Chapter 56. Conversations in the Light

It kills me sometimes, how people die.
― Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

Limp arms. Weighted feet. Given my exhaustion upon our return to the ship, I'd surmised I even lacked the energy necessary to dream. Diversion and dance had taxed my body of all its adrenaline. Like a tree handicapped by an ax, I swayed as we listened to Dormé's hologram, eyelids slowly blinking. Relief from hearing that she and the rest of the senatorial entourage had departed Coruscant unharmed only added to my drowsy peace. By the end of her transmission, Anakin stood by my side with his arm round my waist. I could sense in the flavor of his hold that it was mostly meant to keep me vertical.

A hand rubbed my back. His light chuckle emanated near my ear.

"To think, she made it through an execution arena but was done in by dancing."

"Minutes compared to hours," I mumbled.

My auxiliary pillar commanded me off to rest, but not before placing a quick, almost parental kiss to my forehead in dismissal. For a brief moment, I reconnected with five-year-old Padmé, a weary-eyed youngling who'd stayed up well past her bedtime.

I uttered a half-hearted protest. He was just as exhausted as me— surely, we should at least discuss who stayed awake behind the controls? It was the fair thing to do. But when Anakin reminded me he was up for his shift in the cockpit anyways, as my own had been interrupted many hours ago when I heard him shouting in the gallery, I offered no further resistance.

I didn't immediately leave. As the pilot settled into his chair and activated the engines, my sight traveled to the windows. A burgeoning morning was arriving just in time to see us off. It hinted at the dark green foliage in the trees ahead. The breeze we could not feel massaged their branches. Sequestered by recycled air funneled through industrial filters, I mourned the loss of the delicious forest smell.

Anakin steered the ship upwards with a slowness uncharacteristic of his flying style. I could practically sense his reluctance, perhaps because I felt it myself, as he dragged more than lifted us away from the soil. Once we cleared the canopy of trees, there was just enough dawn to decipher the large mountains flanking the valley. Pinkish-gray hues emanated from the western ridge's outline, towing behind them a new day we would not see.

Anakin gradually banked left, and the bonfire— so captivating at ground-level, yet now no bigger than a spark— came into view. We'd learned during our stay that the community never let their village's center beacon go out. Ever. From it, almost every fire in every home was sourced, connecting the hearths between neighbors; the same DNA of a flame which cooked food in one home provided light in another. This was more than a convenient custom to the Slythe— it was a sacred element of their religion.

The communal fire, the buildings surrounding it, and the lake it all resided next to fell away as we ascended. Mutely, I said goodbye to Vox Montoa, our unexpected yet wonderful haven. Even with my fatigue, I fought to secure every second spent there in my vaults of memory. I knew it would be rare for us to find such brazen freedom again. Society's true shadows— not the taboo kind that excites, but the breed which smothers— beckoned us back into our den of secrets. In truth, if we hadn't had our next destination to look forward to, my sadness at leaving Vox Montoa might have escalated into melancholy.

Thoughts of Naboo's Lake Country— its inspiring mountains, its lush greenery, its lakes— propelled my drained legs out of the cockpit. Somehow, I mustered myself through a shower. The thought had first crossed my mind to go straight to the wide bed in the rear of the ship, but that is not where I wanted to sleep. I knew from experience its mattress was plush, its covers made of the finest fabrics, and its pillows heavenly. Its comforts were designed to befit a monarch, current or former. But prior to his rehabilitation session, Anakin had laid in one of the crew cots— I'd seen evidence of this on my way to finding him in the gallery. If the rustled sheets still carried his scent, that was all the marketing I needed to choose my bed.

But my hair smelled of smoke, sweat, and a general aroma anyone who'd spent hours in a tavern would absorb. It felt like defilement to take that into Anakin's linens. All the same, as the warm cascade of water kneaded my scalp and shoulders in the shower, I came precariously close to falling asleep in the stall.

I'd allotted myself mere seconds before washing to find something simple to wear after. Intent hands rummaged through the first suitcase I unclasped, coming up quickly with an expansive yellow nightgown that was more grandmotherly than youthful bride-to-be. Tired as I was, I made a mental note to upgrade my nocturnal wardrobe after returning to Coruscant, given I'd have marital company from now on. Perhaps more silks, laces, and other feminine templates. Something that would make a husband look up from his seat when I passed by him in our private hours. Intimacy without racy seduction— simply nightgowns he alone had the domestic privilege to observe. To appreciate. To touch. The novel excitement of this was enough to elicit a smile. Married life was something I looked forward to the closer I got to it.

