Definition of a Hero

Aubrey's Crap:I don't write a lot of het...thought I'd try expanding my horizons. Tell me if it's bad, okay?

Padmé felt her heart clench. He had cried a lot, since his mother had died, and the war had begun. She found it disturbing, to see her proud, strong husband so vulnerable. She wanted to comfort him, somehow, every time he stiffened, and turned away from her, and his shoulders tensed and his head bowed, and he shook tightly. He'd been so intense when she'd met him again, just prior to the beginning of the war, but now he seemed like a spring wound too tight.

She wanted to walk over to him – over to where he stood across the bedroom from her, leaning all of his weight against the pale wall, near the 'fresher, his forehead resting against his gloved wrist. She knew it was a painful reminder of the worst day of his life. That day when he'd lost both Shmi and his 'saber-hand in a matter of hours.

She wanted to go right over to him, and place her hand on his shoulder, and let that simple weight ease the tension from his muscles. It always seemed to calm him, when Obi-Wan touched him like that. She wanted to hug Anakin, too, to let him know that he wasn't as alone as he seemed to think that he was. It was horrible, almost abusive…the whole galaxy wanted to be Anakin Skywalker's best friend, but how many of them really cared about him? How many cared about Anakin the way Padmé did?

It didn't matter. None of it mattered. It took far too much for Anakin to accept a hug from anyone, even Padmé. Maybe especially Padmé. It was as though he were frightened to touch her…as though he were terrified that she would break, if he held her too close. Even when they made love, he was distant and tentative. Little did he know that, in her eyes, he was the one being smothered too tightly, and was the one cracking under the pressure.

Padmé briefly wondered, as he watched her husband try desperately not to let his agonized sobs escape him aloud, whether he would accept embraces from Obi-Wan, as he would not from her. She brushed the query aside, before something possessed her to actually ask him. She knew it was inconceivable. Anakin was faithful to her, and Obi-Wan stocked too much in propriety and high standards to offer.

But…wasn't the fact that Anakin's times of weakness had been growing progressively fewer and further between just as disturbing as their presence, in the first place? Shouldn't she be worried and jealous that his happiness to see her was shadow in the shade to the mourning that he'd suffered, when he'd thought Obi-Wan dead, after the battle of Jabiim?

Padmé stopped that line of thought abruptly, and she took in a deep, quiet breath to calm herself. Anakin was faithful to her. She knew he was. He had to be. After all…if he didn't love her…

She took a step toward him, and his combat sensitive ears twitched. His head snapped up, to look at her. His eyes were blood-shot, and his cheeks looked sticky with his salty tears. He didn't let on that he'd been crying, despite the physical evidence. She took another step toward him, then another and another. He didn't move away, and she took that as a sign of encouragement.

When she finally reached him, she slowly extended a hand, her eyes full of loving concern, and placed it gently on his chest. His wet eyes glowed, as he beheld her. There was the love – the assurance – that Padmé needed. She basked in it for a moment. Then he spoke.

"I need to go back to the Temple."

He pulled away from her, and stalked fluidly across the room. Padmé's hand hovered, where it had been against his chest. Slowly, she turned, but his fighter was already long gone from her landing pad. Padmé stood there, trembling and heartbroken.

What had they done to her young lover, by putting him in that war? What had they turned him into? Padmé knew now…she knew what her Anakin was becoming, and she felt herself die a little more the longer she thought about it.

Her Ani was gone…they'd left her only with the Hero With No Fear, to keep her bed warm on those scarce nights that he was even on world. He was a broken soldier, who would accept little further solace than a brief touch on the shoulder from his best friend.

Padmé suddenly felt very alone.

Broken sky

Heartaches that flowers won't mend

Say goodbye

Knowing that this is the end

Tender dream

Shadows fall

Love too sweet to recall

Dry your eyes

Face the dawn

Life will go on

Life will go on...

Life Will Go On (Chris Isaak, Always Got Tonight)