AN:

Cheire – Yeahh wishing you a belated happy star wars day! It was heartbreaking, I know. They love each other and just keep going about it in not the best of ways. But I love the fight scene :D

Angie – Yeah I agree with all of this. I like the part you said about a bucket of cold water, haha! Would come in handy. It's true, he can't barely be around when the twins are born.

Guest – Yeah he was definitely not expecting to come home to all that. He wasn't ready. Maybe that's the problem is that it shouldn't be a fight to be won but them coming together to solve the problem.

(There's Gotta Be) More To Life

I've got it all, but I feel so deprived

I go up, I come down, and I'm emptier inside

Tell me, what is this thing that I feel like I'm missing

And why can't I let it go?

Ventress was on the phone with her neighbors, a couple around her age who frequently made use of the connections she could provide in the city in exchange for lending her their beach house on the coast for part of the summer. She spoke with forced etiquette and politesse. When she hung up the phone, relief became her. "You know, if it weren't for the beach house, I'd kill 'em."

Ventress had waited for her joke to spark a reaction, but Anakin was tired. He wanted no companion, no friend to his exhaustion or sadness. His head was buried in his long-fingered hands held up by bony elbows on the desk. He was busy thinking his way out of living. His fight with Padme last night filled his world and blinded him to other's worlds.

"Rough night?" Ventress asked.

His voice was muffled by his palms. "Was driving around for hours last night." He had walked out, burned, broken, carried through only by an indissoluble temper. By the time he had cooled off, Padme was asleep. It was probably for the best. Whoever spoke first would be forced to inhale feelings of guilt. Peace was only in the pauses.

"Something wrong?"

Anakin finally uncovered his face in a desolate state. Avoiding any further questions, he collected his bare essentials, keys, wallet, a sense of disengagement. "Gunray's assistant called, so I'm gonna go see him." He rented an air of isolation, disconnection as he started to the door. He had earned the authority. And Ventress had no business knowing what goes on in his marriage.

"Anakin, wait." Ventress rounded the desk before sitting on its edge. Sticking out of her checkered skirt and thrown over the edge of the desk was her long legs in black stockings ending with her high heels, the same coral red of her lipstick. A color of drama. She called him over, ever-poised, to neaten his tie. "You're a mess. You can't go off like that."

Her fingers went to work, curling around the tie to lift the knot upwards. She folded the collar over it like a sleeve disguising his originality, influencing his profession, but nothing could tidy up the look on his face. His eyes glazed over her, grim, unaltered, with a tallness unaffected by the crowding of her hands.

"You. . .are about to take down our biggest competitor. Expose Gunray for the fraud he is." She asserted. "When this is over, everything will change for you. You'll be the one of the youngest in Coruscant to make the kind of money you do. Do you know what this means? Nothing can stand in our way now. No one can get in the way of you getting everything you want." With her palm pressing his tie against his chest, her hand slid down in a straight line until reaching the belt buckle over his jeans. Her finger slipped in intrigue, into the tight space between denim and flesh. "Anything you want."

His face went white in slow conceptualization. Her fingertip rubbing against the sensitive patch of skin at the waistband suspended his reality. He could not compute this blurring, sensory image of her heels gliding up the side of his legs. It was like a gradual luring and strangling with the feel of a silky scarf. His eyes rolled down to her lustful, paralyzing hand now on his bulge, an unmistakable seduction. A flirtation with obstacles, to remove them, to have them submit. He lazily pried her fingers off him.

"I have a meeting." Anakin mumbled in a passive, static pose. He passed her unable to be reached by sight or touch. He had no time to catch the moods of anyone else, or even assert his own.

Compositions of the night before kept beckoning for Padme's attention, appearing like on a blackboard and then erased before they were read – eluding the tension. She could not retain the circulation of wonderings: "Perhaps I should've first mentioned that he's the best husband" and "Maybe I should have eased him into the conversation." They continued on a loop. She could barely keep track of the hurtful ones, the forgiving ones. Some were more persistent than others. The meaner ones. But there was always the more ideal perceptions that would interpose when she gave herself breathing room. The echoes of a perfect life.

She would redact her mind from her body throughout the day. It was better to assemble a new attitude. Let go of yesterday. There's nothing she could do about it now.

The sound of a hard-backed file landed on Ventress' desk. At first she believed it to be a delivery from the mailroom guys, but the shadow over her would not disperse. It seemed secured in place with anxiety-fueled determination. She could easily distinguish Anakin's demeanor before he spoke. The manners were lax. The temperament spangled. And the voice spiraling.

