Chapter 46. Nurse Amidala

Doubt thou the stars are fire;
Doubt that the sun doth move;
Doubt truth to be a liar;
But never doubt I love.
― William Shakespeare, Hamlet

Real Love is an unnatural thing. Not because it isn't found in nature— it is— but because it transcends it so exponentially. The natural world is but the backyard Love plays in, its true home somewhere eternal, somewhere that lasts beyond trees, planets, even stars. It is not bound by space or time, and you'd mock it by thinking it extinguishes with lungs' last breath. I respect the Force. However, even with my limited understanding of the mystical energy that fuels the Jedi and their foes, I know the strength of Love is far stronger.

Yet even this most sacred and powerful of the supernatural has a limit.

{Love won't save you, Padmé.}

I wonder now if that was a desperate warning from the man who still loved me, or a preemptive threat from the wraith trying to drown him out. It could have been both. In the end, Anakin was right— Love wouldn't save me.

Not even from him.

Inhale.

Pause.

Exhale.

I stared down the door as if I were a Jedi who could control its lift. Though I was here, standing in the hallway on Deck 16, I prayed he would not use his actual abilities to raise it just yet. I needed more time.

In vain, I'd tried to settle my thoughts and emotions on the long walk here. Nothing in my life had prepared me for the war of love with Anakin. The changing riptides were exhausting me, offending me— bringing me to the point of humiliation and an ire that might even rival his. What had become of us? His darkest emotions were ruling him more than ever. My decisions were becoming more and more foolhardy. I mourned the shy smiles, stolen glances; the loss of innocence and infallible sweetness that was once all we'd shared between us—

No.

No. The time for lies was ended. It had not been all tranquility and timidity. There had been warning signs of an underlying something from that first day of reunion in my apartment. Flashes of arrogance and entitlement I'd dismissed as the pitfalls of youth. However, I never could have imagined it would devolve into this… or that I would still find it so inconceivable to walk away and preserve whatever dignity I had left.

The wait was excruciating, but I finally had confirmation that Anakin had been delivered to his room. I'd seen to it that it had been cleaned and redressed for him beforehand. The sheets were replaced; the floor swept and sterilized. The only trace left behind which hinted at what happened in there was the lingering dent in the table. It could not be so easily switched out.

I didn't have the emotional endurance to wait an unknown number of seconds if I knocked. If there was a chance he was asleep, I wanted to slip in and out as quickly as possible. I just needed to see him. Filling my lungs with air, I punched the key code into the door and stepped through after it rose. My feet quietly walked down the short atrium and round the blunted corner.

The light in the space was faint, with only a singular lamp on a bedside table casting a glow over the room. Anakin was sitting on the furthest end of the bed its middle, rumpled beige sheets in a chaotic mess behind him. He wore naught but a white towel around his lower half. He was obviously fresh from a shower— his hair was dark and damp with beads of water. The bottom of his Padawan braid stuck to the skin of his collarbone. His bare arms, torso, and calves looked glossy with moisture under the dim light. He didn't look up as I walked closer.

"Anakin?"

Dark blue pools under heavy lids finally peered up at me. I'd never seen him look so defeated, not even when I'd reunited with him in the hangar after he'd lost the duel with Dooku. His voice was slightly slurred, but the pain in his eyes was sharp. "Come to finish me off?"

He was still under the fog of his pain medications. I stood before him and resisted the urge to put my hands on my hips. My eyes fought to drink in the sight of his exposed chest. "You shouldn't have taken a shower in your state. What if you fell?"

"I smelled like a hospital room. Antistepptic. Sterili-sterilizzers."

The area around the stump of his right arm was an angry red, but the metallic base looked as intact and secured as I'd ever seen it. The surgeons had done an excellent job.

He must've noticed where my vision had traveled. "Please," he croaked out. "Don't look at it." He waved a loose hand in front of his face. "Don't look at me."

He repeated the move, but this time I heard his breath hitch. A grimace from physical pain flashed across his face.

"You should be sleeping this off. Did they give you a medical pad? Something with your dosage schedule?"

He pointed across his chest to the bedside table behind him, but then he began to stand as if to retrieve it himself. I maneuvered him back down with one small push on his good shoulder— his current state, for once, giving me the upper hand in a two-second-long battle of strength between us. The unexpected touch of his skin registered multiple labels in my brain all at once. Damp. Muscular. Warm. Electric. Forbidden.

