Chapter Text
Anakin’s stomach feels like nest of writhing vipers as he approaches the door to Padmé’s apartment.
He’s terrified of breaking her heart. Of her looking at him with betrayal and disgust at what he has to tell her. But he has to tell her. Their marriage is doomed, at this point.
He’d thought- for so long he’d thought he was in love with her. He didn’t really have crushes on his fellow Padawans much. All throughout his apprenticeship he’d been focused on the memory of the young Queen he’d met in Watto’s shop and called an Angel from Iego. She’d walked in looking so clean, so self-assured. Healthy and hydrated. So unblemished by both Tatooine’s unforgiving suns and it’s horrible people. She’d shone, to that little slave boy. An angel had seemed like a fitting descriptor.
And he’d never forgotten her, in the following years. She’s been otherworldly, almost dreamlike, in his memories. He’d never thought about anyone during his teens really, because his mind had always turned back to her.
He’s come to realise it was a childish dream. He’d deified this idea of her he had in his head, and then placed all his messy and inappropriate-to-a-Jedi feelings on her.
Not really a recipe for a healthy relationship. Or one where he could look at her clearly and see her.
Not as he’s beginning to now.
He rings her doorbell and waits a moment. Threepio answers it with a cheery greeting and a flurry of welcoming words as he leads Anakin inside. Anakin lets the normalcy of it wash over him, trying to let it calm the emotional sandstorm raging inside him. Like a form of very light meditation.
Any succeeded efforts are immediately dashed the moment his eyes land on Padmé in her sitting room. She walks the length of the space to meet him, smile stretching widely across her face, eyes sparkling. She burns with a subtle joy in the Force, too.
“Ani.” She greets warmly, putting her hands on his arms and squeezing.
She’s still beautiful, incredibly so. She’s wearing another complex outfit he’d struggle to remove without guidance. All dark blue beads clicking together as they drape over thin silky material.
But he’s not going to be removing it. Not as he has with so many of her other garments.
He gingerly returns her touch, fingers lightly resting on her elbows as he attempts to smile for her. He still feels like he’s going to be sick.
His smile or expression must not be very convincing, because a knit forms in her brow.
“Is everything alright Anakin?” She asks. So worried for him. So instantly kind and caring. And he’s about to break her heart.
His mouth feels dry, and he attempts to swallow with difficulty. The vipers in his abdomen squirm and bite, making his stomach pitch dangerously.
“I-I need to talk to you.” He speaks haltingly.
Her grip tightens on his arms as her face grows a tad frightened.
“Did something happen?” Her voice shifts down, whispering the words.
He guides her to sit on the couch beside him.
He can read her tells well enough to know she thinks someone has died, or worse.
“No, nothing… it’s nothing to do with the war.” He clears his throat. Why is speaking so hard?
Her expression softens slightly, without disappearing. Her hands fall away and she moves to clasp them in her lap.
He doesn’t know what to do with his own, they hang awkwardly at his sides as he tries not to clench them into fists.
“It’s about us?” She guesses, sounding tentative. Her eyes skate away from him and down towards her hands.
He sighs and nods, his own gaze shifting out into the room, his throat works as he tries to force himself to answer.
“Yes. It’s… Padmé…” He suddenly has no words whatsoever. Everything he’s mentally rehearsed, how to tell her this, it all seems inadequate.
How can he tell her this?
She’s been his rock, she loves him. Has given her love over and over, every time he’s asked for more. And he’s going to throw it all back in her face.
He startles slightly at the touch on his jaw. He looks back at her. She’s giving him a sad sort of smile that he doesn’t understand. Does she somehow know what he’s going to say? Has she sensed it already?
“I think…” His voice trembles and he hates it, but he powers on and chokes out the rest, “I think I like men.”
Padmé lets out a very soft, “Oh.”
“Instead of women.” He rushes to add, so she doesn’t misunderstand him.
They can’t remain married. That is the crux of the issue. He has realised he is not really attracted to her, or possibly any woman ever. Seemingly not, at the very least. He’d considered the possibility that he just wasn’t interested in anyone, or he was misattributing his feelings of attraction as something else but…
But he is definitely attracted to men. He’s sure of it. He’s explored his feelings about different kinds of bodies and how he’d feel about them touching him enough to know it.
…Not to mention he’s realised that while he may not be in love with her, he is in love. With someone else. A male someone.
She exhales gently in humour or relief and says, “Tell me about it.”
He blinks in shock. He’d expected pain or anger or accusation. He hadn’t expected such easy acceptance from her.
Why? Why is she taking it so well? Acting so calm?
Her gaze is focused, intent. There is no evidence of anger or sadness anywhere on her face or around her in the Force. There is a tinge of something resigned, something wistful. A gentle kind of mourning, but it’s only slight. Mostly he finds her acceptance.
