I wouldn't touch. After all, it was sitting too conveniently in a top drawer where Nandi had stowed a selection of my clothes. I had no idea where my more conservative one was— and frankly, at that moment, I did not want it.

After drying my hair into wavy curls, I moved myself into bed, feeling a tranquility I hadn't experienced in a long time seep into my skin and muscles. Despite the lengthy and emotionally exhausting day, my eyes stayed open as I laid flat on my back, barely perceiving the dark blue hue of the ceiling above.

Anakin and I are going to the waterfall fields tomorrow.

Unbidden, a toothy smile spread across my face. It felt like ages since I'd laid in bed excited about a coming day's events— circumstances which would have nothing to do with political discourse, or legislative hearings, or groundbreaking meetings. It was a different genre of anticipation than what I was accustomed to, and I couldn't name this breed quite yet. I rolled over onto my side, trying to imagine the look on Anakin's face when he saw the waterfalls.

I was extremely touched at his tender attentiveness throughout the day. He'd gone above and beyond the duty of a bodyguard. I tried to picture how different everything would've been if another Master and Padawan had been assigned to me. I'd been so against the idea when Chancellor Palpatine pushed that I go under the Jedi's protection, and I was only barely appeased when he suggested Master Kenobi. Now, all I felt was gratitude to Palpatine— at least for the recommendation of this particular team. It was impossible to imagine going through the day's events— or really, this entire exercise to Naboo— with any Jedi other than Anakin.

…Even if another Padawan would've known better than to stare at me like he could see through me, or would be too professional to ever embrace me, no matter how hard I cried.

Or… kiss me.

Finally, I shut my eyelids with images of floating lanterns, waterfalls, and the blue plasma of a lightsaber and matching eyes in my mind. Within a short time, I fell into a very long, deep sleep.

A/N: I don't know if the "Guest" reviewer is the same person every time or multiple different people, but your reviews continue to slay me. Thank you! A lot of people (myself included) click on fics based off the engagement— how many reviews, favs, etc. So, if you like this one, please consider showing your vote! It is greatly appreciated.