I'm back! I present Chapter 7, a full-length trip into Anakin!Angst. I know Padme's not particularly popular with the A/O crowd (me included!), but she has an important role to play in the evolution of Anakin's relationship with Obi-Wan. Don't worry, we'll get back to Obi-Wan in Chapter 8.

I hope the length of the chapter makes up somewhat for the wait! Thanks for reading!

Lovies, as usual, to my beta, Xtine. The Jedi Divas agree: rewrites SUCK! Also special thanks to BrynneEryn and Alchemy Dream for being my cheerleaders, sounding boards, and for simply listening to me whine, whine, whine about this chapter. I love you like WOO!

(says in Mon Mothma voice) Many jars of peanut butter died to bring you this chapter.

Enjoy!

"You take me in, no questions asked. You strip away the ugliness that surrounds me.
Are you an angel?…"

--S. McLachlan, Sweet Surrender

"As long as I'm here, you'll never be alone, Anakin."

He sighed deeply, leaning back into the warmth provided by the soft arms encircling him, comforted by the familiarly sweet voice of his oldest friend. Padmé. The cool night breeze captured her dark brown ringlets and twirled them about his eyes, lightly caressing his cheeks and drying his tears.

Anakin remembered how, as a lonely nine-year-old slave boy, he'd seen Padmé as an angel, some kind of heavenly apparition of beauty and profound compassion who had come into his life simply because of a bad hyperdrive. Whether it was the will of the Force or dumb luck, he didn't know, but it didn't matter. Even though Anakin had long outgrown his childhood fantasy of a guardian angel, Padmé was more than that to him now; she was the closest he would ever come to having a sister.

Stars, but he had missed her, even if she was sometimes suffocating in her protectiveness. Padmé had watched over him from the moment he'd left Tatooine when he was nine. Even when Anakin had become Obi-Wan's apprentice, she had remained an important part of his life, a point he and Obi-Wan had constantly bickered about over the years. Padmé was always there to listen to him grumble and complain about his Padawan life, and he'd had to beg her on more than one occasion to not walk up to his Master to tell him, in her words, to "stop being an intractable ass and get off Anakin's back!".

After everything that had happened— his complete failures that resulted in both his mother's death and the loss of his arm— Anakin was grateful for that protectiveness right now. Obi-Wan, his teacher and constant companion for 10 years, the one Anakin had thought he could always count on, had betrayed him; he had shown Anakin that he had no use for a less-than-perfect Padawan. Padmé was all Anakin had left now. Turning a little to his side, Anakin burrowed deeper into the arms of his angel.

She leaned her cheek against the side of his head, her lips pressing a comforting kiss to his temple. "Ani, I was so worried about you, so scared that you might not come back to us," Padmé said softly, her voice strung tight with anxiety. "Leave it to you to get me to skip an important Senate meeting. That was your plan all along, I bet. You never have cared much for politics," she joked lightly, trying to hide the sniffle behind it.

Anakin gave a half-hearted shrug but didn't respond. He simply didn't have any laughter left in him, even for her. Peeking through the dancing strands of her hair, he stared out at the moon's reflection on the water as it rippled with the breeze. When the cool air danced across his bare skin, Anakin shivered involuntarily.

Giving him another hug, Padmé let go and patted his shoulder gently. "Come inside, Ani; you're chilled," she urged, in a tone that was both gentle and firm. She went back into the room and turned on a bedside lamp, bringing light to the darkened room that had become Anakin's hiding place. He had grown accustomed to the dark; it suited his mood, allowing him to ignore what the light cruelly demanded he see.

Suppressing another shiver, Anakin looked down to see that he had not only forgotten his robe or a tunic, but that he'd left his wounded limb completely unbandaged and exposed. Instantly self-conscious, Anakin grabbed the blanket off the bed and clumsily wrapped it over his right shoulder and arm. He sat down on the edge of the bed, watching idly as Padmé rummaged through a box of supplies on the night stand.

She caught his eye, her lips twitching up into a nervous smile. "Ani," she began hesitantly, "Master Luminara asked me… well… she asked me if I wouldn't mind…um…changing your dressings for you, and to make sure nothing is infected." Her eyes pointedly traveled down to his covered arm and back to his eyes. "She…she also asked that I make sure your…your arm…is clean and wrapped."

Anakin frowned slightly, his head dropping in shame, chin on his chest. "Padmé, I… I don't… I don't want you to…"

Padmé came over and eased herself on to the edge of the bed next to him. "I— I know it won't be easy for you, Anakin. But listen to me," she pleaded, reaching out and lifting his chin to look into his troubled eyes. "You need to let me do this for you. I can handle it, Ani. And so can you. I don't want you risking a serious infection because you're too proud or too stubborn to allow me to help you," Padmé said in that no-nonsense "Senator voice" of hers. Anakin looked away, nearly rolling his eyes. He hated when she directed it at him; it still made him feel like a little boy.