Tonight, I made do with the yellow tent. Sexy it was not— but its fabric was embracingly soft. Letting my expired body finally curl up in the cot was a feeling which bordered on the ethereal. Maybe there weren't traces of Anakin's scent left in the sheets. Maybe, in my state of near-delirium, I just believed there were. Either way, I wasn't awake long enough for my nostrils to measure and bask beyond a single, deep inhalation. Black oblivion came for me; I went to it willingly.

To dream was to waste. Nothing my subconscious could architect would've surpassed the hours I'd just lived. Yet, the absence of dreams made my return to the waking world that much farther of a distance to travel. Sensations hearkening from reality tugged me from the deepest canyons of rest; my cognition battled its way up the path.

The anchor through my grogginess was the finger stroking my right cheek. My lids squinted open in between batted blinks, as would a pair belonging to a newborn creature meeting light for the first time.

"I'm sorry. It wasn't my intention to wake you."

It was easier to abandon the call of slumberous oblivion when this face was inches from my own. Anakin was in the aisle which split the four bunk beds, crouching next to mine— his— ours. His head tilted slightly to better meet my eyes at my angle. I was on my side, facing outwards. I'd been too expended earlier to bother dimming the room's light bars, but the space was noticeably darker than when I'd tucked myself into the bottom-level bunk. Apparently, Anakin had kindly dimmed the ambiance for me, but I still had more than enough light to make out his features.

In the fog of progressive waking, I didn't fully understand his words yet. "Mmmn. Izz id my turn?"

Then I slightly frowned in confusion. My sleep had been deep, but I did not have a dry throat, a feeling of satiated rest, nor any other sign that I'd slept the four hours Anakin's shift behind the controls— minus time for my shower and dressing— would have granted me.

Now that I was awake, he openly caressed my cheek with multiple fingertips, but he looked apologetic as he answered, "Not yet. You've been asleep just short of two hours."

I looked at him with a little less grace. "You're waking me? Halfway through my sleep shift?"

"I didn't mean to. I needed a break from the cockpit. Threepio won't stop talking."

"You built him." I yawned so widely I thought my jaw would unhinge. The strong temptation to close my eyes returned, and I obliged it. "You know where his shut-off switch is."

"Why are you sleeping here when there's a perfectly proper bed in the stern?"

I was too lethargic to feel embarrassment. "Mmm. These sheets smell like you." After a moment, I smiled, which I'm sure he thought was a partner to my statement. In actuality, it was because I realized I'd be quite happy to fall back asleep to the sound of his voice. Prompting this, I nestled my face deeper into the pillow and inquired, only half-caring, "Whad iz Freepio trying to talhk to ou aboud?" My partially buried lips moved sluggishly against the cushion.

"Nevermind that. I'm also here because…" His pause lasted so long that I opened one eye. Ani seemed to be warring with whatever he wanted to say. No doubt, my clear state of drowsiness was dueling with his manners advising him to respect it.

I took pity. "Bekauss?"

His expression— what I could see of it through one, blurred eye— seemed shy. But earnest. "I missed you."

Something about his tone made me take a clearer look at my fiancé. Our gazes held, and suddenly my heart was wide awake.

Silence I didn't know what to do with stretched on. Anakin had been very clear during the first hours of our journey. Intimate physical expression of our love was not going to happen— not while he feared the unknowns of his prosthetic hand's strength to a debilitating degree. He'd started to thaw before we got to Vox Montoa, and he'd been back to his old, enthusiastic self on the planet, but had it been enough to propel him to me now? Had just two hours of solitary monkhood fully changed his mind?

Before I'd decided how I felt about this, I was scooting backwards to the far side of the bunk. Anakin hesitated for a suspiciously long moment before he subtly nodded, then rose off his hunches enough to climb in beside me. We each laid on our sides facing the other, our noses a clasped palms width apart. His knees greeted my shins. This arrangement evidently sparked the same memory for both of us, and all awkwardness evaporated even before Anakin could deliver his tease.

"Now, why does this feel familiar?"

My keyed-up smile matched his. "This is much, much better."

"Because we aren't surrounded by thousands of people, and instead have a ship to ourselves?"

"No." I sprouted a cocked eyebrow. "Because a sun-dial headpiece isn't cinching my neck."

Anakin started laughing, a sound I swiftly joined him in making. Unfortunately, his face soon clouded, and he took a steadying breath. "Padmé. There's something we should talk about. Besides my arm… there's another reason why I haven't been with you as I've wanted to."

