Anakin stood by the viewport and stared out at the collection of Republic warships that floated above the dusty red ball that was Geonosis. He wasn't sure why the fleet was still hanging around -- they had mopped up the remnants of the Separatists' battleships several days ago. That is, he thought bitterly, we finished off the ones that didn't manage to escape.
Too many had managed to escape. Including Count Dooku. Anakin flexed the fingers of his new mechanical hand and winced as a phantom pain shot through the area that had once been his right arm. Dooku had cost him many things -- his arm, his pride, and very nearly his Master.
And Padmé... Anakin shook his head, trying to clear away the image of his love tumbling across Geonosis' powdery sands after she fell from the clone gunship. He'd been so close to leaping out after her. Only Obi-Wan's admonishments and his own desire to make Padmé proud of him had kept him on the ship. Anakin had been determined to do his duty, just as Padmé would have.
Yet he had failed. Just as he'd failed his mother. Suddenly furious, Anakin slammed his mechanical hand against the transparisteel viewport. Again and again, but the hateful thing didn't even give him the satisfaction of hurting as he abused it.
"Please, sir," came a metallic voice, "you will damage the device." Anakin turned to see the medical droid standing behind him. "The servos are very delicate," the Emdee went on, "and will take some time to repair if you break them."
Anakin nodded and let his arm fall back to his side. Seemingly satisfied, the Emdee went back to its tasks at the medcomp. Anakin's gaze dropped to the droid's thin silvery arm, and he shivered at the similarity to his own. Was he still fully human? He flexed his new hand again. Or was he becoming a machine?
No, I can't be. Machines do not know shame. Or anger. Or hatred. They feel nothing...
Perhaps it would be easier to be a machine.
The door to the medical suite swished open, and Anakin felt a surge of light and warmth through the Force. Padmé. In spite of his bleak mood, he smiled. He turned to greet her, drawing his new arm up into the sleeve of his robe as he did so.
Machines do not know love.
"Anakin!" Padmé said. She hurried across the room and wrapped him in hug, burying her face in his chest. "I was so worried."
Anakin enfolded her in his arms, relishing the feel of her body pressed close against his. He rested his cheek on the top of her head and closed his eyes. Opening his senses, he took in everything about her. The soft, steady rhythm of her breathing; her scent, a mixture of soap, flowers, and something uniquely Padmé; the warmth of her back beneath his hand, and the comforting glow of her presence in the Force. Had it really only been a few days since he had last seen her? It seemed an eternity.
Anakin pulled her even closer, running his human hand down her back. Padmé jerked and winced, reminding Anakin that he wasn't the only one who had suffered. The wounds inflicted by the nexu would be slow to heal, even with the time she had spent in a bacta tank. "I'm sorry, Padmé," he murmured into her hair. "I never should have brought you here."
Padmé pulled back and put her finger over his lips. "It was my idea, remember? And you could no more have left Obi-Wan to be killed than you could me," she said. "You can't be everywhere, Anakin. You can't save everyone, no matter how much you want to."
You're not all-powerful, Anakin. Anakin pushed away the memory of that terrible time on Tatooine. It would never happen again. He would never again let someone he loved be hurt.
Looking down at her, Anakin swallowed hard. Her dress hugged the curves of her body, and dipped just low enough to tantalize him. He ran his hand up her side, acutely aware of her body heat through the thin material. Padmé slid her hands up his chest and around his neck, making his heart skip a beat. He bent his head and brushed his lips across hers.
He pulled back and they stared at each other a moment. Then Padmé brought her hand up to cup his cheek. "I love you, Anakin," she said softly.
Anakin's heart swelled in his chest. As nervously as he had the very first time, he pulled her against him and kissed her. Not a passionate kiss, but tender, softly stroking her lips with his. Her body trembled and she wrapped his Padawan braid around her fingers. Anakin felt a surge of pleasure in his middle and a sudden weakness in his knees.
They broke the kiss and Anakin rested his forehead against hers, trying to control his breathing. Barely aware of what he was doing, he brought his right hand up to caress her cheek. Padmé flinched as the cool metal touched her skin. Her eyes widened at the sight of his cybernetic limb, and Anakin could sense her shock.
"Oh, Ani..." she murmured, and for once, Anakin felt no anger at her use of the childish nickname. He felt only shame as he stepped back from her and turned away, trying to draw his new arm up into the sleeve of his robe.
Padmé clutched his good hand. "I'm sorry, Ani," she said. "I didn't know. Master Yoda didn't tell me." She tugged at his hand, trying to pull him back. "Please...look at me."
"How can you love only part of a man?" Anakin asked softly.
"What makes a man is inside, Anakin," Padmé said, stepping toward him and placing her hand on his chest. "Here." She shook her head. "Not what's out here." She took his mechanical hand and cradled it between her breasts. "This isn't what matters."
Padmé stretched up to kiss him. Anakin pulled her against his chest and deepened the kiss. He couldn't get close enough to her, taste enough of her, breathe enough of her. He buried his face in her neck and squeezed her as hard as he could, letting up only when he heard her gasp for air.
"Padmé, my Padmé," he mumbled against her neck. Padmé's fingers ruffled his hair, and Anakin felt as though he could stay that way forever.
Forever...
"Marry me, Padmé," he blurted out.
"W-what...?" Padmé stammered. Her brown eyes were round with surprise. "D-did you just ask me to marry you?"
Anakin pulled away and stared at her, a bit taken aback at his own words. "Yes," he said after a moment, "I guess I did." He knelt in front of her, holding her elbows by her sides. "Let's get married."
"Anakin, I --"
He cut her off with a shake of his head. "Padmé, please, " he said. "I've loved you from the first minute I saw you. You say you love me. What else is left?" He slid his hands down her arms and gripped her hands. "Will you marry me?"
Padmé dropped her gaze to their clasped hands, then met his eyes. She gave him a small smile and nodded. Anakin rose and pulled her into his arms.
"This is right, Padmé. This is right," he repeated over and over as he kissed her. But he wasn't sure if he was trying to convince her or himself. Pulling back, Anakin studied her face, taking in everything, trying to memorize each feature. "I love you."
Padmé wrapped her arms around him and lay her head on his chest. "How will we do this, Anakin? The Order --"
"Forget the Order!" Anakin said, his voice low and harsh. "I'm not letting them stand between me and the ones I love any longer!"
Padmé recoiled, and Anakin looked down at her. Her brown eyes reflected surprise and concern, and just a touch of fear. He softened. "We'll make it work, Padmé." He held her shoulders and looked into her eyes. "It has to work."
But even as he spoke, he felt a chill, a sense of foreboding. He pushed it out of his mind and bent to kiss Padmé again, sliding his mechanical hand up to caress her neck. He felt her shiver at its touch, and the chill returned.
No, he thought as he deepened the kiss. This is right.
This is right...