"No, I'm— I'm fine. Really. Just leave the stuff…I can do it," he said unconvincingly, pulling away from her touch as he tried his best to smile. It never reached his lips, for it wasn't in his heart.

Padmé slowly slid off of the bed, stretching her petite legs for the floor, and headed for the 'fresher room. Calling over her shoulder, she replied decisively, "You aren't fine, Anakin, and you can't reach them all yourself, anyways. Let me wash my hands and get a clean cloth…"

Reaching the doorway, Padmé gasped loudly, her hand coming up to cover her mouth, as she surveyed the ravaged state of the 'fresher room. Padmé turned to look at Anakin, wide-eyed, but he didn't meet her gaze. More to herself she muttered, "Wh-what happened? The room, it's a…" Disaster, she finished in her head.

Entering the 'fresher carefully, her eyes opened wide with dread as she spotted the overturned drawers, the various toiletries strewn about the floor, and the shattered ceramic vase. Gingerly stepping around the debris, Padmé grabbed a cloth from the linen cabinet and made her way to sink. As she washed her hands and wet the cloth, her eyes spied a pair of tiny scissors not far from the ceramic shards that had once been a vase. Her lips turned down in a worried frown. Scissors? Why had he needed scissors? And what had happened to make Anakin destroy a room like this? A shiver ran down her spine. As much as she loved Anakin, his temper had always frightened her, as sudden as it was intense. She could not imagine what had transpired to make him unleash his fury like this. Hands shaking, she wrung out the excess water and made her way back to the bed.

Anakin was exactly as she had left him, his arm curled across his chest protectively, his head down, the overgrown strands of hair curling over his eyes. Padmé gathered the supplies and lay them out on the bed next to him. She tried her best to act nonchalant, even though her heart was racing in mild panic from the scene in the 'fresher room. Padmé wasn't afraid of Anakin, but she wasn't sure how he would react to her touch, either. According to Luminara, he had flinched at her every touch, refusing any treatment.

"I'm going to remove the patches first, ok?"

Anakin nodded imperceptibly, still not meeting her eyes. Padmé's mouth set in a firm line, her large brown eyes focused in concentration as she gently peeled back the bacta patches and dressings on his chest.

Anakin tried not to flinch as the bandages were removed, his skin prickling from the pull of the adhesives. Curiosity getting the better of him, he turned his head first to look down at his injuries, then up to Padmé's face to watch her work. "So, how does it look? Pretty bad, huh?" he asked apprehensively. Beginning to fidget in impatience at Padmé's somber appraisal, he shrugged and half-joked, "Force-lightning…who knew?"

Anakin's attempt at levity caught Padmé's attention, quirking her eyebrow. "Hold still, Anakin," she admonished, biting her lip slightly as she peered closer at one of the larger burns. "In the future, I suggest you avoid it. It doesn't seem to agree with you."

Anakin snorted and rolled his eyes. "I'll keep that in mind, thanks."

Padmé's eyes flicked up to his face for a moment, catching the insolent expression on his face. There's my Ani. She laughed silently to herself as she inspected the smaller pinkish scars for any signs of infection; she found no cause for concern. Sitting up, she blew out a slow breath of relief. "Actually, considering the gravity of your wounds, you're healing remarkably well. I only need to replace one or two of these, I think." She pressed the warm cloth to his wounds, cleansing each one and then applying some of the healing balm Luminara had instructed her to use.

Anakin sucked in his breath at a couple of the applications, one drawing a strong curse under his breath. "Padmé, you almost done there? You really should think about sticking with politics, 'cause your nursing skills might just put me back in a coma," he commented through gritted teeth.

Padmé's eyebrows shot up in mock-offense. "Oh, really? I'll have you know I've only lost one other patient. Of course, he was my only patient…" she trailed off sardonically.

"Nice," Anakin groaned, leaning back into the pillows. They both shared a brief laugh, a desperately needed laugh.

Sensing the slight shift in Anakin's mood, Padmé took his hand in hers. Tilting her head slightly, she asked softly, "Can you tell me what happened in there, in the 'fresher?"

Anakin stiffened, withdrawing his hand to wrap around himself defensively. His eyes darkened before turning away to focus on some indiscriminate point on the wall.

Not wanting to press, but so worried for him, Padmé returned to her ministrations, keeping her tone conversational and her eyes focused on her job. "Ani, what were the scissors for?"

