milliways_bar | (no subject)

Current Mood: panicked

(no subject)

He just came to get dinner. That was all. But when he asked the bar for a bowl of stew, he got two notes with it.

He reads the first and all color drains from his face. She's gone. It's all your fault, she's gone. He tries to clear his head. She'll be back. She promised.

The second note he only scans. It doesn't matter. He moves off to a booth and sits, staring at his stew. She promised. But what if she can't come back? What if the bar won't let her? Or she gets hurt there? Or killed? With every thought he curls more into himself. What if she doesn't want me, because she has my younger self there? Will she stay there because of ~~him~~ me and never come back here?

He runs through every calming exercise he knows. She promised. She promised. She wouldn't break a promise. I hope. I can't lose her twice.

He eats his stew with trembling hands.

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The panic, of course, flows through the mindlink, puzzling Peter. He glances around till he sees Anakin eating a bowl of stew. Picking up his food, coffee, books and crystal case--and thanking merciful heaven for the wizard who discovered Wingardium Leviosa--he walks over to where Anakin is seated and sits down.

"What's wrong, Father?" he asks gently.

He wordlessly passes Peter the note from Padme. He doesn't trust himself to speak.

Peter reads the note and nods. "So she's going home for a bit. Well, that's not too surprising; she is a senator, and there's probably a lot she has to do that she can't do at Milliways. Most likely she has some votes coming up in the Galactic Congress, or whatever you call it.

"And she did promise to come back," he remarks. "As she has a few times already."

"I know she did, but what if something happens? What if she can't come back?"

His voice is tight with fear, but he is remarkably calm, considering what his other possible reactions to this news could be.

Peter thinks, then shakes his head. "Honestly, Anakin, I can't think of a single time in the past six months that I've been here that the bar has permanently separated people who want to be together. It wants people to grow and become the people they were meant to be, not lose those who mean everything. The bar will let her back in, as soon as she finishes whatever she has to do in her own universe."

Smeagol spots Anakin and climbs out from underneath his table. He hesitates when he notices the tall man's demeanor, and looks unsure of himself. It isn't as though many people have ever been glad to see him, and Anakin doesn't look very talkative at the moment.

He focuses on his breathing. "I hope nothing happens to her there. So much could go wrong if she's not careful."

He looks over at Smeagol and tries to get a modicum of control. He can't be a wreck with Smeagol, because Smeagol needs a Jedi and a friend, not an emotional mess.

"Hello, Smeagol."

"Hello," says Smeagol. "I was just, er, walking. To get more pipeweed." he gestures towards his clearly full pipe. "I can keep walking, if you want."

"Maybe something will go right, have you thought of that? Maybe she'll be there to cast a crucial vote--and that will hurt the Emperor. Maybe she'll stop the Jedi Council from sending her away--she knows what happened as a result last time. She can prevent so much damage.

"Trust her, Anakin." A line from a turn-of-the-century novel occurs to him. "You must take angels on trust."

He nods, and smiles mirthlessly. "I trust her. It's everyone else I worry about."

This is actually a slight lie, but he doesn't feel like explaining his fears to Peter right now. Thankfully, he is saved by Padme's return (http://www.livejournal.com/community/milliways_bar/2485727.html?mode=reply). He gets up and runs to her.

"Would you? I would speak to you, but I'm not quite up to it right now."

Part of being a Jedi is knowing when you cannot handle a situation.

Peter grins. "Told you so," he says softly.

"Right. Certainly." He turns away just before he remembers that generally, when someone is upset, the right thing to do is ask if you can help. He winces. He's never been the understanding sort. But that's what you have to do when you're trying not to be a nasty little sneak who gets exiled from your family.

"Er," he turns back. "Maybe you need someone to speak to?"

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