When Angels Weep

Chapter: 4

Notes: Ellé and Moteé are names mentioned in the SW:ROTS Visual Dictionary.

~~~~~~~~~~

Bail was relieved to see Padmé alive and well, if a bit surprised that she was up and about. Earlier in the week, when Bail himself was seeing Master Yoda to safety, Padmé had been returned to her apartment by Jedi Skywalker. It was rumored that she'd been hysterical, fighting him all the way, and had needed sedating to calm her. Who had leaked that tidbit was a mystery, for the guards never gossiped, nor did he think Dormé the type to do so. Was it a ploy to weaken her position among the Senators? Among the people she served?

He was saddened that Obi-Wan Kenobi had died fighting Skywalker. Yoda had seemed every bit his age at the moment he'd felt the younger Jedi's death, nodding sadly and heaving a long sigh. His next words had been instructions for Bail, clear and concise instructions. He was to guard himself against Skywalker and Palpatine and protect Padmé, even if it seemed at first glance that she needed no protection. Palpatine, Yoda had cautioned him, will see some evil use for Padmé. He was to prevent what he could without revealing himself.

Bail gave her a quick embrace, little more than an arm about her shoulders, a show of friendly concern. "I'd heard you were resting in your apartment." He couldn't help the glance that fell to her belly. Tongues were wagging about Padmé in more ways than the one. She was the target of gossip all over Coruscant. Bail supposed that tawdry gossip was a way people had of relieving their own tensions of late. Talking about someone else's problems suddenly made theirs seem far less.

The Senator was revealed as being pregnant and Jedi Skywalker's concern for her pointed towards him being the father. Bail blinked. Not only his concern but also his presence in Padmé's apartment. The Jedi had made no secret of his goings into and out of the building the past few days, as though he lived there.

Bail suspected there was far more to the situation than what was presently evident. It was strange to him that his friend had hidden her condition for so long only to turn and display it in the last months. No, there was more going on here than was obvious. Padmé must be in an extremely delicate position now considering Skywalker's startling descent into the Dark side.

He gave Dormé a nod of acknowledgement, which she returned, and went to his desk, seating himself and waiting for Padmé to sit.

She shook her head, easing herself into a comfortable chair. "No, I can't stay there hidden away. I've duties. I can't abandon them," she gave him a sad smile, "no matter what my condition."

"About the Jedi affair," he began, then paused as Padmé's brows lowered. Her expression was guarded and he quickly changed what he'd been about to say. "What are your thoughts?" Did she think they couldn't speak freely here? Bail glanced at the two of his aides present and at Dormé, considering that. He knew without one doubt that his aides would say no word of what was discussed. But Dormé?

She was the only one of Padmé's handmaidens currently on Coruscant, the only one present when Padmé had been brought back. Ellé and Moteé were on Naboo visiting their respective families. He thought on what he knew of her. Dormé was loyal to Padmé and discreet. Other than that, he knew nothing. Did Padmé suspect Skywalker was manipulating her handmaiden?

"It is a sad day," Padmé said, "when friends can be considered enemies."

There was emphasis on 'friends', her gaze steady and expectant. Bail nodded in understanding. For now, he'd guard his words in front of Dormé. Talking honestly would be difficult, but if it needed to be done, then so be it. A way would be found.

"That it is," he replied. "A very sad day." She looked tired. Bail smiled gently. "How are you really, Padmé?"

She gave a laugh that sounded forced. "As well as can be expected. I'm trying to discover how word leaked about my pregnancy and have had no luck in the endeavor. It's of no matter however. Have you heard of the interview?"

Bail leaned back in his chair, resting his hands on the chair arms. "Interview? No. What interview?"

"The one Anakin and I are giving tomorrow." At his silence, she raised a brow. "A rare one-on-one, or two to one in this case, interview with Senator Amidala and war hero Anakin Skywalker."

"Is that a good idea, Padmé?"

"Palpatine suggested it and his office set it up. It is confirmed."

What would an interview accomplish? Bail wished he could see the advantage of it. To raise Skywalker up higher in the esteem of the people? Why would Palpatine wish that? He put the matter in the back of his mind to consider later and turned conversation to business.

~~~~~~~~~~

The seat she sat on was hard and uncomfortable. Padmé didn't remember her seat being this wretchedly uncomfortable before and attributed it to her own impatience, not the seat itself. Palpatine seemed determined to keep them there the rest of the day, making announcement after announcement of changes that were being implemented. Each was more ludicrous than the last, security tightening further about Coruscant.

