Chapter Text
The words on the datapad blurred as the device shook in Padmé’s trembling hands. Her composure was beginning to fracture with the tightening in her throat, the burning in her nose, and the tears threatening to cloud her vision. Sabé had asked her not to do the very thing that she was about to. My hands are yours. Please don’t ask me for them again. Padmé could hear her voice so clearly in her mind and yet… She had nowhere else to turn. Sabé could be sensible when she was being rash. Sabé could talk her through it when she needed a sounding board. She trusted her. She could confide in her, as she had so many other times in total confidence. There simply was no one else that would hear her, let her explain, let her grieve and sob and try to understand. Not now. And especially not on Coruscant. And if she would ridicule, it would be later at the very least. That’s why it had to be her Padmé called. It had to be her.
She’d startled Sabé in her sleep, only serving to make her feel worse if that was even possible. She was pretty sure that it wasn’t even if all of her thoughts were racing and spinning out of control. The blurry, blue figure before her rubbed her eye with a fist until all sign of sleep disappeared and what Padmé imagined was color drained from her face. All of her thoughts just came bubbling up to the surface and pouring from her lips like she was no longer in control. Padmé could hardly bring herself to form words until now, and then it was the first time she’d said those words: Anakin’s gone. He was gone and she didn’t know what to do. Palpatine. The Sith. The Jedi. Her husband, her marriage, her child... Every detail she had, she felt compelled to tell so she wouldn't carry the burden alone.
All she had done since Obi-Wan brought the news to her, calling out the obvious regarding her pregnancy before telling her the events that happened within the Chancellor’s office, was hold herself in her private quarters. Her desire to be alone was all-consuming. And alone in a different way. Truly alone where even the thought of Threepio checking in on her, or Dormé, or… Any of them made her nauseous.
“…Padmé.” Sabé’s voice drew her back in, her hearing coming back into focus rather than the static and buzzing she felt consuming it, like all of her senses.
“I-I know we talked about this and I shouldn’t ask any—”
Sabé stood up straighter, pulling her hair back out of her face. “Padmé, listen to me. That is not what I meant when we spoke that night. This is not what I—” she hesitated, causing Padmé’s heart to sink. If she didn’t have the right words, how could she dump all of this on someone else? “Come home. Are you able to travel? Please come. I’ll… I’ll get you myself if I have to.”
Padmé could only nod, the words registering to her enough to agree while she choked back another sob when she dared look out of her apartment and glance toward the temple. “Okay,” she heard herself mutter. Her own voice sounded foreign. So soft and weak.
Despite it, Sabé continued her assurances until she had to end the call and get affairs in order. She left her with a note that might’ve made her laugh under better circumstance. Something about asking security if there was a protocol in place for sneaking a secretly pregnant senator out of the capital city when the chancellor’s been killed. To say their plan aloud, it sounded unimaginable, yet perfectly fitting for the situation.
Sabé had arrived as promised—just as soon as she could—and between her and Dormé, the pair of them worked in tandem to pack up as much as she may need while she sat silently on the sofa, staring at a nondescript flaw in the stitching at the bottom of the loose gown they'd found for her. It was unraveling and needed repair. That sole thread made her think of Yané, a voice in the back of mind that sounded like her. One that would calm the other thought in her mind—that it was some kind of metaphor for her life, breaking down, fringing at the edges, but could be fixed with time and care. If only she could believe that. She wanted to scream but no sound came out. She didn’t have to try anymore since she knew it to be true.
The things she’d fought for her entire life: peace, democracy, the Republic… They’d persevered. They would stand. The war was behind them and the one who’d betrayed them all, making them a pawn in his multi-level game, had been taken down. And taken her whole world with it.
“My lady, it’s time to go,” Dormé said, a kind smile on her face from her place near the door.
Sabé wiped her sleeve across her brow as she came back into the room, apparent that the last of her things they deemed necessary were onboard and all that was left was her. “Come. And we can alert your family on the way.” She raised a finger, but Sabé put her hand out. “Only to tell them you’re taking leave.”
“Mistress Padmé,” C-3PO said, appearing beside Dormé. “Might I be of any further assistance? I do believe—”
She shook her head. “I’m fine, Threepio. Thank you.”
“Oh.” He looked her up and down, glancing between both of her friends. “Very well then.”
“You can board and wait for us? We’ll be there soon,” Sabé offered as consolation and he seemed to accept that, turning and walking away.
Padmé stared at him, listening to the familiar mechanical footsteps, noticing as the light shimmered against the gold plating of his back. He was Anakin’s creation, and his gift to her, and it killed her that she couldn’t handle thinking of him without replaying all the other events in her mind. But she couldn't leave him behind or imagine a life without him, too.
“I just don’t think I can do this,” Padmé whispered, her voice thick from unshed tears.
Both Sabé and Dormé rushed to her, Sabé’s arms wrapping around her as tightly as she could as she started to crumble.
"You can. And will. And we will do it together," Sabé said, a level of certainty in her voice Padmé could cling to.
Much like it had the night she called, everything came pouring out of her once again and stayed that way even after boarding and beginning the journey home. Her real home where she was starting to believe she should’ve stayed, and she’d been impatient to return to when she had her baby. Sabé hadn’t left her side, brushing her hair, wiping her face, and holding her close when she finally crashed from the exhaustion and the relief of letting some of it out. There was much more to say, but she had time. It was the one thing she had in abundance now.
Sabé remained there, by Padmé’s side as she always had, while hours turned to days and then to weeks and they formulated a much better plan for the future. Guilt weighed heavy on her mind over the thought of Sabé putting herself on hold once again for her. They'd agreed to go separate ways, she'd made peace with that, and yet she was pulling her back once more. Despite her efforts, that hesitation must have shown since on one of the first nights, Sabé took Padmé’s hands in her own, kneeling at her bedside to meet her eyes with a promise.
“They are yours. To use for as long as you need them. You are no longer asking me. I am asking you.”