His inability to work a simple pair of scissors and his subsequent tantrum flashed through his mind. Anakin shifted uncomfortably on the bed, shame and embarrassment washing over him. He inhaled sharply through his nose and continued to gaze at the wall, trying to sound indifferent. "Nothing. It was nothing. Really. I… I was looking for something."

"Did you find it?" she asked carefully, looking up, trying to catch his eyes.

Anakin shrugged. "I guess."

Padmé nodded slightly. "I see." She gave him a small smile, but it wasn't enough to hide the worry that flitted across her face. Lifting her hand, she placed it on Anakin's covered shoulder. "I'm…I'm going to check your arm now, ok? Does it hurt?" she asked, slowly removing the blanket.

Anakin couldn't bring himself to look at Padmé. It was one thing for her to check out a couple of burns, but this was…something else. He was afraid to see her reaction, afraid that she might find him completely repulsive now that he wasn't whole. That somehow she would find him to be less than he was, and he'd lose her, too, and she'd leave him, just like Obi-Wan had. Both of them, Obi-Wan and Padmé, were perfect, in body and soul. Anakin had always known he was flawed; now it was only more obvious.

"No," he answered, his voice slightly wavering as he shook his head. "Well, not like you think. Sometimes I think it hurts, but it doesn't, not really."

When Padmé's fingers first made contact, Anakin thought he might throw up. Swallowing thickly, his stomach lurched violently at the thought of someone looking at, much less touching, that disgusting stump that used to be his arm, the arm that helped forge his identity as a Jedi with every swing of his lightsabre. Anakin tried not to flinch as her soft hands gently probed and cleaned the tender new pink skin.

"Anakin, it looks good, no signs of infection," she affirmed, pleased. Pressing the last of the bandage coverings in place, she reached up and ruffled his short curls. "The bacta was good to you, wasn't it?"

"Not good enough," Anakin said gruffly, getting up and walking once again to the double doors where Padmé had found him. He sat down, leaning against the frame, closing his eyes as the breeze blew through his hair.

Uncertain as to what to say, Padmé settled in behind him, trying to ward off the chill by covering them both with the blanket she had grabbed off the bed. "Do you remember how we did this very same thing the night before your podrace on Tatooine? You were cold and I was worried about Naboo and my people. We kept each other warm and safe then, too. We weren't the Queen and The Chosen One. We were just kids. Padmé and Anakin."

Anakin nodded, still not looking at his friend, but relishing the warmth and comfort she provided. "That was a long time ago, but I remember," he said quietly. "Everything seemed so easy, so exciting then. I thought nothing could stop me. I'd win the race, save the Queen, and be a Jedi."

Padmé smiled, nodding silently. "And you did just that, Ani. So many people owe you their lives already; when you are a Jedi Knight you will become a hero to millions in the Republic."

"No I won't, Padmé," he said despondently. "I'm nobody's hero. Just an arrogant fuck-up who washed out of the Order. I'm nobody now." Anakin sat up abruptly, pushing himself away from his friend. He wrapped the blanket awkwardly over his shoulders and stood. As Padmé scrambled to her feet, he walked further out on to the terrace. Sighing, he slumped down on to one of the plush loungers.

Following him to the lounger, Padmé nudged Anakin gently. "Move over, would you? It isn't exactly warm out here," she chided, sliding on to the chair. He reluctantly scooted over, throwing her a look that was anything but welcoming.

Grabbing some of the blanket for herself, she took Anakin's left hand in hers. "Don't say that, Anakin," she said, trying to be soothing, but it was hard to keep the ire from her voice as she continued. "What happened to you wasn't your fault."

No, it was the great Obi-Wan Kenobi's fault!

The emotionless timbre of Anakin's voice startled her when he finally spoke.

"You're wrong, Padmé. You-you weren't there. You don't know what I did; it was all my fault."

Padmé didn't understand, Anakin knew. Shewas a close friend – like a sister to him! – but there were things in his life, things about him, that Padmé could never understand. She had no idea what it meant to be a Jedi, or what being a Jedi meant to him. He had begun to believe that only one person could really understand him.

Obi-Wan.

Maybe he never did. If he had, he would never have done that to me. He wouldn't have broken his promise. And he wouldn't have left me. Anakin hesitated, his feelings of shame, betrayal, and abandonment washing over him yet again.

Padmé squeezed his hand, encouraging him to continue. Anakin closed his eyes for a moment, seeing in his mind's eye each moment of that day on Geonosis.

"As a Padawan, it was my duty to obey and protect my Master. I disregarded all of my training, everything I've ever been taught and told to do, and ran in there thinking that I'd take on Dooku myself and save the day. Be the big hero."

