SW: Persuasion

Senator Amidala walked through the sparsely occupied hallways of the Senate Building, head held high and features impassive.  To her great relief, no one approached her with afterthought comments or lingering concerns they had regarding the Council meeting that had recently been adjourned.  She was virtually absolute in her belief that any reminder of what she would immediately name one of the most infuriating debates she had ever participated in would set her on edge.  All Padmé desired was to forget about the frustrating ordeal entirely.

It had begun like any other Senate session, and had finished like most of them as well.  In fact, it had been remarkably similar to at least two other she could name off the top of her head in addition to that.  Perhaps it was just in her mind.  But more likely it was the repetition that bothered her.  The fact that their system had fallen into a continuous loop that she could tolerate no longer.

No, it wasn't that.  Wasn't boredom.  The way she had sat through the long discourses and suggestions, all of which she knew would ultimately be declined, came with practised patience, something she definitely was not lacking.  Maybe it was the fact that she was getting too liberal, too tolerant.  Maybe it was the way she'd actually been hesitant about contributing her suggestion.  The look Supreme Chancellor Palpatine had given her once she had finally mustered enough temerity to speak out, as if her words were the most preposterous concept in the universe.  The fact that, despite everything, her proposal was the most acclaimed by the end of the Council.

Padmé let out a breath she had not been aware was in her lungs.  Almost immediately, some of her anger and tension evaporated.  Her eyes had fallen to the floor, so she quickly picked them back up to view the familiar to view the familiar corridors encircling the Grand Convocation Chamber.  She became acutely aware of several pairs (or, in some cases, assorted sets) of eyes beholding her with concerned and curious expressions.  Not meeting a single one, the Senator collected herself, smiled faintly and proceeded.

Sleep, she resolved through the anger-fuelled haze in her mind, was all she needed.  It was only then she felt the onslaught of exhaustion, draining the heat of the moment from her even more thoroughly.  Concentrated on the exquisite decorations of convoluted metal designs on the wall lamps in front of her, Padmé did not hear the lithe footsteps approaching her from behind.  Then again, the owner didn't intend her to.

"Evening, Senator," Anakin Skywalker greeted light-heartedly.  Padmé, however, was not in the mood for an easy conversation, and the fact that she jumped practically four feet in the air at his sudden announcement certainly had not pleased her.  She was too engaged in her current situation and the cloud covering her mind to think about how long it had been since she'd seen her husband.

She had to visibly control her voice enough to not simply hiss "Ani!" angrily.  "Oh, my apologies, Jedi Skywalker, I did not hear you coming."

"Well that's good," he told her.  "You weren't supposed to."

Padmé huffed angrily and picked up her head once more, aware that she had unknowingly hung it bashfully.  Or maybe tiredly.  She began to move purposefully toward her office, futilely hopeful that Anakin would not follow.

"All right, I'm sorry," he surrendered gently, falling into step beside her once more.  She appreciated his efforts in making the apology sound genuine, but could still hear a ring of laughter in his voice.  

If he hadn't said the next words, she might have forgiven him.  But he did, so she did not.

"It's hard to resist, though," he whispered into her ear, the distance between their heads just a little too intimate for such a public place.  She did notice, however, that he was keeping his sharp blue eyes peeled for eavesdroppers.  "You're very fun to tease."

Padmé scoffed and snapped the next words at Anakin, unable to do much but hope her voice wasn't too bitter.  It was certainly louder than she had anticipated.  "Well, I'm glad my humiliation amuses you."

Frozen to the ground, she watched her brash exclamation seep in, watch the shock and hurt register briefly in his eyes.  Inwardly, she winced.  But as the twin depths of cerulean began to alter their expression to inquisition and concern, she knew it was time to move.  She took off as quickly as she dared, prayed she could reach her office before he came to his senses and follow her.  Against her better wishes, he did fall into pursuit, but thankfully intuited her discomfort and remained a respectable distance behind.

She made the mistake of attempting to seal the door behind her upon attaining her office, as he had quickened his pace by this point and swiftly forced his foot into the opening, keeping the portal ajar.  The only thing she achieved in trying to keep him out was angering both of them more and making him all the more intent on entering.  She wasn't sure if she meant getting into the room or getting into her head.  "Locking it won't keep me out, Senator."

