My Unfortunate Fate

chapter 47

Drifting is only temporary.

I sit back and catch my breath as the familiar blue and white ribbons of hyperspace surround us. Catching this break, even though we're likely on our way to another battle, feels refreshing. Today and yesterday have been hectic: I can't wait for it to be over.

"You got the Queen to reveal where they are?" I ask Anakin, watching him sit beside me.

"It seems as though her last words were to admit their location," he says.

"She's dead?"

He nods in response, staying silent. Maybe he regrets what happened to her, or perhaps what she has put him through. In anyway, I don't have time to worry about this.

"Shame. She might've made a good replacement," I say, attempting to humour him. I continue to stare blankly at the space ahead, thinking about how that joke could actually be true. I know it isn't, but I'm afraid it may be—one day.

"Hey," says Anakin, nudging my arm, "you should know that no one could ever replace my wife."

His push makes me flinch slightly. That reflex must have come from my fight with the Separatist, Darts D'nar, after the unfortunate outcome for me. All the electrocution the Zygerrian Queen put me through certainly did not help.

"Nice outfit, by the way," Anakin adds.

I look down and scoff, remembering that I am still wearing this insane getup. The fabric slides between my legs, but I conceal it by lifting my foot onto the control board. Sure, doing this is unprofessional, but this isn't even a Republic or Jedi ship, so I couldn't care less.

"I hope you're not serious," I say.

"What?" my husband shrugs. "It can't be that bad."

"Why don't you try wearing it, for a change?" I suggest.

He rolls his eyes and looks down, denying my request.

"That's what I thought."

I cross my arms and legs, lowering the one raised on the board to fall over my other leg, staring out at the flashing lights of hyperspace.

"You know, I can't believe anyone would beat up that pretty face of yours," Anakin says, looking at me. "Even a Separatist."

The cut near my lip is still quite prominent, and I have developed a black eye during these past few days. My appearance far from bothers me; after all, this is merely a presentation of my determination to fight for the right thing.

Despite that, Anakin will occasionally remind me of how he sees me, with words like 'pretty', 'beautiful' or 'gorgeous', in an attempt to cheer me up or just express how he felt. I usually appreciate those gestures, but I don't let them get to my head. Sometimes he calls me perfect, though I doubt anyone can be that.

"I know it's not nothing," he continues. "I can feel what happens to you as well—don't forget that."

"I know," I say quietly.

"And I won't let anyone hurt you ever again, understood?"

I nod silently, understanding the statement, but not wanting to encourage any irrational behaviour.

"Those slavers are going to pay."

"Anakin," I interject, shaking my head a bit, holding a blank frown. "What's done is done—revenge won't help anyone. Do you remember what you promised me when we were on our way to Florrum?"

I don't want things to go down this path, not since the consequences of Shmi's death. That's something that haunts my mind: if I die first, Anakin will probably never get over it. I understand that he is protective of me, but that can lead to many, many bad decisions. That's one of the reasons Jedi cannot fall in love. At least we aren't supposed to.