Anakin suddenly pulled his hand out of Padmé's, gesturing into the air a moment before angrily pounding it down on the bed in frustration. "I wanted to show Obi-Wan that I could do it! I wanted him to be proud of me, Padmé. But all I showed him was how much of a failure I am, both as his Padawan, and as a Jedi. It all went so wrong!" His voice broke as he turned away from her, too embarrassed to let Padmé see his distress.

Padmé reached up and turned his face towards her, her small hand cupping his cheek. "I know, Ani," she said perceptively, a sad smile touching her lips. "I know how important his approval is to you, but not at the expense of your life! I was there, remember? I told Obi-Wan to get help, but he decided otherwise," she said, a harsh edge to her voice.

Anakin shook his head and looked away to the lake. "There wasn't time, Padmé. And I believed we could do it. That I could do it." He shrugged, giving her a mirthless laugh. "But look at me now. I won't be saving anyone anymore."

No, Anakin knew, his days of playing hero were over. How many times had he saved his Master's skin on some dangerous mission on a far-flung world? More times than he cared to count. In turn, Obi-Wan had always been there to save Anakin— usually from himself— when his recklessness or emotions got the better of him, which they usually did.

You failed your Master for the last time, and Obi-Wan will never be there to save you again.

It pained Padmé to hear her sweet Ani, once so full of life, confident and sure of his path, now so lost and dejected. "What do you mean, Ani? Your injuries— Master Unduli told me you're going to make a full recovery." She tentatively touched his arm. "I know it might take some time, and I know patience and Anakin Skywalker have no business being in the same sentence, but— " She cut herself off as Anakin sat up slowly and rose to stand in front of her, the blanket sliding off of him and into her lap.

With a pained voice and a devastated look in his eyes, he asked, "Does this look like it's recovering fully? I don't think I have that kind of time, Padmé, and all the bacta and patience in the galaxy isn't going to give me back my arm. Not ever."

"Oh, Ani," Padmé sighed, taking his hand back into hers and gently pulling him down to sit on the lounger. "You survived! Do you even realize what a gift that is?" she scolded gently, lacing her fingers in his tightly. "I saw you on Geonosis. I saw what Dooku did to you." Padmé swallowed nervously, pausing briefly while she tried to control the quivering in her voice. "The Healers weren't even sure you'd make it to Naboo at first. Do you know how worried and scared we were?" She gave Anakin a small smile and tilted her head, bringing her other hand up to brush his overgrown hair out of his eyes. "Even though the bacta was working, you wouldn't wake up, and no one had any answers."

Anakin's face was unreadable. Without looking at her, he voiced a question he'd had since he woke, one that Luminara had dodged, and one he'd been too afraid to ask of Obi-Wan. A question that he didn't want the answer to, but he had to ask. He had to know.

"Padmé, have I— have I been expelled from the Order already? Is that why I'm here on Naboo?" he asked tentatively, finally bringing his troubled eyes up to search his friend's. Anakin, and Obi-Wan, for that matter, were regular visitors to the Healers in the Temple, for injuries far less severe than those he seemed to have. They had often joked that a mission couldn't be considered completed until they had entered the Healer's Ward. Anakin couldn't imagine any other reason for not being brought the Temple.

Only Jedi go to a Healer; you told Luminara that yourself. You're no longer a Jedi, remember?

Padmé shook her head, her brown curls spilling haphazardly over her shoulders with her vehemence.. "No, Ani, no!" Clearing her throat, she gave Anakin a lopsided smirk. "You're here on Naboo because…well…because I wanted you here. I convinced Master Yoda that this would be the best place for you. A Senator does have some pull, after all."

Padmé chewed her lip and looked down at their hands, hers small and lost in Anakin's. "I brought you here to heal, Anakin. To heal and be away from all the pressure and all those that caused this in the first place," she explained, her voice low and edged with steel. She held up her hand, silencing him before he could voice his objection. "Anakin, I know you disagree, but what happened to you was not your fault! You are a Padawan, a student. You should never have been sent in against a Sith Lord!"

Getting up, Padmé moved about the terrace, agitated, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides. "It was irresponsible and reckless of Obi-Wan, and I wanted you as far away from him, and the Jedi, for that matter, as possible." She heaved a great sigh. "I had hoped to keep the Jedi out of your life for as long as possible, Ani. But you wouldn't wake up, and I was called back to the Senate. It was with great reluctance that I contacted the Temple to send a Healer to look into the cause of your prolonged coma."

Anakin blinked a few times as he struggled to comprehend Padmé's words. He hadn't been expelled, but why would the Jedi allow such interference? He watched Padmé pacing, her hand reaching up to absently twirl a few curls about her finger, a nervous habit that rivaled his penchant for toying with his braid.