"Did a man named Jango Fett ever work for Palpatine?"

"He was a private investigator." She straightened in her chair. "He worked with us. Not for us."

Anakin's eyes narrowed, not allowing her to roam away into trivialities. "Did Palpatine know who I was before I got this job?"

"How would I know?"

"Asajj." He wagged a finger. His tone made her ears more attentive.

"What?"

"Tell me the truth."

"I don't know what you're talking about." She rose from her chair, creating a distance. He recognized the escapist's walk.

"I think you do." Anakin grabbed the document he had flung on her desk with a fierce hand and pointed at a specific line like he was cutting a pathway through the paper itself. "You see this? This car showed up in Tatooine months ago. I know it's the same car. Only 53 were ever made. I crashed this very fucking car. And look who purchased it. . .Palpatine. Gunray has all the receipts. Jango is still very much working for both companies."

Ventress frowned with confusion. "Anakin, I don't know what to tell you."

But before she could move on, Anakin cornered her to the wall by force. "You two playing some kinda trick on me? Trying to get something on me?"

His eyes accused her. His voice was a fire engine, tearing through with a catastrophic alarm, and he offered no ladder to rescue her from his fire. His anger immense and loud. He was not concerned with whether she was scared, whether she could breathe, whether she could care. They're all going down with his ego, the whale-sized belly of the beast.

"Anakin, let go of me." Her heart began to race out of fear of her misguidedness, her lack of confidence in her own knowledge, in her own endurance. She could not stand still.

"Is that why you hit on me this morning?" He leaned towards her perilously. It was all coming together for him. Ventress had all the symptoms of guilt. He was being pulled by strings, trapped and webbed not in her seduction but corruption. "What did you think was gonna happen? You thought I was gonna fuck you and then you could threaten to tell my wife? Blackmail me into doing your dirty work?!"

"You are so paranoid!"

The drug of denial that would have cajoled him had completely worn off. Anakin understood perfectly her deflection, her looking off to the door, her profuse and continuous fidgeting. His hand gripped her tighter. His free hand against the wall beside her head. "I know when I'm being set up!"

She raised her voice over the nervousness. "Anakin, take it up with Palpatine. No one is trying to manipulate you."

"I don't believe you."

She huffed at the unpremeditated scene that had created no room for retractions and reversals. So she doubled down. "Oh for god's sake. This isn't some conspiracy. And it's not like I was trying to seduce you. We got caught up in the moment. A moment you were about to give into."

"You're a fucking liar." He left with his erratic blues, knocking a little standalone tray shelf which she gripped to stop it from toppling over.

I've got the time, and I'm wasting it slowly

Here in this moment, I'm halfway out the door

Onto the next thing, I'm searching for something that's missing

"You knew who I was when you hired me."

Anakin stayed close to the door of Palpatine's office, like a step further in would burn him to ashes. The window's light stole one side of his face, leaving the other half falling into the shadow, along with everything behind him – everything he knew was in darkness.

"I'd heard of you." Palpatine uttered so casually. From behind his desk, he was careful not to make sudden gestures. You don't scare away the prey.

"From Jango Fett." Anakin answered for him. No need to beat around the bush.

"He said you were talented. He was right." Palpatine's expression was one of infallible charm as he leaned back in his seat.

"So why'd you hire me to spy on Gunray if you already had Jango?"

"I needed you to see for yourself what a problem Gunray had become."

"Why didn't Ventress just tell me?"

"Because Ventress doesn't know everything. She thinks you're the fall guy, that when we plant the seeds to put Gunray out of business, all fingers will point to you. She's rather short-sighted. She just sees this as an opportunity to get back an old boss who didn't treat her very well. But I wouldn't do that to you. It's much deeper than that for you and me."

"For me?" Anakin finally stepped forward. He was receiving little pieces, proof, and reluctantly sewing them together. Every bit of information Palpatine offered was another layer. Tearing through the holes of one lost reality and fabricating a new garment of truth in its place. The lining was stitched so tightly it would take the world's largest scissors to break through and return to what he once knew.

"You saw the document. If he's following my every move, he's following yours. That's why I need you to take care of him. In a more permanent way."

"Take care of him? Wait—you mean, get rid of him?!" Anakin's pitch ascended in shock. Is this how the game is played? With depravity? "All this for what, for your business?! You'd go to such lengths just to get ahead?"

"Wouldn't you?"