My smile shrunk into a concerned line. He had my avid attention.

Anakin's brow furrowed. The young man who had memorized my body more than a week before his hands roamed all over it was, inexplicably, looking at me like this was our first time ever being alone. "Well, actually, it's funny we're talking about that moment on the refugee ship, when we were in the cot, because, ahh, you said something then about us knowing our relationship was a fantasy because it involved… children." He swallowed tensely. Nervously. "We haven't talked about… measures to ward off an unplanned… surprise."

My eyebrows shot up, but then I settled myself into composed understanding. As unexpected as this topic was, it absolutely shouldn't have been. "We are safe from such a surprise. I began taking prescribed medical measures a few years ago which prevent pregnancy."

"We are? You did?" His face didn't at all look relieved, which surprised me. The reason behind his apparent displeasure revealed itself rapidly, if gracelessly. "But I thought you said you're also a— you've had… use, or the want of use for preventative measures, recently, before we came back into each other's lives, for someone else?"

I turned my lips down at him, unimpressed by his sidestep into doubt of what I'd told him before. "No. Because I use it to manage my courses." More softly, I added, "But one of its effects is the impossibility of conceiving. We've always been safeguarded— even if we'd given into temptation on the island."

"Oh." His face immediately brightened, and his tone pitched higher. "Oh!" I could practically see the alternate version of our night in the hut play out behind his eyes.

I ran a hand down his cheek, as naturally as the touches I'd observed between Beru and Owen.

"I swallow a tablet twice a month. As long as I remember to take it, as I always do, we'll be fine." My voice was even, until it wasn't. "I'll remember to take it."

I'd tried to hide my emotional fracture, but he saw it in my eyes and heard it in my voice. He moved nearer until his nose grazed mine. A secure arm came around my middle. Anakin's face encompassed my vision, blue pools pouring into me. "Don't give up on your plan of having a family. I share that dream with you." His voice sounded sad, and I ached for him— for us. For the lives that would be born out of true love, but facing what future? "I want it as much as you do."

I leaned forward the inch it took to press a tender kiss to his lips. Each millimeter of warm, pink skin gave comfort, even while forlornly asking for it in return. After I pulled back, I ran my thumb along his bottom lip. Never before had I come to know a pair of lips as well as, or better than, my own. Never before had I revered human anatomy in this way. "I know that."

He cautioned, barely above a whisper, "We must put those plans on hold until after this war is over, Padmé. At least until then."

"A peace treaty with the Separatists won't erase the hurdles in our personal lives."

He rubbed his nose against mine. "You're a Senator. Can't you slip an amendment into the treaty, just for us?"

"Anakin…" At this moment, I needed him to be serious.

"I know," he reassured. "I know." He became enlivened by emotion, planting a quick yet desperate kiss. "I just— I can't think about you growing our child while I— or you— are sent on war assignments to the other side of the galaxy. I'll go insane." A wild look possessed in his eyes, and I believed him. "I won't be able to concentrate on anything else."

This single moment would stay with me, impacting my choice years later to keep an unexpected pregnancy a secret from Ani. I was trying to protect him. I wanted my husband focused on where he was so he could return to my arms, to us, safely. That decision of silence signed me up for some of the most worrisome, elated, lonely, optimistic, and paranoid months of my life. I think I made the right choice in withholding the news from him. I don't know.

But I kept my word. I never forgot to take my routine pill. It was as simple as a surprise crossing of paths. On that fateful encounter— just a few years into our marriage, while the destructive fire of the Clone Wars still raged— I was on an Outer Rim planet. Everything that could go wrong on a reconnaissance and recovery excursion had gone wrong. I was delayed, and ultimately away from home and my prescription far longer than I'd packed for. Anakin and I hadn't expected to meet, much less to get time together alone. In the joy of unexpected reunion, our need for each other became too great, and we knowingly took a chance. There's not a moment I regret that decision, especially not now, when I believe a higher power knew exactly what it was doing when it waylaid me on that trip.

We stared at each other for a reprieve in time, thoughts and wishes passing between us until their endearments deserved actual voices. Eventually, like a disciple on a pilgrimage, Anakin's fingers reached out to reverently touch my coils. "Brown hair, like yours."

"No." I was adamant. "Like yours."

Miniature sun gods.

"We can get them a pet Voorpak, like Pooja's." His face became animated. "I'll teach them the ins and outs of engineering until they can build a podracer blindfolded."

My expression creased. Motherly vigilance reared to life. "It would be wise to postpone that idea until you've thought it through."