There were to be even more checkpoints and id's must be on hand at all times. While the war may have been won, there were still the fleeing remaining Separatists to deal with and who knew how many might attempt to retaliate in a vain hope of continuing the war? There must be increased vigilance so that order could be returned to the galaxy.

Palpatine was in fine form today, she had to admit that. Occasionally the applause drowned out the sound of his voice.

She reached a hand behind her and rubbed her lower back, shifting position slightly, her glance straying to other sections. Her glance was met with either hostile stares or pleased smirks. Padmé returned her attention to the proceedings, forcing her concentration back onto Palpatine.

She knew him for what he was now. After hearing his brief conversation with Anakin on Mustafar, she knew for certain that Palpatine had been the enemy all along. While pretending friendship, he'd plundered the Republic. It troubled her to think how wrong she'd been about him this entire time.

Padmé sighed, her thoughts gathering speed on that thread. She'd been wrong about many things, including what side they should have been on. The Separatists had been right, no matter how their movement had begun. In the end, they had been standing on the moral high ground and been struck down anyway. Where was true justice in this galaxy?

Another smattering of applause made her glance up. Padmé frowned, noting the wild approval of whatever Palpatine had announced. Senators were grinning, applauding, cheering. What...?

"Again, I say I am honored to accept the title of Emperor." His voice seemed to echo around the room.

The babies began to kick, pushing hard and Padmé rubbed her hands across her belly in a soothing gesture. Now she understood the cheering.

Palpatine's title had been changed.

She exchanged a glance with Bail. Emperor, she mouthed sadly, shaking her head. Everything she'd worked for years had now fully fallen apart. The Republic was a dictatorship, well and truly. She'd known it was only a matter of time before he'd change his title, but so soon?

She recalled a conversation she'd once had with Anakin. They'd been sitting in a meadow on Naboo, the remainder of their picnic packed away and the sun shining down upon them. At the time, she'd thought he was teasing her with the talk of one person making others do what was right. Sadly, she now knew he really believed it. Worse, he was a party to it. He was loyal to this creature who had declared himself Emperor.

Did he really feel that Palpatine knew what was right for everyone? If a person was corrupted already, then what sort of true guide was that person's sense of right and wrong? Wouldn't it be mixed up and the view of both skewed to the side?

Tears threatened and she blinked them back. She refused to fall apart here in the Senate. She was already under far too much scrutiny for her liking and foresaw it only growing worse as time went by. People loved to watch public figures fall and her fall, when it inevitably occurred, was going to be spectacular. Padmé had no doubt it would happen either. The only question was when.

Before she fell, it was her duty to take her babies to safety. As their mother, it was her responsibility to protect them and protect them Padmé would.

She let herself smile. And they're not even born yet, she thought.

By the time the day was through, Padmé was ready to go home. She was exhausted, her body weary from doing nothing but sitting down. That spot on her lower back wouldn't stop aching. If her Annie was there, she'd have him rub it for her. He'd always given the most marvelous backrubs, seeming to know by instinct just where the knots were and how to work them away.

She entered the lift, Dormé behind her. Reaching out a hand, Dormé paused the lift halfway up. Padmé slanted a curious glance towards her. Her handmaiden and friend gave her a stare right back and Padmé noticed hurt brewing there in her eyes.

"You don't trust me anymore, my lady. That business about friends in Bail Organa's office earlier today.... You meant me, didn't you? Why? I've done nothing to warrant mistrust."

"I can't trust anyone, Dormé. Even you," she replied, turning to face her. "I've told you why and you chose not to believe me." Padmé was honest with her. She could be nothing less.

Dormé nodded. "I see." She peered down at the floor a moment. "I am still loyal to you first, my lady. I always will be. I didn't tell him what you told me."

Padmé could feel Dormé's desperation in the air itself, a palpable thing and it suddenly occurred to her that Anakin might sense it if he was there. Might? He'd pounce on it. She had to diffuse this and fast. "I know you are. You've stood by me for years --"

"Then why won't you continue to trust me?"

Licking her lips, Padmé searched for a tactful reply and could find no other way but blunt to put this. "Because I don't know who I can trust. Please understand, Dormé. Consider that I'm telling the truth. Anakin isn't himself. He's become polluted by the darkness the Jedi knew of. Look at this from that perspective. Would you know who to trust when everything you knew has been turned upside down and the man you married is now a stranger?"

The lift began to ascend and Padmé stabbed at the controls, halting it once more.

"Dormé?"

The woman was looking at her as though she was speaking gibberish. Slowly, she nodded again. "I suppose if the truth has been told, that your action is logical. Trust no one until each has proven trustworthy." She gave a tremulous smile. "I'll prove myself, my lady. I will."

