Chapter 21. The Island

Where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise.

- Thomas Gray

Anakin and I made gleeful travel in our scout around the island's rim. Playing the roles of explorers, we picked up exquisite shells and multi-colored rocks, the natural designs of which were more beautiful than the offerings in Coruscant's finest jewelry store. My wide-eyed, appreciative company followed as I pointed out plants and birds that I still recognized, all while listening as more childhood escapades spilled from my oral history. As we kept to the outside of the island in our hunt for shells, I didn't get the chance yet to venture inwards and show him the operations of the former inhabitant, Mopal. The late artist was known throughout the Lake Country as a renowned glass maker, but I had loved him for the sugary candies and puddings he always shared with me and my sister.

As we finished our second tour of the island's exterior, we found ourselves sunbathing on the bank opposite Varykino. It gleamed at us from across the water, its ethereal domes shining in the sunlight. Behind it, the towering mountains kissed puffy white clouds, perhaps the same voluminous ones we rode under in the grassy meadow.

Peaceful, I let out a happy sigh on the beach that was serving as my warm, makeshift mattress. Anakin was to my right, sprawled out on the sand he'd already made a point of saying he greatly preferred to Tatooine's. We'd been fading in and out of comfortable silences and lightweight conversations for a while now. Every so often, Ani asked me how to say different words in Nabooian, and I continued to be impressed by his ease with the language. He'd gotten very good at distinguishing between "beach", "sand", "sky", "bird", "swimsuit", "beautiful", etc.

Currently, we were basking in a serene silence in our paradise. "What would you have been," he randomly started, turning to face me with a small smile on his lips, "if you hadn't been Senator?"

The corners of my mouth turned down in reflective thought. "Well. There are many roles in the legislative process, especially when you're talking about a republic that spans an entire galaxy. I suppose—"

"No, no," he hushed. "I mean, if you hadn't gone into politics at all?"

"At all?" I repeated, amused. Anakin nodded, watching while I processed this idea. I tried to picture a life where I chose a different field— a life where I either resisted, or lacked all together, the calling to make the galaxy a better place through public service.

My eyes scanned the sky, as if the scattered clouds above held the answer I was seeking. Suddenly, an enthusiastic smile flashed across my face, but I whisked it away a beat later. "I don't know."

Anakin laughed at me. He hadn't missed my expression. "Oh, yes, you do."

I took my eyes from the sky and peeked at him, my lips twitching. I was half-nervous to tell him, half-eager. "If I hadn't… I would've liked to do something with ceramics."

I'd always been transfixed by the pottery masters; how they could move ambiguous lumps of clay into magnificent pieces of art. It was no coincidence that my Coruscant apartment, while minimalist in décor, still allowed for tasteful pieces of molded sculptures. I'd come across artwork in my life which I'd found to be just as inspiring, meaningful, or stirring as the most expert orator's speech, but the ceramic genius could do it all with visual wordlessness.

"When I was a child, we had a neighbor who was very well-known for her art. She would let me come over and watch her work in her studio," I paused, remembering the silver-haired woman with kind, green eyes. Even when clean, her hands were always tainted a shade of rust red— the color of her most used clay. "I thought it was poetry come to life."

Anakin was silent for a long enough moment that I eventually glanced over at him, shielding my eyes from the sun with my hand. His brows were furrowed, and he looked far away in his thoughts.

Soon enough he caught my eye and saw me peering at him, which I suppose prompted him to finally speak. "I had a temper tantrum once, as a toddler." He shrugged. "As toddlers do. But this was before my mother realized anything was… different about me."

"Before she was aware of your Force abilities?"

He nodded, pursing his lips. "I was having a particularly spirited tantrum that day. So the story goes, I was in one corner of the kitchen, and on the opposite side, all her ceramic jars on the shelves suddenly burst simultaneously. Not even one was spared."

I tried to imagine the shock, even fright, Shmi must've felt as her jars spontaneously exploded while her child stormed. What an unnerving thing for any parent, but especially a new one, to go through.

"Ceramics," he murmured, and I watched him roll the idea around in his head before finally nodding approvingly. The pendulum had swung the other way again and now the happy Ani was back, as if the perturbing memory never arose at all. "It fits you." I was curious how he might explain such a pronouncement, but before I could ask, he questioned, "That clay figure back in your bedroom in Theed— by the window— did you make that?"

The corners of my lips turned up somewhat shyly. I didn't know he'd seen it. "Yes. A long time ago."

