disclaimer: disclaimed.
dedication: to Torie.
notes: barfs.
notes2: THERE WAS A PICTURE THAT MADE ME CRY AND SOMETIMES I NEED HAPPY THINGS OKAY

title: and the history books forgot about us
summary: In another universe, these are the things that could have been. — Anakin/Padmé.

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She's going to die.

She's going to die.

She's going to die.

It was all Anakin could think. Padmé was going to die. He'd had dreams before—but these weren't dreams, these were things to come. His beautiful girl was going to die. And there was nothing he could do about it, because the council…

Gods, there had to be something.

He was out of breath when he reached Obi-Wan's room. His oldest mentor (oldest friend) stood in the brilliance of the light coming in through the window, grave-faced and silent. He looked so old, then, older than all the stars in all the galaxies of all the universe.

"Anakin? Are you alright?" asked Obi-Wan.

"Padmé's pregnant."

"…I think you ought to sit down," said Obi-Wan. He gestured to a chair. "And perhaps tell me just what is going on."

Anakin threw himself down in the indicated chair. He looked up at his master helplessly, shaking in the hands and weak in the mouth, throat working to get the words out.

"Padmé's pregnant," he said again. "And she's going to die."

"Tell me what happened," Obi-Wan said, achingly gentle.

And just like that, the entire story came tumbling out.

How he'd loved her, always loved her, and how they'd been married in secret on Naboo in the sunlight with lace around her face and water-lilies in the air. How something that felt so right could be wrong in the eyes of the universe. How the dreams whispered that she was going to die, just like his mother, and how he was going to be alone.

"And Palpatine…" Anakin left off, shook his head. "I don't know what I'm doing, Master. I don't know—what should I do?"

Obi-Wan simply looked at him. "The dreams… are you sure, Anakin?"

"Yes. Gods, yes. She doesn't—I've told her, Master, I've told her about the dreams. Padmé… doesn't believe."

"Well," said Obi-Wan. "I suppose we'll just have to ensure that her disbelief is warranted. Come on, then. We've got things to do if we want you both to get out of this alive, padawan."

So they got out alive.

They left in the middle of the night, as the planet slept. Not that Coruscant ever really slept—the pushers and the skivvers and the hookers of the underbelly-that-officially-didn't-exist never really slept, strung out and too jaded

"Where are we going?" Padmé whispered the question.

Anakin's arms tightened around her shoulders. They were on a helicarrier, just the two of them with traveller's cloaks and traveller's rations, escaping as fast as they could. Coruscant glittered far beneath them, sad to see its last beautiful pair of lovers go. Anakin thought he wouldn't have stayed there even if he'd been offered to rule universe.

"Somewhere far away," he said.

"We're dead, aren't we. To the Senate, we don't exist, anymore," Padmé's gaze was somewhere far away. "Maybe it's for the better…"

"We don't belong to them, Padmé. We never did," Anakin said. He breathed her in, the long dark curls of her hair caught in his hands. He held her close as he could. Because she was small and iron-built and sweet, and he loved her so much that his heart ached with it.

The pound of her heart was the soft sound of a drum on the inside of his skull, beating out a-live, a-live, a-live over and over again.

"I'll build us a house," he said.

"With big windows," she said. "To let in light and air for the little ones."

Padmé curled a hand around the swell of her abdomen, a tiny little smile hiding in the corners of her lips. Anakin did, too—traced a finger down the curve of her back, the long line of her neck, and he kissed the smile on her mouth because just looking at her wasn't enough.

"With big windows," he promised.

"I bet you don't even know how to cut wood," Padmé laughed softly into his mouth.

"You have no faith," Anakin sighed. His thoughts scattered for a moment, coming to rest on the lightsaber that was still hooked into his belt. He'd broken his oath, broken so many promises; but his Masters had simply nodded like they'd understood, and sent him on his way.

Anakin Skywalker had never been cut out for the life of a Jedi.

"I'll build us a life, Padmé," he said. "And I'll never let you die."

Padmé took his face in her hands, looked him in the eye. "Everyone dies, Anakin. It's just part of life."

"Not you," Anakin said. "Never you."

"What about when you die, my love? What then?" she teased softly. "Am I supposed to be alone without you?"

"We'll just live forever," he said.

Padmé fell into him, pressed up close and person with her head against his chest. She touched her lips to a spot right over his heart, and it was easy, it was good.

"I love you," she said.

Anakin chuckled. "I know."

The twins were born small and squalling.

"They're so ugly," was the only thing Anakin managed to get out. Padmé huffed out an insulted sound that was a cross between a laugh and a snort, and then she held the babies out.

"Hold them, Anakin," she said. "Luke and Leia. Ours."

But they weren't ugly.

They were marvelous. They were marvelous with their tiny little hands, tiny little fingers, and as Anakin Skywalker held his daughter and his son for the first time, something long dead stirred in his chest. Padmé watched as he walked the twins around the birthing chamber with sleepy, satisfied eyes.

"I told you I wasn't going to die. You should believe me more often."

Anakin shook his head. "You're probably right."

"Of course I'm right, Anni," she smiled.

"When am I going to be too old for that nickname?"

"Never," Padmé laughed. "Come here, I'm tired."

Anakin settled down next to her, despite the pair of grumpy infants in his arms. His heart did something funny—a sharp little squeeze that nearly hurt for all it was the most wonderful thing.

"We're a family, now, Anni," Padmé murmured. Her eyes were shining. The babies murmured sleepily between them, tiny and perfect.

"Yeah," he said, the burn of tears at the back of his throat. "We are."

A moment later, he said, very softly, "I love you, Padmé."

Padmé touched the tips of her fingers to his mouth, and smiled.

"I know," she said. "I know."

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fin.