Who: Padme and Anakin When: Last night Where: Padme's parents' house What: Wounded Warriors Charity Ball Rating/Warning: Low Status: Complete
Padmé Amidala Naberrie both loved and loathed these events. Her father, a decorated general, and her mother, a state senator, took pride in their charity events. There was no price tag on these elaborate soirées, and Padmé had to wonder how much of the donations were actually going to those who needed it. Normally, she didn’t do much event planning -- weddings were what Storr Weddings were known for, but when her mother called in a panic because her own planner had quit...well, Padmé hadn’t had the heart to turn her down. After all, the Wounded Warrior charity was, without a doubt, a good cause. Her own grandfather had died on the front lines, and her father had narrowly escaped injury several times.
Of course, working closely with her mother reminded her exactly why she didn’t like working with her mother. Apart from the constant ‘you know, you can still go into politics’ conversations, there were the inevitable ‘you’re not getting any younger’ conversations, both which made Padmé want to pull her hair out. It didn’t matter how many times she told her mother that she was very content with her surfboard and business, it was like her mother didn’t hear her.
Yeah. Marriage and children. Padmé had scoffed then, and she was scoffing now, standing near the entrance, personally greeting everyone. Okay, so she wasn't literally scoffing. In all honesty, once she’d personally written up each invitation (those calligraphy lessons had actually come quite in handy) and seen his name on the guest list...well, she knew she had to be in the front of the house. Anakin Skywalker. The last time she’d seen him was 8 years ago, but who was counting? If it wasn’t for that chance encounter, she might never have gotten the courage to stand up for herself and follow her own dream.
So she stood at the front and said hi to everyone, hoping to catch a glimpse of him.
Anakin almost hadn’t come to the charity banquet tonight. In the past, for events like this, celebrating his service to this “great” country, he was happy to show up and enjoy the adulation hosts and speakers had to offer. But back then, he had two arms, a promising career in the Air Force, and his mother was still alive. He was living the life he’d worked so hard for, dreamed so much about.
Now he only had one arm, he couldn’t fly—he couldn’t get a license to drive a car without a slew of doctors signing off, and his mother has now been gone more than a year.
He found it hard to accept this praise as he’d done before.
But his therapists had encouraged him to go. Plus, she said, he could always leave whenever he wanted.
So he was here, minus his other universe robotic arm. It was just easier that way even if there would be a lot of awkward attempts at handshaking. Okay, maybe Anakin had taken the arm off as a subconscious protest. He might have been through a lot of therapy in his life, but he was still prone to acting out.
He started filing in along with everyone else, expecting nothing but the usual. But the person in front of him continued forward and there she was.
He knew that face, his dreams would never let him forget it.
But he couldn’t say anything more than “Hello” and “Thank you” because there was a line behind him, and the moment passed so quickly.
He glanced back once while he was ushered to his assigned seat at one of the tables.
Was that him? Padmé cursed the long line, and only realized after Anakin had slipped to his seat (Table 3, chair 7) that he’d passed her by with nothing but a quick hello. She crossed her arms across her chest and tapped her foot as she tried to think of how to fix this. Unfortunately, the event was about to begin so she had a guest speaker to find, an MC to prompt, the caterers to be talked to … still, all the while, she kept an eye on him. Occasionally, she would have to give her a head a shake, her inner voice reminding her she was bordering on semi-stalker behaviour, and for what? A person she spoke to once, 8 years prior, who probably didn’t remember her at all.
But she remembered him. Still remembered that joy and passion in his eyes as he explained how he got into motocross, his thrill with the competitions. It had tempered her own, and she almost felt like she needed to thank him.
It wasn’t until the music and dancing started that she finally had a chance to find him and much like all those years ago, she swallowed her fears and walked straight up to him. “Anakin Skywalker.” A grin slowly grew across her face. “It’s been years. You probably don’t remember me, but I’m Padmé Naberrie. I saw you compete years ago in Atlanta.”