Anakin smiled back, but something about the grin didn't quite meet his eyes. "You're good. You could've gone off to art school with Palo." I made a scoffing noise as I rolled my eyes and looked back at the sky, but he continued, "Maybe you'd still be with him."

Now a full laugh escaped me at the ridiculous idea. "Childhood crushes don't work that way, Ani." I shook my head, my gaze drifting across the sky above me. "Palo was not my fate."

Anakin didn't have anything to say to this, although I could feel him continue studying me out of the corner of my eye. I absentmindedly drew figure-eights in the sand with my fingers, not minding in the slightest as the grains dug under my manicured nails. I could rinse them easily in the water later. I scanned the wide canvas of the sky and observed an elegant formation of birds flying south. I marveled at their instinctive design with awe. Nature was the ultimate artist— we sentient creatures were always doing our best to simply mimic its beauty. After a leisurely silence, I turned to look at Anakin again. It seemed he hadn't ceased his watching of me, though his eyes darted down a second after my gaze met his.

I felt so relaxed, lying on this beach with him. A lazy smile stretched across my lips. "What would you have been? A droid designer?"

Immediately, azure eyes lit up. "Oh, no, that's easy." His grin was energetic. "I'd be on the podracing circuit."

I smiled wider. Of course he would be. "Winning every race, no doubt."

A cocky smile settled onto his face, and he shrugged, not the least bit inclined to deny such a claim even for modesty's sake. "I get in trouble all the time at the Temple for hotwiring screens to show the races."

My eyebrows shot up, but I laughed. "You do?"

He only grinned more proudly. "I swear, in another life, I was a star pilot by trade."

{I'm a pilot, you know, and someday, I'm gonna fly away from this place.}

I smiled wistfully, remembering the confident declaration of a nine-year-old boy. I had no doubt that even if Qui-Gon and I had never walked through Watto's shop, it would have been only a matter of time until Ani's prophetic words became true.

"I can tell you one thing," Anakin mumbled, as he hoisted himself up to a sit. He bent his knees, pulling them into a bow, and rested his elbows upon them. "I wouldn't have gone into politics."

I frowned, befuddled as to why this overdone topic had come up again. Yet my distracted eyes languidly took in the sight of each vertebrae of his back, the curved line less than an arm's reach away. My fingertips traced distinct, small lines in the sand by my thighs, as if they were brushing down his spine. Asking the person, not the Jedi, I inquired, "Why do you feel this way about politicians, Ani?"

His answer came quicker than I would've expected, given what it was. "I think it's because I was a slave."

I was surprised at his admittance, and at his use of the word I long knew he loathed.

{You're a slave?}

{I'm a person and my name is Anakin.}

I patiently waited for him to add on to his spoken thoughts at his own comfort. After a pause, he continued, "When you're a slave, you see the true sides of people all the time." His tone became almost academic. "Good people treat you well because they want to. The bad will show you pretty much immediately who they are. They have no reason to hide themselves from you." An edge crept into his voice. "They know you can't stand up for yourself— can't push back. Especially when you're just a child." The growing gravel in his voice understated years of personal testimony attesting to his words. "You're nothing to them. Zero threat." He picked up a shell within easy reach and started rotating it between his fingers. "The only thing ever truly safe-guarding me was another person's sense of decency. Well, that or having to pay for me— for broken goods."

My heart ached for him. No doubt he came face to face with disappointment more times than not in a place like Mos Espa.

"It's maybe the one lesson I don't want to lose from that," an ugly scoff escaped his lips, "'occupation' of my early life. Getting older, becoming a Jedi…" He grimaced in my direction. "You, ah, you noted back in the meadow that I don't really like politicians. We didn't have them on Tatooine; we had crime lords and their goons. We had the Hutts." He scratched at his left cheek coarsely. "I guess you could say that hierarchy made up the political system of Tatooine. But I grew up thinking the real politicians— the dedicated members of the government of the Galactic Republic," he pronounced the words with mock grandeur, "they were the good guys. They were the soldiers for the people. When I was freed and moved to Coruscant and gradually started to absorb the reality…" His pink lips folded in under themselves as Anakin's voice dropped off.

I felt ire for the poor examples who'd failed his dream of virtuous public servants. I'd had this same blanket ideal, too, when I was much younger. I remembered all to well the bitter taste of the truth as experience taught me better. It still tested my resolve from time to time, even though I'd been in the political arena since early childhood.