"No! I wouldn't. That's insane!" Anakin prepared himself to leave. But then Palpatine fully lifted his veil, throwing off the illusion. And Anakin didn't want to see it. Still, he heard it. Through a powerful, developed core voice bursting and spilling over, hitting hard with firm gravity. It stopped Anakin in his tracks, alert, attacked.

"But you already did... To Miraj."

"...What did you say?" Anakin talked haltingly with a tremulous vagueness.

"Relax, Anakin. I just need you to look out for me the way I've looked out for you. I made Dooku's death look like a skiing accident, didn't I?"

"You know..." Anakin could no longer breathe. It felt like death. A negligent death, while the furniture in the office was still warm. The birds were still chirping. Only Anakin was in mourning, scarred by the terrible image that had been projected out of the past.

"Dooku was my friend. And then my client when he started his political campaign. Reputation was important to him, as I'm sure you know... I tried to warn him about that girl. But all he saw was a beautiful blonde with fine taste. She knew how to pair Jimmy Choos with a Gucci gown and topped it with Chanel no.5. Dooku saw a classy appearance perfect for his elegant legacy. But I knew she was a lot more—and a lot slicker—than that. He thought her impersonal nature would benefit him. I knew better."

Palpatine went on, giving the same effort you would use to simply weigh fruit at a grocery store. His jolly tone asymmetrical to Anakin's uneven breaths that swelled up and choked his throat.

"When he ran for congress, it became vital to ensure his reputation remained intact. As you can imagine, his wife having an affair would be devastating to his campaign. If he can't sort out his own home, how influential would he be in congress? So when I found out, I contacted Miraj and promised to keep her secret – for a price of course. She knew as well as I did that if this got out, she'd be divorced with no inheritance. His campaign would falter. And then neither of us would get our money."

Palpatine now sprang from his seat, his long coat a cape that held within it a title, exclusivity, a freedom denied to everyone else under his thumb.

"Unfortunately, Dooku was growing displeased with my advice and sought Gunray's. Gunray for a long time wanted to prove he's a more trustworthy campaign lawyer than me. So I suspect he's the one who pushed Dooku to watch his wife more closely. He encouraged Dooku to go home, make sure there were no skeletons in her closet. Next thing I know, I get a call from Miraj about your little scuffle. I agreed to take care of it, and Gunray's been suspicious ever since... I didn't care. Miraj was going to get compensated with widow benefits. And she would transfer me a generous annual fee."

Palpatine then loomed behind Anakin, provocative, threatening. "Except one year, last year, my money didn't come."

Anakin turned around to face him, suffering from realism with every sentence Palpatine spoke. The webs of deceit that had been obscured were now illuminated and enlarging his eyes. Each reveal triggered something in Anakin that sent him running. He wanted to run to anger, to someplace where there was no irreconcilability between freedom and safety.

"I sent one of my buddies from the Tatooine police department, Cody, round Miraj's house. And he found Padme's name and number by her phone."

He had them all in his pocket. Even the police.

"I put two and two together. Padme has married Miraj's lover. So, the guy who murdered Miraj's husband probably had something to do with her disappearance. She was getting a little too close to your wife after all... That's when I sent Clovis. Might as well put some of his pining to use. He offered Padme a job, which was far more money than either of you were earning. But I have to say we underestimated her. So, I had to be a little smarter... I sent Jango to your race track and he convinced the Hutt's to take over your little sand park. That's why I bought the Jaguar, a bargaining chip... If there's one thing I remembered about Padme, it's that she wouldn't associate with such soulless criminals. It would put a strain on your marriage if you agreed to stay working for them. Now. . .at first, I wasn't entirely sure that she'd leave her job, but Clovis did say she was curious about our offer. She just needed a push. I also didn't know whether she'd return with you. Or if you'd choose her over your racing. But you did kill a woman to keep her..."

Anakin felt his body shrinking, his bones becoming fragile; his fear was justified, but it had been speeding in the wrong direction. There was no punctuation in his anxieties, they accelerated but could not be measured. His fragility made him feel like an experiment, lacking privacy, he felt so under surveillance that Palpatine's swift movement as he returned to his seat startled Anakin.

Palpatine had an assurance in his walk, it was matter of fact. His confidence was not an invisible taunt, it was the condition that he was in. "Don't look so defeated, Anakin. I can make this all go away. You take care of Gunray, and there will be a bright future for both of us."

Anakin didn't want to take part in this caged, staged and strange game. He was the child in a universe of mechanized evil and crushable danger.