I walked over to the nightstand and picked up the medical pad; I skimmed through it for the appropriate information. I was relieved to see he was safely due for another dosage of meds despite his already foggy condition. The more he woke up, as he seemed to be trying to do, the more pain he'd be in. I sighed quietly. I wouldn't be here long— there would be no heart-to-heart conversation today.

"I tried to burn them."

I scanned the text one more time, double checking its instructions. I didn't lift my eyes as I asked, "Burn what?"

"I tried to put… put them in the inccinerrator." I heard him swallow. "But I couldn't." His tone dropped. "They smelled like you."

I froze.

"He would be so easy for you. Uncomplicated."

I looked over my shoulder at the young man still perched on the edge of the bed. He was staring ahead of him at the wall.

"What did you say?"

"Jur. Jurru." Anakin cleared his throat, fighting the mental haze. "Jurue."

I walked to the counter where a bottle of pain meds waited. I checked the name of the drug to make sure it matched what I'd read on the data pad and then filled him a glass of water from the sink.

I walked back to stand in front of him again. "Take this." I offered the glass and the pills.

He stared up at me, a tad more clarity in his eyes than there had been before. "He can give you everything I can't." Then his face changed, and he looked at me scornfully. "Well. Everything you won't let me give to you."

I didn't respond. I wasn't going to have this conversation with him half-drugged, on a sure path to being fully-drugged within minutes. I said nothing as I merely gestured at him again with the pills in one hand and the water in the other.

He finally reached forward and took the small tablets. "Nurse Mémé," he titled me, with a wry smile. It didn't match with the judgmental gaze. His obvious contempt cut me so deeply that I felt pinpricks of pressure behind my eyes.

Two white pills flew to the back of his mouth with a quick toss. I stood there patiently as I watched him take the glass and chug till the water was no more. After passing it back to me, he spread his mouth open wide, dancing his five fingers in front of me in sarcastically exuberant cooperation. Continuing with his less-than-charming attitude, he added, "Or is it Nurse Amidala?"

I walked over to the sink, refilling the glass but moving to place it by his bedside. He'd want that later, after he woke from hopefully several hours of sleep, and I didn't want him to have to walk through the dark to quench his thirst. I took a deep breath and readied myself for a quick goodbye. I already missed him.

"And I can't even blame you." His voice had lost all crossness. "You should be running as far away from me as possible. What I did to those Tuskens…" His head dropped into his hand, and he rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm. A hoarse sound suddenly escaped the back of his throat. "I'm a monster."

I left the bedside table and hurried to him. I stood before him again, though now we were so close that my knees grazed against his. "No, no, Ani, you aren't. Don't say things like that." I peeled his hand away from his face and it dropped unceremoniously into his lap. My fingers lovingly traced their way around his cheekbones, around his eyes, across his forehead— as if I could caress the bad thoughts out of his mind. I wouldn't believe one night could undo a lifetime of goodness, and I wouldn't let him believe it either.

Anakin's expression was one of disgust and self-loathing. "Yes, I am." His face twisted and he leaned backwards. "How can you even touch me?!" Roughly, he brushed my hands away. They hung frozen in mid-air, unwilling to so quickly retreat. For the first time since I'd entered his bedroom, Anakin looked at me with clear eyes and intent presence. He had an air of desperation. "No, no, Padmé, listen to me. You need to stay away from me. Something's not right, there's a darkness, and I, I can't—"

I cradled his face in my soft hands again. "Shhh, shhh, you need rest."

This mistake haunts me.

In a vulnerable moment, which would never quite be repeated, the core of Anakin's humanity desperately tried to warn me. He'd been on the verge of confessing to me the growing demons inside him. I have replayed this exchange over and over and over again in my memory.

I would give anything to go back and not have interrupted him. To have sat with him and simply listened— and after, helped him seek out the counsel he sorely needed. Such guidance was far outside the realm of my naive capabilities. What did a Senator know of the dark side of the Force? What did Love know of it?

At the time, all I wanted was to banish this pain from my poor Anakin. I thought I was helping him. I did not know I'd just failed him.

Did he?

"No more talk of darkness, Ani," I soothed, moving in even closer, my body weight pressing on his bare knees. I stared into the blue oceans of his eyes, ignoring the stormy protestations I saw in them and succumbing to their riptides. "You're not a monster. You went through something horrific, but you are not your worst night. You will find the light again."

