AN:

Cheire – I also agree with everything the other commenter wrote. And I agree with you about the incongruent characterization between Vader and TCW Anakin. But I find TCW writing too superficial for me anyway. But it has been an awesome challenge taking characters like Miraj and making them my own.

Guest – Thanks! Yes R2 is a car haha That's the big question, what's Anakin going to do now? :D

Guest 2 – Thank you! Loved reading this! Aside from SW fans, I would say that also modern storytelling doesn't leave room for the subtlety of courtship. George's films aren't perfectly executed but the substance is there. One of the things I liked was Padme teasing him about "dreamy eyes" That alone makes it obvious she likes his attention; she's making him jealous in a playful, teasing way.

Disgal – That's a very good point. Coercion and practically forcing yourself sexually on another is basically rape.

Flat-Broke-Down Life

Anakin woke up and caught the glow from the large window framing his wife. The light splintered around her silhouette as he stared at her while she sat at her dresser, putting on her makeup. She didn't need it. He knew that. But she always brushed herself with a subtlety, enhancing her features with a divine flame from the sun God, Ra.

His groggy voice echoed out of sleepy words as he rolled on his side, basking in the warmth under thick covers. Coruscant was colder than Tatooine. "You really think baggy clothes are going to hide the fact that you're almost five months pregnant?"

"And dark colors." She corrected with a twinkling eye. He shook his head albeit slightly amused and sat upright, watching her make her way over to the jade and marble nightstand beside him, collecting her wedding ring that was in a box beside his. His gaze flicked upward as she slipped the ring on her finger. She looked graceful and lived graciously and was always well-meaning even if he didn't always agree with her sentiments. Catching her by surprise, he grabbed her arm and brought her down onto his lap. He kissed the crook of her neck, to which her head fell back in enjoyment, feeling the rush of warmth from his mouth. She had never felt this warmth in the room before... or anywhere in this condo her parents bought her after college. It was often stuffed behind her pre-occupied work-life. She had no time to let her hair down back then. No personal life. She never talked about anything other than work. In the beginning of their relationship Anakin would make fun of her for it. But things are very different now. Life was going to be different in Coruscant after she had stepped into the wild. She's free now that he and his childish ethos is with her.

"Let's just have a look here, mrs Skywalker." Anakin murmured in a purposely suggestive tone, as his hand roamed down her front over her deep purple blazer, pretending to examine her outfit, and took a peak under her shirt. "Lookin' good."

Once Padme had left for work, taking Artoo, Anakin waltzed into the open-plan kitchen, had his breakfast on the terrace, the distinct taste of a coffee with piquant undertones still leaves a toasty aroma on his tongue. Only thing missing would be to see a pack of cigarettes adorning the left corner of this gorgeous mango wood breakfast tray. Luckily, though, in its place is the Henry Miller book gifted to him by Kitster.

Anakin looked down at his new life from the ninth floor. He wondered what he'd do now. He's hoping Coruscant would be his life raft. He's on the precipice of finding the joy he's always wanted. Simple, domestic, familial joy...

He contemplated his rash decisions and his juggling of the light, the dark, and wondering if there was any grey. A new him he could talk himself into. Talk himself into opening his heart to a more sustainable kind of risk. Persevere and your dreams will meet you there, at the finish line. All you have to do is dive head first off the springboard of fear, leap over the obstacles and... fly. (Boy did he miss racing already).

And that's what he planned to do. Breathe. Put one foot in front of the other. One step followed by another should soon lead him where he wants to go. His first attempt to start over would be to get a job. Two weeks had gone by and he was yet to walk into that auto repair shop he passed daily.

Of course there were moments of the past that hung over his head, like memory foam moulding to his thoughts – thoughts of dead bodies and buried secrets. Accept what you cannot control, they say. Easier said than done. He was working on shaking off these thoughts from foam brain. They don't follow him when he steps out onto the terrace and tries meditation. They even seem to settle in the rearview mirror when he gets to drive fast on the highway at night when the road is open. And they completely wave their white flag when he's surrounded by good music. The ultimate happy ending is when Padme comes home from work. It's like an aurora borealis over the condo. Like a miracle, joy possesses the room and everything in it. The question was how to make that be the story told forever.