"Padmé? I­-I don't understand. If I haven't been expelled, then why would you--" he trailed off for a moment, standing to grasp her shoulder and stop her pacing.­ "Why would you do that? It doesn't make any sense! The Jedi, Obi-Wan, wouldn't just let you­!"

Padmé tried to wriggle out from his hold, but he held her firm. She felt trapped, unable to avoid his deep blue eyes boring into hers for answers. "On Geonosis, I-I forbade Obi-Wan from seeing you, Ani," she suddenly blurted out, the words tumbling forth under his intense scrutiny.

"You did what?" he shouted incredulously, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief. He cocked his head, certain that he must have heard wrong.

Although she jumped slightly at his outburst, Padmé raised her chin a bit, undeterred by his anger. "On Geonosis, I forbade Obi-Wan from seeing you," she repeated slowly, deliberately, her conviction defying her smaller stature. "From being anywhere near you, actually."

Anakin's mouth gaped, anger and frustration becoming a toxic mix that coursed through his mind. "Padmé, how could you do that? How could you think that was something I wanted? He's my Master, Padmé! You don't just go issuing orders to a Jedi Master, even if you are a Senator!" he yelled, furious that his oldest friend had conspired to deny him contact with the man who had been the center of Anakin's world since he was nine years old. How could Padmé not have understood that he would need Obi-Wan with him?

Padmé bristled at the slight. "I didn't do it as a Senator, Ani; I did it as your friend, someone who loves you." She placed her hand over his, freeing his fingers from her shoulder. "I wanted to be the one to take care of you. You don't need Obi-Wan, and you don't need the Jedi. He may be your Master, but he's done nothing but hurt you, time and time again. I didn't want him around to hurt you any longer. I hate seeing how he treats you, and hearing how he makes you feel."

Anakin found himself at a loss for words. But I needed him, Padmé, he wanted to say, but darker, despondent thoughts crept into his mind. My Master didn't come with me. He didn't want to be with me. He just let her take me away. Nodding absently, he let go of Padmé, and turned to walk slowly back inside. He understood now.

No wonder it was such an easy decision for him to break my shields. It was only his obligation. His last obligation to a failure of a Padawan he didn't want anymore.

He felt the frayed ends of his training bond aching to reach out, to connect with Obi-Wan, to make himself feel secure and complete, but Anakin could not allow himself to lower his formidable shields. He didn't want to feel the rejection when he met with the nothingness of Obi-Wan's shields. Anakin knew it was only a matter of time before the bond was severed completely. By shutting himself off now, he told himself, he would be better prepared for a life that would be lived without that constant comforting presence. It had only been about a day, and he already missed his Master profoundly. Anakin didn't know a life without Obi-Wan in it.

And I never imagined I would have to.

Padmé had followed him inside and was still speaking, he realized numbly, trying to focus on her words. "I wanted you to be able to recover in peace. Obi-Wan once again proved how little he respects you or thinks of your well-being by coming here against my wishes." She crossed her arms over her chest and rolled her eyes, derisive. "He insisted that he could help you wake up, that only he could help you, and according to Luminara, he did." She raised an eyebrow. "But I don't understand. What did he do? How did he do it?"

Anakin sat on the edge of his bed, shoulders slumped, staring a hole into the door that separated his room from Obi-Wan's.

Padmé followed his line of sight. She frowned with confusion as her eyes narrowed. "Ani?" she asked carefully.

Anakin rubbed his hand over his eyes and lay back on the pillow, staring at the ceiling. He forced out a breath. "Yes, he did help me. They say I was lost, lost in the Force, and that he found me and brought me back. Just what a Master would do for an errant Padawan." He laughed bitterly as his mind recalled how much Obi-Wan's help had cost them. Had cost Anakin.

How could he possibly explain it to her? How could he explain that the Force had sent him to be with his mother and Qui-Gon and that Obi-Wan had made Anakin lose them all over again?

Padmé reached out a hand to Anakin's shoulder, concern and confusion in her voice. "Ani, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. We can just…talk…or not, if you'd rather."

"Maybe... later. I don't know. I'm just, I'm just so…" Alone. Lost. Confused.

"Tired, Anakin. You're tired. You need to sleep." She started to turn, her hand trailing down his arm. "I'm going to go."

Anakin grabbed her hand to keep her from leaving. "I can't sleep, Padmé. I— I keep having dreams about it, you know? I don't want to, but they keep coming, and I don't know how to make them stop," he said in a small voice Padmé sadly recognized. It was the same voice as the lost and scared little boy she'd found shivering alone on her cruiser ten years ago.