Does she… like the fact that he’s attracted to men?
That seems to be the only conclusion that makes any sense to him.
“Uh…” He coughs, suddenly feeling very awkward instead of sick with anxiety. The switch is so quick it gives him whiplash.
At least she isn’t shouting…
But what if she wants details? Is that worse?
He hasn’t done anything with any men. Not while he’s still in a relationship with her. He’s watched holoporn. A lot of it. And some other things. But he hasn’t cheated on her.
“Our marriage wasn’t legal, since neither of us put our real names on the certificate. If we agree to divorce, that’s all we’ll need to do.” She says, suddenly all business.
He tries to catch up, she’s already barrelled on ahead without him.
“Right,” He croaks, “Yeah. We… divorce.”
He was expecting an argument, not this.
She nods assuredly and her posture lifts, regaining its confidence and ease. She feels warmer in the Force now. More comfortable, less conflicted. That’s all it took, all she needed was to know the lay of things and she’s found her footing again almost effortlessly. He’s always admired her for that, and how lethal it makes her as a politician.
She smiles at him kindly. It doesn’t feel like the smile a wife gives her husband. It feels like something between friends maybe.
It’s a strange sight. They’ve never been friends. They got together almost immediately after reuniting. Anakin doesn’t know what it’s like to be Padmé’s friend instead of her secret husband.
Maybe it’ll be nice. He’s glad she’s not angry. He’d come here with the expectation that she would tell him to leave and not come back. That he’d permanently lose her for this. It’s honestly a relief that it seems like they might be able to salvage some kind of relationship from the wreckage of their marriage.
“You don’t seem surprised.” He manages to say.
She laughs lightly, her eyes dancing with mirth.
“I started to get an idea during your first leave two months in to the war. I thought the way you were on our wedding night might have just been nerves… but then that second time, a few months later… I knew it was something else.” She explains.
He burns with humiliation but doesn’t say anything to defend himself. Part of him wants to ask if he was really so bad at it that she just knew, but he’s afraid of the answer.
“I didn’t cheat.” He tells her, because she needs to know that.
Her eyes widen and her eyebrows lift. She nods slowly and then recovers, expression smoothing into neutrality.
“I didn’t think you had.” She replies evenly.
His shoulders drop at that, and he nods shortly in return.
Tell me about it.
The words ring in his ears.
In his explorations of humanoid male x humanoid male on the holonet he’d found evidence of women who seemed strangely… enamoured with the subject. Is Padmé one of them? What was that Ryl phrase he’d seen used to describe it? Gida…gida chi'kan tuka? Is she that?
If she is, should he indulge her?
Will that make this easier for her? This transition in their relationship…
Maybe it would. He can do that then, can’t he?
He buries his embarrassment and opens his mouth.
“I didn’t but I…” He wets his bottom lip, “I may have discovered some feelings for someone. Some fantasies. About-”
He pauses as she holds up a hand.
“Anakin, stop. Just-” She seems to cast around the room for a second as he wonders if he’s done the wrong thing by speaking.
Her gaze focuses over his shoulder.
“Let me make myself a cup of caf, and you as well, if you want one. Then we can… then you can tell me, I suppose.” She stands from the couch and moves in the direction of her kitchen.
“Uh, yeah. Sure.” He says, somewhat confused.
He sits and waits on the couch, since he has nothing else to do in the meantime.
He didn’t realise it would be serious enough for her to want to get that comfortable with a drink and settle in to listen. He’s not really sure he has enough of a story to make it that worthwhile, but he can… try, for her.
She’s being so accommodating about him dissolving their marriage. It’s the least he can do. Even if he feels absurdly awkward about it.
After five agonising minutes of waiting on the couch she returns with two mugs and hands one to him. He breathes in the scent of fresh caf deeply and sighs.
“Thank you.”
She gives him a small, quick smile as she sits herself back down beside him. There’s more room between them now. Before their knees were almost touching. Now there’s a careful hands width of space separating them.
He’s not sure what he really feels or thinks about it. It’s fine. It’s probably for the best.
“Now… you wanted to tell me that you’ve… been thinking about someone else?” She starts cautiously.
He winces.
“It sounds bad when you say it like that. I don’t mean I… not the entire time we’ve been together. Just… very recently, I’ve started to realise how I think about this person is not… as platonic as I thought.” He tries to defend.
She takes a small sip of her drink and nods at him over her mug.
“And who might this mysterious man be?” She inquires, as the corner of her mouth lifts slightly.
He mirrors the expression, relaxing into the idea of humouring her. The awkwardness is dispelling itself, and an easy-going air is replacing it.
He hesitates, in answering. A bit of his anxiety returns, making his chest ache slightly.
“Uh… Obi-Wan…” He admits reluctantly. He glances away uncomfortably, not wanting to see her reaction.
