Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars.

Summary:

I truly... deeply... love you and before we die I want you to know.

Now, they're alive.

Then what?

An interlude, after Geonosis and before the wedding.

A/N: I've always wondered how Anakin and Padme decided to get married. Who proposed first? So, I decided to write this fic. It's rated M for adult themes, sexuality, and language in later chapters. Please take the rating seriously.

English is not my first language, I apologize if there are any problems with grammar or expression. I'd appreciate it if you'd leave a comment, share your thoughts, or point out my mistakes.

Prologue

I truly... deeply...love you.

As their lips met, her warm breath flowed into him, lighting a spark that quickly spread through his body, setting every nerve on edge. His heart raced, caught between panic and exhilaration. Her confession had caught him off guard, and as their kisses lingered, soft whispers shared between them, a thrill of happiness surged, overwhelming them both

"I'm here, Anakin, I'll be there for you."

Her promise was like a blanket caressing his skin, so warm so soft, smelling like a quilt in the sun. When he finally crumbled, she held him close, her soft whispers in his ear, repeating the same words over and over, 'It'll be fine, everything will be fine...' He believed her, desperately grasping for a light of hope in the darkness.

Padmé…

"Anakin?" A voice called softly. "Anakin, are you awake?"

Instead of Padmé's scent, Anakin was hit by the sharp, acrid smell of disinfectant. He felt weak, dizziness and pounding headaches crashing over him, like hundreds of Gorgs croaking inside his skull. The pain jolted through his nerves, making him long to sink back into the comfort of deep sleep. But his eyes burned fiercely, as if the pressure might make them burst. When he blinked them open, a bright light stabbed into his irises, sending a tearing pain through him.

He raised his hand to block the light, but a glint of black and gold caught his attention—a shiny piece of metal clung tightly to the skeleton of his arm, like his skin. It was his skin! Anakin jolted upright, realizing the truth: steel bones had replaced his living arm, smooth as a mirror, entwined with wires. The harsh whirring of the motors buzzed sharply, cutting through the air, stirring memories he had fought so long to keep buried—

His mother, so beaten, so brutalized, whispered his name... He held her and begged desperately...yet he still lost her. His uncontrollable rage drove a massacre, but he couldn't stop himself from falling apart. Only Padmé's embrace could mend his broken soul. On Geonosis, Padmé declared her love, and they shared a promise with a kiss. In the arena, Jedi fell one by one under the burning sun. During his fight with Dooku, the red lightsaber flashed through the air—so fast that he couldn't react before a searing pain struck his arm, knocking him into darkness...

Anakin let out a weak, involuntary gasp, and a sharp pain struck him, like a blade piercing a hole through his chest. Memories of pain and hatred flooded into this wound, tumbling and roaring, so fierce in the storm of the Force—

"Anakin!"

It jolted him awake, and the shaking ceiling, walls, lights, and bed came to a halt.

"Anakin, don't move. You're hurt badly."

He turned toward the sound and saw a face, blurry at first, then clear—Obi-Wan was leaning over him, a deep frown etched into his brow. Unbidden, his thoughts returned to the image of Shmi lying in a pool of blood. The grief and rage that had dulled during his unconsciousness reignited, like acid searing through his wounds. He longed to shout at Obi-Wan, to unleash his anger, but the harsh clarity of consciousness tore him from the peace of his dreams, hurling him into the depths of pain and hatred.

Stay away from me, Obi-Wan. He wanted to say, but he remained silent.

"Anakin, I'm sorry." Obi-Wan sat at the edge of the bed, his head bowed, his voice soft. "I didn't know it would happen like this. I didn't realize your dreams were a warning... if only..."

If only...what？ If I had gone to free her, she wouldn't have died; if I had insisted on finding her, she wouldn't have died; if I hadn't left her, she wouldn't have died...But there are no ifs, But there are no ifs, there never were! Anakin closed his eyes painfully, the truth surging to the forefront of his mind—you failed, Anakin Skywalker. It was all your fault, because you weren't strong enough...

Anakin struggled to sit up, trying to avoid Obi-Wan's attempt to help him. He raised his right arm again, confirming that the arm of flesh and blood his mother had given him had turned into a mix of metal, wires, and sensors—a mechanical contraption, too alien to feel like a part of him, yet undeniably extending from his shoulder. He curled his metal fingers, and it seemed like an eternity before the sensors faintly triggered his nerves, tingling like a light electric shock.

He remembered the first time he tried to run an electric current through C-3PO. At first, it was unresponsive. Just when he thought he had failed again, C-3PO suddenly jerked to life, dragging its metal legs as it stumbled forward, heavy and confused. Is this what it feels like to inhabit a mechanical body? An indescribable fear seeped into every pore, and a wave of nausea rose to his throat.