With a small, caring smile she let go of his hand and walked around to the other side of the bed, clicking off the lamp so that the room was illuminated only by Naboo's moons, glowing full and bright over the lake at the late hour. She pulled back the ample covers and climbed into the bed.

"Come here. I won't let the nightmares come if I can help it," she offered, her arms open. Anakin felt the tears welling up in him, remembering all the times Obi-Wan had said much the same thing as he sat at Anakin's bedside. When he was younger, Anakin's nightmares had often woken Obi-Wan. It wasn't so much that the young Padawan had cried out— he didn't want his Master to think he was nothing more than a youngling— but rather it was the raw fear that pulsed over their training bond as Anakin's mind reached out unconsciously for Obi-Wan's soothing mental embrace. His Master had always come, never asking any questions, never making Anakin talk about it if he didn't want to, and had never left Anakin alone to fall asleep. He had stayed. He had always stayed.

But Obi-Wan is gone now. He won't be here the next time a dream comes.

Exhausted, he accepted Padmé's offer silently by sliding over into her admittedly small arms. He supposed it was a rather comical sight, much like a youngling holding on to a giant stuffed bantha, but he didn't care. Anakin lay on the soft pillow created by the dark curls of Padmé's hair, breathing in the light lavender scent she always wore.

"Sleep, Ani," Padmé whispered, running a hand lightly over his forehead. He closed his eyes, his body relaxing deeply as she held him close.

"No, I don't want to…" he murmured, finally letting sleep take him into its peaceful embrace.

Padmé lay awake for a while, absently brushing her fingers through Anakin's hair while she listened to his deep rhythmic breathing. Her hand stole down his right arm to reach for the edge of the blanket, when her fingers suddenly lost contact with his smooth skin. Confused, she looked over his shoulder.

Oh.

A tear escaped from the corner of her eye; she was surprised she hadn't already cried an ocean.

The boy she cradled in her arms was no longer a boy. What innocence he'd still had at 19 had been burned out of him by expectations, trials, and circumstances that had fallen on him too hard, too close together.

Over the years of their friendship, she had seen Anakin lose that sweet innocence he'd had when they had first met. Piece by piece he lost it; when he left his mother in slavery, when Master Jinn was killed, and every year of his apprenticeship with Obi-Wan Kenobi. It was in the way he smiled, the way he talked, or rather, the increasing lack of both. Gone were the days of talking about wizard starfighters and awesome lightsabre techniques. She'd never had an appreciation for either, but oh, to hear Anakin laugh and go on about his latest starfighter was something she wished she could hear now. Not the broken despair. Not the self-blame.

She didn't think he had anything left to lose after Tatooine, after finding his mother only to have her die in his arms. She had cried that day, too, not only for Shmi, but for Anakin, who shouldered the responsibility of the blame all himself.

But laying here, holding an emotionally and physically battered boy— no, young man— she saw clearly that she had been mistaken.

The death of his mother had only been the beginning of Anakin's trials.

Padmé remembered the look of pride in Anakin's eyes when Obi-Wan had insisted they didn't need any help, that there wasn't time. "Anakin and I can handle this!" he'd so boldly stated. But Padmé had known, had known in her heart of hearts, that they wouldn't be enough. For all intents and purposes, the Jedi had invaded Geonosis; there was no reason Obi-Wan couldn't have called for reinforcements to capture Dooku. But no. Obi-Wan had been adamant, and Anakin so eager to make his Master proud.

Recalling those events made Padmé nearly shake with a familiar, frustrated anger. She and Obi-Wan had always been amiable towards each other over the years, but there was also this unspoken animosity that hovered just under the surface when it came to Anakin. She assumed he found her to be an irritating distraction in Anakin's training; it didn't help that he had, in her opinion, a nearly pathological dislike for politicians.

To Padmé, Obi-Wan was an irritatingly conservative and arrogant man who relished in the power and control he had over his Padawan. Admittedly, most of what she knew about the Jedi Master she'd heard from Anakin— that Obi-Wan was overly critical, judgmental, and completely lacking in any kind of the spontaneity or emotion that defined Anakin. Anakin wanted to be a Jedi, a Jedi just like Obi-Wan, more than anything. Padmé had tried to understand, but in the end she never did. How could he want to be something that was smothering everything that made him Anakin Skywalker? Anakin wasn't meant to be controlled; he was too much of a free spirit, born to fly far and fast.

Which was precisely why Obi-Wan should have known better, and why Padmé held him responsible for what had happened on Geonosis. He should have known how much Anakin was looking for affirmation, how much he had been trying to win a kind word, a pat on the back, even a smile. He should have known that Anakin would do anything to receive that kind of acknowledgement, no matter the price.

