Chapter Text
The cell is utterly lifeless.
He hadn't expected much, to be fair, but three days in here and he can feel his sanity beginning to slip away. The grey walls and fluorescent lights are practically pounding into his skull, and the room itself is only a couple of steps from one wall to the other. The continuous crackling of the ray shield isn't helping much either.
And they never turn the lights off. Torture is technically—technically—illegal in Republic prisons, he knows, so this is probably the closest they can legally get.
Not that he thinks Tarkin will care much.
Footsteps sound and he drags his head upwards. He's cuffed—he doesn't think Ahsoka was cuffed but he can't ever be sure, can he? Plus, Ahsoka hadn't murdered the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic—with force-suppressant stun cuffs connected to the wall by way of a few wires. Supposedly he should be able to walk around, as all prisoners of the Republic are allowed, but they aren't taking any risks with him. He's only permitted to move when the Coruscant Guard come to escort him.
It's a bit silly, Anakin thinks. It's not as if he's going to try to escape.
The footsteps round the corner.
It's Commander Fox. "Skywalker," he says, then with a few quick movements turns off the ray shield and unhooks the cuffs. "Come with me."
Anakin says nothing and gets up to follow. He wonders blankly where he's being taken before he realizes—yes. Interrogation rooms. It was only a matter of time.
But when they get there after fastening his wrists to the table, the Commander steps out and activates the ray shield. A few moments later he returns with—
"Padme?"
"Anakin," Padme breathes, looking as pristine as ever—of course she is. The Senate is probably in utter chaos right now, but she doesn't have so much as a hair out of place. "Commander," she says, turning to Fox. "May I speak to the prisoner, please? Face to face."
"Senator," he says incredulously. "Gen—Skywalker is in prison for the murder of the Supreme Chancellor—"
"He's chained to the table with force suppressors so strong they could knock out half of Naboo," she cuts him off. "I doubt he could so much as poke me. We went over my clearance seven times at the office, if you remember. I am perfectly authorized to be here."
The Commander looks between the two of them then, after a few seconds, concedes and switches off the ray shield. "Five minutes," he says, then steps around the corner and out of view.
Padme steps forward.
Anakin watches her numbly. Her pregnancy is showing even more now, he notes, and it finally sinks in that he probably won't ever meet the child.
They're going to execute him, of course. It's only a matter of time. He'd accepted it as soon as the Chancellor had confessed to being Sidious. As soon as he'd drawn his saber.
"Anakin," Padme says, and now that she's closer he can see that her face is lined with worry and fear. "Anakin, what happened?"
"What are you doing here," he whispers instead of answering her question. "How the hell did you manage to get in?" Even he hadn't been able to get in to see Ahsoka, and her guilt had still been a mere suspicion at the time. He, on the other hand, is about as obviously guilty as it gets.
"That doesn't matter," she snaps. "Anakin, is it true? Did you—did you kill Palpatine?"
"Yes."
She gapes at him. "Why? Because—because of me? The Senators?"
"He was the Sith." Anakin says simply. Blankly. To be honest, he still hasn't really processed it himself. He's just been…aggressively not thinking about it.
"The Sith." Padme says in shock, more to herself than anything. Then she turns back to him. "We have to get you out of here. I'll see about collecting evidence, and you'll probably need to give a statement, and—do you know if he left anything? Can we use the recordings? And, Anakin, you have to tell the Jedi, and—"
He can't listen to her any longer. "Padme. I am guilty. Of killing the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic. You're lucky they're letting you say your goodbyes."
"These are not my goodbyes." Padme says fiercely. "I won't let these be my goodbyes."
"They won't care that he's a Sith, even if you manage to prove it. Even if you manage to prove he orchestrated the whole war," he continues. "Everyone loved him, Padme." Me most of all.
"He orchestrated the war." Padme insists. "He is guilty. By all fair logic you saved the Republic."
"By killing the Chancellor. Which is grounds for execution."
"I won't let it be." She's not looking at him anymore—she's looking at some point at the wall behind him. He's not much to look at anyways, exhausted out of his mind as he is.
"You have to let me go, Padme."
I'm already gone.