But Anakin wasn't done voicing the charges against those who'd disappointed him. "It got worse as I realized some of those politicians were aware illegal slavery was still going on. As a kid, I'd convinced myself none of them knew. All I would have to do was get the word out— tell them what was happening, and then legions would come to the rescue." He frowned deeply. Hurt which no one had been there too remedy at its origin etched routine lines into his expression. "They did know. And they did nothing." He wiped his hand across his face, as if to brush away the lines in his skin the way one erases lines in the sand. "Life was very black and white on Tatooine, Padmé. The Hutts were bad. The drug and slave traders were bad. The very few people who were good were very genuinely good. I'd seen double-dealing before, but shifting into a world that runs on it, on deceit, on misrepresentation and vague promises filled with loopholes all under the guise of a helping hand was… a culture shock. At least the Hutts don't hide who they are." He paused, stealing a look at me, and I sensed he was trying to reel in his long-harbored frustrations for my sake. "Being amongst the Jedi has helped. A vast majority of them are who they say they are." Judgmental lips turned down. "Most of them." The unspoken words hung in the air. Not all. I wondered which Jedi were currently on that list… and how long or short such a list was.

I lamentably accepted that Anakin saw the state of the government vastly more poorly than I did. But I was glad to better understand his reasons now. He saw a singular figure as a quicker path to reformation, even if he didn't grasp the dangers inherent in such a system. Government had been my beacon for so long— my biggest path to service and the ability to make real change— and I would forever maintain that only a community of the people could really know what needed to be satisfied. But I knew a sermon from me on the benefits of democracy even with its bureaucracies was the last thing he wanted to hear at present. I hoped my attentive listening, both as his friend and—uniquely— as a Senator, somehow helped. "I'm sorry, Ani. Not just for your disillusion in transitioning to Coruscant, but for your experience on Tatooine. That was no place for a child's introduction to the galaxy."

"Yeah, well." He picked up a palm-sized, green rock from our pile of scavenged finds and threw it into the water. It dropped anti-climatically with a loud KER-THUNK. "I didn't get to choose where I grew up."

Although hazy in my memory, I could still picture the sandy crime jungle he was raised in. Except in extreme cases, and maybe even then, I didn't believe in the concept of "good" people and "bad" people. Everyone is a shade of gray, everyone capable of change. Despite the odds and the plenty of instances which had risen to challenge it, years of service had only enforced this core belief of mine.

One could reason that for any child, growing up on Tatooine seemed to significantly dampen their chances at becoming kind-hearted. Being an enslaved child in an abusive system made those odds far worse. I sat up on my side now to study him more intently. When I'd met Ani, he was bold and confident to the point of recklessness, but he was undoubtedly ranked as one of the most kind and generous young beings I'd met. In fact, the bravest actions I witnessed him perform were wholly done in service to strangers. I had to know. "In a world like that, in an environment like that… what made you choose goodness?"

He swallowed, and I saw his arms and chest tense.

"My mother."

Of course. It had not been a 'what' but a 'who'. The soft-spoken, gentle-eyed, yet immeasurably resilient Shmi Skywalker. She'd graciously opened her home to transients seeking shelter from a sandstorm, bewildered yet accepting us like we were old friends. She'd fed us what she could from her precious rations of food. Then she'd permitted her only child to risk his life in the name of service for these people to whom she'd already given so much.

Anakin's eyes turned towards the sky, as if he could reach out to his mother through the Force if he just looked in the accurate direction of Tatooine, no matter the astronomical distance. Maybe he could. Such knowledge was beyond my understanding at the time. If he was successful, I dearly hoped he found her safe and well.

I laid back flat upon the sand once again. Without trepidation, I reached out and snaked my hand down his bare forearm until I took his large hand in my own. After a moment, he lowered himself flat against our makeshift bed like I had, and we cradled our union on a soft mound of beach between us. He lightly rubbed his thumb over my skin, and I found myself focusing on the sensation even as I otherwise took in the nature around us. It was the background to his feather-light ministrations. The soft breeze. The birds flying overhead, calling to each other. I closed my eyes and listened as they periodically dove down into the water in pursuit of their meals. Words were unnecessary. We laid there in comfortable and comforting silence for a long while, my hand never leaving his.

I don't know who was the first of us to doze off, but I know I awoke to Ani gently shaking my shoulder. "Wake up, Padmé. Time to wake up."