Ani, the price was too high, she thought sadly, drawing him closer as she, too, drifted off under the pale moonlight.

---

The sun was hot on his face, the light bright in his eyes. A familiar cool and soothing breeze blew over the water, caressing his skin as he brought his hands up to shield his eyes.

He was back at the lake.

"Ani, time for lunch!" Turning, he saw his mother waving him over to blanket set up by the edge of the lake.

"Eat, Ani. You'll need your strength," she urged him, a kind smile on her face.

"Why?" he questioned. "What's happening?" He felt as though he should already know the answer.

"Anakin, there's so much for you still to do, so many who still need you." Leaning over, she pulled him into a hug. "He will always need you, Ani. As you will need him. Do not doubt that," she whispered in his ear.

He pulled back sharply. "Mom? Who? Who needs me?" His question mocked him, echoing "Who? Who? Who?" but never providing an answer.

His mother only gave him a cryptic smile. "Mom, who needs me?" he asked desperately. She opened her mouth as if to answer.

Suddenly, the brightness that had blinded him morphed into a darkness that surrounded them both. Loud, animalistic shouts permeated the air as dozens of rag-wrapped arms seized his mother, pulling her slowly away from him.

"Mom! Mom! Don't go! I can save you, I can! I can save you!" he yelled, trying desperately to reach for her, to brandish his lightsabre and cut away the arms that bound his mother. He reached down for his weapon, only to find a smoking, charred stump, his forearm lying at his feet, blade still ignited and clasped in his hand.

Clutching at his right bicep, he cried "No! No! I have to save my mother! I have to! She needs me! I can't fail her again!"

"Ani…" his mother called to him, her face beaten and bruised, her lips swollen and bloody.

The fear tasted warm and metallic, like blood, in his mouth as he looked from his mother to his severed arm at his feet. "I don't know what to do!" he cried out. "Help me! I can't do this!"

"Ani, you must let me go…"

"No Mom, I won't leave you. I have to save you…"

The darkness began to claim his mother, the arms that held her pulled tighter, dragging her out of his reach.

Anakin felt himself stumble, then fall. He felt the void swallow him, pulling him down and out of sight of his mother.

He heard her scream.

Or was it him?

"Mom! Mom! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" he cried over and over…

---

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

Padmé jerked awake, instantly aware. Anakin still lay in her arms, but his body shook in spasms as his left arm clung to her tightly.

"Ani, Ani, it's ok, it's ok," she said soothingly, patting his arm, trying to coax him to consciousness.

He suddenly bolted upright in the bed, his hair wet and matted against his forehead, his breaths coming in frantic pants.

Padmé sat up behind him, her hand on his shoulder. "Ani, are you ok?" she inquired with a worry in her voice.

Anakin closed his eyes tightly, his body still shaking from the effects of the dream.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she offered.

"No," he said dully, blinking hard and taking a deep breath. "It was just a dream, Padmé." A nightmare. A horrible nightmare. "It doesn't mean anything at all."

She sighed loudly. "Ani, don't do that. Don't try to be brave for me— I've known you for too long. You don't have to shut it all up in you like those emotionless, unfeeling Jedi you aspire to be. Please, please let me help you. Talk to me," she implored, her face creased with worry.

He looked up then, but focused on a point somewhere out the door. The sun was beginning to rise on Naboo. A new day.

A new nightmare.

"I-I dreamt about my mother," Anakin shared softly. "I saw her, just like she was when I was in the Force with her."

Padmé gave him a confused look. "In the Force? Do you mean your coma?"

Anakin indicated otherwise. "Master Luminara told me that I wasn't really in a coma. I guess, I guess the Force took me for a while. Padmé, I— I didn't want to come back," he admitted shamefully.

"Ani, why not? Because of your mother?"

He nodded. "She was there, Padmé, she was there with me! I could talk to her and hug her and feel her. Qui-Gon was there, too." He smiled sadly, sounding forlorn. "I've missed them so much. I didn't want to lose them again."

"So in your dream, you saw her again? Can you tell me what happened? Did she speak to you?" Padmé's eyes shone with empathy.

"I was with her, we were eating lunch, and she told me, Padmé, she told me I had to come back, that I had so much to do, that someone needed me. But before she could tell me anything, the Tuskens came and pulled her away into darkness. I tried to reach her, but I couldn't, I wasn't fast enough. I looked down and there was my arm, my sabre arm, Padmé, just lying by my feet. And I couldn't move. I couldn't do anything to save her!" He doubled over, rocking slightly as he hugged his remaining arm close. "It was just like Tatooine all over again. I was too late. I couldn't save her! I couldn't save her!" he sobbed, the pain of losing his mother washing over him fresh, re-opening the still-tender wounds in his heart.

