Play along, get the information you need, and find your way out of here.

Play along.

Padmé wakes a few hours later, wrapped in Anakin's arms.

Moving away from him, she begins to uncurl her sleep-infused joints, shifting on her back within the bed.

With a sigh, she glances back at him. He looks so peaceful when he's asleep - not at all the monster who choked her on Mustafar.

That doesn't change the fact that he still choked her - twice, in fact. He was still the man who terrorized her during the day and made her cry herself to sleep at night.

She slides her hand on her tummy. Her babies deserve better.

Padmé soon forms a rushed, impulsive idea.

Padding her way into the kitchen, Padmé opens the cabinets, wincing as they creak loudly. She pauses.

There is no sound coming from the bedroom; surprisingly, Anakin continues to sleep despite being a notoriously light sleeper.

After a moment's hesitation, Padmé fills a glass with water, reaching into the drawer to get what she needed all along: sleeping pills.

She crushes the small tablet with a spoon, slowly and quietly. Once it's sufficiently crushed, she puts it in the water, stirring it in.

She pours herself a glass of water and makes her way back into the bedroom.

Anakin awakes when she sits back down on the bed.

"I got you some water," Padmé whispers, taking a sip from her own glass.

Anakin smiles sleepily. "You didn't have to get up, Padmé. You could have woke me, I don't mind." He takes a sip. "Thank you," he adds.

"It's okay, I had to use the bathroom anyway," Padmé responds, settling back into bed.

They both place their cups in their respective nightstands and Anakin spoons her.

After nearly a half-hour later, Padmé attempts to shift out of his grip, adrenaline coursing through her veins.

Anakin continues to sleep.

She sneaks out of the bedroom with nothing but the clothes on her back.

Steeling her nerves, she makes her way to the door. She's already hesitant, but she has to try anyway.

Lowering her voice, she activates the door communication system. "Dice, open this door."

There's a moment's pause. "Do you have Lord Vader's clearance?"

"...Yes. Open this door right now, that's an order," Padmé states firmly, using her 'queen' voice.

"What's the clearance code, Milady?"

"Clearance code?" Padmé stills. "Just open this door."

"...I'm sorry, Lady Vader. I cannot open this door unless I have Lord Vader's permission." the clone states.

Of course, Vader would. Of course, he wouldn't make things easier on her. A surge of disappointment floods Padmé. She wipes at her face angrily. "...T-That will be all for tonight...thank you, Dice."

Padmé shuts off the button, swallowing back the scream she so desperately wants to let out.

It was a stupid plan anyway, she thinks. She'll find her way out eventually - but perhaps tonight is not that night.

Carefully, Padmé slips back into bed. Facing away from Anakin, she lets herself weep silently.

Sleepily, Anakin pulls her into his arms.

Padmé stiffens. Did he just wake up now?

Padmé attempts to squirm out of his grip.

In return, he tightens his grip. "Don't even think about it," he growls in her ear.

"...What? I... I'm just getting comfortable. I just came back from the kitchen. I had cravings," Padmé lies, turning around to face him.

"Do you think I'm stupid or something?" Anakin hisses.

"...I don't know what you mean, Ani," Padmé replies, heart racing.

Anakin grabs her by the throat with his bionic arm, ignoring the surprised shriek she makes, now sitting up. "I know you tried to slip me something. I could taste it," He grounds out, eyes a vile yellow. "What did you do? Did you try to poison me?!"

Padmé gasps, attempting to pry his hand off her neck. "I..." she wheezes. "Ani-...p-please-" she chokes, nails scraping the metal covering of his hand as her vision begins to blur.

He snarls, letting her go. "What did you do?" He repeats.

Padmé gasps and coughs for air. After she catches her breath, she wheezes, "...it was...- it was... j-just sleeping pills."

"Why?!" Anakin yells.

"Y-you always have nightmares, and I just wanted to help," she altercates, praying he'll believe her. "You never get more than a few hours of sleep..." she tries, throat aching with every word.

Anakin pauses. "...You're not lying?"

"No, please believe me," she begs. Padmé swallows her pride - if things were different, she would not be the crying, coughing mess she is now, instead, she would be fighting back; now, she had the safety of her twins to consider. "Please, I...- I'm sorry,"

Anakin exhales, purging dark energy from the force out of his head. Wordlessly, he lays back down.

Padmé waits hesitantly. Is he attempting to trap her? Is this his way of believing her?

"Try to get some sleep," Anakin finally says.

The next morning, Padmé awakes alone in bed. She sweeps her hand across Anakin's side of the bed and finds it cold.

With any luck, perhaps Anakin had been called away to another mission.

She shivers, getting out of bed and grabbing her robe on the way to get breakfast, expecting Threepio ready with juice and toast.

What she does not expect, however, is Anakin cooking breakfast for her shirtless.

Padmé pauses in the kitchen doorway, contemplating going back to bed.

Still, something grabs at her heartstrings, seeing Anakin sincerely try to make it up to her.

"Morning, Angel," Anakin says, scraping something off a pan.

"It smells burnt in here," Padmé responds, wrinkling her nose.

"...I had to put out a small grease fire. But don't worry! You just sit back and relax, Padmé."

Skeptically, Padmé sits at the kitchen table. She leans over to peer at Anakin.

Anakin notices her watching him. "Don't you think you admired the view enough last night?" he teases.

Padmé raises an eyebrow. "...No, just wondering why my husband is...cooking my breakfast wearing only an apron, his underwear, and his boots."

"...You stole my pants last night. It's freezing in here."

Padmé glances down at her lap. "...Well, since I'm now outrageously huge, thanks to you, they fit me pretty well. Plus, you left them on the bed, so I think that means it's fair game. My pants barely fit me anymore."