"It was installed while you were unconscious, and Master Che said that early on there might be phantom pain, and the wires that connect the nervous—"

"I know how wires work, Obi-Wan."

"Anakin, about what you've been through, I'm so sorry. " There was a brief silence in the air, then Obi-Wan said softly, "I wish I could be there for you."

Anakin turned to his master—his heavy expression as sincere as his words. This, he thought, was probably the most emotional he had ever seen Obi-Wan, except for that brief flicker of pain in his eyes during Qui-Gon's funeral, fleeting but so real. A pang of guilt struck him for his earlier outburst, but his anger lingered stubbornly.

"Even if you're there, it wouldn't change anything."

"Anakin, you can tell me anything."

You'll never understand. Anakin swallowed the words before they came out. "When can I leave?" He said it was the most restraint he could do at the moment.

"Master Che will examine you again and make sure you're ready to go as soon as you've recovered." Obi-wan paused and added, "The Council decided to give us time off to prepare for the war."

Anakin's gaze shifted from Obi-Wan to his mechanical hand, his excitement mingling with the tide of anger. The mechanical replacement glinted under the light, no longer as harsh as before, and soon he would control it completely. Of this, he had no doubt—if a blind man could learn to read, write, or even play an instrument, he could practice, train hard, and push himself to be the best. Then, he would make Dooku pay for what he had done.

"I know what you're thinking, Anakin, but revenge is not the Jedi way." Obi-Wan's tone was softer than usual. "I don't need the Force to sense your desire for vengeance, and I understand it, but as Jedi, we must put the peace of the galaxy first."

"Master, what were you thinking when you saw Darth Maul kill Master Qui-Gon? " He knew he was cruel, but he couldn't help it. "Just curious."

Obi-wan froze for a second, then his face darkened. Anakin allowed a little satisfaction to swell in his chest.

"In this, I won't say I'm a great example. But we've got a greater mission. We need to learn to control our emotions, for the Republic and to face the war."

"Master," he said, "Dooku started this war. I don't see how capturing him and ending the war conflicts with our duty."

"This isn't a personal war, Anakin. You can't put personal grudges above your responsibilities."

"I didn't say that!" Anakin snapped. Obi-Wan's expression turned stern during the brief silence. Then, a wave of fatigue washed over him, and he sighed, "Anyway, I'll put my duty first."

"I'm glad you think so, and I was relieved that you chose duty over Senator Amidala on Geonosis—"

"Is she alright?"

"Don't worry, she's safe."

Immediately, Anakin felt a weight lift off his chest. Obi-Wan frowned at him, seemingly weighing another lecture on the Jedi way. Anakin cut him off. "I'd like to rest now, Master."

Obi-Wan hesitated for a moment. "Then rest well."

"Thank you."

Obi-Wan walked to the door, looking back at his apprentice. "Anakin, I know your concern for Senator Amidala goes beyond the ordinary, but whatever feelings you have, you should bury them, for your sake and hers."

"Senator Amidala and I are... " He looked away from his master's gaze. " just friends."

No, they were no longer just friends, not anymore, and never would be again. When she had said those words to him, words he had never dared to dream of, he made a decision; They would be together, and not Obi-Wan, the war, or even the Jedi could keep them apart.

Obi-Wan left, and Anakin lay back on his bed, a wave of restlessness washing over him. This unease was different from the anger he'd felt earlier. Sure, there was too much chaos he needed to deal with, but when he thought of Padmé, all those little details of their time together came flooding back. She was easily amused, always hiccuping when she laughed too hard; she'd pout when pretending to be angry, but go completely still when she was truly upset; the little round mole on her cheek and the faint freckles on her nose that caught the sunlight, stealing his breath away. When she kissed him, she'd lightly bite his lower lip, her breath warm and close... Where was she? He wanted to see her, touch her, feel her. The physical and emotional pain felt meaningless compared to his longing for her.

Anakin closed his eyes, letting himself be enveloped by the Force, feeling the energy field woven by billions of lives, like sinking into a sea of molten sunlight, with waves washing over him. Instinctively, he reached out for that one beam of light among the billions—Padmé's light. In the ten years they had been apart, ever since he began learning to use the Force, he had tried countless times to find her unique signature within it. He never succeeded, but that never stopped him from making this search a part of his very being.

Suddenly, his chest stirred. He found her. She was right there, in her apartment, amidst the sea of light from countless lives. He recognized her immediately. She was so far away, yet so close—close enough that he could feel the vibrant pulse of her life, strong and unyielding. His agitation faded, and a wave of peace swept over him. As long as she was there, he could always find peace.

He was certain, without a shadow of a doubt, that they would be together. Loving her, protecting her, and fighting for her were the things he was most sure of in his life.