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Chapter 24. The Morning After

And thus the heart will break, yet brokenly live on.

- Lord Byron

Anakin Skywalker was a mesmerizing, charismatic, exuberant mixture of wind and flame. I often mused that where these two forces met on the elemental wheel, there Anakin lived. It was a dangerous but beautiful harmony. The fire fueled his passions; the wind carried his wings to them. When in balance, these traits made him dashing, clear-headed, and unstoppable. It was as if the wind clipped the flames just enough to prevent them from consuming him, but he was not the glowing man I loved without their warming heat. Few could exist in such a volatile realm. He thrived in it.

But even the mightiest wind occasionally goes lax. It's unavoidable in the silence of a mediation chamber, in the pause between war briefings, in the vulnerable chasm of sleep where no lightsaber or Jedi trick could come to his aid. When the current of air around his arms and feet stilled, Anakin found himself surrounded only by blistering fire. After enough chances, the flames gave violent birth to an inferno which devoured my husband and everyone around him. He always feared this. Despite the intimidating command of his motionless presence, staying still— physically and mentally— terrified him.

Once, in a late night hour when our pillowtalk veered into existential territory, I shared my views of Anakin's magical blend of wind and fire. I didn't know how catastrophically true my prognosis would prove to be. At the time, I meant it only as a poetic compliment. It was one of the many reasons why I loved him so much. Naive as I was to the hold the dark side already had on him, his elemental recipe was exciting and attractive. Ani knew enough to affirm my observation, even going so far as to say wherever I was existing was the only place in the galaxy where he felt safe enough to be still. Only in the company of his wife did he neither crave the wind that moved him nor require it to keep the fire at bay. I'm not trying to prop myself up by saying if Anakin and I only were able to spend more time together in those wartime years, the breakdown might have— at the very least— been delayed. I was as much a balm to his mind as he was to mine.

Nightmares haunted Anakin his entire life. It wasn't until more than a year into our marriage that he truly let on how regular a visitor they'd been to his sleeping mind. I can still see us there, on my yellow couch, limbs wrapped around each other closely as he whispered confessions even Obi-Wan never heard. I held him so tenderly after he confided that, while they'd gone to another level of hellish when it came to his mother, nightmares were a routine part of Ani's existence since childhood. I hadn't realized how much he bore them silently in the light of day, as if they were an invisible suit slowly eating him alive. He'd kept his sanity and his innocence by pushing these abominations back as much as possible, holding on to whatever light he could find. We'd made a pact that night— whenever his nightmares struck in the future, he would wake me so I could soothe him back to sleep. My honorable husband kept true to our agreement every night they visited him in our bed from then on… save for the one exception.

I knew it was bad that night when his demons drove him to the veranda as if they were at his back, murderously pushing him towards the edge of our balcony to fall to his death; we never truly recovered from his reveal that he'd been dreaming of mine.

Oh, Anakin. Don't you know, my love? Angels have wings.

Waking up that one morning on Naboo and deciding to go to Tatooine was a milestone; it was the first time he put a foot down and actively ran towards these ghastly premonitions in the noble pursuit of stopping one of them. It was rooted in selflessness, aid, and love for his mother, but it was also the outcry of a man exhausted from being burned at the stake of his own mind's tormenting.

The effort was valiant, if futile. It would not be the only time he waged war on his nightmares and lost.

Yesterday, I began my first wake on the floor of an abandoned hut. There was dirt. There were broken shells and dead bugs in the corner. There was dust and there was rust. There was Anakin.

Today, I awoke on a plush mattress in the bedroom of a beautiful villa. There were pillows. There were sheets. There was the smell of a delicious breakfast wafting up from the kitchen. There was no Anakin.

I wanted the hut floor back.

{From the moment I met you…}

Lying in bed and replaying Anakin's confessions in my mind for the umpteenth time as I stared at the ceiling was proving unhelpful. It also did nothing for the ache in my chest. I pushed myself up to a sitting position, stiffly. Rubbing them, I discovered the inner corners of my eyes were crusted; my cheeks were chilled and oddly soft. I'd cried in my sleep in my last stolen round. Not surprising. It would be an understatement to say I hadn't slept well.

I had fallen into a fitful recess but arose midway through the night at the sound of shouting. Anakin. Moving on instinct instead of conscious thought, I hurried from my bed and sped out the door to the terrace. I crossed the distance in my bare feet quickly, my heels never even making contact with the ground. Just as I approached the entryway to Anakin's room, I heard the panicked "No!" as he broke free of his demons. I froze. I could tell he'd woken himself by the subdued panting just after his exclamation. His episode, if only for the moment, was ended.

