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Padmé sighed when she heard Anakin bump into something in the bathroom and curse. Then he bumped into something else and muttered a swear in a language she didn’t recognize.
She got out of bed and, despite his earlier insistence that he didn’t need help, that he could do it on his own, she pushed the door open and stepped inside, finding him struggling to get the tabard off over his tunic.
“I told you I didn’t need help.”
Padmé didn’t answer right away. She stood in the doorway for a second, watching without comment. Anakin had his back to her, the tabard caught crookedly on one shoulder, the other strap slipping down the side of his arm.
“I know.” she said at last, closing the door behind her. “And even so, you very clearly do.”
He turned his head just enough to throw an irritated look over his shoulder.
“Padmé-”
“Anakin.” she cut in, without raising her voice. “You’re not okay. Let me help you.”
He let out a short breath and his hands stilled for a moment, still gripping the leather of the tabard, as if he were deciding whether to insist or give in. The decision seemed to tire him more than the fight with the clothing.
“I can do it myself,” he muttered, but he didn’t try again.
Padmé moved closer slowly. The bathroom was too warm, the small space heating up quickly with the steam rising from the bath he had tried to prepare on his own. The mirror was fogged over, and she wondered how Anakin had managed to soak the floor if he hadn’t even bathed yet.
She held out her hand.
“Come here.”
He hesitated, then with a sigh, released the garment.
Padmé eased the tabard off carefully, drawing the leather down from his shoulders first. The material gave easily when it wasn’t being yanked at. She folded the piece and set it on the sink, doing the same with his gloves and revealing his hands to her.
“See?” she said. “Easy, easy.”
She moved on to the outer tunic. The right sleeve slipped off without trouble, but the left didn’t, and Anakin stiffened when she tried to pull.
“Wait, let me take that off.” he said.
Padmé stopped what she was doing and looked at him with the best “I am not feeling sorry for you” expression she could manage.
“Where does it hurt?”
He clenched his jaw.
“It doesn’t hurt.”
She raised an eyebrow at him.
“…Much.” Anakin corrected.
Padmé sighed and went back to helping him, sliding the fabric instead of pulling. The tunic came off slowly, revealing the lighter shirt underneath, damp with sweat and streaked with crimson stains near the collar.
Without the long-sleeved layers or the gloves covering his arms, Padmé could see the vastness of the injuries that marked his skin until they disappeared beneath the shirt. The flesh wrist ringed with a vivid red mark where the cuffs had held him before, and the iron one, dirty and scratched, vibrating faintly while Anakin didn’t repair it.
She said nothing as she helped him remove that layer as well, and said nothing when she saw his chest, red and bruised where Dooku’s MagnaGuards had struck him with their electrostaffs.
When she helped him out of his trousers and saw his battered legs and raw knees, Padmé lowered her head and counted to ten in her mind to keep herself from crying.
“Sit there, please.” she said, pointing to the edge of the tub.
“What for?”
“Because you’re putting more weight on your left leg than you should, and I don’t want you standing any longer than necessary and making it worse.”
Anakin opened his mouth to argue, but gave up halfway through and obeyed. He sat carefully, elbows braced on his knees, head bowed.
Padmé began pulling the pins from her hair and setting them beside Anakin’s clothes on the sink, and he lifted his head at the sound of metal chiming and frowned at her.
“What are you doing?”
She smiled faintly. “I need a bath too.”
Anakin nodded and waited while she finished removing the burgundy coat and black boots, then did the same with the tight trousers and high-necked top.
When she was finally naked like him, Padmé stepped back toward Anakin.
She reached for the tap and adjusted the temperature to very hot, letting the water mix with what was already in the tub until it felt right when she tested it with her hand and then her elbow.
She climbed into the bath first, sitting down and leaning her back against the side, then held out her hand to invite Anakin in.
“I read a medical article on the way here,” she began as he stepped into the tub and sat in front of her, leaning his back against her chest and letting his head fall back onto her shoulder. “After electric shocks, you have to be careful and keep an eye on things because some symptoms can show up later, so you need to tell me if you feel dizzy or if your heart starts racing, alright?”
Anakin closed his eyes when she started to stroke his hair.
“I won’t feel anything, I’m used to it.”
Padmé really wanted to cry.
“Tell me anyway.” she whispered, her voice tight.
He didn’t answer, but he nodded slightly.
Padmé picked up the shampoo and worked it into a lather in her hands before beginning to wash Anakin’s hair, massaging his sore scalp with the tips of her fingers and rinsing it away with cupped handfuls of water. Then she moved down to his shoulders and spent a long while working the tension out of him, satisfied when she finally saw him relax.
She washed each of his wounds gently and with care, touching his sensitive skin slowly so she wouldn’t cause him more pain than he was already in.
She rinsed everything carefully, making sure no soap residue remained, then kissed the crown of his head and began to wash herself, wetting her hair and soaping her body more quickly than she had done with Anakin.
When she was finished, she leaned back against the tub again and wrapped her arms around Anakin’s neck from behind, drawing him back against her chest.
When she noticed him fidgeting with his fingers, Padmé waited patiently until he gathered himself and finally let his worries spill out.
“Have you ever-” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Have you ever felt like we’re not fighting for anything?”
Padmé sighed and stroked his hair.
“What do you mean by that, Ani?”
“It’s just… sometimes, days like today, I mean, I don’t know if I…” He faltered. “I don’t know if the cause I fight for, the side I’m on… I don’t know if it’s worth the pain.” He spoke uncertainly, afraid of laying his thoughts bare and being misunderstood.
“I think about that sometimes too,” Padmé whispered, sharing the same fears as Anakin. “Whether I should keep giving up years of my life for a galaxy that never changes, no matter how hard I try to make it better. Whether the years we lose, the moments, the people… whether it’s really worth it.”
“I wish I were married to you.”
Padmé frowned. “What do you mean? We already are married, my love.”
“Not like this. Not with false names and having to hide. Hiding our love. I want to introduce you to everyone as my wife and go to sleep every night knowing that only your safety is my responsibility, not the safety of the entire galaxy.”
“I would give everything for that, Anakin…”
He suddenly turned to her, eyes shining, wet hair dripping over his forehead, nearly covering them. Anakin was so young. He hadn’t even reached twenty-five yet. Padmé sometimes forgot just how young he was to be carrying so much weight, but moments like this reminded her.
“Then let’s do it. Together. I’ll leave the Jedi Order and you’ll leave the Senate. We’ll run away together to some planet far from everything, far from the war, the Separatists, and the Republic,” he suggested, animated, eyes bright as he dreamed. “Run away with me, Padmé.”
Padmé sighed and cradled his face in her hands, wanting to carve his joyful expression into her memory forever, and feeling like the worst person in the world for breaking his expectations.
“I couldn’t live with the weight of having walked away and left so many people who need me without a voice to represent them,” Padmé said softly, caressing his cheeks as she watched his expression fall. “Could you? Could you, Anakin? Live knowing that thousands of people could have been saved by you and now can’t be, because you chose to be selfish and run away when you had the power to change things?”
Anakin shook his head with a frustrated sigh.
“Things will get better. Have faith, my love,” Padmé said.
They left the bath when the water was nearly cold. Padmé dried Anakin and helped him get dressed before doing the same for herself.
Their night ended with Padmé lying back with Anakin resting against her chest, her fingers tangled in the golden strands of his hair as their minds drifted into the illusion of a future where their dreams would become reality.