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chapter twenty

Anakin sighed once more as Obi-Wan closed the door to the ship and took off to the Jedi temple, leaving him to his own devises.

For a split second, a smile graced Anakin's features.

He was left to his own devises.

Walking as casually as he could, he examined the people before him, knowing just from feeling that his beautiful wife was nowhere to be seen in the crowd.  However, there was one familiar face that he did see, standing behind one of the grand pillars.  Excusing himself from the crowd, he walked over and met his good friend, a crease making its way between his eyebrows.

"Padmé," he greeted, joining her in the shadows.  "What's going on?  Is everything alright?  Where's Ryha?"

Padmé couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped her when she saw Anakin.  He appeared to be in fine spirits and in one piece after his triumph against Count Dooku, and she couldn't have been more glad to see it.

"Oh, Anakin," she breathed out, pulling him in for a quick hug.  "Thank heavens you're alright."

"Of course I'm alright," Anakin chuckled briefly as he pulled away.  "What are you talking about?  Why isn't Ryha here, Padmé?  Where is she?"

"There had been whispers that you'd been killed," the senator explained, looking up at her friend with sadness in her eyes.  "Ryha... she didn't take it well.  She's at home, resting.  She's been sick to her stomach for days now, and—"

Anakin didn't let Padmé even finish her sentence before he took off in the direction to the nearest ship, only one thought on his mind the entire time. He could feel her, of course he could feel her, but her anxiety had been nothing new to him since he'd left to fight the war.  With the recent rescue mission, killing Count Dooku, and Grievous's escape, he'd gotten distracted.

He'd never let it happen again.

There was no mission, no cause, greater than his wife.  She was his priority, and he hadn't been taking care of her.  But he would do what he could with what time he had, and stop at nothing to make sure that she knew that he would never leave her like that.  For as long as he had her, he would never die.

Anakin didn't care about being inconspicuous as he approached their apartment located in a nice, yet quiet, area near the city.  He didn't care if anyone saw him, he didn't care how crazed he looked as he rushed into the building with wild eyes, and he most certainly didn't care who heard his heavy footsteps walking right up to his and Ryha's door.  All he cared about was making sure she was okay.

"Ryha?" he called out, opening the door to their home.  "Ryha, my love—"

But his frantic rant was cut short by a blur of long limbs and black hair running to him and tackling him in a hug.

And just like that, in a single instant, all his worries, all her anxieties, gone.

"Ryha," he whispered, holding her tight as he heard her begin to weep.  "I'm alright, my darling.  I'm right here."

Ryha gripped him like he was a lifeline, which, in a way, he was.  She cried into his robes as he cradled her head with his gloved hand and placed kisses on any area he could reach, relishing in the feeling of being together once more.  It was the feeling of being whole again, the feeling of overwhelming peace, and most of all, the feeling of home.

Neither of the Skywalkers were aware of how long they stayed like that, both of them with tears in their eyes and locked in an embrace, but they didn't really care.  But as the relief and adrenaline began to wear off, Anakin became aware of something... different.  A new sort of energy in their home.