I need a sign to let me know you're here

All of these lines are being crossed over the atmosphere

I need to know that things are gonna look up

'Cause I feel us drowning in a sea spilled from a cup

Anakin was dragged by Padme to Palpatine's office party. He had never actually entered the Law Firm until now. He usually dropped Padme off when he needed the car and waved her into the building, which, from the outside, had blue-tinted crystalline glass windows morphing into one giant mirror with white square frames – so clean it looked transparent. It blended in well with the upscale characteristics of the skyscrapers and commercial buildings surrounding it. The interior, however, looked more natural and calm for clients. The earthy tones of basic grey hues and bamboo wood gave the space a modern yet modest ambiance, along with potted plants and overhanging curves of white light fixtures. The distinguishing features did not share the same minimalist approach, though. A heavy crystal chandelier dangled blue tear-shaped icicles larger than the little pearl ones in Vallorum's conference room. The old-fashioned curved legs of the chairs, the rich taupe curtains, and spiraling staircase still carried the essence of all the people who had passed through these wide halls, with pictures of their celebrity clients. If the room wasn't full of guests, you could probably hear a pin drop on the silver floor. Anakin felt he should take fragile footsteps not to disturb the porcelain tiles.

Padme was pulled into conversations with colleagues. And as much as she strived to be polite, there was nothing more irritating than being the sober one at a work party. You deal with the spills, the close-talkers, the gossip about coworkers of whom you don't even know the last names. Padme was waiting for an opportunity to escape but had one of her rangy colleagues talking her ear off about some new case he was on. It seemed like nothing had changed... Nothing except her. She looked around, hoping Anakin was doing okay.

As her eyes traveled over the loud voices and glasses toasting in mid-air, one particular scene seemed to interrupt the tone of the room entirely. It was Clovis exploding the room with Drakkar-Noir and a circle of women laughing at his jokes. He seemed in his element, the center of attention. Then his gaze found her. He excused himself and headed over with a feline strut.

"Everyone knows where to find you..." Padme mocked him slightly with a ladylike smile. "Always chatting up the ladies."

"What can I say," Clovis lifted his shoulders with exaggerated frustration, but nothing could distract from the gimmicky grin on his face. "The ladies love me."

Padme felt herself already losing interest in the conversation. She turned away, careful not to roll her eyes publicly, yet dismissive towards his sense of self-importance. She looked around for someone to jump in and separate them. She could feel Clovis hovering close, not taking the hint. Where was Anakin, she wondered.

Anakin stood by the buffet and was joined by a woman who oozed elegance – her short hair a cross between light auburn and bronze, her beige pantsuit paired exceptionally with her diamond jewelry, and she held her black clutch bag at her side like an ornament. Anakin poured himself a drink, offering her one but she politely refused.

"You're Padme's husband, right?" She asked with a tenor of cheerfulness and comfort. Anakin nodded with a shy smile. He had never felt more out of place, even though Padme assured him he shouldn't care. Here, it seemed everyone's idea of smart casual was a tad fancier than his mere jeans and a black shirt – although, at least he wasn't the only one in jeans.

The woman's pale blue-green eyes looked big and trusting, easing his mood. "I"m Mon. Mon Mothma." She held out her classy hand and shook his. "Padme says you're from Tatooine. What made you decide to leave your small town and come here?"

"Oh, you know, got tired of the lack of structure, the unkempt neighborhoods. . .the criminality. I suppose I thought it was time to witness what true civilization looks like." There was a hint of satire in his honest voice.

"Oh don't be fooled." Mon released a helpless little chuckle. "The only difference is our criminals wear Armani suits, have high-status jobs with nice corner-offices and cleaner streets."