He grinned adoringly. I was instantly bewitched. "Your debate skills."

"Your smile. And your eyes."

"Yours. But can they have my sense of humor?"

"Only if they also have my sense of decorum."

Quite contrary to my words and schooling tone, my hand snaked to touch the smooth skin under his collarbone, just under the tunic.

He glanced down at my disappearing fingers and gave me a wicked look. "You sure about that?"

"Would it be any better to have yours?"

His devilish smirk was enough of an answer. It spurred me forward. I was awake now, and happy, and celebratory, and— the root of it all— wildly hopeful. I kissed him with passion, using my lips to communicate my abundant love. Because his right arm was underneath his body, Anakin used his left to pull me against him. His fingers advanced upwards until they were burying themselves in my hair, tight and twisting as they found the still-damp spots. I sighed into his mouth.

When our kiss gradually settled, we stared at each other in a warm haze, sharing smiles like secrets. It was the most natural thing in the galaxy for his hand to cup a devoted hold on the right side of my face. I let out a steadying breath and ran my fingers through my disarrayed hair. Tangles blockaded the route. "I know the first thing I'm going to invest in once we're married."

"New bed frames to replace the broken ones?"

"Hair brushes," I corrected with a smile. "My Force senses are telling me that as your wife, I'm going to need a ready supply of combs and brushes nearby."

"You are strong in the Force, my love." His grin was so wide it looked like it might crack his face, but he closed his mouth in time to lean in and bestow me with a luscious kiss. "What else are your senses telling you?" His tongue moved against my lips, requesting passage. There was a breathless pull back when I didn't succumb in sufficient time. His eyes had darkened, and I trembled. "Tell me."

Heat had already begun to gather between my legs. Where I found the strength to begin is a mystery, but I said— strained persuasion in my tone— "That we are so close to being husband and wife… we… we should…" His hand was rubbing circles on my hip, distracting me from speech. Pleasure was on the horizon. All I had to do was let the primal instincts setting fire to my blood have free reign. Anakin would take care of the rest.

He leaned in once more, and his voice was low. Provocative. In its timbre, I again felt the power and release that comes from being the sole focus of a man's desire. "Tell me what you want. Tell me…" I was the woman forbidden to him by all but Destiny's laws; I would never concede him back to those who could not understand. I would die first. Another suggestive kiss, one that almost lured my soul from my skin. Kneading circles had turned into grabs; the placement from my hip to my rear.

I fought for control behind shut eyes. Between the sounds of laboring breaths was a pathetic whimper. It took a second to realize it had been me. Blatantly ignoring my search for strength, my hand slid up and over his forearm of its own accord. It traveled a path down his shoulder blade before going on the move again. Anakin had turned me into an explorer; there wasn't an inch of him I didn't want to chart. "That… that we…"

A leg adjusted itself over mine. The thought that maybe I shouldn't have reassured him just yet of our contraception safety sped through my mind. My resolve shook as I felt hard length against my thigh. If he dropped his lips down to my neck I would clutch his head, and then it would be over. My surrender would be his to do with as he pleased. The pilot in my arms had deemed a maintenance corridor as unsatisfactory for his future wife; I could entertain no such faith that he'd feel the same in his hallowed home of open space.

And so, somehow, I managed to assert, "That… ah… we might as well… wait."

He stopped immediately. Then, comically, he shuffled his torso backwards several inches to fully look at me— as if to see whether or not I was serious. He must've seen enough to know I was, because his chin dropped down to his chest with a loud huff escaping from his lungs. I plopped a commiserating hand on his head of hair. I could relate.

He groaned, but then he replied, "I… was thinking the same?"

I laughed at his questioning inflection before patting the top of his down-turned head. I was relieved by the rapid resignation, but I made no effort to hide my skepticism. "You were?"

"Yeeesssss," he dragged the word out as a loud sigh from the back of his throat, the struggle to make the affirmation obvious. I lifted my hand off his head and covered my mouth to fumble a giggle— and just in time, for Anakin's head finally rose and he met my eyes. Given his ardent moves of seduction seconds ago— and the significant part of his anatomy pressed against my thigh, contradicting him— he was saying one thing while his body clearly desired something else. He was coiled with tension at first, but he gradually composed himself into a relaxed smile. And my Anakin, who often seemed like a man possessed by his body or emotions— a thrilling if terrifying spectacle to watch, especially when one was caught in the blast radius— was back in full control. "Yes." He heaved another sigh. "We've waited this long. If all goes well, we'll be married by tomorrow." He moved himself off of me, though, he hardly went far in the cramped space.