The first thing I noticed was the thicker and slightly more chilly air. Even behind my closed lids, I could tell the day was less bright than before. I licked my dry lips, wetting them. Then, squinting, I peeked my eyes open, blinking sporadically. Anakin was gazing down at me, looking as glorious as ever, even though his expression was currently difficult to read. His face and head were mostly cast in shadow, the sun outlining his frame brilliantly from behind. Suddenly, that bright backdrop of light was gone. Startled, I sat up stiffly and rubbed my eyes. I'd woken just in time to see the sun succumb to a dense ceiling of ominous clouds.

"How long were we asleep?" My hair had crusted in awkward curls riddled with sand. I attempted to shake them out with moderate success. They would have to wash themselves smooth in the water.

"Too long."

At the concern in his voice, I looked up from my hair and took in even more of our environment. We'd certainly lost track of time. The sky looked angry above us, its cautionary atmosphere stretching beyond the tops of the mountains in every direction. The wind whipped harder with every passing moment, until at last a shiver went down my body and I hugged my arms to my chest. Anakin was standing a few feet away and watching me wearily. But I was watching the water.

The building wind had already made the previously meek waves stronger, bigger, and choppier. What before had been inviting like bath water was now a dark, foreboding consortium of unknowns.

Many details snapped into place in quick succession. Realization dawned on me. And I froze.

Anakin scratched his head, perhaps puzzled by my suddenly stark demeanor. "We should be fine. Won't Paddy come for us in the water speeder? I'm surprised he hasn't pulled up already."

I shook my head gravely.

"No," I swallowed. "He won't."

"Why not?"

"Because he isn't at the villa. Neither are Nandi and Teckla."

Anakin's eyes hardened. "Where did they go?"

"Tuilë Sóna," I mumbled.

The confused man at my side took a single step closer to me. "What?"

"There's a festival happening in their village tonight. All of them wanted to go. They wanted to stay at the villa, but I didn't want us to be the reason why they missed it." I bit my lip as I stole a look at him. "We left our picnic behind in the field when we rode off on the shaak." As caught up in the moment as I'd been with Anakin when we'd departed, I later felt guilty for leaving the blanket and food container where we'd abandoned them in the field. "The waterfalls aren't very much of a detour on the way to the village. I told them if they would retrieve everything on their way there or on the return journey tomorrow morning, they could take the speeder and go."

"Tomorrow morning?" Anakin repeated. His eyebrows shot up even higher than I expected them to.

"Yes," I repeated. Another alternative had already presented itself to me. "It's a nocturnal celebration. But surely Captain Ardimon and the other guards will notice we're gone and come looking for us."

Now Anakin was the one gnawing on his bottom lip. "No," he breathed, looking grim. "They won't."

I stared at him quizzically and came to a stand. "Why not?"

He put his hands on his hips and stared across the water at the villa. "Because I left the beacon on my utility belt."

{Captain Ardimon and I exchanged location beacons. At the push of that top button, he will know we need assistance and he's instructed to hurry.}

{If they don't receive a beacon hit, they're to stay on the property and makes sure no one sneaks on to it.}

True awareness sunk into my skin. "Your lightsaber might've been visible from the terraces, but we can't even wave it from here…"

He rose and lowered his shoulders with a short exhale. "Because it's on the beach."

"Where you hid it."

"And where I hid my tunic."

"And my robe."

Anakin gave me a wry look. "All the evidence that we were ever on the villa's beach."

I blinked. "You didn't mention to the captain when you spoke with him earlier that you and I were going swimming?"

Despite the reality of our situation, Anakin had the gall to look a bit offended. "I don't report our movements to him. He has his job, I have mine." He squinted his eyes in thought. "Besides…"

"Besides, what?"

He rolled on his bare heels. "The range on the location beacon is decent, but it isn't meter-by-meter specific. If he just so happens to pull it out to look at our position—"

"It's going to show us as being on the property." I put a hand to my forehead in the worry-fueled gesture I hadn't done in all of two days. "And the absent speeder won't tip him off, either. I told the girls to tell Captain Ardimon or one of his men that they'd be taking it. I thought it was a good idea to do so at the time."

As our revelations hung in the air, we both stood on the beach and looked out over the lake, silently thinking through our limited options.

The swim to or from the island could be a trial even on a peaceful day, but I could still hear my father's voice in my head sternly warning me to never attempt a crossing if the waters looked the least bit rough. Stormy weather like this wasn't even up for discussion. That being said, I felt it wasn't yet so bad that I couldn't make it back across. At the rate the weather was increasing and the way the clouds overhead looked, maybe the rain wouldn't start till we were at least halfway. I, the exulted swimmer of the Naberrie clan, could power through from there.

But I looked at Anakin.

