My Unfortunate Fate

chapter 52

Allies and enemies are not so clearly defined.

I wake to a bright light and a slow, throbbing headache. The only thing I know for certain is this: I'm in my bedroom, in my nightclothes. I have no recollection of how I got here. I am laying on my side, so I stretch my free arm upwards.

"You up yet?" a groggy voice asks, significantly close to my ear.

I whirl onto my back frantically. But nothing's off; it's my husband. By the looks of it, he's spent the night in my quarters. "How long have you been here?"

"Pretty much all night." Anakin combs his cybernetic fingers through my hair, pushing it away from my face. "Does anything hurt?"

"Just my head," I reply, wondering why he'd ask that. "Why—" I stop myself, formulating a better, more logical question than that. "Did something happen last night?"

"No," he replies hesitantly. "Well, yes. Not in the way you think."

I narrow my eyes at him. "What?"

"You went out last night—" He rubs my shoulder, making me feel a little less anxious, less likely to snap at him. "—got drunk, and it got a little rough."

Now I start to recall a vague memory of that. I was in a bar, with Padmé, and one of its patrons hit me. She drew a blaster on him, and then I had a blood-stained cloth in my hand, and then I was back home with Anakin. I recall a clouded vision of him trying to fix my nose, and how it hurt.

I hold a finger up to it, and a bruise-like pain spreads over the length of its bridge. "I thought that was a dream," I say, making him laugh. "Is it bruised?"

"A bit," Anakin replies. "But it won't be noticible."

I sigh in relief and smile at him. "I was annoying you last night, wasn't I?"

"I managed," he chuckles.

"Sorry about that."

"It's fine. I'm just glad you're all right."

I appreciate just how much he cares about me. There is never an obstacle too imposing to prevent Anakin from taking care of me, and although it feels like a fever dream, I know last night proves that. I am not my best self in the absence of sobriety, obviously, but he still managed. And I didn't scare him away.

"You know what might help my headache?" I say suggestively. "A true love's kiss."

Anakin smirks. "I can't argue with that."

He leans over, bends his head down, and envelops my lips in a tender kiss. I smile against his soft, full lips. Although this may not technically be a remedy to heal my aching head, I feel more relaxed. I start to kiss him back, cupping the nape of his neck with my hand and brushing my fingers through the short curls that grow there.

Ever since we left for Onderon, we haven't had a moment like this—when everything else feels so obsolete because we're together. I have missed the feeling of his kisses.

"I love you, truly," he mumbles, and I respond with a snicker.

Anakin pulls away, smiling softy at me. "Feel any better?" he asks.

"I don't know," I say hesitantly, "maybe you should kiss me again and find out."

He grins widely and leans down to give me another. This time, I meet him halfway, starting to turn onto my side so I do not have to crane my neck.

Anakin starts to follow, but somehow he falters, and falls flat on his back. He's still smiling as I hover over him. "You've gotta stop making me fall."