Padmé leaned her back against the door heavily, wondering what might happen if she simply refused his company for once and forced him to leave.  Sensing no good could come from that, she acknowledged that his last statement was right and stepped aside to let him enter.  He marched straight past her, settling in the middle of the room as she sealed the portal behind him.

Resting her palm against the cool, sun-warmed metal of the door, she hesitated before turning to face him.  Her tired eyes glanced over every crease and pattern on the back of her hand, so intent that she might be searching for answers there.  How could she possibly turn to talk to him?  She ran through possible scenarios in her head, speculating what she might find when she turned.

More than likely, he was mad at her.  And rightfully so, she realized with a sigh.  Her reaction to his teasing had been completely unwarranted.  Anakin had always enjoyed sarcasm and jokes, and most often she did too.  In a time of war, people would extract humour from any source they could, and her husband was often a go-to in a time of despondency.  And yet here, feeling more forlorn and melancholy than she could ever remember, she found the last thing she wanted was a joke.
Then what did she want?

Well, not anger.  And not ridicule.  She skimmed her mind for any other possible reaction he might be drawing over her words earlier, her eagerness to get away, her increased irritation at his obstinate nature and insistence to go precisely where she was going.  He might be sad, hurt by her.  But knowing she could not handle a look of such despondency without being brought to her knees with tears, she pushed that possibility to the recesses of her mind, praying it would remain there.  Then, there was the chance he would be sympathetic, comforting.  That prospect was looking friendlier by the second.  She could just let him wash her insecurities and annoyances from her system, let him hold her and let him kiss her and let him whisper in her ear that everything would be all right.  Let herself believe it.  It took her a moment to remember why they were here—because he refused to let go or leave her be or be anything other than typical Anakin Skywalker, and she was infuriated by that.

She didn't want his sympathy.  Or his anger or laughter or sadness directed at her, but compassion would be the worst by far.  Satisfied that she would not be cowering under any strong look he fixed her with but instead levelling it with a determined and frustrated glare that conveyed all the thoughts she felt—or at least, all the ones she would let surface—she finally turned to come face to face with her husband.

And would have been lying to herself if she said her resolve didn't crumble right then and there.

Anakin stood casually, leaning most of his weight against her desk, searching her eyes with every sentiment she had considered in the last moment.  A trace of fury, but a pinch of sadness and a soupcon of amusement.  His eyes demonstrated compassion and feeling, but the most prominent expression was the one she had not considered—expectation.  He was waiting for her to explain herself, naturally.  To reinforce that, he murmured, "Well?" under his breath.  The deficiency of emotion in his voice halted her, but only for a moment.

Padmé struggled for words, took a quick, deep breath to prepare herself.  Her chest deflated just as fast.  "I . . . I'm sorry.  There's no excuse for my behaviour."

"Yes there is," he insisted, gradually making his way toward her without breaking eye contact.  "You don't blow up like that."  He stifled a chuckle under his breath and added, "I do."

She breathed a deep sigh, trying to channel and organize her emotions.  He was right; she didn't detonate her fury out of the blue.  Curse him, he knew her too well.  That knowing look in his eyes, now staring at her from no more than a foot away, including the compensation for height difference, almost undid her, but she held strong.

"Fine," Padmé acquiesced finally, letting him know that something was indeed upsetting her.  "I just don't want to talk about it."

Anakin scrutinized her for a long moment, and while she was very uncomfortable under his inspection, she could not bring herself to deny him this one last connection. They had seen so little of each other lately, and this was supposed to be their reunion?  It broke her heart just a little more as she realized she had probably ruined any chance they'd had of having a peaceful evening—together, no less.  And that fact alone made this night—that she had just destroyed—the most special since . . . well, since the last they had shared, weeks ago by her memory.  Now, of course, they would need to leave each other with mumbled farewells and awkward glances, nothing but the hope things would have resolved themselves by their next encounter.

"Are you sure?" Anakin asked finally, his voice devoid of any emotion but hurt.