Nervousness traced his face as he stared back at me. What had I done? I'd signed off on this novice swimmer— who'd only barely learned— to come all the way out here, only to lose track of time and put him in jeopardy. If Ani started to go under, I didn't know if I could successfully retrieve him and tug us the rest of the way. It wasn't a risk I was willing to take.

Worse, if the clouds held any lightening, a swim back could prove dangerous in more ways than one. It would take nothing short of diving into the water this very second and hauling it to the other side in an exhausting rush of powerful swimming, and even then, we might not reach the shore before a potential lighting strike. With us vulnerable in the open water, all it would take was one bolt.

This whole time I'd been scared about Dormé, Typho, Jar Jar, or Obi-Wan dying out there in my name, and here I might accidentally drown or electrocute Anakin in my own backyard.

While I'd been lost in doomy thought, he'd started a slow walk a few meters into the water. Even that shallow, it lapped against his calves and knees with threatening promise. As if from the chest of Naboo herself, a roll of thunder suddenly moved through the mountains. Hearing it snapped me out of my inner dialogue.

"We won't be able to swim back before the storm hits." I'd used my more political, matter-of-fact voice in hopes of pre-empting an argument before it could start.

But he nodded tensely and made to join me on the dry land while it was still, in fact, dry. "Come on, let's find some shelter." His quick agreement came not a moment too soon, for right after he spoke, the first fat drops of rain began to fall. "Fast."

Luckily, my memory bank didn't fail me. "There's a hut nearby. I've never been inside it, but I know where it is."

"Good thinking." He waved his hand theatrically. The lake around us became a sea of punctured holes as sister drops from the sky fell into its ranks. "Lead the way!"

A moment of too-late self-consciousness briefly halted me. Anakin was about to have a full, uninterrupted view of my backside as we trekked through the brush. Having no other option, I turned and began hurrying along the shoreline. There was a cove we would shortly come across, and from there, a beaten path that led to a tiny clearing. Beyond that, the hut.

At least, I hoped the path was still there. It had been years since I'd last searched for it and it had likely become overgrown. It was no matter. The island wasn't large— were just as likely to accidentally stumble upon the hut as we were to purposely find it. I wobbled a little in the wet sand as it clung greedily to my sunken feet. Anakin caught up quickly and stayed close behind me, his longer legs crossing distance faster than my own could. Rain began to pelt our heads and hunched backs.

"I have no idea what condition this hut will be in, but anything is better than nothing!" My voice was loud to compensate for the soft roar of rainfall on the water and the vegetation around us. Determined droplets pummeled leaves without mercy in their descent. "Let's hope the door isn't locked!" As quickly as we could, we moved away from the beach and into the brushwood.

"Breaking and entering." Despite the scene, Anakin's voice was boyish and light. "Do you think the owner will mind?"

I shrugged, a smile tugging up the corner of my lips. "From his grave? No." I could hear his soft laugh even over the sounds of nature.

I found the path, though just barely. Thankfully, too much sand had accumulated on it from foot traffic over the years for it to disappear completely. Just ahead had to be the clearing. Sure enough, within moments we were looking across it to the misshaped structure we'd been hunting for. The hut looked anything but posh, but it was standing. And the roof was intact. I pushed my thigh muscles on in a last heave towards the destination, though both of us were already drenched.

"Wait!"

I turned back to look at him through the curtain of water, confused. Behind me, Anakin had stopped in the mouth of the open clearing.

He was smiling with that classic grin which showed all his teeth. He looked at me and then up. His voice was reverent. "The rain."

I didn't understand at first. Yes. The rain. The reason we're hurrying to the hut. To get away from it. The longer we stood there the heavier the shower came down.

Rush, rush, rush.

I watched him as he slowly raised his arms out to his sides, opening his mouth to capture the falling liquid. His smile only grew bigger. And I understood.

Once upon a time, a boy on a desert planet could only dream of rain. Due to pollution, Coruscant's was too toxic to stand under for very long, much less open your mouth invitingly to. And I couldn't imagine Obi-Wan encouraging one to pause and do something he might see as frivolous as standing in the middle of a rain shower.

I wiped away the water on my lashes to look at him through the downpour as best I could, marveling again at the differences in our respective upbringings. I, who had been raised on a watery planet surrounded by moisture, by vegetation, by lush life, and where rain was a common background occurrence. Anakin, on his desert home, surrounded by sand, arid dirt, and a climate so strained apparently moisture farmers had to mine it from the air.