Anakin faced her wholeheartedly now and observant. This was probably the only decent conversation he had since they moved here. She had this look in her eyes, creative and clever. It was as though underneath their casual chat was the signal of a woman who understood completely what it felt like to embrace a chapter that felt so unfamiliar. Perhaps she was warning him that there are appearance to keep up, and to take care, and he was grateful for the tip.

Anakin gave her a genuine smile before taking a gander around the room. Dozens of phantoms, shaded figures in human form crowded in packs. His eyes glazed over their details, looking for one person specifically. And, as he dragged his focus across the room, he finally found her. Unfortunately, it resulted in a face losing its elasticity, a clenched jaw and taut muscles.

"I'm glad you came back. Good for you... " Clovis continued to fixate on her, trying to slip past the numbness he gauged in her attitude. "It's good for us."

"Us?" Padme's head turned toward him, eyes narrowed cruelly with a sudden intensity. Finally a reaction.

"The company." He explained with a smirk. She, though, wasn't buying it and crossed her arms.

"I don't need to remind you that I'm married now, do I?"

"No..." Clovis leaned forward and whispered. "I can tell from the eyes burning a hole in the back of my head."

From the corner of her eye, she saw Anakin looking at them with blades in his eyes that could incinerate. Clovis' mouth was far too close to the shell of his wife's ear. She moved away, but Anakin was already on his way over.

The greeting Clovis gave was a discreet bow of his head as he addressed him by name, "Skywalker." But the attempt at civility was pretty much slaughtered by Anakin's lack of acknowledgement. Anakin simply glared down at the hand Clovis offered and turned to Padme.

"Come on." Anakin muttered, and Padme felt his protective hand splayed on her lower back as they walked off.

"You didn't cause a scene. I'm impressed." She teased quietly once Clovis was out of earshot. Glad that no fight disrupted the party.

Anakin shot her a comical, cocky glance, as he raised a hand to his chest. "I'm all grown up now."

When there is no place safe

And no safe place to put my head

When you can feel the world shake

From the words that are said

A sleek, ebony Lamborghini rolled up as Anakin was about to leave the repair shop close to home. Anakin was dragging his feet. The party at Palpatine's the other day gave him the push he needed to get inspired, go out and come home with a job. Still, it sounded better in theory.

He wasn't surprised he was rejected. After all, he knew applying for a job would be difficult. He was smack-dab in the middle of what Lana Del Rey would refer to as a flat-broke-down life. (Padme had her album playing on repeat the last few days).

He didn't know what he expected. A fresh start. A breather... He had hoped he'd find some answers that catapulted him into the stratosphere of business, money, success. And when he saw that big auto repair sign accompanied by the smell of leather and oil wafting through the air, he thought he was meant to follow the signs. He'd feel useful, knowledgeable again. He'd get people out of their oily messes, mend their overheated radiators and restore flat tires. He'd be the fixer again. These days he felt like the failure.

It wasn't the driver who popped his head out the window to call for the mechanic but an older gentleman in the back seat who rolled down the window of the exquisite Lambo. A rather unpleasant sound left his thin lips – as pale as his skin. Anakin guessed the man didn't get out much for someone with such an adventurous car. His lips weren't the only thing that was thin. His white hair was thinning out on the crown of his head. He wore a cashmere trench coat, and his bony finger pointed like he was casting a spell on a young, unassuming and innocent member of staff.

The inexperienced staff member, who was speaking for the mechanic the old man was looking for, seemed jittery with his uniform covered in oil as he claimed they were yet to receive the glass fitting the customer ordered. Anakin got a sneaky closer look at the crack in the windshield as he passed. Once the timid worker left, Anakin made himself known.

"Clear nail polish." He uttered, causing the grumpy but sophisticated man to face his way.

"Excuse me?" The sound that came out was one of the poshest accents Anakin had ever heard.

