Chapter Text
CHAPTER 1 – THE FORCE SOOTHES AS MUCH AS SHE WOUNDS
“If you really love nothing/On what future do we build illusions/If you really love nothing/ Do we wait in silent glory/If you really love nothing/What part of betrayal do you wish to deny
Whenever I find my home/The next artery/Splendid I bled my whole life/So it’s probably a kiss goodbye then”
If You Really Love Nothing, Marauder, Interpol
With each hesitant step bringing him closer to the Senate apartments and further from the Jedi Temple, Anakin swallows the storm brewing in his gut and shores up the shields surrounding the bubble of fading light in the back of his mind. Every action leading to this day had torn him and his Master apart, the infallible force that was Skywalker and Kenobi losing strength and synchronicity. It was time to fix the mess that he created in a whirlwind of selfish choices and teenage hormones.
The Clone Wars continued to rage on around them with no end in sight. Each passing day brings conflict closer to the Core Worlds. Kriff the expectations of the Senate or the Council; as long as his two suns were safe and close, nothing could go wrong. But that’s also why I need to do this. Why I’m here.
Courscant’s controlled atmosphere cast a grey haze over the Senate apartment as he stared up the steps to the entrance. I must do this. For her. For Obi-Wan. (For myself). Too long had he silenced the call of his heart, ignored the glistening of the Force surrounding his young Master. Padme was dear to him, of course – how could she not be after everything -- but his restlessness never settled around her. He had thought that his dedication was pure, that the Force had gently pushed one of her favorite children rapidly towards true happiness.
If this assumption was my first mistake, then lying to my Master about everything that followed was my second, worst mistake. Anakin shook his head bitterly; traitorous feet having carved a familiar path through the twisting hallways. He raised his hand to the metal door, the gentle rapping of his knuckles against the material echoing harshly in the quiet of the corridor.
Padme’s handmaiden, Sabé, answered his call promptly and let him inside the apartment. The warm air carried the scent of Padme’s delicate perfume, the mass forming tight in his chest dropped hard into his stomach. His skin prickled as anxious sweat formed, his angel coming into view as Sabé relayed his arrival to her mistress.
“Ani! I didn’t realize you would be coming over today! You didn’t call,” She veritably drifts into the front room, rushing to embrace her love. “Is anything bothering you?”
The Hero with No Fear cringed away from the point-blank assessment. Always so observant, my angel. “Could we perhaps talk alone, Padme?” He winced again, seeing her happiness at his safe return and unexpected house call melt into the steely mask that he associated with her Senatorial duties. Of course, he would never expect anything different from such an intense individual – it was only natural that she would read his body language and sense the tension immediately.
That steely expression hardened further as she turned to her handmaiden, who had been hovering closely since his arrival, and gave her a sharp nod. Sabé turned heel gracefully and left the room, leaving her employer to their conversation.
The tension rolling through the Force was so thick in the air that Anakin could practically taste it. Padme’s immediate distrust for the situation was palpable, as was the thin cord of anxiety and grief running through the core. Her deep brown eyes search his for any further explanation of his unexpected visit. “Well? We’re alone now. Out with it.” Her voice wavered with the fear threatening to overwhelm her composure.
Anakin felt a small fracture forming in his heart as his determination solidified. I have to do this. I have to. This is the Will of the Force. He takes a moment to collect his thoughts, blue eyes shutting tight, inorganic hand clutching tight to his robes. He hears the creak of weakening fabric as he checks that the warm glow in the back of his mind is still well protected, and opens his eyes to stare into Padme’s again, willing her to understand just how difficult this was to say. The small intake of filtered air into his lungs came out in a rush of guilt, “I never wanted to do this. Force only knows that I never thought I would.” He drew his gaze away, not able to watch any emotions that may flash through the depths of hers. “I’ve neglected my responsibilities for too long,” Obi-Wan would scoff at that. Rich, coming from The Chosen One, isn’t it, Master? Anakin shakes his head slightly, eyes fixed just over her shoulder. “We must sever this attachment, Senator.”
He doesn’t have to look to feel the disbelief and anger coming off of his former lover in stifling waves, swirling into a deadly storm in the Force surrounding them. He waits, letting her process his cold dismissal.
She turns away from him sharply. “I don’t know where this sudden obligation to your duties has stemmed from exactly, but I have a few guesses.” Anakin tenses, steeling himself in self-defense, but she continues before his retort comes. “Leave, Knight Skywalker. Your heart is obviously not held here, not any longer.” Padme shakes her head, the movement as elegant as it is deadly. “Go home to him.”
Anakin’s mind goes blank. Distantly, he hears the dull roar of panic overtaking his hearing in tandem with his racing heartbeat. The young general retreats into his mind as his body begins its frantic autopilot, feet pounding against the floor, door left thrown open as he flees. He is vaguely aware of his projections, knowing that his careful shielding has shattered in the absence of emotion during their exchange.
He doesn’t understand, can’t understand Padme’s parting words. Silent tears stream down sunbeaten cheeks as Anakin’s feet push him ever forward. Oh Angel, what happened to us? What have I done?
Each turn is made subconsciously, the Force guiding her child through the city. The movement of his body feels lighter, more definitive as the young Knight comes to as the Jedi Temple stands proudly in front of him. The Force Bond in the back of his mind shines brilliantly with proximity, any former obstacles disintegrating with the intensity of the worry pulsing through it.
Don’t worry, Master. I think I’ve finally made the right choice.
He ascends the grand staircase to the entrance of the temple, too preoccupied with Padme’s words to be aware of the gentle swirl of the Force around him. She pushes her Chosen delicately in the direction of a room not his own.
Do not fret, my dear. I am so proud of you. All will be well in time.