Asajj Vintress was Palpatine's devoted secretary. There was nothing she wouldn't do for him. She always kept her eyes and ears open and reported anything that might be of use to her boss. She was tall, slim, and always wore her hair short, dyed ash blonde. If she was sleeping with her boss, only they knew. Padmé was convinced that she was, but in the end she didn't care.
Asajj felt it was her duty to inform Palpatine's wife.
Dr. Naberrie-Palpatine, your husband has just been taken to George Washington University Hospital.
What the hell happened, Asajj?
I don't know. I found him on the floor, unconscious. Stroke or heart attack... if you want to visit him... just so you know.
Thank you.* and disconnected.
Shit, Padmé thought. She didn't want to kill him... just to mess up the business. As a good wife, she had to go to the hospital now. It was morning, and she had to wait for Quarsh.
Sheev Palpatine was in intensive care, he may have been conscious, but he was certainly sedated and lying stretched out on his back. Padmé could only see him through a glass wall. There were many monitors and other medical equipment around the bed, but she did not know what they were. It looked like he was getting oxygen, and there were some thin tubes attached to his veins. The monitor showed three or four graphs, probably monitoring his blood pressure, heart rhythm, and so on. She didn't know her way around. She never thought she would see him like this.
The cardiologist explained to her how serious her husband's condition was. He already had some cardiological problems she didn't know about.
After three days, Palpatine had left the intensive care unit and was transferred into a private room, but he was still hooked up to some machines. His heart had to be monitored. Now she was allowed to visit him.
He wasn't very talkative, was quiet and looked kind of scared. Who wouldn't be after a near-death experience, she thought.
"It looks like someone set me up. The CD also went to Global Oil Enterprises. This won't end. The Rockefellers will get the contract. They must have been the masterminds behind it all. I will have my revenge, I will destroy them."
Padmé winced but remained silent. Maybe she didn't want to kill him, didn't want to hurt him physically, but it happened anyway. One day, he will find out who it was, he will not rest until he has found the one responsible, and then revenge will follow. He will show no mercy. She didn't know what to do. Wait to be led to the scaffold or ...
"Tell me, Sheev, was it fun at least?"
He nodded and smiled ironically, not knowing what was coming.
"What did you like better, Darling, bondage or pink handcuffs?"
"That was you... wasn't it... you bitch..."
He started to gasp, looked like he couldn't breathe, grabbed his pyjamas by the chest and started to pull. His right hand crumpled the sheet and the monitor started to beep, the curves getting faster and the amplitudes higher and more irregular, until some nurses and doctors with defibrillator carts rushed into the room and sent Padmé out.
It took time. She stood there, waiting... for the final result of what she had done. Was this what she had wanted? No, definitely not. It was an act of self-defense. She had to choose: either him or herself. She chose herself.
After what seemed like an eternity, the doctors came out of the room and told her that they had tried everything, but there was nothing more they could do. She accepted their condolences, sat in the chair for a few more minutes, and then went home. Home was her parents' house.
"Hello dear. What's wrong, you don't look so good."
"Sheev is dead."
"Oh God! What can I say, come on, let me give you a hug. How are you feeling?"
" Strange."
"I know what you mean... but somehow it's over. I assume you feel the same way."
Padmé nodded. When Ruwee came home later, he asked if she had been there and how it had been, and then he showed how he felt, relieved.
No one offered condolences; it was more a matter of congratulations, but that would be in bad taste to say. But everyone thought it.
Sola came the next day and wanted to know everything in detail. Padmé told her how it was. She knew the story behind, the parents did not.
"He would have destroyed you, and not just you, all of us."
"I will not go to his villa again. Come with me and help me move my things here."
"Do you want to stay here?"
"Where else would I go?"
"To Anakin."
"Why should I go to him, we never had anything?"
"Except sex."
"Sola, damn it, how many times? I was drunk, I don't remember."
"That doesn't automatically mean you didn't have sex with him... and I was drunk, I don't remember, is just your defense mechanism. You don't want to remember. If you're so drunk that you don't remember anything, you can't stand or walk, and if you can't stand, you can't have sex."
"Your logic is remarkable."
"Exactly...and does he remember anything?"
"Fractions."
"At least something. What happens next?"
