InsaneJournal

Who: Anakin and Padmé
What: Padmé has some news that makes them both scared. They communicate poorly. Etc.
When: Sunday afternoon
Where: Their quarters
Rating/Warnings: Fairly low
Status: Complete


Anakin pushed through the door of the quarters he shared with Padmé and his younger self. He brought with him the chill of autumnal air and the accompanying smells of dying past annual equinoxes. He couldn’t say he objected to this world’s revolution shifts. Coruscant didn’t have seasons like this, and Tatooine had something like a ‘winter’ but unless you were native to the planet such differentials were hard to notice. This was different, and while the decaying leaves spoke of certain finality to all things, it also testified to some kind of permanence in Anakin’s life. He had been on a single planet for almost seven months (Earth months) now. That was more time spent in a single place than he could remember in his recent history.

The full embodiment of that new constant was sat silently in a chair in the seating area of the main room. Padmé wasn’t facing the door, and only a small line of her profile could be seen from this angle, but the rich brown reflection of her hair in the shaft of light from the window was unmistakable. And there was her presence in the Force, not exactly like a Jedi’s but something so unique and abiding Anakin was sure he’d always know it when he reached for it.

The rooms were quiet, which meant his younger self and R2 were out, trying to impress his new friend, no doubt.

Anakin closed the door behind him softly, so as not to disturb his wife’s peaceful contemplations, and started for their bedroom, to wash his hands of the grime that had accumulated there from working in the stable on the reconstruction of his bike.

“Is Anakin out?” he asked as he walked, seeking to confirm if they were going to have a noise-free, uninterrupted span of time together or not.

Padmé took a moment to respond, her mind lost out amidst the swirling small gusts of autumn air. It wasn't the weather that had captured her imagination, however, but rather something was familiar and yet completely new to her. She was excited and terrified, both, at the idea and it left her unsure what exactly to feel as a whole.

"He - um, yes." Um. It was a word so seldom uttered by the former politician, but Anakin seemed to be the one who invoked her into using it. Padmé didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing; she had been taught to avoid saying "um" because it was an utterance of someone who wasn't sure of what they were saying. It was someone who needed a moment to hesitate, a moment to grasp for the next word they were going to say rather than already knowing it as the clear reality being summarized in words. Even then, it was hard to get rid of the scolding came into her mind after use of the forbidden word. The scolding was one of her many tutors' words still wedged immovably into her mind.

If only those same tutors had known she would fall in love with a Jedi and marry him. She wondered what they would've said about that. Or what they would've thought about what Padmé needed to tell Anakin. Even if she had respected and cared for those who had taught her so much, something in her didn't quite care what they would've thought unless they had offered support. It was Anakin's reaction that she cared about and, really, couldn't predict.

"He's out." She finally got the words out, though the accomplishment of confirmation felt rather weak. She hated not having her mind together and collected, the sensation rather foreign as a whole. Padmé pulled back into the chair a little more in an attempt to snuggle in further while she sorted through her thoughts.

Anakin could immediately tell something was wrong. He stopped and turned to face Padmé, by now his travels towards their bedroom had brought him to a better angle to see his wife in that chair. She did not use ‘um’. She was always the ever-poised politician. Anakin didn’t need the Force to tell him whatever was on her mind was serious.

“Padmé,” he said, letting the gravity of the situation register in his voice. “What’s wrong?”

A million possibilities ran through Anakin’s head, everything from his younger self’s well being (no, young Ani was still there in the Force when Anakin reached out for him) to the idea that Padmé had come to the conclusion that he, with all the future he brought to their relationship, was revolting and she couldn’t stand to be near him anymore. He tried to keep himself from letting the panic of the latter possibility seize his heart.

It took Padmé a few brief moments before she could muster the bravado to look at Anakin, some level of unnatural fear springing to mind that perhaps he would know if she looked at him. She had no idea how he would react to this and, in truth, she didn't quite know what to think either.

"I -" Her voice was small, quiet, to her own ears. She was getting used to the erased blend of tones since what she said in private no longer mattered to those in public, but this was hushed and in the tone she would've used if it were something she didn't want a passing guard or Senatorial aide to hear. "- am... notably late."

Her voice caught in her throat and she felt scared. They had planned for children eventually, but not yet. Not now. What would Anakin say? What would Luke say? What job would she take on instead of her current one teaching self-defense?

Anakin was now confused. Her explanation seemed disproportionate to the amount of fear he could feel coming from her. She was late? Late for what? A meeting at work? With friends? Why were either of those possibilities paralyzing? He’d been guilty of both of those numerous times over the course of his life, and never could it be said he’d been worked up over the idea.

Lines creased his brow, revealing his confusion and his dissatisfaction of not understanding what his wife meant.

“Late for what?”

Padmé looked down for the briefest of moments, trying to keep herself from showing the emotional turmoil she felt over this. The anticipation of Anakin's reaction was as bad as anything else. She wasn't one for excessive drama, but she knew what their future held upon return from the Land of Make Believe and the fact that she would die after giving birth.

And Anakin -

"My monthly cycle. I might be pregnant, Anakin."

He wasn’t expecting that.

“Oh.”

He said the word automatically. It was as quiet as Padmé’s ‘um’, and uncharacteristic of him as well. Usually bold and loud, take him as is, but just then it felt like the wind had been knocked out of him.

He tried to save himself, “That’s great.” But as with before, the words sounded strained, breathy and ghost like; containing half the spirit of the last time he’d been presented with this same situation. Back then he had been ecstatic, and for one, brief, paradisiacal night he had anticipated the day of his child’s (in actuality, his children, but at the time he’d not been aware of the twins) arrival.