Was what Palpatine had said comforting? It felt like terror initially but the feeling vanished, and Anakin wasn't left with Palpatine's ultimatum but his own. He was standing there, watching his own smaller image in a little mirror on the wall with a round swirl frame. Anakin's shrunken view of himself in the mirror was disproportionate to his life-sized self, indicative of how much smaller he had made himself with every decision. If that part of him got any smaller, he, along with his conscience, would cease to exist. The question was, would Palpatine's offer help or hinder?

Maybe it was a dream. Maybe it made sense. Maybe it wasn't as bad as it sounds. Maybe it's the worst thing he ever heard.

The rooftop of the Law Firm was exactly what the doctor ordered. The emptiness was head-clearing. Anakin needed to be alone.

He was surrounded by no nature. Just buildings. In the daylight without city lights, he saw the monotony of the skyscrapers that blocked the sun. Say what you will about Tatooine but at least the buildings had character, never more than three floors. There was always a view. And there's always sun.

It exposed that modern life was so methodical and repetitive that he didn't see this happening. He was flown so high above the heads of mediocrity and underneath his wings were great sweeps and enchantments whirling him so fast in the glamour. He was so desperate to get to the top. Perhaps Padme was right. If he wasn't so preoccupied with climbing the corporate ladder, he may have been more suspicious of the opportunity. Still, the monster of desperation wanted out of loss, suffering, adversity, attached to an emotional history.

Anakin ruminated, smoked, cried. Mourning for the sacrificed ego. He came here with so much to give, aching for a purpose. He hungered for one. And Palpatine fed his starving mind. He had needed it to be true. It never seemed like the easy way out. It just seemed less painful, less impossible. So he denied himself the patience, the resilience, the discipline.

Carl Jung was right: Most people will do anything no matter how absurd to avoid facing their own souls. And the most terrifying thing is to accept oneself completely.

Anything that forced him to face his past became the enemy. And anything that allowed him to live in the fantasy became the focus. Like the dream Palpatine once represented. It was better than being condemned to weakness, insecurity fear... a cyclical reality. The pattern he had formed had become a prison. Evasion occurred less and less, and any well-thought-out attempts devolved into something more greedy, false, blind, neglecting the deeper self. You end up destroying more than you fix. You destroy others. You destroy yourself.

He had fallen hard for a dream that's proven to be too good to be true. And he helped weave the web that now has him stuck. Maybe that's why he was always at war, on the offense. It was his defense against being conquered. Conquered by reality.

It was time to accept the hardest truth. You cannot change the world. You can only change your thoughts. And if you can conquer your thoughts, the world will change.

Power was no longer what he believed it to be. It was responsibility—not entitlement.

There's gotta be more

I'm wanting more

(I'm always) Waiting on something other than this

Why am I feeling like there's something I missed?

Anakin arrived home and the first thing he saw through the arching balcony doors was Padme. The polished tiles were highlighted by the diffused fawn light of candles. She stood there with humility, grace, dignity. Her hair blowing in the wind, wild and wise; her body swathed in her baby blue robe. The air consoling as she rested her forearms on the rail. Even the undertone of fatigue could not diminish her fluttering eyes.

"Hi." The tone in which he greeted her with grew heavier in the enormous distance from him to her. He remained by the arched door, voiceless, watching her. He had felt impotent. Like the strength and security of man had been lost to greed and weakness. He had reserved all his effort, charm, talent for his colleagues, giving only the leftovers to his wife. But that was about to change.

She seemed to understand what his distance implied and met him with empathy. A stark contrast from the battered outside world he just came from.

He joined her at the railing and his nimble fingers found her arm requesting her attention. There was a long silence before he began, gathering himself. "I know I've been an asshole. I started wearing suits and acting like I'm more important than everybody else. I forgot what I was doing all this for. And I'm sorry... I'm gonna pay more attention to you."

He didn't exactly sell it with great romance. Instead, it sounded like he was pitifully weighing his thoughts, insights, and actions. But Padme seemed pleased, grateful. Her breath no longer held.

"I knew you were in there somewhere." A slap of her hand gently nudged his chest, evoking his mischievous smile that brightened his face. She released a fountain of happy, honest tears. "I'm sorry too."

"I took off a long weekend, thought we could drive down to Tatooine, see everybody. What do you say?" His head bent down slightly as if he was tenderly greeting a child. She flowed to him in trust and they shared a kiss, wonderful and warm, and her hands flailed in abandon naturally.

There's gotta be more to life

Than chasing down every temporary high

To satisfy me

'Cause the more that I'm

Trippin' out, thinking there must be more to life

Well, it's life, but I'm sure

There's gotta be more

Than wanting more

(There's Gotta Be) More To Life - Stacie Orrico