"I have to wait for the reading of the will, but I don't expect anything moving, I'm excluded as an heiress, that's in the prenuptial agreement. It could take four to six weeks.
"I don't mean that. I mean with Anakin."
"Sola, my husband just died..."
"Please don't play the grieving widow."
"I'm not, but there has to be some decency."
"When will you contact him?"
"Sola, I have other things to think about..."
"Padmé, he's gone, God knows where. You should look for him... if you still love him."
"After the funeral and the reading of the will, I promise."
Sheev Palpatine was buried three days after his death. Many had come to pay their last respects. All was forgiven under the hypocritical pretense of forgiving all too human sins.
Anakin did not know until after the funeral, when his former professor Ben Kenobi told him that Padmé was now a widow. Kenobi himself was glad to have escaped the deep guilt.
Anakin received this news not with regret, but with a certain hope. He did not want to contact Padmé right away, he thought she would contact him when she was ready... maybe. He merely sent a formal condolence card to NOAA. Padmé turned the card over in her hands. Anakin had written a handwritten note of condolence. Anakin. Postmarked: Dorval, Canada. What was in Dorval again?
Dr. Windu, did we ever exchange data with the Centre Météorologique Canadien?*
Yes, Dr. Skywalker and Dr. Fisto were in charge. Why?*
It was just a question.*
You don't ask just like that, but it's good that I could help* he said in his grumpy way.
So she had found him. He had given himself away... or did he want to be found? She called him to thank him, but got an automated message that the number was no longer in service. At first, she was surprised, but then she realized that he must have a Canadian number now.
For the first few weeks, Anakin worked late every day at the office. He had to learn the ropes; he was now a department head, more people, more management, more responsibility. Fortunately, it wasn't something he couldn't handle. His colleagues were nice, but he wasn't ready to go out. He only saw Ben Kenobi every day; they ate together in the cafeteria and talked.
Since Anakin completed his entire education at Canada's International School before attending Cornell University, he also spoke French. It was a bilingual school. His mother and Cliegg took out a loan and sent Anakin and his stepbrother Owen to this private school. Cliegg ran a successful grain wholesale business and could be said to be wealthy, but not as rich as the Naberries or the Panpetines.
At work, Anakin was very busy; he took his five o'clock tea without realizing it. At home, he was busy organizing the things he had brought with him, although he knew he would have to pack them up again as soon as he found the house he wanted to buy. He wanted to stay in Canada, in Montreal. He would eventually feel at home there one day... He had spent the last twelve years in some strange rooms or rented apartments, Ithaca, Washington D.C. ... It was time to have his own place.
On May 3rd, the real estate agent called and offered him three appointments.
The first house was in Laval, on Terr. Pesant, a cul-de-sac and close to the water. It wasn't big, but he didn't need much. The neighborhood wasn't very nice, but it wasn't bad either. The house itself needed to be renovated, so it was not expensive.
The second house on Ile Bizard was similar to the first one he had visited. Terr. Bourbon, not big, in need of renovation, you could launch the boat from the property. It wasn't expensive, either.
The third was in Montreal itself, Highfield Ave, nice area, the house in good condition, bigger and more expensive than the others, the interior needed painting, maybe a new kitchen, but otherwise top.
Anakin thanked the real estate agent and wanted to get back to him after careful consideration.
And then came the hardest part, the decision. The first two he had seen would fit well into his budget, almost everything he could do himself, but both houses were way too close to the river, and you always had to be afraid of flooding, so... somehow he had that fear. Highfield Ave was expensive. He would spend all the money he got from Cliegg after his mother's death, as her share of the company's capital, on the house. He would be able to do the painting himself, but there would be no money for the new kitchen at that time. Well, the kitchen wasn't so bad that it had to be replaced. He needed the little money he put aside from his salary for the furniture, the necessities, so to speak.
Anakin had thought about it for two whole days and still didn't know what to do. He could do a lot with this house in Terr. Pesant, but it was really too close to the water. Too bad. And then he heard, or thought he heard, a voice from the future telling him to buy the house on Highfield Ave. There was a good private school nearby, the Ecole Socrates-Demosthene. Hm? About the school... yes, for those who have children. He didn't have any, not even a wife...he had just about nothing, or so he felt.
He followed the advice of this imaginary voice in his head and decided to buy this expensive house.…
Best regards from Germany