Now, all the memories of his mistakes in the days, weeks that followed the learning of his impending fatherhood roared up from the back of his mind. He understood now the fear coming off in waves from Padmé, they echoed the cold tendrils gripping his thumping heart. Save for the nervous flexing of the two last fingers on his mechanical hand he was stock still.

“I’m-” he tried swallowing past the lump in his throat. So many questions swirled in his head and at the same time none could solidify into more than clipped, unintelligible phrases. “I’m-” He set his jaw then, he just couldn’t make words work right then.

Padmé's heart sunk at her husband's words. It wasn't anything she hadn't anticipated, but the lack of any strong response one way or the other left large gaps for her to fill in with her own mind. Every bit of anticipation and worry swayed her assumptions toward the negative. The worry was overwhelming.

"Ani-" A plea, though she wasn't sure what she wanted to plead for, exactly, only that she didn't want this to be a subject of emotional and mental strife between them. But in the end, she diverted away from trying to summarize her feelings in coherent form. Instead, she went for the logical thoughts that held far less sway than they should've. "It was an option. Eventually. Not what we had planned and - maybe -" It wasn't fear along the vein of dread or terror, if it did prove to be true, but she was scared about how they would adjust to the idea and the actual life changing event.

He nodded, Padmé was right. They had talked about the possibility of having children here, but had agreed to put it off. Anakin desperately wanted a ‘family’. It had been one of his greatest desires from the moment he was thrust into the cold, unfeeling confines of the Order and endured the silent almost-shunning of his peers.

But the prospect scared him witless. The slope down which he’d slid right into the beckoning whispers of the Dark Side back in their universe had started with a vision of Padmé dying during childbirth. Once Palpatine had found out, he hadn’t stood a chance. What if that happened again? He was trying so hard to avoid falling again, but he knew, he knew a test of something like losing Padmé, of being tormented with visions of her dying, would be something he was not prepared to face yet.

He wanted some corner to crawl into, to sit and make the world stop spinning because this was going too fast and he needed the time to think.

But he stood there, looking at Padmé, whose pleading eyes welded him to the spot. And a small voice in the back of his head started breaking through the din cascading around his mind. He couldn’t think of himself here, selfishness was the path to the Dark Side. Padmé was who he should focus on.

“What-” he said weakly at first, but he paused, swallowed, and tried again with at least more volume to his voice. “What do you need?”

Padmé never felt the safety and security that she felt with Anakin when she was with others, but she also knew their lives were inexplicably complicated. It wasn't a desire to have things be complicated but, rather, simply how it was... and she didn't regret it. It was part of her life and the good mixed with the bad. That was life, by definition.

"I -" She took a breath, trying to calm herself. "Don't know how early they will be able to detect it here. I need to - I’ll - look into it." She needed to curl up against him, to have him hug her, to hear that he wasn't upset with her over this possibility. However logical or illogical everything in her mind was, she needed to put it to rest and get a focus toward the positive instead. Despite having insisted that Anakin should share his feelings, persistently, Padmé didn't know what to say to share hers in that moment. Instead, thoughts continued to swirl about.

Anakin did not intuit what Padmé wanted. Without using the Force in an intrusive manner – which he’d never do on Padmé – he wouldn’t just know her desires. Things like comfort in the form of hugs did not instantly pop to mind. He knew Jedi prescriptions, as ineffectual as they were, that was all that came to mind. He soundly rejected them, of course, but he had nothing to replace them with.

“Alright,” he said, still standing by the door to their bedroom. “Any- anything I should do?”

Padmé had snuggled back into the chair out of hopes of it giving her a more cemented, tangible sensation of comfort. She found it felt more enclosing than calming. She swallowed, taking several deep breaths before shaking her head and moving to stand.

"No." She answered quietly, looking at the floor before looking back up at Anakin. Her arms crossed, though it wasn't a conscious motion on her part. She knew body language and she knew that crossing one's arms was closing themselves off but, as it was, it was also a way to put up a figurative shield. Her mind knew she had that desire, that need, even if it was purely psychologically based and nothing more. "We just have to wait."

"I - need some air." She moved to get her coat. "I'll be back - later." It sounded weak, but she had no idea where she was going to walk. She just knew she needed to find somewhere else to sit for a little while and more time to try to sort the thoughts in her head.

Anakin was surprised at the wall Padmé was putting up. It made him think she was angry with him, and he was instantly ashamed, wondering what, precisely, he’d done that was displeasing. He knew he should have handled this better, should have been more enthusiastic, like the first time. So happy, so expectant, so hopeful. He should have been that now, but he’d blown it. He’d let Padmé down. Again.

“I’ll come with you?” Worry that his own failure just then would be the start of a wedge driven between them, and that this time would follow the same dark path as before, crept in at the edges of his voice.

Padmé was torn when presented with the options. Part of her wanted to repair the forming gap, of course. She hated feeling distant with her husband, let alone feeling unsure what to say or do. It wasn't normal for them, for her. But she wanted to have a bit of time to panic on her own.

But in the end, something about the shade of worry in Anakin's voice pushed her to try and give a slightly less abrupt answer than "no" as she made her exit. "It's okay. I need a bit of air, you ought to clean up, and we can talk more later."

It was as much of a mediation-style answer as Padmé could think up. With that mildly diplomatic response, she went out the door with jacket in hand.

Anakin opened his mouth to speak, but words failed him. He wanted to say a simple ‘I’m sorry’ with a promise that he will get things right this time. That Padmé had nothing to worry because he would figure it out. He would! But fear always made the thoughts in his head muddle together into an unintelligible mess. Instead of moving to reassure his wife, he just stood there, looking as if a gundark had knocked him soundly about the head.

What just happened? He was left wondering when the door closed behind his wife.