Yet the pitfalls of Tatooine were obviously far from his mind now. In his expression there was only ecstasy. Appreciation. Bliss. He even laughed, and the sound rumbled from his throat like it had waited years for this level of pure joy to finally be unlocked.

The whispers calling for haste disappeared from my mind. I turned fully towards him now, walking closer as if pulled by a magnet I had no will to fight. I was drawn to the statuesque figure before me who put all the stone tributes in the square of Theed to shame. He was breathing the air in deeply now, his bare chest rising and falling with every crescendo and deflation, interrupted only occasionally by hungry, happy gasps. Mesmerized, I watched him savor the experience like it was a sacrament.

Wanting to join him in elation, I made my eyes close and let my head drop back with a rush of my own breath. I felt every pellet hit my skin as every square inch of me became electric. I did not raise my arms out to the sides like he had, but instead cupped my palms out into the air in front of me, elbows bent like a priestess at the altar of her god. With my eyes still closed, I waited a few seconds before I pulled my captured liquid and brought my hands to leisurely rub them on and then down my face, doubling-dosing my baptism. The crunchy curls in my hair had fallen away and with them the sand residue from the beach, leaving the coils smooth. I felt clean. Renewed. Alive. My hands slowly found their way down my neck, across my collarbone, then finally rested on the tops of my wet shoulders. I took several deep breaths, and gradually my hands slid up and inward to interlock my fingers behind my neck in a comfortable hold. Feeling the presence of eyes on me, I opened mine.

Anakin was watching me.

For all the water around us, desire like I'd never seen in him before swam in his blue flames, threatening to be my undoing. I burned willingly in them. Completely unabashed and with zero sense of propriety, he pointedly ran his gaze down, down, and gradually back up my body, scorching me as he took his time to hover on specific parts. It was a century before he lifted his eyes to meet mine again.

My heartbeat pounded in my ears like a resonating drum. A shiver traveled down my spine, but not from the rain. Dangerously, boldly, possessed— I stared back... and parted my lips.

Anakin's look transformed into something primal as he took two long steps towards me.

I watched him, and on this day, I didn't retreat.

I gazed at his broad chest, the muscular arms, only willing to take my eyes off his to take in the sight as water droplets made contact with his skin in chaotic cadence. How I had ever seen him as still a boy during our reunion on Coruscant shocked me. Anakin Skywalker was every inch a man.

My breathing had become more shallow and erratic. But my lungs sucked the air back in a whoosh as a loud clap of thunder rang painfully in our ears and I jumped.

Oh, yes. I had completely forgotten about the storm. The hut.

Anakin's gaze never left my face, but I knew the danger poised by the elements registered in him nevertheless. I watched, hypnotized, as he reached down and took my left hand in his right. My palms had fallen to my side in the post-thunder jolt. Slowly, so slowly, he raised my knuckles in front of his mouth, and then he leaned forward to press a wide kiss to my hot skin.

The rest of my body screamed in jealousy for its turn.

His voice was low and ragged. "Let's go." He was still holding my hand centimeters from his lips, so his heated breath danced upon it. Then he lowered my hand but switched his grip to hold it securely in his. I made a quick, thankful prayer that my knees didn't buckle as we walked alongside each other.

Mopal's rusty work table rested outside the shut door a few meters from the entrance. Abandoned tools long since out of use were on the ground or propped up against the hut, where I imagine Mopal had left them. It was apparent that the last time he was here he hadn't known he would never return. Anakin used the hand that wasn't holding mine to wave subtly, and though I couldn't see it through the rain, I could hear whatever lock there had been on the door break and fall. Another hand wave, and the door opened. Open and curious, we stepped across the threshold.

The hut was exactly that— a hut. Not a cabin. Not a cottage. Inside, the interior space was the definition of compact. I'd forgotten how small in statue Mopal had been. You remember the adults from your childhood as being so big, but in reality, Mopal had barely been my current size.

Parallel to where we stood, a small table with a random assortment of items on it was flushed against the opposite wall. A shelf unit was attached to the top half above it. A dusty canteen hung on a bent nail by the doorway. And that was it. There was only room for both us to either stand with some space or lay down in the same angle, probably a mere meter apart. The thought of laying down next to Anakin as I still worked to collect myself after the encounter outside made my pulse speed back up.

"Home sweet home," he offered. I smiled tentatively at him as I tried to pull myself together. Snap out of it, Padmé.