"It's a little hack we used to do to sustain us until we had the equipment. It will stop that screen from cracking further." Anakin vaguely swept a hand toward the windshield — and mumbled. "It took a while to get what we needed in Tatooine." Okay, he should stop rambling on now.

"Nail polish?" The gentleman repeated. His lips barely moved. A tinge of intrigue hidden under a confined, skeptical voice.

"Yeah." Anakin laughed, realizing how weird it must sound to a man who looked like he had no budget to stick to. But at the end of the day, it was one of the many collective experiences of the sand park gang – Thanks Aayla. Surprised she had any nail polish left. "Sometimes you gotta think outside the box."

"Alright. Mr. Think-Outside-The-Box.." The man rested back in his plush seat. "What do you say I do with the scratch on my paint job?" The man remarked, pointing behind him at another job the repair shop failed to complete in the past.

Anakin went round the back to see. "Easy. Nail polish remover." He returned to the window. "Got a wife or daughter you can pinch some from?"

"The only woman in my life is my granddaughter." A fine smile spread across his cheeks. "But given that Rey is only 6 months old, I'm not sure she's found her affinity for manicures just yet."

The man had a sardonic sense of humour. Anakin was impressed with the smoothness in which he talked and took a step forward, introducing himself. "I'm Anakin."

"Skywalker?" A wafer-thin white eyebrow lifted.

"Yeah – how'd you know?"

"I've seen your picture on your wife's desk."

Anakin's eyebrows drew together, confused. Palpatine chuckled softly, confidently enjoying the young man's bewilderment. "I'm Padme's boss. Well, her boss' boss. Sheev Palpatine."

Anakin breathed out his surprise. This was the man. One of the richest men in the city. The man who they claim had humble beginnings and channeled all his passions, curiosities, choices, and abilities to make it all the way to the top. "Oh! Wow. Hi." Anakin humbly shook his hand.

"So, Tatooine you say..."

"Yeah, it's in the desert."

"I know. Had a friend over there."

Anakin grew even more confused. He didn't expect anyone here to know anyone in that godforsaken town. "You? Would I know them?"

"You're much too young and hip to run in his circles." Glee bloomed behind Palpatine's eyes as he finished. "Why the hell aren't you working here? Surely your knowledge would save them some customer grievances."

"I tried." Anakin shrugged with indifference and little effort. "No college degree. Therefore, unqualified." He didn't want to reach the woe is me part of a rant, but sometimes it was hard to spend your life gathering all the tools in your pockets possible only to be rejected because of a piece of paper.

It was all too familiar. Talent buried under circumstances. At some point, you don't see the point in making your move... Your wishes placed upon mantles in cards, sent through the blow of a birthday candle, a New Year's resolution; all promises wither away, burn out. Goals gets stuffed in bottles from lonely, drunken nights and sail away to the bottom of the sea. Ocean messengers never catch it.

"Hmm." Palpatine nodded. "When I was your age, things were the same. No one ever takes a chance on independent, innovative thinkers. They only look at credentials — which can be bought and paid for anyway."

It was nice to hear a man of Palpatine's stature acknowledge that a degree and hard work aren't necessarily synonymous. Certain aspects of this world were so calculated, manufactured, and not in favor of those who go against the grain. That's human nature, Anakin supposed. Rebelliousness is only appealing for a short while. Quit while you're ahead, they say. Never push the envelope. All is only well when on a roll. They push you out the door, praise you to rise up. If you don't, your failures are whispered about town. And if you do succeed... Well, they only build you up to bring you down.

"That's just the way the world works." Anakin ended with a sigh.

Palpatine nodded sagely before reaching for his wallet. "Well, kid, when you want to start making some real money, give me a call."

Anakin stared down at the card Palpatine handed over. That train of thought he was on fizzled out. Maybe this was his rite of passage. He didn't pursue it. It found him.

Were his prayers answered? If only by wonder and angels...

And I'm calling all angels

And I'm calling all you angels

Calling All Angels - Train