Padmé nodded painfully.  "Yes.  Some frustrating things are going on that I have to tolerate and I'm especially tired on top of that. It's my business and you shouldn't have to bear it."  Having spoken all in one breath, she slowly gulped in a lung full of air.  "Bear me," she added quietly.

The look in his eyes instantly told her those had been the wrong words.  "Well, it's nice to see you've decided not to talk about it."

Padmé fumed again, her gaze narrowing pointedly.  Anakin, having been cleverly avoiding the full potency of her eyes until now, found himself helpless under the glare she shot him and maladroitly stumbled back a few paces.  She smirked inwardly.  Couldn't he see how joking was not the proper course of action right now?  She wanted to shout at him again.

The recognition on his face in the next instant told her he could.  "Right, sorry.  No sarcasm or jokes.  Okay?"

Her seething breath calmed slightly.  If only he had realized that a few minutes earlier, they might have—no, she scolded herself.  This was not Anakin's fault.  She had brought them to this standpoint with her own actions.  He was offering her a shortcut, a way to overcome all that had just happened, and she was trying to burden him with blame.  The anger that had been so wrongfully directed at Anakin finally melted and she was able to breathe easily.  "All right, Anakin.  Just . . ."

She didn't need to complete her sentence.  "I know.  You don't want to talk."

Reinforcing that, she shook her head.

"And you know what?  It's okay."  His understanding made her want to cry.  She had half a mind to cross the very short distance between her and her husband, wrap herself in his embrace and not let go of him until she was absolutely certain she had entirely conveyed how sorry she was.  But seeing a sudden bout of playfulness dance around in Anakin's eyes made her halt in her endeavour before even beginning it, raising an eyebrow in curiosity instead.

As it stood, she didn't need to cross to him, for he was clearly intent on closing the distance himself.  "It's okay," he said, answering her eyes' question, "because I have a better use for your mouth anyway."

With no warning or preamble, his hands were cradling her face, his lips on hers, and she felt any objection she might have had die on her tongue.  Not that she disliked her current predicament.  She reckoned some amount of annoyance was due, but at the moment the only thing she could think about was how much she really loved kissing Ani.  Just as her hands rose to twine around his neck, one of his arms slid down to come about her waist.  The light-headedness was beginning to set in, and she decided the breathing trouble was not a result of her mouth being obstructed, but merely one of the kiss itself.

"Better?" Anakin asked, pulling back enough to speak freely, but remaining close enough that Padmé could still feel his breath tickle her lips.

"Yes," she sighed.  Without a moment's hesitation, Anakin pulled their mouths back together.  Thinking back to the last time they had done this, right before she had been held hostage during a successful attempt at springing Ziro the Hutt from Senate captivation, the only sentient thought that didn't immediately concern how much she loved the man holding her right now was that she prayed they would not be interrupted anytime soon.

Somehow, she and Anakin were on the same mental wavelength at the moment, and this encouraged his next words to reference that same day, that same conversation that had led to them getting tangled up in roughly the same position as now.  "So, about that meditative retreat . . ."

The perturbation she had felt at his offer the first time returned in full force, but she expertly suppressed it this time, not wanting to completely spoil the moment.  Nevertheless, it was a good excuse for her to return to the torture that was reality.  She pulled away but did not neglect to smile at him before striding back to her desk, hoping that the tension she had poured out in her kiss would not return too soon.  "Sorry Ani, but I think this is about the only retreat I can afford to take for a while."

She sat at her desk and tried her very hardest not to focus on what Anakin was doing.  This proved to be a very bad idea, as the next time she glanced up, the Jedi Knight was nowhere in sight.  It took a moment for confusion to register as she was becoming increasing tired every second she delayed sleep in the interest of more important things.

"Ani?"

"Honestly, Padmé, my footsteps aren't that quiet."

She jumped again at the voice behind her.  Immediately behind her.  She could see his silhouette, handsome features highlighted by the waning sunset light of the Coruscant sky, in her peripherals.  Breathing much more deeply than should have been necessary, she attempted to appear oblivious to his proximity.  The action became increasingly difficult as he lowered his head and she sensed the tickle of warm breath on her neck.

"Is there something you need, Anakin?" she asked, trying unsuccessfully to sound impatient and not breathless.