We let go of our hands simultaneously, but in the brief time they were joined the sticky sweat from my— and his?— hand combined with the water, and they pulled apart with an embarrassing sucking sound. I rapidly raised my fingers and moved to squeeze my drenched locks out, careful to plant as much of myself inside the shelter of the doorway as possible and yet angle my hair beyond it to exercise the water outside the door. Thank goodness for the flat overhang that stuck out over the archway, even if just by a little.

Anakin had moved to investigate the table's contents. Evidently not very impressed by what he found, he moved quickly onto the shelf unit. "Ah-ha," he murmured, seemingly pleased.

I peered around his shoulder, drawing my eyes up from where they'd been admiring the defined line in the center of his lower back. It had grown even more obvious as his arms rose to open the double cabinet doors. When I did look up, I saw what had made him sound so approving. Food cans.

"They're very likely expired," he mused. "But there's a chance they're still edible."

"Gods be praised," I breathed. "I'm starving."

Anakin lifted out a can with an appealing picture on the front label. He checked the expiration date and, apparently satisfied, peeled back the top. His forehead folded in on itself, as if he were a judge at a cooking competition, and he gave the contents a good sniff. He turned to me and held it out for my inspection. I gave it a solid sniff, too, and my stomach grumbled loudly with perfect timing. We both broke out into laughs.

For the next several minutes we passed the time enjoyably, taking turns trading the first can and then another back and forth between us, sharing the preserved fruits and puddings. The wonderful Mopal, while being very short in height, had also been very round. He kept his hut pantry well stocked.

Eating was messy but easy. We ate openly with our fingers—we had nothing else to use— and cleaning them was a simple matter of sticking them far enough out the door to let the rain take care of the residue for us. By the end, we'd gone through five cans— Anakin two just on his own. The others we deemed either too expired or too foul to the nose. After the final can was emptied (we set the other empty ones back inside the shelf unit for lack of a better recourse), and our hands were wet but clean, an intense sensation of thirst came over me. While I was grateful for the canned fruits, they'd been heavily salted. I swallowed the humid air and eyed the doorway to the rain outside. I could stick my head out and open my mouth up to the giving sky, but in order to get a good enough angle to get a real drink, my hair would likely get soaked all over again.

But my dehydration was starting to catch up to me. I hadn't drank any water since before our swim started hours ago— well, not including the brief carefree swallows I'd had while standing in the rain with Anakin.

And at that time, water wasn't exactly what I was thirsting for.

I banished the thought quickly. I've spent too much time around Dormé.

My throat felt parched, a particularly uncomfortable feeling when one is practically surrounded by water on all sides. I eyed the doorway again, reconsidering. As if reading my thoughts, Anakin made a move for the door first.

"And where do you think you're going?"

"To find some large leaves. We can fold them into bays to catch water."

"But you'll get all wet again!" I sounded ridiculous to my own ears, and I immediately broke into a resulting grin. Some Galactic Senator— chiding her companion in all the regalia of a few stitched scraps of swimsuit.

Anakin rolled his eyes but smiled. "My hair dries just a few seconds faster than yours." His eyes gleamed wickedly as he continued, "Besides, when I come back, I can just lay out my clothes by the fire."

A wave of heat rushed across my face. "Anakin!" I reached out to swat after him, but he dodged my hit with insulting ease and dashed out the door before I'd finished laughing. "Hurry back," I called, though more softly. I fell back into the covered space as much as it allowed. I leaned against the corner opposite of the doorway, my shoulder resting on the side of the protruding cabinet.

The hut felt abruptly empty without him. I couldn't deny the ingenious of his idea, but of the two of us he had been the only one completely dry. No. Not true. We hadn't been eating from the cans near long enough for his black swim trunks to air-dry, and the wet fabric still stuck to his muscular thighs and rear end in patches of tight grips.

Get a HOLD of yourself, Senator.

Yet, alone in the dimness, a wild giggle escaped my lips. The sound shocked my ears; I clamped a palm over my mouth. But it did nothing to stifle my mood.

I didn't know what had come over me. Here in this abandoned hut— the rain and thunder making music, literally no one else even aware of where we actually, specifically were— the rigid protocols of our worlds seemed so foreign and far away, or else rules that were made to be broken. I felt like one of the young ladies who'd sneak out with their paramours to frolic around in the coziest corners of their cities, living only for the rush of the present moment.

Paramours? Frolic?

The logical part of me, which was straining to be heard, had been watching what was unfolding and listened to the naked pleasure in my thoughts. She knew we needed this storm to pass so Anakin and I could return to the structure of villa and our separate rooms. Fast.

