Prove Me Wrong

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A/N: I wrote this so much better in my head. This is my very first first person fic, and I’d like some feedback on how I’ve done, because I’m not sure how I like how it turned out. It takes place right before Padmé confronts Anakin/Vader on Mustafar.

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He loved to prove me wrong. Always—even before we were married.

It was that night again. All those years ago on Naboo, before Anakin left to assist Obi-Wan in the Wars, before we said our wedding vows—before everything. I pulled myself away from him, my make-up smearing on my face, the mascara running.

“Anakin,” I cried through my tears, “We can’t do this—I don’t think I can do this.”

He tried to hold me; he tried to place his strong arms around me, his unfamiliar new arm around my torso, but I pulled away, whirling across the room.

“You’re a Jedi, I’m a Senator—we could never keep it hidden. What were we thinking asking a Holy Man to marry us today, Anakin?” I became serious, wiping away the tears and the dripping mascara. I faced him, angrily making fists with my arms, asserting my fear, my anger.

Anakin looked away, obviously hurt, and then returned his gaze back at me, “It takes two people to love, Padmé. I thought you loved me,” he croaked, “You told me on Geonosis…”

My heart broke at his statement; I ran to him, sensing his hurt like I was suddenly the Jedi who could feel people through the force. I was there to catch him when he fell—always, “No, Anakin. I’m not saying that I don’t love you—I’m saying… I’m saying maybe we’re not making the right choice marrying…”

“Oh, Padmé—if we don’t get married,” his voice trailed off, “We’ll deny our feelings for each other… eventually.”

“I’ll never stop loving you, Anakin, if that’s what you mean,” I replied.

And he smiled.

Then it was suddenly another day, a new day, and we were yet again arguing. We never argued—wait, never is quite a strong word. We argued, but not as often as regular couples. But, we weren’t a regular couple.

Anakin was home on leave for two weeks, and he came to me in an evening and stayed with me until the hours of the late afternoon. We didn’t care what came between us, before the fight…

“Chancellor Palpatine is a good man, Padmé!”

My hands dug into the pillow, twisting it around with rage. Of course Palpatine wasn’t a good man—he never was. As his emergency powers increased, so did his head—he would soon rule the galaxy, as we see today…

Anyway, I screech, “How can you be so naïve, Anakin! Everything he has done for the republic has been another step towards complete darkness for the chance of complete democracy!” I looked down at the pillow, and I unclenched my tight grip. I sighed, and closed my eyes. I muttered, “Sometimes you are so immature.”

I instantly forgot that Anakin could sense everything that I did, everything that I said—

“Immature? Me?!”

I lifted my head, and then I did the unthinkable—I nodded.

Vigorously.

“I can’t believe you would even say those things, Padmé!” He yelled. He started to pace the room, and my eyes narrowed watching him. “We’re married! You’re my wife! We have two weeks together… and this is how we spend it?”

I crossed my arms over my chest childishly, about to say something when he cut into it, and hopped on the bed. His flesh hand found mine, and gave it a squeeze. Gods, how his touch could cure my anger—

“How can I prove you wrong?”

I smiled, and I squeezed his hand, too, giving him a bit of reassurance.

He leaned into kiss me.

I smiled upon that memory. At that time, it was so terrible—so vulgar, the anger I felt towards my husband was mutual among regular couples, but to us it was different. We shared a different bond I could never live without…

Again I found myself in another memory, one on Naboo, the last time I saw him before he left for the Outer Rim and didn’t return to me for seven months. I smiled, placing my hand on my middle, feeling the life within kick at my touch.

“Anakin, I know this is your last time I get to see you for God knows how long, but—”

“But what, Padmé?” He said in that luscious voice of his. I clutched my little bottle of empty pills inside my palm, hidden from Anakin’s plain sight. Oh, how I wanted him that night…

His arms wrapped around my neck, pulling me down onto the bed where he sat on his knees, highly anticipating his wife coming back from the ‘fresher. But when she had returned, she wore not a mysterious grin, but a frown from the bottom of her heart. “I only have so long…”

“But—Anakin—I can’t… not tonight…” I was sorry, I truly was, “I’m sorry, Ani. I really am…”

“Angel,” he said monotonous, something that turned me on for the three and a half years of our marriage, “C’mon, you can. I only have one night here on Naboo—not even. If Obi-Wan catches me here.”

