Star Wars: The Chosen One || An Anakin Skywalker Story [COMPLETED]

Six || Training Begins

NARRATOR'S POV

Anakin sped through the illuminated night of Coruscant, his tightening grip clenched around the handles of his speeder. His breath was ragged; his heart nearly thumping out of his chest as his anticipation built up gradually inside him. How could he tell Padmé about the new apprentice without her going off on him for some obnoxious reason? Although, perhaps, him telling her about the Padawan would be much better than having Obi-Wan deliver the message - Anakin knew he surely would sugarcoat the situation and be more than just vague to Padmé.

Not again, Anakin thinks, I can't have that. I won't have that.

His anger for Obi-Wan's sense of impurity when it came to telling Padmé of his whereabouts made him tighten his grip on the handles even more. His mechanical hand squeaked from the unbearable pressure being applied to it.

Slowly, as he lowered the speeded to the landing platform outside his apartment, everything became a blur. His head throbbed from a new forming headache, causing him to lose his sense of balance and sight after he had shut the speeder off.

Anakin clenched his knuckle shut with his left hand and felt the sweat condensing, this making him a bit more nauseated. He couldn't come to a conclusion as to why he was such a wreck over telling Padmé of his new Padawan - the thought that always worked its way back into his head was, what if she doesn't even care?

As he pondered her reaction, sitting in the speeder, he didn't realize Padmé had become worried, seen the speeder, and made her way outside to the balcony. She was standing just outside the glass, watching him rock back and forth in panic and hopes of regrouping himself with his thoughts he seemed to battle frequently.

"Anakin," she mumbles, her voice having an irritated tone as though the sound of the landing speeder had awoken her.

Anakin didn't budge. He still hadn't noticed her - then she tapped the glass. "Anakin!" the senator says again, her voice growing slightly more irritated.

He jerks forward, hitting his head lightly on the dashboard. He gasps as though air was a new attribute to his life, then he turns and his heart drops when he sees his wife just outside the speeder.

"Padmé," he groans for her as he leans back to open the speeder and hop out. Only, he doesn't hop out. He's worn and powerless at the time - something he hated to admit he was every now and then. Hence this, he grabs the rim of the speeder and climbs his way out carefully, stumbling, and sweaty.

Padmé notices his suddenly apparent clumsiness and calls him out on it, but the stress clearly isn't good for her and her health. "Anakin, my goodness, what happened to you? Where have you been all day, Ani, I've been worried sick - "

"It's alright," he heaves, practically falling into her as the speeder swiftly shuts behind him. "I - I'm okay." He grabs the nearest article of furniture, a couch on the veranda, and slumps himself to lie on it. Padmé watches in horror as he groans, rolling on his side.

"Anakin... you're not okay," she insists, moving his feet aside to take a seat next to him on the couch. "Now tell me. Where have you been? Is there something you're not telling me?"

Anakin could barely swallow the lump in his throat. He pictures himself now, how weak he must look to Padmé. As coaxing as the thought may be when Anakin was a wreck like this, he knew he could never truly be 'weak' - he slaughtered the Sith Lord, and he was greatly aware that this placed him in an even higher position than Mace Windu. And, as Anakin liked to view it - Obi-Wan as well.

"I - I was at the main executive building, that's all. I promise - " Regardless of the lessening air in his system, Anakin coughs furiously for moments on end, his chest burning. After his consistent hacks, he regains his place. "I was with Obi-Wan," he chokes out.