But I touched the pads of my fingers to my cheeks and lips. I was smiling. Unconsciously, uncontrollably. I wanted to laugh, to giggle again, to dare for more. I was happy. I hadn't felt this happy since… I honestly didn't know when. Had I ever known this level of euphoria? Had I ever relished so much in feeling alive, in simply being a young woman? One who was running around in the rain with a breathtakingly attractive, outrageously attentive young man? Not Senator. Not Jedi. No Yoda, no Captain Typho, no Obi-Wan.

They have no place here, I thought, more than a little territorial and protective of our stolen oasis.

For the first time in my life, I realized I was experiencing the freedom and liberties afforded to couples who hadn't consigned themselves over to history— those who got to live private, ordinary lives and do things like this all the time. Suddenly, I was painfully, almost angrily, jealous.

This is what Anakin did to me. He could whip my mood around the full spectrum and back when he wasn't even in sight. He took everything I thought I loved and valued more than anything and turned me upside down, shaking them all out of me like a creature holding its quarry by the ankles. He rattled me all while my prized beliefs and hallmark traits were dumped on the ground, until my deepest pockets and hiding places were empty and there was only space for him.

And it thrilled me.

As if a phantom emerging from the fog, my broad shouldered captor appeared in the door frame, nearly filling it. He dripped souvenirs from his excursion over the already damp dirt in the entryway. I struggled to remember to breathe. He had a shy smile on his lips as he made his way towards me, and I looked down to see he held a rounded green leaf as preciously as if it were an infant.

He came closer, then he smoothly held it up to my lips. Because my hands were still raised from where I'd explored my ungovernable smile, I easily helped hold it.

"Drink," he commanded, albeit quietly.

He tilted up the leaf on his end and I obeyed, steering the precious rainwater into my mouth.

When I finished, he moved swiftly back out the door, my eyes following him as he paused in the opening, arms outstretched beyond the awning like he was offering up a sacrifice to the storm. Within seconds, he was back with another load. I drank from this even more hungrily than from the first, but what made my heart quicken this time was my own brazen audacity. I had never broken eye contact with his swirling pools of blue once he faced my way again— even as I swallowed the liquid gift a second time.

I signaled that I was satisfied with a nod, and he put the leaf on the table. I assumed he'd taken his share before his return.

We stared at each other. Not for the first time, I noted how bare our bodies— especially mine— were. The electric charge from earlier in the clearing came back as if it had been waiting in the wings for its cue, knowing full well that it was only a matter of time before it was hearkened back into service.

Thunder rolled in the background outside. My heart beat loudly in my throat. What now?

A strong gust of wind shot a curtain of rain through the door, misting us, and I cringed in uncomfortable surprise. Anakin lifted his hand but never took his eyes off me. With a flick of his wrist, the door shut behind him without him even needing to look at it.

With the closing of the door, the tension in the atmosphere grew tenfold as if it had been put under a microscope. We could still hear the patter of rain as it hit the outside walls and the roof, but it was much softer; pale in comparison to the ragged sounds of our disharmonious breathing. I felt my self-consciousness grow. No committee meeting had ever prepared me for a situation like this.

"Padmé," he breathed. But my head was spinning, not unlike the moment back on the balcony when he'd kissed me. This time, he wasn't even touching me, was still at arm's length, but the unbalancing revolution was so much worse.

I was out of my element. Completely. All my vernal wishes when he was out of the hut prefaced a stark reality change as the man I'd giggled about stood living and wanting in front of me. Twenty-four years old and I had no concept of how to handle this level of desire. Teenagers of Theed had better experience than I. I'd practiced and polished my political self for close to fifteen years almost every day and the inability to draw on her here was destabilizing. What if he tried to kiss me again, as his eyes clearly stated he wanted to? What would I do with my hands? Better question— how would I stop them from immediately running themselves over his exposed skin? Did I want him to kiss me? Dumbest question of my life. Of course I did. But what after? My palms were sweating. Why did he have to be so handsome?

He said my name again. I went for the first thing I could think of. "Your hair does dry quickly."

He raised a hand and touched it absentmindedly. Seeing him graze his hair made my fingers itch to take my turn. "That it does," he replied. "There's a saying on Tatooine: 'no matter where in the galaxy you go, one of the suns is always shining on you.'" He licked his lips even as he tried to shrug casually. "It's one of the nicer sentiments to ever come out of that place."

I nodded. It seemed we'd exhausted the topic of his hair.

Now what happens?

We stared at each other with vulnerable eyes, and a galaxy held its breath.