Disclaimer:  I do not belong the characters or anything else you recognize in this fic.  Star Wars is owned by George Lucas and Lucasfilms.  I write fanfic purely for pleasure, although I'm not opposed to receiving feedback, that's all I receive for it.

Posted: Friday, June 7, 2002

Summary: A bittersweet meeting between husband and wife.  Anakin/Amidala

Note: This was written for the Silent Challenge over at the Jedi Council Forums.  The idea behind it is simple: to write a one-shot story without the characters communicating through words.  

Also, I have Support Services.  That means that, if you want, you can put me on Author Alert and receive notice when I post stories or parts of stories, even if you haven't paid yourself.

Enjoy!  And don't forget to review.


Anakin switched off the holotransmitter and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. It wasn’t as if they Council deliberately waited for the worst possible moments to suddenly recall him, no matter what it might seem like at times. Still, couldn’t they have given him a day at least? He had only just arrived.

At the periphery region of his vision something moved, and Anakin turned to see his wife standing in the doorway. He opened his mouth to tell her the bad news, but closed it again. From the sorrowful expression on her face, he knew she must have overheard.

Padmé walked over and for a second time Anakin opened his mouth, this time to apologize, to beg forgiveness for having to leave again so soon after getting there, and for a second time he was stopped, this time by his wife laying her forefinger on his lip and shaking her head slightly. Words were not necessary; he didn’t need to explain. She had been through it before, many times. They both had.

Anakin gently took hold of his wife’s wrist with his good hand and moved it up slightly, bringing her palm to his lips and kissing it. She gently shook her captive wrist free and entwined her fingers with Anakin’s, then almost aggressively did the same with his mechanical hand. He recoiled slightly as he always did when she touched the droid arm - he still couldn’t reconcile to the idea that Padmé didn’t find his disability as repulsive as he did, even after all that time, as well as numerous displays on her part.

His wonderment at Padmé’s willingness to accept him was forgotten when she brought her lips to his and he became lost in her. Anakin maneuvered his wife towards the bed and wasted any time, having none to waste. They were lovers with the knowledge that come morning, they would be forced to part ways. Neither of them wanted to accept that this might be the last time they saw each other - nor could either of them help but remember that incessantly in the deep recesses of their minds. They fell asleep in each other’s arms, clinging desperately to one another, knowing it wouldn’t be long before the real world dragged them apart once more.

Anakin woke first. He lay on his side, propped up on his good arm, and watched his wife sleep. She really was an angel, he decided, as he studied every line and every surface of her image . . . not that he needed to, having had memorized every inch of her face years ago. Her profile was immortalized in his head and he wasn’t ever going to forget her. Shifting slightly, Anakin freed his good arm and gently traced his finger across Padmé’s face.

He didn’t know when Padmé woke, only that he gradually became aware of a change in her breathing. She was aware that he knew she was awake, but didn’t open her eyes. It was better that way; neither was good with saying good-bye.

It was time to go. Anakin quickly got dressed while Padmé continued to pretend to sleep. Anakin pretended not to notice the moistness on her cheeks. He pretended that the same moistness was missing from his own.

As he took one final longing look at his wife, he wished desperately that one day they might be free to live a life without all that pretending, to wake up in the morning and know that the only thing they had to do was to spend the rest of that day in each other’s company, and to do the same thing the next day, and the next, and the next; to be with each other without the all-too-real fear that this time together would be their last; to be husband and wife, openly, and not just behind locked doors; to let his love for her be known throughout the galaxy. He took one final look at her and knew that, however much he wished it, it would never be. Their lives were not first and foremost their own, and their duties to the rest of the universe would always come first. He took one final look at his resting wife, at the woman he loved more than anyone could possibly imagine.

And Anakin left.

The End
Saturday, July 20, 2002