Anakin and His Angel: What Should Have Been

Chapter 5 (19 BBY)

Two weeks later Anakin and Padmé had flown off to Alderaan with their children, on the run from Emperor Palpatine.

Padmé knocked gently on the door, and Bail answered, in his baritone voice, "Hello, Padmé! Please, come in!" he opened the door all the way, gesturing with his arm for them to come inside.

"Bail! Thank you so much for letting my family and I stay here for a little while," Padmé stepped in, and Anakin, in his metal suit behind her, carrying the precious little babies, "we're sorry for any trouble it's caused you!"

Not recognizing Anakin for a moment, Bail was about to close the door on who he thought was an intruder, when Padmé stopped the door and whispered to Bail, "It's okay, it's just Anakin," she smiled, and motioned for him to continue their earlier conversation, so that Anakin wouldn't notice the space in Bail's speech and perceive it as dislike.

"Don't worry, it's fine," Bail smiled awkwardly, staring blatantly in Anakin's direction. He closed the door behind them, and motioned toward the staircase, "Your room is upstairs, second door to the left," he turned toward Padmé and took both of the suitcases, "let me help you with those."

"Thank you Bail," Padmé replied, suddenly realizing how tired she was. She walked across the untarnished, beautifully polished wood floor, and up the deep plum carpeted stairs with mahogany banisters, and opened the white painted, silvery bronze handled door, second to to the left, and plopped herself down on the pale blue plush comforter on the bed without another word. Padmé sighed, and curled up on her side, still feeling a small ghost of pain in her abdomen.

Anakin tucked the comforter over her, and got in beside her, pulling her body against his cold, black armour. She shivered at the touch of her thinly covered back to cold metal. It was just not the same as before.

Whenever she stretched her neck and turned to kiss his cheek, instead she saw a dark black helmet, and her lips made contact with freezing metal. Whenever he spoke I love you, it was never in her Ani's strong, warm voice, instead, it was Darth Vader's trembling, automated one. Padmé longed to feel the comforting heat of his slow breath whispering across her cheek, but all she felt was the cold wheezing of a machine that was only half her husband. She could never feel the rough, worn skin of his fingers caress her hand, or his gentle lips brushing the hair on the crown of her head. No, he had been left to burn, to die in fire, go up in flames, left to end his life with his own foolish decisions, bring about his own burning, his own demise, his death, through his own anger and hatred. His body was predominantly taken over by a machine, a dark, inhuman, but his mind, she knew, was her precious Ani's. So she held on to that one piece of knowledge, her only hope, and the fact that even though he was a cyborg, he still truly, deeply, loved her, as she did him.

Secretly though, deep, deep inside her mind, buried in the depths by billions of thoughts of hope, and love, was a single thought of suspicion: what if he betrayed her again? He had done it once, couldn't it happen a second time? All the other thoughts of hope and love fought against it, but one tiny shard of evil can tear down an entire republic of good and kindness.

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