Anakin shrugs. "Then they're yours to keep, I suppose. But I want them back when you can fit back into your pants."

"Deal. So what are you making?"

"Nubian eggs and Corellian tubers. There's also some jogan fruit in the fridge if you want some," Anakin says, scrambling the eggs.

"I can't eat jogan fruit anymore. Ever since I've been pregnant, they make my stomach turn," Padmé says, getting up. "Ugh, maybe there's some shurra berries in the fridge...aha!"

Anakin turns, smiling. "I'm guessing you found some."

"I did," Padmé replies happily. "I can't tell you how much I've been eating these."

"Is that what you had last night, when you got up?" Anakin asks, not even missing a beat.

"...What?"

Anakin shakes his head. "Nothing, Padmé. Forget I said anything."

Padmé shifts uneasily.

He knows.

She sits back down, and there's an awkward silence in the room.

Anakin makes further attempts at conversation, which Padmé mostly brushes off beside the occasional, "Mhmm."

Growing tired of listening to him, she gets up, excusing herself to the bathroom.

When Padmé makes it to the sink to wash her hands, she happens to glance at her reflection in the mirror and notices a horrible bruise on her neck in the shape of a handprint.

It startles Padmé, and she sinks to the ground with a choked sob.

Her fingertips ghost over the offending area. It doesn't hurt as much as it looks, but it still hurts enough for her to flinch.

Why does he have to do this to her? Why was Anakin like this? What happened to her Anakin? How could she fix it?

Padmé finds it difficult to breathe; the next thing she knows she's hyperventilating. Her stomach rolls as she grows more upset. It's hard to breathe, she's crying, and she feels on the verge of vomiting.

All she can think is I can't breathe , except somehow it's even worse than anything of Anakin's doing- this was all caused by Padmé's own reaction.

There's a cold, paralyzing fear that grips Padmé, and all she's able to do is sit on the ground and cry.

Anakin pokes his head into the bathroom. "Breakfast is d-" He pauses, noticing Padmé crying on the bathroom floor. "Are you alright?"

Padmé shakes her head 'no', attempting to catch her breath.

Anakin rushes over to her. "Hey, hey, stay with me. What's wrong?"

Padmé gestures weakly at her neck in response.

Anakin grimaces. "Oh. I...I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

Padmé makes a choked noise. "Stop. Just stop."

"...do you still want breakfast?" Anakin asks, rubbing soothing circles along her back.

Padmé sniffles. It wouldn't do her or the twins much good to skip a meal, she supposed. "I guess."

Play along, get the information you need, and find your way out of here.

Play along.

Later that evening, Padmé and Anakin are in the kitchen, arguing (as per usual, unfortunately).

"I just don't understand you, Padm é. I don't know what you want from me, I've given you everything...I gave up everything to protect you!" Anakin says, exasperated.

"Don't forget the part where you slaughtered everyone you ever cared about, except me! Or when you murdered children!" Padmé yells back, indignantly.

"The Jedi didn't care! They never loved me!" Anakin shouts.

"You killed Obi-Wan; you killed the man who raised you! All he wanted to do was help!"

"Don't get started on him! You would've rather he killed me, wouldn't you?! Just go out and say it, Padmé! You wish I was dead, don't you? After all I've done for you!"

She's not sure what possesses her to do it - perhaps her repressed anger encourages her to do it. She takes the fork she was using to cook with and stabs him in the hand.

Anakin hisses in pain, and Padmé feels a rush of malicious satisfaction.

With a snarl, he backhands her with his bionic arm, and she collapses on the floor from the force of it.

The adrenaline of the moment quickly wears off, and the next thing she knows, she's crying.

And when she spares a glance at Anakin, he's crying too, mumbling apologies.

"I hate you." She whispers, choking on her tears. "I didn't ask for this... I just wanted a happy life - just the four of us."

"I love you," is all that he responds with.

Something about his response makes her more upset .

"I hate what you've done to us," Padmé says hoarsely. "You're going to destroy us - and for what? I'm tired, Anakin. I'm so tired."

"I'll...I'll be better, I swear. I won't ever lay a finger on you again. The dark side has too much control over me, and I won't let it happen again."

Padmé sniffles. "Promise me? Please Anakin, I can't live like this. This isn't the life our children should have."

Anakin nods stiffly. "I promise. The babies deserve better and that's what they'll get."

Padmé lets out a humorless laugh. "Look at us," she mutters. "We're both crazy."

Anakin shrugs. "When I kill Palpatine, it'll solve our problems. You and I can rule the galaxy, side by side."

Padmé blinks away her tears. That isn't what she wants at all - in fact, she'd rather the opposite. "I just-" she pauses, a sharp pain ripping through her abdomen. "...T-that's not what I want." Padmé finishes.

Anakin sits up, looking concerned. "Are you okay?"

Padmé grinds her teeth as another pain passes. "False contractions," she says curtly.

Anakin rests his hand on her shoulder. "Have you ever had these before?"

Padmé nods. "Yes. They're just-" she pauses, gasping as another hits. She squeezes his hand tightly. "...intense, Anakin."

"So intense that you can't speak through them?" Anakin asks, worriedly.

Padmé gulps. "It's too early," she says. "I'm barely eight months... It's too early, it has to be."

Anakin's own alarm rises as another contraction hits. The main reason he turned to the dark side was to save Padmé from dying in childbirth.

Palpatine hasn't taught him how to save people from death yet.

Anakin inhales shakily, pressing a kiss to Padmé's hand. "...For both of our sakes, I hope you're right, Padmé."