He rubbed his cheeks against my cupping palms even while he stared at me with pleading eyes. I felt him widen his legs as much as the towel would allow, and my knees subsequently pressed on the taunt line of fabric still covering his thighs. Anakin used our new proximity to rest his chin on my abdomen and look straight up at me, his gaze threatening to swallow me whole. "You're the light. You are all the good that I'm not." In his last ever effort to save me from himself, he croaked out, "Padmé. Please. You should stay away."

I stared down at him, my hands stopping their tender strokes on his face to freeze around his temple. I shook my head emphatically but whispered, equally afraid of both possible answers, "Is that what you want?"

His tortured face broke between my hands. For all his talk of sending me away, his arm darted out to cling me to him. His large hand sprawled out on the small of my lower back, where he applied concentrated pressure. He dropped his forehead and nuzzled it hard against my stomach. My hands threaded through his damp hair. I hadn't been cognizant of how just petrified I was that he might answer 'Yes', and I clutched him to me in sudden relief.

"Padmé. Padmé." His voice was husky and raw. No one had ever said my name like this. "I love you. Gods, I love you. I always have."

From the first day he'd reentered my life, Anakin's actions and declarations spoke not just of his feelings, but of their depth. And yet to hear him actually speak the words aloud, and to feel his body shake against mine with the relief of having said them… I was unprepared for the euphoric wave it took me on.

I curved forward and encircled my arms around Anakin's head, pulling him into me. This put all my weight against him, and in response, he buried his face into my chest. The emotion of the moment soared even higher when I heard a muffled cry escape his mouth. A second later, I didn't resist as he twisted at the waist and pulled me back onto the bed with him. My all-too-willing body made it easy for Anakin to position me fully underneath him further up the mattress even with the one arm. He used the formidable strength in his knees, thighs, and abs to keep himself raised up enough at an incline so that I didn't absorb his full weight. All the same, I could feel his muscular frame all up and down my body, the scant towel leaving little to the imagination.

He piled sweet kisses on to my face. "I love you, Padmé. My love. My sweet love." His unrestrained hand spread from my lower thigh up along my side, pressing forcefully, his nails scrapping the fabrics as they traveled. Despite the anxiety and even hostility between us the last two days, my body celebrated as it responded to him without hesitation. Fire spread through me. My skin was finally receiving the elixir it had craved every moment since his last touch. How could I have ever thought to deny my body, my very soul this elation?

As his arm moved, more weight centered in his hips to keep his chest up, and he ground them into mine with intention while swallowing my lips in a ravenous kiss. My lungs deflated as I let out a moan. Past the point of murmuring sweet nothings now, Anakin responded with a low, animalistic sound of his own, which heightened my arousal to an even wilder degree. Despite his noble effort not to put too much weight on me, my hands pushed into his back, fingers digging into his skin in my hungry attempt to press him against me as much as possible.

Those many hours on the beaches of Varykino. That long night in the island hut. To finally feel his bare skin under my hands drove my senses to delicious madness. I sighed his name in pleasure. We were writing poetry with our kisses and using unleashed love for ink.

All the trials we'd been through had led to this— an emotional surrender that went deeper than the physical one I was about to give. A profound wave of love brought tears behind my half-closed eyes.

The object of my love bent his arm behind his back, snaking his hand up to grab my right one. In a fluid motion, he unbent and straightened his arm on the pillow above my head, taking my clasped hand with his. The extent of the stretch naturally arched my back. I spread my legs, further cradling him. Ready. There would be no sudden stop during the height of passion this time.

Well, I was right about the stop not being sudden. Anakin's kisses were getting clumsier. His weight grew heavier as he relaxed into me more and more. His breath became labored. He growled a low, frustrated, "Noooooo-ah," into my collarbone. I felt a terminal, futile muster of energy come from him that lasted a few wonderful seconds when he worshipped my lips one last time. But, all too quickly, the urgency of his ministrations faded until they disappeared altogether.

The pain medication had picked the worst time or the best time to sedate him, depending how I later reflected on the moment.

We'd arrived at complete stillness, and I laid there in stunned disbelief. I initially thought to wait to move again until I could control my racing heart. However, I realized the temporary adrenaline coursing through my veins would be vital to my efforts and shouldn't be wasted whilst I had it. Careful not to hurt him— and to mind the placement of the towel that was somehow still wrapped, however extremely precariously, around his hips— I struggled to gently rotate him off of me. A drugged, sitting Anakin I had pushed down on the edge of the bed with ease. A dead-weight Anakin passed out on top of me required a great deal more strain. But my innocent wiggling underneath him— particularly in the groin area— roused him, and he returned to consciousness just enough to cooperatively roll with one of my bigger pushes. He sank back against the sheets with a deep sigh of my name. Within seconds, he was sound asleep.

