Living a Lie

Chapter 6

It would be a bigger lie if he tried to say he wasn't hurt.

Oh, here it was: Padmé's second reaction, guilt. Anakin knew she was looking around the room now, at the now low burning candles, the now cold dinner, the fancy tableware Threepio had helped him set out properly because Anakin Skywalker and high class anything did not coexist all that well.

The single lone present wrapped in light blue paper—so hard to come by these days—and white ribbon resting on her side of the table. It was a small present. Handmade. Anakin had looked forward to her unwrapping it. How her face would light up. How she'd ask where he'd gotten it.

He'd tell her he found it on his travels and thought of her, a simple enough of an answer, no need for her to worry about him staying up late into the night losing sleep while making her gift. It'd tell her the nightmares came more often than he'd like to let her know—not that it mattered much to him. All Jedi knew how to work with little to no sleep and the fact Anakin could spend hours in private thinking of her as he worked on her anniversary gift made life at war easier. But if he told her that, it would only make her worry more. She worried about him enough as it was, no need to increase it.

Or maybe he'd say he found some of the materials and made it in what little spare time he had—Anakin would have to if she asked about the crystal. He'd just leave out the part about personally hunting the materials down.

Not that it mattered now. Would it ever matter again?

The room was heavy with silence now. Weighed down in apprehension along with Padmé's guilt. Anakin's chest was tight, almost hurting, though he knew it was nothing but the phantom pain caused by feelings.

For once he decided to try and listen to the Jedi teachings. Try to shed the feelings. Get rid of them.

Keep his voice and tone steady. Try to keep this from turning into the fight they both knew was going to happen.

Easier said than done.

"You were meeting with Palo," he began. Anakin was surprised with how dead his own voice sounded. In the back of his mind, he wondered with dark humor how long it would last, how long the hurt and Jedi restraint would keep him from yelling. Experience told him not long, not with so much time for it to silently build inside of him. Even now the fact it was being held back.... "Don't bother denying it. I was worried when I didn't hear back from you so I went to the Senate to check, make sure the Separatists hadn't planned another hostage-holding." In fact, had he not been busy with making dinner, he'd have checked on her sooner. Would have been more proactive when she ignored his first few messages. When he finally had a break to check, to worry at how much time had passed for something like a simple meeting, it was well into the evening. He'd told Threepio to have things ready for when they got back—not much left to do for dinner by then—and left to figure out what was happening.

Only to run into Palpatine. The Chancellor had tried to trap him for a chat, but Anakin couldn't bring himself to stay for long. The conversation hadn't been useless however. The man had told the Jedi where to look, who she was with—the fact the two Nabooians had been spending lots of time together as a matter of fact.

And then Anakin had double checked, just hacked into one of the holo recorders, nothing he hadn't done before, only to find it true.

And the worst part was he could see how happy she was. Smiling in a way he hadn't seen since the war had begun, as though she was free from all worries, all restraints.

He'd been angry. So angry.

But he'd managed to drag himself away—that happiness he was apparently incapable of giving her had been the only thing to give him enough strength to manage the feat. Back to the apartment to lurk alone in the candle lit darkness, as his thoughts spun around out of control. The how dare she's, the how could she's.