All the same, I'd damn near pushed myself into his bedroom. I didn't care that I was only in the white silk shift— I wanted to take him in my arms and make sure he was alright. My heart noted even more than my eyes did that Anakin left his wooden doors to the shared patio open as well, and it occurred to me I had the power to make at least one of our hallucinations come true. However, the tension from hours before by the fire had been remembered by this point. I tried to make my retreat across the terrace far more quietly than I'd made the charge. I don't know if he heard me arrive, sensed me hesitate, or listened as I went. I wouldn't bestow myself the credit to assume I was silent enough to outmatch his Jedi abilities… especially after understanding his capabilities far better.

As I sentenced to myself to my room anew and made the prisoner's cross to it, only then did I notice the thickness of the air and the way the stars were blacked out in the sky. Another storm was coming. Indeed, the avalanche of rain rolled in not ten minutes after I'd returned to my bed, and although my love for such natural events as a child had carried on into me as an adult, tonight, I cursed the tumultuous weather. The sounds of thunder and of the rain hitting the roof tiles would prevent me from hearing if Anakin had another nightmare. And yet… I wasn't sure I could keep from going to his bedside a second time.

No! I cannot expect Anakin to respect my wishes if I can't even enforce them on myself.

Birds chirped outside the window of my room now, celebrating their survival of yet another storm. Didn't they realize two people were listening to their merry songs in separate torture chambers? The thin, wispy curtains between our respective rooms may as well have been bars made out of lightsaber beams.

Done rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I sat there in the sheets, my hands limp in my lap. Just a few days ago, I told myself that hiding in my room from Anakin was not an option. So much had happened since then, and the line connecting us felt as if it had transformed from clothing thread to cable wires made of Mandalorian steel.

I rubbed my forehead into my hands, unimpressed with my own musings. After all, I could admit now that Anakin ensnared me before we'd even reached Naboo. Although I'd stumbled my way, I'd walked into the design willingly.

Yet I was powerless to do anything with this formidable link connecting us. With the madness of yesterday afternoon's fever doused into oblivion by sanity's ice water, I could see now we hadn't had much chance before, but this chosen one destiny left nothing in doubt. Who was I to know if it was true? To be honest, in the light of day, I wasn't sure I believed it. A prophecy sounded like a tale at home amongst great-grandmother Leia's rich library of stories. Such a concept went beyond my familiar understanding of the universe. Hope for brighter futures, goodwill unto others, voluntary service to causes greater than oneself— this was the intangible religion I lived and breathed. I saw and accepted the Jedi and their ability to use their Force. I logically understood what having a midi-chlorian count higher than the esteemed Master Yoda's might mean. However, it was much harder to make my heart validate this mystical prophecy on nothing but hearsay when it kept the man who'd just fallen back into my life from staying in it.

{What can I do? I will do anything that you ask.}

I stared at the wall blankly, a defeated husk of a person.

They'd never let him go.

Not only did Anakin have too much to offer, as long as there was a chance the prophecy was true, the Jedi wouldn't let him walk out of their circle without a fight— a fight I had no right to start.

{My heart is beating, hoping that kiss will not become a scar.}

Is that why my heart hurts every time I take in a breath? Is it mangled and weighed down by scar tissue? What could possibly be the cure for such an invisible yet visceral ailment?

I pulled my legs up to my chest and hugged my knees as awareness crept up my curved spine. Scars did not have cures; hence, why they were scars.

All the same, hiding in my room from Anakin would be no more beneficial today than it would have been four days ago after our first— and sure to be only— kiss. If anything, for Obi-Wan's call giving us the all clear could yet come at any moment, my heart would further shatter if I had to endure an awkward and strained flight to Coruscant. A merciless image of me and Anakin forcing a stoic goodbye on a landing platform as others watched ransacked the air from my lungs.

It had taken ten years for us to meet again.

What if something happens to one of us in the next ten? What if this is how our story ends?

I needed one of the Jedi's disbanded mystics to help me see into the future. Was there a holocall number for such a renegade committee? I needed to know if it all was about to be cut short with a sudden return to Coruscant, or if Anakin and I were facing weeks ahead on Varykino in our new stalemate.

Which is worse— missing him while being away from him, or missing him while being in the same room?

I realized I would need to prepare myself for a new reality, one where I kept myself from asking questions pertaining to Anakin's well-being every time I ran into a Jedi. I would need to keep my heart in check every time I saw a tall, blonde man in a robe in the corner of my eye. Once I resumed my duties on Coruscant—

Oh, Gods.

Coruscant!