I wasn't sure we'd waited so much as been thwarted time and again. Tomorrow had never felt so far away, but the nearing opportunity to join with Anakin for the first time as my husband was too special to forsake. That didn't make it easy. Speaking for both of our restraints, I murmured, "I'm impressed."

His eyes went wide, as if I hadn't given him near enough credit. "Thank you. If it hadn't been for ten years of instruction on discipline and self-control, you wouldn't have made it out of the gallery earlier."

"Really?" I couldn't help but mourn the lost hours, despite the fact the best date of my life had transpired in their place.

"What do you think I've been doing up there while 'manning the controls'?" He offered his last words with a strong packaging of sarcasm.

I shrugged with fake innocence, knowing well the capabilities of the auto-pilot system, which even he wouldn't dare turn off in lightspeed. "Flying the ship?"

He gave me a patronizing look. "Please." Then he sighed wearily. "I've been meditating." He ran his hand down his face. "A lot." I raised an eyebrow, taunting him with a cheeky smile. He was having none of it. "You think it's easy for me to sit up there, knowing I've got you alone and willing on a ship for hours in the middle of space; no one around for lightyears to hear us?" His high-pitched voice was urgent. "Do you have any idea how many times I've almost parked us in an uninhabited system and raced back here?"

I couldn't hold back a laugh. He burned for me as much as I burned for him. I knew it, but I never tired of being reminded of it. "I'm relieved to know you trust your arm now."

Anakin grimaced a little. "Well." His eyes began moving slowly over my body. "Although my memory is foggy from the pain meds, I do remember… I'm not completely helpless with you when reduced to one arm." To prove his point, he leaned in and extended his left hand to capture the back of my head, keeping his mechanical appendage pinned underneath his side. Full lips caught mine in a searing kiss, undermining what we'd just declared. As I responded with colluding fire, he expertly maneuvered so that most of his weight was deliciously pressing on to me— not just a leg like before, but almost all of his long form. Lungs inhaled greedily then relinquished harsh pants. Need was building within me again. As he continued to ravage my lips, his left hand trailed halfway down my arm before slipping between it and my side. Deft fingers wormed underneath my rib cage, lifting me up towards him. He was cheating by his own rules— the artificial arm propped him up on the pillow so he could raise and position me directly below him.

My nails pined through his hair before I moved my hands to his chest— and shoved. Hard. Not expecting the push, it caught him off-guard, and he rolled out of the cot and clumsily down onto the floor, landing in a heap of limbs. It was barely a two-foot drop, but he looked up at me in shock. "Padmé!" Indignation, arousal, and a hint of humor swam in his wide eyes. He held up his gloved arm. "I'm a wounded warrior!"

My bosom heaved with erratic breaths. Long tresses of hair curtained either side of my face. To see Anakin sprawled out on the ground in front of me only heightened temptation. I resisted the astronomical urge to crawl out of the bunk and cover him with my body— to throw out all the respect for marriage we were trying to maintain. "You. Controls. Go."

He shook his head and rose to his feet with far more grace than he'd had when I'd boosted him from the bed. "Roger that, Captain," he muttered with an eye roll. But it was there— a growing grin. It drooped quickly. "I'm off to do," he let out a big blow of breath, scratching the back of his head, "a lot of meditating."

I listened to his footsteps as he traveled towards the front of the ship, then I burrowed back into sheets that smelled even more of him than before.

We were on our way to Naboo. We were going to be married. We were going to have days, not hours, to ourselves at the lake house. We had shared a night on Vox Montoa I would never forget. And now, our wedding night would be even more monumental.

Anakin was one of the kindest, bravest, most passionate, handsome, caring, funny, attentive, sensual, and unfiltered men I'd ever met. He loved me as much as I loved him—maybe even, impossibly, more. Civil war had broken out across the galaxy, and the year of my life I'd devoted to fighting the Military Creation Act had been in vain. But tucked away in the bunk, I reveled in my perceived fortune. I gave way to the easy temptation of daydreams. As ten lifetimes' worth of love built a library of scenes, I struggled to fall back asleep. Children with a blend of my and Anakin's features played in my imagination's sandbox. I hugged them to me mentally, just as I planned to do in actuality, one day. It was all better than a dream. I could not stop grinning.

Liberty dies to a chamber's thunderous applause, but twenty-five millennia of civilization cemented its end with a soundless, love-struck smile in the emptiness of space.