I laid there watching him, giving my breath and heart rate time to return to normal. I honestly couldn't make up my mind whether or not I was relieved he'd passed out or disappointed. In that moment, I was leaning towards monumentally disappointed.

In reality, it was a blessing. Suddenly and frantically, I recalled a detail from my scanning of his medical pad— he was due for a bedside check from a medic at any moment, no doubt to ensure he'd properly taken the meds I myself had administered to him. Well, Nurse Mémé had been happy to assist the medical staff of The Credence, but it was time to make a hasty exit. All the same, greedily and very recklessly, I stole a few more moments to watch Anakin sleep. I couldn't tear myself away from him so willingly. It troubled me that he would seem peaceful one second before an expression of pain— whether emotional or physical, I do not know— would flash across his face the next. I could only hope that as the drugs took an even deeper effect, he would find solace in his slumber.

I couldn't resist extending a hand and dragging the back of my fingers softly across his cheek. Even with blips of discomfort, he was so beautiful as he slept. The moons of Iago must've misplaced their true angel.

{If someone walks in, there's no question, this has got to be the single best way to get kicked out of the Order.}

My lips curved up into a small smile at the memory of Anakin's naive but blissful declaration. In this particular moment, I could relate powerfully to his sentiment. The instinct to stay at his side was so strong, even as he slept, that for a moment, I sincerely thought about risking both of our careers and remaining where I was.

It only took me four seconds to remember the reality of the war. I gathered myself together and stood with reluctant purpose. As I rose, I was careful not to disrupt the bed too much, least I risk waking him. I was sure I was being overly cautious— he looked so deeply asleep— until his arm crossed over his body to reach for the spot where I'd just been laying. He mumbled something unintelligible as the fingers of his flat hand twitched against the top sheet.

I gazed at the searching hand for a moment, knowing that if I reached out to take it, even with the intention of squeezing it in goodbye, my body wouldn't stop moving forward until I'd climbed back into the bed and was fully curled up along his side.

I eyed the haphazardness of the towel. If he moved again in his sleep, I didn't want Anakin to be found immodest by the medic. With that in mind, I picked up a bundle of bed sheet that was half-hanging off a bottom corner of the bed. It must've been pushed there by one or multiple feet during our spirited movements. I draped it over his form, covering his toes all the way up to mid-chest.

I straightened my dress, which was practically hanging off my shoulders. I did a quick trip to the mirror to make sure my hair was presentable. As I turned to go, I only hesitated briefly, tempted to completely turn off the light for the sleeper's sake. In the end, I left it on for the benefit of the coming nurse.

With one last look at his sleeping form, I forced myself from the cabin.

When I reached my stateroom, I closed the door behind me and sank my backside against it. Medical checkup or no, the immediate urge to return to Anakin was agonizingly palpable. I realized I would prefer to spend the rest of the day lying next to a knocked out, drugged up Anakin rather than be around anyone else or do anything else on the ship. Where had the productive and diligent Senator gone?

"Love," I muttered, shaking my head as I looked down at my feet, my eyes closing as I remembered the sensation of his lips brushing against mine.

How long could a checkup visit take? Is it too soon to return to him now?

"Amidala?"

My head snapped up, immediately recognizing the male voice coming around the corner from the end of the hallway. "Jurue?!"

I barely had time to straighten my sunken posture against the door when he came into sight.

"Oh, good! I'm glad you're here. Well, of course you'd be here, it is your stateroom after all. Right. Yes. I've, uh, I've been waiting for you."

Civility disappeared as I looked at him with as much indignation for being in my quarters uninvited as I did for robbing me of my idyllic moment. "How did you get inside?"

"You told me your pin code yesterday. There's something I've been—" his smile twitched, and he scratched the back of his head nervously. The move stuck out to me. In fact, the entire delivery of his most unexpected greeting was odd. The normally extremely composed Jurue was rarely nervous. He straightened his back, and he seemed to make an effort to compose himself. "Well. There's something I've been wanting to talk to you about for a long time."

A/N: This concludes the 8 chapter stretch I (almost) squeezed into 8 days. I look forward to pausing and reading reviews as readers have a chance to catch up and share their thoughts on this and any prior chapters.