The lift jerked, slid smoothly upwards. Anakin was waiting for them. "Technical difficulties," he inquired.

"Something like that," Dormé answered, taking Padmé's cloak and excusing herself.

Anakin smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. "You're late. I expected you an hour ago."

She moved past him into the living area, sitting on one divan and discovering she wasn't ready to sit again. Padmé got up and moved to the balcony. "Did you see the announcement?" She swept one hand along the railing and looked down.

"No," he replied, joining her, leaning against the rail. "I knew it was today though."

"You knew."

"Didn't you?" He appeared to consider that funny, laughing. "An empire needs an Emperor. Isn't that how it works?"

"Is it, Anakin?" Padmé shrugged. "I wouldn't know. My only experience is with a Republic based on democracy." As had happened earlier in the week, there was no getting an upper hand on the conversation. He ignored her arched brow and tone, his stare patient. Another battle of wills, she thought. He was trying to make her speak again instead of him answering. Grudgingly she admitted to herself that he was learning quickly how to turn the tables on her. He could almost be considered a prodigy in the speed with which he was learning.

Finally, he tilted his head. "You'll make a wonderful Empress when our day comes."

"Is it coming," she inquired, turning her face aside, wondering what his proposed timetable was on that venture. "Soon?"

He stepped closer, his hand raising, touching her hair. Anakin bent his head, pressed a warm kiss to her temple and another beside her ear. "That day could be tomorrow if you wish it, my love. We could begin our reign with that interview." More kisses, gentle and soft, were pressed to her neck. "They'd cheer us, you know. Like they do him. Maybe not the Senators, but the people, Padmé. The people love us already."

She was turned, his lips taking hers. Padmé trembled against him, again alarmed that he was serious about it. He really wanted them to rule the galaxy together. He had it all played out in his head and she wrenched herself back in disgust. Raising a hand, she wiped it across her lips. "I won't be party to a dictatorship."

Anakin let her go, nodding slowly. "Maybe next week then?"

His amused laughter followed her as she hurried into the bedroom.

~~~~~~~~~~

Although Dormé watched Anakin carefully that night, he was nothing but charming. Padmé was in a strange mood, pensive and calm one moment, then on the verge of tears the next. Dormé wasn't too worried, however. She'd read up on pregnancy during the long hours her lady had been in the Senate and thought she understood Padmé's frame of mind better than she had.

It must be horrible to be expecting a baby during a war, when anything could happen. Her hormones were nowhere near settled and there were the emotional changes a woman went through when having a baby. Couple that with her worries over Anakin's safety and her lady was in a delicate way emotionally. Little things would be magnified as her moods swung out of control.

Was that what was happening? Anakin had been gone a long while. Had Padmé maybe forgotten some things about his personality that were now magnified by her own emotional perceptions?

"Are you certain you don't want to join us, Padmé," Anakin called out to her as he readied the strategy game they planned to play.

She shook her head, her answer curt. "No. I've said already that I don't want to play."

Anakin raised his brows to Dormé. "Guess that was the wrong thing to ask."

Dormé watched him, his concentration on the game, those quick worried glances he tossed Padmé's way. She thought back to the lift. If her lady spoke the truth, where was the proof that he was not what he'd been? He was the same as Dormé had always known him. Teasing and mischievous, yet inclined to brooding when things didn't go his way. He was a grown man with a bit of boy still there.

She decided to continue watching him. If her lady was right, then Anakin couldn't be charming all of the time. Eventually, he'd have to show himself as he was.

~~~~~~~~~~

"You're not dressed yet?" Anakin came into the room and to her. He was wearing formal Jedi garb. Why, Padmé thought. He can wear anything he wants now, so why does he cling to Jedi dress?

Dormé was right behind him, making a noise of exasperation as she set her hands on her hips. "My lady, I won't have time to do your hair if you don't get dressed. You have to leave in ten minutes to be on time."

"I'll wear it down, Dormé. Nothing fancy, just a comb or two." It took a few minutes to convince Dormé to go on ahead of them and then Padmé turned her consideration back to the dress before her. Anakin had picked it out, spending long minutes going through her closet the previous night with Dormé at his side. They'd had a running commentary between them of what dress would best show off her belly.

After all, she needed to look her best for this interview.

The dress she was to wear would hide nothing. Her pregnant belly would be out for all to see and speculate on. Her heart made a lurching sensation in her chest as thoughts of her hard work keeping their secret swept her mind. The agony of remaining parted from her family for months at a time, the pain of keeping each pregnancy milestone to herself. It was all being ripped apart. By morning, the galaxy would know that Senator Padmé Amidala of Naboo had married Anakin Skywalker in secret at the beginning of the war and was now very pregnant.