She was there when he said Obi-Wan was like a father to him, after all. He regrets that word choice severely now. If he could, he’d go back in time and slap himself for saying it. But he’d been in denial then. Completely oblivious to his own wants. He’d tried to categorise the depth of his regard for Obi-Wan beyond just their bond as Master and Padawan with the only language he’d had.
But it had been a poor choice of words nonetheless.
Worse, he’d said it to Obi-Wan himself. Which is a hurdle Anakin will now have to clear, if he admits his feelings to his former Master. Not that he’s necessarily going to do that. Obi-Wan would probably just lecture him on attachment if he did. And Anakin can’t take that kind of heartbreak. But still. It’s an awkward spectre to have hanging over things.
Padmé laughs, at first softly but then louder. Anakin looks back at her to see her shoulders quaking with it.
“Er-” He clears his throat.
She flaps a hand in his direction and calms herself down. Laughter petering out.
He just sort of stares at her, emotions churning in his gut.
“Sorry.” She apologises with a shake of her head as she regains her composure.
“It’s just… I should have known, really. You talk about him all the time. The two of you are almost inseparable. Was it really going to be anyone else?” She says the last bit in dry amusement.
Anakin bites back a reflexive defence, because he’s not even sure what he’s trying to defend himself from, and instead thinks more carefully on how to respond.
“He doesn’t… know.” He clarifies, in case she has the wrong impression of the situation.
She shakes her head.
“No of course not. Master Kenobi? You’ve said many times how stringently he follows the Jedi Code. Whatever he feels, he’d keep it under wraps.” She agrees.
“I don’t think he feels anything like that for me.” Anakin replies, already mostly resigned to his feelings being and remaining unrequited.
She tilts her head, her lips lifting in amusement, but she doesn’t laugh at him again.
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that…” She disputes.
He quirks a disbelieving eyebrow at her. Relaxing into the couch as he drinks more of his caf. Despite the seriousness of his feelings, it’s nice to joke with Padmé about this. To just banter, instead of worry about everything like every one of his emotions is world ending.
“Well!” She sits up straight and lifts her chin, “He talks about you quite possibly more than you talk about him. And that is already a lot, I assure you. He’s always saying how proud he is of you. And- he doesn’t say it outright exactly but- how much he cares about you. It’s obvious as anything, to me.”
Anakin bites his lip, trying to stifle the small bit of hope rising in his chest. He can’t let himself hope for this, it’ll make the heartbreak unbearable when it happens.
“He cares about me as a former Padawan. A friend. A Jedi partner. But not,” He flaps his hand vaguely, “Romantically.”
She brings a hand up to cover her smile and hide her small laugh. He’s mildly offended, but can’t stop his own mouth curving in to a smile as well.
“I think we both know he’s interested in men.” She says, like it’s all that related.
He tilts his head and rolls his eyes, “Okay yes, sure, but that doesn’t mean me. I’m his former Padawan.”
“You’ve said that twice now like it means something but Anakin… surely that should work in your favour? Who knows you better? Who trusts you more? Appreciates everything about you? The good and the bad… besides him?” She lays out softly.
It’s a tooth-rottingly sweet suggestion, and Anakin tries not to let it convince him even a little.
“That’s my point, he knew me at my most embarrassing. I’m not even sure if he doesn’t still see that young Padawan who doesn’t know what he’s doing or if he actually sees the Jedi Knight I am, sometimes. First I’d have to convince him that I’m his equal. And then I’d have to get past all his worries about attachment. Trust me, it’s hopeless.” Anakin sighs.
Padmé taps her chin in thought.
“I’m not sure hopeless is right. Difficult, time consuming maybe… but I think your chances are better than you’re giving yourself credit for. And anyway, you don’t exactly have to rush in to things. Just let it happen naturally, why don’t you.” She suggests, all too reasonably.
“Hm, when’d you get so wise?” He asks rhetorically.
“You already know I always have been.” She shakes her head.
He smiles at her, “True.”
“Tell me how things are going, next time you’re back on Coruscant?” She says as she sees him to the door five minutes later.
He nods, despite the return of that feeling of awkwardness.
He pauses in the door before leaving and gives her a gentle smile.
“Thank you for… being how you are, about this. I’m sorry Padmé.” He says.
Her face turns a touch grieving and she replies, “It’s not your fault Ani. This isn’t something we can reconcile.”
He exhales in amusement.
“No, it’s not.”
“And I’ve had an idea it was coming for a while, anyway.” She adds.
He’s still wrapping his head around that, and the memory of her earlier words about his performance in the bedroom bring back a stab of humiliation, but he lets it go.
“Goodbye Padmé.” He bids her farewell, words laden with much greater meaning.
“Goodbye, Anakin.” She returns.