Anakin thought he’d stayed as long as he could bear. He’d listened to the speakers, spoke with a few Vets, made it awkward when handshaking was the polite custom and people realized he didn’t have a right hand. And he’d decided on not seeking out Padmé.
When Ahsoka had first approached him, she’d thrown a tennis ball at his head to see if he was, well, to put it bluntly, Dark Side ready. The ball hit him, because she’d thrown it with the Force, and knew nothing about the Force at the time. He jokes about it now, but at the time he was not pleased and a little scared that someone could throw a ball that fast.
He thought it might best if Padmé found the Network first before he said anything.
But before he could move, Padmé was standing there in front of him, talking.
Every once in a while during the presentations of the evening, he’d caught a glimpse of Padmé, but she was busy, he didn’t expect her to notice him. She was a part of this world where normal things happened. Her bringing up Atlanta stoked the vaguest of memories for him, there was a lot that had happened that week for him. He was surprised that she knew him from that.
“Really?” was the first word that came out of him. It was not the kind of thing he’d wanted to say first. And then he was reminded that the first words he said to her in his Dreams was that she was an angel, and that made him smile. Because he could be worse at this.
“Uh, ya, that’s- that was almost eight years ago,” he said, almost like a question. “And now we’re both here in L.A.” So, okay, he was still a bit stilted in this area. But nope, he wasn’t going to let that be the first impression. His mom had raised him right, and taught him a lot.
“Do you want to dance?”
Well that was completed unexpected. Padmé was taken slightly off-guard by his question. She wanted to say yes badly...and there really wasn’t much for her to do right now...it was that time of the night when all the behind-the-scenes things were winding down. Invoices had been paid, the photographer was roaming around, there was no more food to worry about.
She could do this.
“I’d be delighted.” Extending her hand, she looked up at him. With her heels, she didn’t feel that short. In fact, she felt downright confident. “I’ll be honest -- I never took you for a dancer.”
Anakin led her to the dance floor. He quizzically tipped his chin to the side, “What did you take me for? And why did you stop?” Okay, that last part he was being a bit of pedant. But she did open the subject.
Padmé looked aback for a moment before giving out a laugh. He caught things quickly. She’d have to remember that. “Well,” she started, smoothing out the side of his suit with her hand, “let’s look at the facts. Fact one: you were a motocross star. Not too many opportunities to learn classical dancing nor is it really the most graceful thing. Fact two: you were a soldier for many years. Now, I don’t know too many soldiers, but my dad is one and I guarantee he doesn’t know what a dance floor is for. And finally,” she said, grinning at him as they glided across the floor. “Fact three: you were ignoring the dancefloor until I came up and talked to you. So, with all that information, I think I can confidently say, I didn’t think you were much of a dancer. Of course, now I know I was wrong.”
She was pleasantly surprised. Rarely did she have the opportunity to actually enjoy the events she planned. Even though she always had to dress to the nines (hair, makeup, dress, shoes, purse), it was usually just to look good in the corner while she ensured the flowers were the proper colour. And to have a dancer who actually knew what they were doing? Damn.
“Is this where I apologize for making assumptions?”
Anakin rose his brow in an “Oh, I see,” manner and gave a slight nod of the head at each fact. But he held back any explanation until Padmé was done.
“No, you don’t need to do that,” he shook his head, smiling now, and trying not to think about who she was to him in another universe. Not so much their relationship, but rather the end of it.
Live in the now, repetitious guidance from his therapist. If he focused on just this moment, nothing before or after it, then that universe in his Dreams didn’t exist and he wouldn’t fall and kill everyone and everything good in that universe. Or in this one. Like smiles and dances with strangers at public soirees.
“My mother taught me how to dance,” he finally offered the clarifying piece of the puzzle. “Nothing more than this, though. But it’s enough.”
And the jokes had to keep rolling or his thoughts would take over the act.
“Should I be asking you where you learned to dance?” he asked surreptitiously.