"Oh, Ani, I'm so sorry," she whispered sadly. Padmé stroked the back of his head, her fingers moving tenderly over his scalp to comfort him, when she felt his Padawan braid catch on her fingers. Reaching over, she slowly ran it through her fingers.

Anakin sat up, swiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. "Don't." The word was quiet and yet full of icy emotion. He felt Padmé's hand freeze, her eyes looking to his for answers he wasn't sure he was ready to give.

"Ani?" she asked tentatively, letting go of the long plait.

He reached up and yanked angrily on his braid. "You asked me before about the scissors? What I was doing with them? I was trying to cut this damn thing off!"

Padmé's eyes opened wide in alarm. "But Ani, no! Why? I know how proud you are of your braid. I remember how you showed it off, you were so thrilled to be a Padawan. I know what that braid means to you; it is as much a part of you being a Jedi as your lightsabre is."

He snorted angrily, his brows furrowing together. "Which I can't use anymore. Don't you see, Padmé? I was supposed to fulfill the prophecy, be The Chosen One, but Qui-Gon was wrong. Forget destroying the Sith and bringing balance to the Force— I couldn't even save my own mother!"

Padmé gently captured his face in her hands, trying to calm him. "Ani, what happened to your mother was a terrible tragedy, but you did everything you could to save her. You found her when no one else could. I don't care about any ancient prophecy or what the Jedi Council believes you are or aren't. You are Anakin Skywalker, and no matter how much you believe it otherwise, you will always be important." She took his hand and held it over her heart. "To me."

Anakin dipped his chin to his chest and started to cry inconsolably, his shoulders heaving as the tears coursed down his face. Instead of finding solace in her words, Anakin could only think of all that he had lost. His mother, his life-long dreams, and Obi-Wan. His Master, his best friend, and the only one who could ever know how it felt to be a Jedi; what it meant to be a Jedi. Padmé was mistaken. He wasn't important. Not in the way that mattered most to him, not to the person that mattered the most to him.

Anakin's words flowed out in a torrent of anguished sobs. "Padmé, you don't understand!" he cried, choking on his tears. "I'll never be a Jedi, not the one I was supposed to be, not like this!" he shrieked, gesturing to his arm, sickened again by what he saw, what he lacked. "Not after what I did, after what happened!"

"Ani, that's not true! Luminara told me that you have options, that you can— "

Gulping for air, Anakin's outburst suddenly quieted. His teary blue eyes flashed at her with a combination of deep pain and stubborn pride, reminding her so much of that little boy in Watto's shop, the one who angrily told her he was more than a slave, he was a person, a person with a name. "I will not be some pitied Padawan the Council keeps around as some kind of charity case. I will leave the Jedi before that happens," he said defiantly, roughly swiping at the tears on his cheeks.

Padmé looked dismayed. "Ani, surely you don't mean that? You've wanted to be a Jedi your whole life, as long as I've known you. I know how much you love— "

Anakin gave a quick shake to his head, briefly closing his eyes. "Padmé, there's no life for me there, not like this," he told her in quiet resignation. "I understand that now. I couldn't even manage to use a stupid scissors, a youngling's tool, with my remaining hand. How in the Force am I supposed to fight and protect the Republic? Or protect my Master?" he trailed off bitterly, his face scowling. "I failed miserably doing that with two hands. He would be a fool to trust me ever again."

"Obi-Wan trusts you with his life, Anakin! I know how much you'd miss him, and he would miss— "

"No, no he wouldn't. He's…Obi-Wan's already left me behind," he said with a depth of sadness Padmé had never heard before, as though Anakin had truly lost a part of himself. "I don't know what to do. I'm so alone," he whispered, his shoulders shaking with quiet sobs.

She brought her hands up to cup his cheeks, looking into his infinitely sad and tired eyes. "Listen to me. You are not alone. If this is what you want, if you want to leave the Jedi, then do it. Come stay here with me on Naboo," she entreated, her eyes sparkling as the idea took hold in her mind. "You could act as my security consultant, be a starfighter instructor, or anything else you want to do. I can help you find your purpose, Anakin, a life beyond the Jedi, if that's what you truly want. But most of all, I want you to be happy. Ani, you'll always have a place here with me."

Anakin sniffled, wiping his nose on his sleeve, trying to smile in gratitude at Padmé's generous offer. Instead, the last of his defenses dissolved, and he was completely overcome by emotions he could no longer control. His face crumpling, Anakin let out a quiet wail as he flung himself into Padmé's arms, burying his face in her neck.