When You Come Home

-54-

"How long have you been in the military for?" Padmé was trying to make small talk, and Anakin appreciated it, although he was sure he'd answered that question at the funeral reception.

"About a year. Maybe a bit more."

"Thank you for your service—" she stopped herself. "I've already asked that, haven't I?" She shuffled in the half-light, trying to wriggle into a better position. "Ow."

"You okay?" Anakin's heart rate spiked, his hands involuntarily closing tighter around her.

"I-I think so."

He frowned. She'd said the same words, with the same intonation and even the same stutter only a few minutes before. His panic levels were barely contained, but he told them to wait until he and Padmé were safe. He could panic later. "Where hurts?"

"My leg hurts." She sounded so small.

But Anakin breathed a silent sigh of relief. If she could feel her leg, that highly decreased the chance of any spinal damage. That assumed of course that the snippets he had picked up from Coric held true.

"So how long have you known your fiancé?" He tried to keep any jealousy out of his head, hoping that talking about Rush might calm her down.

To Anakin's astonishment, she started crying. He immediately moved to comfort her, while staying still enough not to disturb the delicate balance of the concrete tomb — tent, not tomb. They weren't dead yet.

"I'm sorry," she choked through tears, brushing violently at the glistening pearls cleaning tracks across her dirty cheeks. "I shouldn't be like this."

"It's fine," Anakin said quickly, his brain racing a hundred unhelpful paths. Should he keep comforting her? Should he say something more? Was that weird? He hardly knew her, even though he felt like he'd known her his entire life. She probably didn't feel the same way. And if she did, did that mean he had a chance with her? But if she didn't, then should he be offering this kind of comfort? Maybe he shouldn't hold her like this. But if he readjusted, he might cause her more pain. This would have to do.

"Anakin?"

"What?" He had spiralled too far, and now it didn't matter what method he was using to comfort her because he hadn't been listening. She wouldn't feel comforted at all.

"Are you still there?" She sounded even smaller than before.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry. What did you say?"

"Oh, it doesn't matter. I was worried something had happened to you." She sucked in a shuddering breath.

"No, I'm fine, just a little distracted. What were we talking about? Oh that's right ...." He trailed off. How should he ask this? "Do you want to keep on our conversation? You seemed ... upset." He somehow felt more awkward than he sounded.

"I'm sorry," she apologized again, seeming more awkward than him, if it was possible. "It's a sensitive issue, I guess." She spluttered a laugh around another shaky breath. "I thought I was okay with it, but it would appear not." She fell silent.

Anakin didn't know whether to inquire further. Was she hoping he would ask her about it? Or did she want him to drop the subject? He didn't want to be insensitive, but he didn't want to be intrusive, either. He decided to wait and see what she led with.

She stayed silent.

Anakin shuffled. His legs were killing him, trapped under Padmé, but any move could endanger their position. At least she was cushioned from the hard ground and rough pebbles. He waited some more.

But still she remained quiet.

It was starting to get awkward. He definitely should have said something before now. But perhaps she thought it had turned into a comfortable silence and breaking it would be unpleasant and annoying. Or maybe she was sad and hurt that he hadn't answered her and was waiting out of respect until he got the hint. Or maybe there was no hint, and he was just imagining it.