“Oh, I think that should be obvious enough,” Padmé responded coyly. Even with one arm, Anakin was a more than passable dancer. It was funny -- she hadn’t even noticed his right arm was gone until after they’d started dancing. That was probably why he was at the event. She wasn’t going to bring it up anyways. “My parents are hosting this event, General and Representative Naberrie?” It was on the invites, but in case he was still confused, she continued. “He was the first presenter, droned on about the finances, and how much was raised. There was much polite clapping and adulation, which he will crow about for a few weeks, while my mother will past him on the back and gives him much praise.”
She gave a smile and a slight nod at a couple that passed by her, friends of her parents. “This house is where I grew up.” Once upon a time, she was ashamed of her parents’ wealth, but she’d slowly come to terms with it after she’d stopped relying on it. Now, it was just something she had accepted, even if it wasn’t a goal she wanted for herself. She was quite happy being comfortable.
Anakin had a selective attention span, and while he could lose himself in reading the latest Theory of Everything, remembering the names on the invitation ranked about as high as the ingredients and nutrition facts on food labels. No disrespect meant to the Naberries.
“This is a nice house,” he observed.
He didn’t reciprocate with similar information about his upbringing. It started in a trailer park with the burning sun and sand for miles in every direction. Not fun conversation topics for while dancing.
“So what does the daughter of a General and a State Senator do?”
“You ask a lot of questions for someone who doesn’t answer them.” Technically, he had but Padme wanted more than one word answers. “I’ll do you one better -- why don’t you tell me what you think I do? I’ll even give you a hint. It’s your fault.” Her eyes were twinkling, her smile broadening.
Anakin screwed his face up in confusion. “Fire marshal?”
Padme laughed. “What?” And then she laughed even harder a second later when it made sense. “You’re a very quick one, Anakin. I like that.” She nudged him with her shoulder. “Come on, try again.”
Anakin wasn’t above being pleased by his own jokes. And he liked the sound of her laugh.
But he reminded himself not to walk further down that path. Her world was here and he would leave tonight and Dream about a place where he was not the hero of his own story.
“Okay,” he said, more serious as he tried to think of a solid guess.
“Political aid,” he tried. Because her mother was a State Senator, and he was sure Padme would have mentioned if she was one herself. And it made sense in his head that maybe the daughter of Senator Naberrie might carry on the family legacy, but maybe in a slightly different way.
“Do not let this custom-made Chanel pant suit, and Louboutin heels fool you -- I am absolutely not in politics, much to my mother’s ever-lasting shame.” A joke. She would never be caught dead in a pant suit, even if it was Chanel. She was wearing a very nice dress, actually, one that she’d graciously accepted from her mother (it was French, she couldn’t resist).
The song was nearing to an end, and she felt she’d only barely started to speak to him. “I’m a wedding planner, but I do events as well. It’s a great job, and I get to meet all sorts of people but it’s really just the means to an end My real job, my passion, so to speak, is surfing.” Her eyes got a dreamy look. She almost told him that she learned about passion from him, but her parents’ friends were nearby, and they’d definitely take it the wrong way.
“So there you go. Padme in a nut shell.”
“I wasn’t expecting that,” Anakin said with a laugh. “Surfing, really?”
It shouldn’t be that surprising that people who lived out here loved the water. But he’d yet to become friends with someone who actually surfed.
“I have never been surfing.”
“No?” She wasn’t surprised. Not many people had. “We’ll have to fix that one day. Maybe we could -- “ A flash of red caught her off guard and when she looked to her side she saw her mother, waving her purse frantically at Padme.
“Uh oh,” she said outloud with a sigh. “I know that look.” Reluctantly taking her hand out of his, she took a step back and gave an apologetic smile. “Sorry, there must be something going on. I have to deal with this….” Her mother was now almost jumping and Padme was getting more and more distract. “Um. I’ll catch you later okay? I really liked that dance.” Another quick smile and she hustled her way to her mother. It wasn’t until a few hours later, when everyone had left and she was helping pack up seat covers did she realize she hadn’t given him her number. Again.