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

Twenty-Three || The Skywalker Children

Narrator's POV

Padmé approached her husband delicately, as he looked troubled. He tended to look hurt a lot; it bothered her severely, yet she said nothing. Nowadays, his crystal blue eyes were always rimmed with tears, his bottom lip was always quivering, and he always looked as though he were on the verge of a sob.

Sometimes, he let it all go - Padmé recalled he would stay out on the veranda some nights and just... cry, cry until he decided he was too tired to go on, and then he'd come back to bed.

Other nights, he bottled everything up; he was a Jedi, after all, and didn't want to appear weak. That was very much like Anakin - hiding his true feelings, his true emotions, in precaution of beings lessened by those surrounding him. Padmé knew he hated being less than the rest of the Jedi on the Council - he was infuriated having not been granted Master, until he finally was, yet he still felt like less than the rest of them. It was the same occurring thought of reasoning - they all had distrust in him.

But aside from the distrust held within everyone's relationship with Anakin, he didn't ever want anyone to see him cry, hence his idea of crying late into the night. He wanted to be strong, fearless, brave, like the Jedi Master he was. He couldn't bear the thought of his children seeing him cry, so he managed to hold his feelings in when he were around them. Padmé was different; he'd cried in front of her various times, the first being after his mother died. He was angry then... now, he was just heartbroken, lost, guilty...

But today was like any other. He sat on one of the couches, his elbows resting on his knees as his fingers were enwrapped in his locks of wavy hair, gripping his head. His breathing was heavy and ragged; she could hear it from afar, the way he was struggling to keep his breath steady, as if it were to slip, he would burst into tears.

As she watched him, lurking in the frame of the veranda out of his sight, her heart sunk even more. The loving, once enthusiastically desperate-for-love Anakin was replaced by a sobbing, weakened mess before her. Not the Anakin who wanted to be loved, but the Anakin who wanted to be... who he was before.

With every ounce of strength she had to want to approach him, she appeared from the darkness of the apartment, out into the illuminated veranda, lit up by the flourishing night of Coruscant.

She clears her throat, praying secretly that her presence is still soothing to him, as he told her years back when he saw her after ten years.

"Anakin," she whispers, hoping he can hear her through his deep breathing.

He is silent, but from Padmé's view, his body seems to calm at her entrance. He shudders, his body instantly looking more relaxed afterwards, and he sighs. Of all things he can reply to her, he takes direct approach upon his own self consciousness.

"You can't see me like this," he chokes, his voice raspy, sounding painful and sad. Padmé winces at the haunting sound of his once joyful, bold, deep voice - replaced with a now broken, shaky, fighting-off-another-round-of-sobs voice.

Like she found herself doing often, Padmé decided to speak her mind. She takes another step towards him, carefully, not wanting to break his sudden moment of serenity. "Anakin... this is breaking my heart."

At her words, he slowly releases his grip on his head and drops his arms on his knees, his elbows still resting there, propping himself up. He hangs his head now, and cries. Padmé watches painfully as his moment of calmness is shattered at her approach.

"No," she bursts suddenly, inching towards him gradually, now trying not to cry herself. He had been like this so often since Kyla's transition and, like anyone would say, it was unreasonable. "Ani, please, don't... you're breaking my heart," she says again, in case her words didn't have as strong an impact on him the first time.