I shook my fist, not hearing the little rattle of pills inside the bottle that I should have heard.

A picture came into my head.

I could do this.

Nothing could happen, right? It was just one little pill, one little night—

Ah, how could I have been so stupid? Why did I let go, throw the empty bottle on the floor, kicking it underneath my Theed apartment bed, where it probably still lies to this moment? It wasn’t such a bad thing—but what happened probably ruined our marriage, at least that’s how I feel now.

I frowned, releasing my finger from feeling the baby’s heartbeat, for the kicking had stopped. I rubbed my temples with my fingers, stressing about what lied ahead. I closed my eyes; I didn’t care to see the stars of space passing by while our ship traveled through hyperspace.

It was recently; again, a newfound memory, and I saw Anakin’s bright blue eyes and his loose bangs falling over them. His blue orbs were shining with light, and my brown eyes were filled with obvious fear. His hands were stroking my arms lightly, a thing he did unintentionally.

“I—”

I didn’t know what I except. I started to say something, then pulled back, and, if possible, I was more frightened than I was already but what he’d say next.

“That’s w—wonder—wonderful, Padmé,” a smile broke out and he looked down, again, unintentional, in amazement, not able to meet my eyes. Then, he paused, and looked back up quizzically, “How long have you known?”

I ignored him, speaking my mind finally, after months of waiting, “What are we going to do?”

He chuckled, something that I found amusing. “We’re not going to do anything,” he said with a smile, “We’re just going to be happy—all three of us.”

A shiver ran down my spine, a realization again that Anakin and I were going to have a baby—that I was pregnant, and we were going to hide a child as well as a marriage.

But then, I smiled, realizing that Anakin had, once again, proven me wrong, for he was happy about the pregnancy. He was probably more scared to be a father than hiding a child—I chuckled, too.

“Don’t worry, Padmé; everything is going to be fine—”

By fine I knew he’d tell the Council about us in a radius of a week.

“—This is a happy moment.” He smiled, making my heart skip a beat, “The happiest moment of my life.”

I ship rocked beneath me, and my eyes opened, aware my daydream—I smiled, knowing (or hoping, I wasn’t sure) that he was telling the truth.

Then, I started to hope he’d tell the truth to me once this ship landed.

“I saw him,” Obi-Wan paused, maybe for emphasis, “killing younglings.”

My thoughts were crossed with different emotions. Could Anakin do that? Could Anakin kill children, even when I was carrying his own? I thought of the Tusken Raiders on Tatooine, and how he revealed to me that he murdered even women and children but “No, not my Anakin.”

He turned back to face me and I lowered my figure onto the sofa, my vision suddenly become very blurry. I needed to lie down—

“We were faced with a lie; we all were.”

I sat up, feeling a wave of defense, “The Anakin Skywalker I know wouldn’t kill innocent beings—”

“Maybe they weren’t innocent in his eyes.”

My eyes narrowed, turning to face him. He didn’t speak for a long while, almost expecting me to decode some secret message—I didn’t.

“Padmé,” he spoke, “Anakin has turned to the… dark side.”

“No!”

I was back in my cockpit of my ship; I was crying. I didn’t realize that my tears had turned into uncontrollable sobs until I felt my face wet—I pushed my tears off my cheek, and sighed. I wish I could rest—I wish Anakin and I could be on Naboo, alone, maybe with our child…

The fiery orange-red planet of Mustafar came into view, and I sat back against my chair, wishing the shape of my body would let me curl up into my seat like I used to when I was a child.

I needed his support right now.

He needed to tell me that he didn’t kill innocent children—that he didn’t turn against the Jedi…

That he didn’t turn to the dark side.

I needed him to prove me wrong.