I let out a sudden, rueful gasp—one unrelated to Anakin, for once. With immense mortification, I realized I hadn't checked on the status of the Military Creation Act since… since…

Since before we left for the meadow?!

I moved so quickly that surely even a Jedi would've been impressed as I reached for the data pad on my nightstand. How could I be so self-centered on my own desires? My galaxy narrowed on that shaak ride to the scope of Anakin's warm back; it would be comical how little it hadn't expanded once more to its original size if the realization didn't draw such shame.

As I scanned the political news from the HoloNet, my guilt was only curtailed by my shock. There were no updates. To be sure, there had been more speeches and arguments, but no vote had been held.

My data pad dropped into my lap as my unfocused eyes stared again at the wall.

What in the moons of Naboo is going on in the Senate Rotunda?

I was one person in a very large political system and did not like dwelling on my own importance. That said, I had been the leader of the opposition to this measure ever since rumors of it began to swirl at banquet tables between legislative interns. Was my absence in the fight dragging the Chancellor, Bail Organa, Orn Free Taa, Mon Mothma, and others from getting to the No-vote threshold we needed? My forehead creased as I wondered if Senator Ask Aak was the issue. I wanted to be optimistic that perhaps the representative of Malastare — one of the strongest advocates for an army of the Republic— was hedging as prevailing arguments changed his mind. It wasn't likely. Hopefully, Masters Yoda and Windu would continue to press the Chancellor for peace on their side, for it seemed the Jedi—

I winced.

The Jedi.

Oh, Anakin.

I needed fresh air to clear my head. I grabbed my long blue robe with the gold trim. I was only half-aware of my actions as I slipped my arms through it, distracted as I was by my somber thoughts. Then I slowly ambled through the doors I'd stubbornly refused to close.

I could smell the flowers before I'd even reached the curtains. Everything was imbued with heavy scent from release by the storm's wind and a lingering humidity. However, the respite of the terrace had already been claimed by another.

Despite my state, I noticed Anakin's tall frame immediately. He stood in a soldier's rest with his feet spread wide, hands clasped behind him. He was dressed in his pants and boots, yet was relaxed in his wardrobe up top, donning only the loose beige tunic. I hadn't expected to face him so soon, but mindful of what I'd just told myself about not hiding, I kept walking. He didn't need to look in my direction for me to know he was already aware of my presence. Besides, I was magnetically drawn towards this silent, composed man. Even now, I felt some shock that the statuesque figure before me was the same person as the wiggling little boy who'd once fit in my arms.

It was only when I got closer that I realized he was meditating. Respectful of his practice, I turned to give him space to do it.

"Don't go."

I stopped and looked at him over my shoulder. "I don't want to disturb you."

He inhaled deeply. I thought he was taking in the smell of the floral around us, same as I had, until he announced, "Your presence is soothing."

My heart flip-flopped without my permission.

The specific reason why he might want a soothing presence brought back the memory of what had happened. Momentarily forgetting that I myself had bulldozed our camaraderie just last night, I fell back into the previously established candor I'd shared with the man who held me as I'd cried. "You had another nightmare last night."

I could see his jaw clench even from my angle behind him.

"Jedi don't have nightmares."

His voice was resolute. There was even poorly disguised irritation at my remark.

His ire didn't bother me. I looked down, pushing back a wave of raw pain as I felt air where our carefully built trust used to exist. As far as I knew, this was the first time Anakin had blatantly lied to me.

"I heard you."

There was a very long pause. I fought the polite instinct to apologize and retreat, a voice inside guiding me to believe the silence was not mine to break and I should stay exactly where I was. Thus, I waited— not stepping away, not pushing, and still wildly hopeful that Anakin would let me into his troubled mind even as I'd commanded him to extradite me from his heart.

"I saw my mother."

I moved first, drawing closer to him in my concern. Perhaps at the sound of my step, he finally turned and faced me as well. "She is suffering, Padmé."

Despite the awfulness of his words and the state of things between us now, everything disappeared for two seconds as I looked into Anakin's eyes for the first time since last night. My dreams never did them justice. That familiar compulsion to step forward and be as near to him as possible made my body come alive. We looked at each other like two buoys caught on opposite sides of a whirlpool— constantly reaching for each other, constantly pulled apart.

But the torment in his eyes somehow surpassed what I'd witnessed in the library. I suddenly knew that however little sleep I'd gotten last night, he'd had even less. However, it wasn't sleep deprivation that tensed his body and gave him the look of a man in agony. His voice was lowered by the weight of his integrity as he regarded me and swore, "I saw her as clearly as I see you now."

