Anakin and His Angel: What Should Have Been

Chapter 6 (13 BBY)

_______________________________time skip_______________________________

As of this week, the family had settled on Taanab, in the inner rim, for the time being. It was a rather drably weathered planet, but it had a mild climate, and when the skies cleared, it was surprisingly pristine, and sunny. The Skywalker's were currently staying in a small, secluded lake house. Which, to Padmé's delight, had a lovely porch swing.

Padmé rolled lackadaisically out of bed from under Anakin's leathery black, suit covered arms, to the sound of happily giggling and squealing children, along with a loud banging, and what sounded like a frantic automated scream.

She put her navy knit robe snugly over her shift, and walked out into the living room, her gait slow. Padmé walked over the soft carpet, under the small archway, and onto the cold, glossy wood floor of the kitchen. Luke was sitting on the kitchen floor, banging the screaming R2's dome with a frying pan, while Leia was asking 3PO to recite how babies were made, 3PO vehemently refusing. Both six year old children were oblivious to the entrance of their tired mother.

"Luke, Leia, what are you doing?" Padmé asked, trying her hardest not to sound angry.

Both children stopped their loud banging and malicious questioning, and R2 went silent mid-scream. "Sorry Mom," Luke replied with an Anakin-esque apology, which meant all but nothing, "we just got bored because you were busy napping with Daddy," Luke raised his pan to go back to banging R2's dome, and Leia opened her mouth, starting to turn towards 3PO.

Anakin stepped into the room, and caught Luke's arm mid-swing, "Luke, you are better than this! You and Leia go to your room immediately. I don't want to hear any white-lie apologies in this house," his deep angry voice resonated throughout the house, Padmé glanced at him. A warning, don't frighten them.

"What about in the next house? Or the next?" Leia replied in a voice clearly reflective of a sense of humor similar to her Father's. She sounded very unafraid, for a six year old. It was most likely due to her and Luke's training in the ways of The Force, since they were 2 years old. Anakin would have started them earlier, but Padmé was against it. At the current time, they were so experienced that they already had their own lightsabers, and were considered Padawan level.

Padmé touched Anakin's hand gently, indicating for him to let Luke go. He complied. "Luke, Leia, please. Your Father and I need some time to ourselves. And I'm sure R2 needs a break from getting his dome dented."

Moping, the twins left for their room, without another word. Padmé looked up at Anakin, and for a small moment, she gazed through the cold eyes of the helmet, and into Anakin's gold laced, red rimmed ones. Unable to handle the pain of memories brought back from a dark musty corner in her mind, she gazed away, wishing for Anakin's old, clear, grey ocean blue eyes. The ones that she had gazed into so often at Varykino, sometimes with a glint of deep, passionate firelight, or fierce, blinding sunlight.

He pulled the glove on his left hand off, revealing his pale skin disfigured with burn scars. Anakin touched Padmé's cheek gently, and stroked it with his thumb. She could feel the rough scars on his hand brush against her smooth cheek and it brought chills up her spine to imagine what he had experienced, being on fire and living through it. Living to experience the brutal and gruesome damage it inflicted upon the human body, eating away at your flesh, slowly killing you, not to mention it's influence on the mind, or the emotions. Padmé knew he needed her to be strong, so that he could hold on, she clutched his hand lovingly, and held it fast, looking deep into his amber eyes, "Ani," her body brushed against his, and her face was inches away from Anakin's, "I love you," her eyes fluttered gracefully closed, and she pressed her lips to... cold metal. Padmé opened her eyes, startled, and remembered what she had tried so hard to fogret. A tear trailed down her cheek and dripped off her chin onto Anakin's chest plate, right where his heart was, or where it would be.

Anakin pulled Padmé against him and she cried, and this time, he caught her tears and gently wiped them off her soft cheeks. She cried and cried, until finally, she cried so much that her heart couldn't be shattered into tinier shards, shards that stabbed agonizingly at where her heart used to be, reminding her of what they once had, what they once were. Finally, Padmé ran out of tears. She looked up into Anakin's golden dew-dropped eyes, "let's go sit on the porch swing."