Living a Lie

Chapter 3

Writer: anakinpadmeforlife

Anakin almost crashed into a spire of the Jedi Temple in his haste to get home to Padmé.

He jerked sharply at the clutch, narrowing missing and just managing to careen around the towering peak. A Torugian nearby shot him a dirty look, troopers glancing up only to smirk at the antics of General Skywalker. Anakin gave them a jaunty salute, jolting the ship up at nearly ninety degrees before swooping towards 500 Republica, a wide smile spread across his features.

He loved flying.

It was unfortunate Padmé thought his flying was suicidal. Ever since her first ride with him, she had asserted she would never board another ship without his promise to pilot like a "normal person." Anakin had only laughed heartily, increasing the speed with a teasing wink but ceasing the flips and violent jerks.

She had glared, of course, in between gasping breaths, but he was positive she secretly found it endearing under the infuriated shake of her head. After all, there had to be a reason someone like Padmé Amidala Naberrie hadn't married a cooler, more handsome man, of a higher class than a slave—like that Palo Jemabie, with the "dark curly hair and dreamy eyes". The only reason she would pick someone like him over all the other fancy politicians and high-class rich folks was because he wasn't a normal person.

Hence, his shenanigans continued, and she put up with it.

How he loved her.

Anakin had barely made it onto the landing platform of her apartment before he was jumping out of the seat, R2 whistling in alarm as he sprinted inside, his eyes roving the finely decorated furniture for a glimpse of the person he had been thinking about for the past four months.

She was in the kitchen, humming lightly over a pot of soup, her back to him.

Anakin's feet suddenly ceased their movement, meaning to run to her but growing numb.

Was it possible . . . she . . . could be more beautiful?

His eyes silently devoured her form, still turned from him in ignorance of his presence.

Thick, chestnut locks—longer than he remembered—tumbled down the elegant slope of a finely arched neck glowing a creamier white than his memory allowed, curling handsomely over graceful shoulders. The sweet lilt of her voice carried lightly through the air on a soft breeze, caressing him tenderly and eliciting a deep warmth in his chest.

His legs had unfrozen and were moving by themselves now, his arms coming almost desperately to wrap around her.

"Padmé. . ." he whispered.

She gave a strange jump, unlike her usual melting into his embrace, the air flickering with something—but the alien feeling was gone as soon as it came and she was turning, her big brown eyes shining, her words breathed in an almost disbelieving whisper.

"Ani!"

She fell into him, gripping his arms as if it was possible for him to leave now that he was with her. Oh, no, he would stay forever . . . until his leave ended . . . not even a trip to the Temple . . .

Now that she was with him again it was as if a gaping chasm in his chest had filled, the warmth seeping into his bones and eliciting a tingling hum of contentment in every fiber of his being.

Anakin held her tightly, running his nose along her hairline to inhale her flowery scent and breathing deeply. "Angel," he murmured softly. "I've missed you, so much. I'm sorry it's been so long—negotiations with the Princess took awhile—"