She could almost hear the trashier commentaries, those snide questions as to if Anakin was really the father. Why, everyone knew he'd been long out in the far reaches of the galaxy! How often had he really been to Coruscant?

No, she thought. This man would allow no such speculations to mar his triumph of this moment. The galaxy would know that she was his and his alone.

"I don't want to wear this dress."

"Why not?" He touched it. "It's beautiful."

"I just don't." She curved her hands over her belly, a movement he didn't miss.

"Are you ashamed of our babies?" He strove to appear wounded.

"Of course not," she replied. "I only spent months covering up the fact, not showing it off."

The dress was slipped from the hangar, held up. "You should be proud of it. Now put this on. I want everyone to see my beautiful wife and the belly that holds our children. I want them all to see."

And envy. The unspoken desire he had. He wanted the galaxy to envy him.

His lips twitched. "That too."

Padmé raised her gaze in alarm, thinking she'd spoken aloud and finding him looking at her with that superior stare.

"Your thoughts are sometimes easy to discern, my love."

Frowning, she snatched the dress from him and dragged it on, not in the least bit pleased with how the material clung to her belly, making the swell of it appear larger than it was. She turned sideways, made a face at her reflection. Oh dear. Was it that large in reality? She glanced away, then back again. Couldn't be. Then again, she was beginning to feel like some sort of lumbering beast when she tried to walk. Her belly felt like it was increasing in size by the hour. The slightest misstep and she could easily be overbalanced.

Like my life, she thought. One wrong step....

"I don't like not telling my family first, Anakin." How would her mother react? She didn't want to consider it at all. They had to have known she was pregnant. How could they not? She'd only been fooling herself whenever she'd gone home. The thickening of her waist had to have been blindingly obvious to those who knew her best: her family.

But they'd let her have the illusion that she'd fooled them. Why? Who knew? They'd not said one word, likely deciding to let her tell them in her own way, in her own time. There was never a mention of babies or a comment that she was getting chubby. Even her nieces had not said one word, quite a feat for children.

Padmé recalled the single conversation she'd had with her sister on men since Anakin escorted her to Naboo the first time.

"So how is that Jedi boyfriend of yours?"

She'd been married only a few weeks at that point, still inclined to moon about when she thought about Anakin and Sola had caught her during one of those moments. "W-what," she'd replied, suddenly all thumbs, dropping the cup she'd been rinsing.

"Your Jedi boyfriend, Padmé," Sola laughed. "Anakin. Are you still seeing him? He was handsome." She sang the last word.

"Sola, he's a friend." An unconvincing sentence.

"Oh, of course he is." Her sister bumped her shoulder playfully. "A good friend?"

Padmé gave Sola her best cross look, to which Sola merely shrugged. "The Jedi don't love. They're not allowed to, not...romantically."

There'd been a smirk on Sola's lips. "Maybe. Anakin Skywalker is still human, Jedi or not. I don't doubt he's noticed you, but have you taken time yet to notice him?"

She'd rinsed the same cup two more times without setting it aside. "If I have?"

Sola's brow arched, her smirk turning soft. "Then I'm happy for you."

That had been the end of that single mention, Sola never again asking about Anakin. Padmé hoped her family would understand and perhaps some day she'd have a chance to ask them why they'd remained silent.

The knickknacks on the table lifted up and began to move in circles. "Yes, I'm well-versed in what you don't like, what you don't want. What of my wishes? Did you ever really consider what I wanted?"

"I'd say you've gotten your way far too much in the past few days as it is." The words flew from her lips before she even realized she'd said them. Padmé's breath paused in her throat, time slowing to a halt as she waited for that sure spark of his temper.

The knickknacks crashed to the floor, Anakin turning. His eyes were cold, mouth tight.

Instinctively, Padmé took a step back.

Anakin raised his hand, shaking a finger at her and laughing. "No, no, no. I see what you're trying to do. You think if you get me angry, you won't have to go. Wrong. You are going with me. You'll stand at my side and we'll no longer be hiding. Everything out in the open. As it should be. Stop trying to make me angry. I'm not letting you stay here tonight. Get that idea straight out of your head."

Relief made her knees weak and she sank onto the bed. There were horrible moments like these peppering the past week, where she'd speak on impulse and the memory of him choking her would come tumbling back. So far, the incident hadn't been repeated, something always calming him before he reached that point in temper.

How long would that trend last?

She pressed trembling hands to her warm cheeks and willed her tongue to be wary when it could not remain silent. It wasn't wise to be rash. Her composure had to be regained and kept with rigid care.