Our locked gaze continued. I could see the depth of his anxiety written there as if his words had simply chosen to continue leaving his body through his eyes instead of by his mouth. Their ink seeped into my skin; his anguish became mine. As if worried that he'd said too much, Anakin abruptly shifted away from me and ripped his open book offering out of my hands. He walked a few steps away, put hands on his hips, and let out a trembling sigh. I watched his wide back shake as he struggled to control himself.

"She is in pain." I believed him, unquestioningly. He spun around to face me again, more vexed than I'd ever seen him. "I know I'm disobeying my mandate to protect you, Senator. But I have to go. I have to help her."

Senator.

Senator.

Anakin hadn't called me that in all the time we'd been together, with the sole exception of referencing the title to blunder his way into calling me beautiful at our reunion. Considering he never knowingly called me "Queen" or "Your highness" as a child, this was the first time Anakin had addressed me in a professional manner. Ever.

I felt solar systems away from him already.

Maybe it was the cold chill that went down my spine when he used my official identification. Maybe it was the idea of being separated from him for the first time in days and not remembering yet how to do that. Maybe it was because I did believe in his prophecy, and the claim of a nightmare was all the evidence I needed to hear to leave the safety of my planet. I know, in large part, it was purely a deep desire to help him— to help Shmi, the woman who took me in during a dust storm and sent her only child off on my ship with the hope of a better life. The galaxy had failed her and all others still caged by slavery— but not today. "I'll go with you."

He hadn't asked me to join him, and I didn't know whether or not he hoped I would, but once again Anakin surprised me with his thoughtfulness. Even with his mother coming to him in heinous visions, his first response to my declaration was to apologize for derailing his protection detail. "I'm sorry, I don't have a choice."

This wasn't the brash moves of an opinionated, hot-headed Padawan with an independent mind of his own and a fiery desire to prove it. This was just as much a need for him as it had been for me to go to Cordé's funeral. No, far greater. Cordé, for all the dear emotion I felt for her, could no longer be helped when I sought to go to her at Edum Bloom. For Shmi Skywalker's sake, and for her son's, I prayed that would not be the case.

"I know," I assured softly. "Not if your mother is in trouble. Besides, this way, you can continue to protect me," I reasoned. I would drag logic to our side kicking and screaming if I had to. "And you won't be disobeying your mandate."

"I don't think this is what the Jedi Council had in mind. I fear that I'm walking into danger, and to take you with me—"

"Walking into danger," I repeated, a quiet and hollow sound escaping me. "A place I've never been before." Had he forgotten who came up with the plan to retake Naboo from occupiers who wanted me dead? "If anyone hunting me had discovered where I am they would've been here by now. Since they don't know we're on Naboo, they won't know we're going to Tatooine." I waited a moment in hesitation before I asked, "Do you want to tell Obi-Wan where we're going? Or the Council?"

He left the choice to me. "Do you? It's your security they're concerned about. I'd understand if you want them to know."

"I'd understand if you didn't."

He grimaced, obviously torn, but said, "I'd like very much to get there, get her, and get us all out of there as quickly and painlessly as possible."

No Jedi Council or Obi-Wan then. Fine by me. If they had an issue with us going off-planet I would tell them it was my idea. "Then let's not waste any time. I'll inform Paddy and the ladies that we're leaving and to get our things— well, my things— into the water speeder. While we do that, you should tell Captain Ardimon to ready the starship." Planning, delegation, and action I could do well, and the sudden energy made me spin on my heel. I headed for the curtains leading inside.

"Padmé," Anakin called, and I stopped to look back at him. Curtains billowed around me in the breeze, licking my blue robe like lazy fire. I tried to quiet the relief I felt at the return to my personal name. He made an effort for a smile that came nowhere near his eyes. "Pack light this time. Tatooine is no place for pretty gowns and pastel skirts."

I received the unspoken message. No leather corsets. No backless dresses. No cleavage. We were returning uninvited to a planet run by gangsters. I felt my cheeks grow warm, slightly self-conscious at the call out. But I can't deny I was also saddened, as I realized that after rejecting his affections last night, continuing my titillatingly romantic wardrobe around Anakin would be an unforgivable, borderline cruel notion anyways. I tried an attempt at humor to match his own, but I think my voice gave me away as much as his eyes had. "I'll leave the swimsuit."

And with that, we each hurried through our respective doors. Wardrobe awareness aside, I'm not sure it truly registered at that moment that my brief but life-changing stay with Anakin by the lake was well and truly over.

The shortest of rosy eras had ended, and a longer, much darker one was about to begin.

Coming next... ACT IV: TATOOINE