"You," he answered simply.  "I need you to come with me on a Council approved retreat.  You need to come with me."

Padmé shuddered as his lips began to trace their way up her neck, beginning at the collar of her exquisite dress attire and progressing at a maddeningly slow pace, giving him ample time to speak without convincing retort from her.  "I most certainly do not," she declared, exhausted of even trying to sound collected.  And the fact that he was kissing her tortuously certainly wasn't helping to clear her mind.  No, just the opposite.  "I need to stay here.  You may go, by all means."

"I will only go if you come," he insisted, his lips up to the base of her neck.

"I can't, Anakin."

He breathed heavily.  Intentionally or not, the gesture sent electric currents through her nerves and clouded her judgement further.  If he persisted to do this much longer—and from what he had demonstrated thus far, that was evidently his intention—she would cave within minutes.  A small, errant part of her brain had already begun to mutter traitorous things in her head, swaying her standpoint.  

"Why not?" he asked coyly with a false, deliberate frown against her skin.  "It's approved."

"I doubt the Jedi Council has approved you spending time with your secret wife all alone on a distant planet."

That gave Anakin pause, but only for an instant short enough for her to detect it.  "We don't have to tell them.  Remember what I said?  It's one, maybe two weeks.  The war can move on without us for such a short period of time.  No one will care."

"I will care, Ani!" she exclaimed, striving for an exasperated tone but simply not having the strength in her vocal chords to produce such a sound.  In her head she said the words she hadn't the energy or courage to speak aloud.  I'll care because I'm a dedicated, preoccupied person and you'll care because you won't be able to have a good time, and then we'll come back angry with each other and won't speak again for weeks whether we wish to or not.

His lips to her jaw, he pressed a lingering kiss there before pulling away and sliding a finger under her chin.  She kept her gaze away but was forced to meet his with nowhere else to look.  Those impossible blue eyes capturing hers and she feared she would never be able to look away.

"No, you won't," he asserted resolutely.

"Ani . . ."  Her last defence.  If he just walked away now . . .

"Padmé."  He rested her forehead against his and she found the proximity so irritating, as she had to shoot alternating glances between each of his eyes.  "You're stressed.  It's okay.  I understand.  But I think you know, deep down, that you need this as much as I do.  You think I like the idea of leaving everyone to their own devices for more than a few hours?  You think I'm completely comfortable with the prospect of leaving Ahsoka here to contend with the war while I'm off enjoying myself?  You think I don't wonder if the Senate will collapse into anarchy without you here to help it?  No.  I care, Padmé; but I care more about you."

No, no, no, no, I won't do it, I won't go, I'm supposed to be mad at him . . .

"Come on.  Just you and me, relaxing in the grass fields, just like we did when I was only a Padawan . . . walking around the forests, digging our toes into the silky sand, swimming . . . remember how much you love swimming, Padmé?"  His lips had restarted their assault, dragging slowly, mercilessly along the corner of her jaw line.  His words were no more than a whisper in her ear, his sweet, drawling cadence like honey.

No, I refuse, I won't go, no, no, Ani, no, I'm mad at him . . .

"Please?"

No, no, absolutely not, no, no no . . .

"Okay."

His eyes were lighter than she had seen them in months as he pulled them back to hers.  "Really?"

She fought a smile but could feel it tugging against her lips nevertheless.  "Yes, Ani, I'll go."  His own face lit up with a grin to mirror hers.  "And I promise to enjoy myself."

His smile widened and he finally crashed his mouth to hers, as if he had been waiting to do that for a long time.  Pushing her nobility to the back of her mind and promising to never do that again, she kissed him in return, completely without abandon.  His arms encircled her waist and he lifted her from her seat, swinging her around joyfully until she became dizzy and had to pull away.

"Just promise me that we can come back as soon as possible in the case of emergency."

"We'd be on the next ship off the planet.  I love you."

She smiled deeply, all worries from her work life forgotten temporarily.  Unfortunately, sleep would just have to be forgone for a few minutes . . . or hours.  "I love you too, Ani.  But I swear, you're going to be the death of me."

"Hmm . . ." he murmured thoughtfully into her mouth, kissing her passionately again.

And this time, it was her that initiated it.

FIN