The close, crowded life of the rebels still hadn't grown on Padmé during her first weeks underground. Her back was stiff, and she grew tired of restless nights spent sleeping on garmets on the medical room floor. As soon as she'd begin to nod off, one of the twins would cry.

Obi-wan left in the nights, returning in the afternoon the next day. So far, he'd had no luck locating Darth Vader. There'd been no sightings of him since he left the planet Padmé had trapped him on. She could tell it was stressing Obi-wan out, considering he spent his little time at the rebel base pacing back and forth, drilling Padmé on whether or not Darth Vader had given hints to where he would strike next.

It felt wrong assisting in the murder of her husband. But she knew the pair had drifted too far apart to mend. Anakin had betrayed her trust and lost all of her support, whereas she'd ran and taken their children with her. Both of them hurt each other beyond repair.

Yet her heart ached. Every time she drew a breath, it felt like acid filled her lungs instead of oxygen. It ate away at her, causing a seering pain inside of her that never seemed to heal. She was always sore, haunted by the memory of her better life.

Every morning when she woke up, she wanted to stay there. Lie still until the world faded and she woke up from the nightmare she was living. No matter how much she hoped, it never went away. No matter how much she prayed, Anakin never woke up next to her. She knew nothing would ever be the same.

She was never alone at the base, meaning she never expressed her feelings. Instead they sat in a ball, buried deep within her body, waiting for the perfect chance to resurface and explode. It took every part of her to not cry, thankfully she never did.

The purple bags had permanently been tattooed to the bottoms of her eyes. Padmé's eyelids were heavy, threatening to let sleep overtake her. But she didn't let it. Instead, she fed Luke and laid her head against the wall behind her. The floor was cold where she sat.

It was early morning, the rebel base hadn't began to wake yet. Padmé was thankful for it, she hated when everyone was up. She didn't want to hear anymore about the assassination of her husband. She wanted everything to dissapear.

"Padmé?"

She froze rigid, taking in a sharp breath. Slowly, she raised her tense neck. She let out a sigh of relief when she saw Obi-wan.

Letting Luke unlatch, she put her shirt back on and burped the baby. Then, she put him down in the plastic box the Rebels had provided for her as a crib.

"Hello," she replied, "How are you?"

"I'm alright," he told her. There was a heavy pause. The air grew thick as she sensed his hesitation.

"What is it?" She whispered.

Obi-wan sighed deeply, then quietly informed her, "I have located Anakin."

Her breath hitched as she realized what the man was implying. Her mind was spinning, piecing together what would happen next.

"You're calling him Anakin again?" She asked cautiously. Obi-wan hadn't called Anakin by his first name since their argument on Mustafar. He'd told Padmé she was to only call him Darth Vader in the prescence of any of the rebels, including himself.

"I..." his voice was soft, doubtful. "I am."

"Why?" Her words rang dense in the air.

"I'm not sure," He began.

"You're lying," She replied.

"What makes you say that?"

"Because you are Obi-wan Kenobi. You have reason for all of your decisions. I know you."

"That's correct," He chuckled sadly. "I..."

"What is it?"

"I know he's still in there."

"What do you mean?" Her voice began to rise. "How can you say that monster is Anakin?"

"Padmé, quiet."

"Don't tell me to be quiet," She hissed. "You may have been able to command Anakin, but you won't control me. I'm not below you. I'm not a padawan."

Someone shifted from the far end of the room. She began to blush, realizing he wasn't trying to control her.

"I'm sorry," Obi-wan replied. "I didn't mean it like that."

"I'm sorry, too," Padmé whispered, "I've been a little on edge lately."

"That's alright."

"Can you answer my question?" She asked.

"You told me how he was once you left Mustafar. How he tried to kill Palpatine. How he was gentle to you and helped you give birth."

Memories of the twins birth from weeks before flashed in front of her. She thought of Anakin's soft embrace, how he held Luke and Leia with complete awe. It almost felt like before. She felt like she could love him again. She wanted to love him again.

And then he ruined it. Called the rebels their enemies.

Pain pierced her heart. She wondered if she was shielding herself from the pain. It was easier to think of Anakin as Darth Vader, that every bit of her boy had been stolen from her than to think that he was there. She felt like someone had wrapped a rope around her neck as she tried to imagine the man she'd fallen in love with doing what he did now. How could the boy that held her in the dark as she cried night after night at the thought of him leaving again, the boy that cooked her meals and fed her in the candle light because they couldn't be seen on a date, the boy that danced with her in the livingroom because they couldn't do so at the political parties they'd attended seperately be the man that wore that mask. How could he, that loving boy, be the unmerciful killer that took the spirits of young children and his allies. She refused to believe it.

Yet she saw that smile, felt that kiss, slept next to his warm body just weeks before. He still spoke the same, wept the same... For the love of God, he still flew ships with the same adventurous spirit as before.

Guilt ate at her heart. Was this her fault? She thought of the nights he had sobbed for his mother. The times he'd screamed into his pillow in frustration, haunted by the nightmares that he'd wished he'd listened to earlier. She thought of how terrified he'd been once she started appearing in them. How she'd tried to cheer him up for hours on end.

Was it her fault he'd resorted to such drastic measures? If she had just begged him to stay with her a little longer, would he have gained his well being again? Not killed the younglings or one of his fellow Jedi? Would he have found comfort in her arms, not on his knees in front of Palpatine? If she had just decided to put her family's health before her career, could they have been away on Naboo already? She ached for the life Anakin and herself were supposed to have. The life where they sat on the porch and watched their children play.

That's when she really realized the void that had opened in her soul. She broke into a sob, realizing everything she had lost. Anakin was her everything. Back on Coruscant, she lived each day waiting to be with him again. She breathed for him. Her entire life was Anakin Skywalker. He was the only man she'd ever loved. The only man she wanted to love.

She didn't understand why he couldn't have just come to her. Why didn't he trust her enough to confide in her? Tell her the pain that ate him alive? She wanted to scream, she never would have judged him. She never would have walked away. She would have held him in their livingroom, brought him back to her.

"This can't be him," she sobbed loudly, "This isn't him."

"He's lost..." Obi-wan told her, rubbing her back. "But he might not be so far gone. He loves you, Padmé. If I know anything at all, it's that. And maybe you're enough to bring him back."

She was silent. The void was consuming her, swallowing her. She missed him. She was so empty without him. She didn't want this. She wanted him. All she could think about was the fact that she didn't want to live without Anakin. But he was gone, she knew he was gone. No one could come back from what he'd done.

Padmé trembled, the thought of her death looming over her. What killed her the most was that there were plenty of ways she could die. But she had already been killed in the worst way. Only love could kill her, but keep her alive to feel it.

"There's no going back now," she replied, "And even if there was, he'd never live past the rebels. They'd kill him theirselves."

"I wouldn't let that happen."

"What do you want, Obi-wan?" She begged, "Why would you tell me this? Isn't you bracing me for his death enough torture already?"

"I don't want to kill Anakin."

"I know that! I don't want you too, either! But this is what needs to happen, please save me the pain and stop talking," her sobs could be heard by the entire base by now.

"Padmé... listen."

Her stare could have cut his skin open. He drew his shoulders back, keeping eye contact with Padmé. "I want to save him, but I need your help."

-------------