⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

The devil's eyes are always watching, waiting for their chance to consume your soul.

—Unknown

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

The first thing she registers is the rough texture of bark beneath her fingertips.

She blinks open her eyes, staring at the eerie glow of orange flames crackling over a pile of wood.

She stays like that for a moment, brows furrowing in confusion at the sight.

Slowly, she rises up to a sitting position, taking in the wide expanse of trees and green terrain around her.

The sky is a suffocating pitch black, and the faint chirps of crickets just barely manage to reach her ears.

Two makeshift tents are strung up about twenty feet to her right.

And, as she turns her head forward—

Rex's weary face greets her across the fire.

Melanie blinks at him in confusion. "Rex?"

The clone Captain does not react to her words; never raising his gaze up for even a moment.

Rex continues to warm his hands by the fire, before reaching down to twist the wooden stick near the edge of his boots upside down.

Melanie's eyes lower, watching as an unknown type of brown meat sizzles over the flickering orange flames.

The air is dead quiet, and Melanie finds her stomach twisting further and further into a sinking type of dread, the longer the silence goes on.

It feels so... solemn.

She swallows down the rising apprehension building up in the back of her throat, slowly rising to her feet to take in the rest of the camp.

The wide area of land around the fire remains sprinkled with tall grasses and even taller trees.

The icy chill of the wind blows through the waves of greenery hiding the camp from view; making goosebumps rise up on her skin.

Melanie shivers, rubbing at the surface of her upper arms.

The snapping of twigs sounds off from somewhere behind her, and it yanks her swiftly back to reality.

She whips her head around to stare into the yawning darkness of the tree line up ahead.

A small figure gradually materializes from the shadows, carrying a large bundle of freshly chopped firewood in their arms.

Melanie gapes at the sight of Ahsoka stomping towards the camp.

The young Togruta's orange features are no longer filled with the same wide-eyed excitement that Melanie has grown to expect from the Padawan.

Ahsoka's face is pinched with tension, her mouth curved into a perpetual frown. The blue and white tips of her lekku hang an inch below her shoulders, whipping backwards from the wind as she stomps forward. She shuffles the weight of the logs in her arms as she comes up to stand beside Rex, before dumping the chunks of wood at the clone's feet.

Before Rex can even open his mouth to speak, Ahsoka is already turning around to stomp back into the line of trees again.

"Hey! Hey, kid! Hold on—where are you going?" Rex calls after her in exasperation.

Ahsoka does not even glance in the clone's direction; simply reaching down to unclip her lightsaber from her belt. "I'm gonna take another quick sweep of the perimeter. We can't afford to be careless."

"Ahsoka, come on. You need to eat." Rex says, gruff tone taking a pleading edge, "The sir would want you to—"

Ahsoka whips around faster than Melanie can even blink, orange features flickering with fury. "Well, Mel isn't here!"

The thick weight of tension crackles in the air as Rex and Ahsoka stare at each other through the darkness of the night.

A few more seconds pass.

Finally—

"She's not here." Ahsoka whispers, blinking back something that looks suspiciously like the sign of growing tears.

Melanie swallows down the growing lump in her throat, empathy welling up within her at the clear agony in Ahsoka's tone.

She watches the barely there outline of Ahsoka's head lower; the girls shoulders beginning to shudder in grief.

"None of them are." Ahsoka finishes quietly.

And then the young Togruta turns her back towards Rex, before finally igniting her lightsaber.

A burst of blue fills Melanie's vision; the soft glow of the light outlining Ahsoka's form as she stomps back into the darkness.

Sadness chips away at the edges of Melanie's heart as she watches the Padawan's figure disappear past the tree line.

She turns around to face Rex, taking in the way the clone's shoulders have slumped forward in resignation.

Rex heaves out a shuddering sigh, a wet shine gleaming near the corners of his eyes as he stares through Melanie's form.

And then the clone Captain leans over to place his head in his hands.

Melanie's heart twists with a sharp stab of sorrow at the sight.

Slowly, she lowers her body to sit back on the log on the other side of the fire.

She stays there for a few minutes, simply listening to the humming crickets and chirps of the night; the edges of her fingers running back and forth across the rough surface of the jagged tree bark beneath her legs.

She's never had a dream this clear before.

Only nightmares.

But this doesn't seem like a nightmare.

It... it just feels like—

Like a memory.

But that can't be right, because she's never been in this moment until now.

She stares across the crackle of the fire, continuing to watch hopelessly as Rex's shoulders shake in silent sobs.

Melanie's throat clogs with tears. She swallows roughly, trying to force the wretched feeling down.

"What is this?" she whispers under her breath.

The silence of the night doesn't give her back an answer.

As seconds of time tick away, the low crackle of the fire gradually morphs into a distant hum.

The hum grows louder. And louder.

It almost sounds like an alarm.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Melanie is gradually drawn back from the warm embrace of unconsciousness; the beeping hum of an unknown device resonating through her ears.

She blinks open her eyes, blearily taking in the holographic numbers of her alarm clock.

Her chest heaves out a weary sigh.

She reaches over her bedside table to silence the shrill hum of the sci-fi device, before slowly sitting up.

The green of her eyes take in the dimming shadows spanning the length of her room; the rising sun gleaming through the glass doors of her balcony stretching across the floor, while slowly but surely swallowing the darkness whole.

The sight of the shadows dying out helps calm the suffocating bubble of emotion building up in her chest, making her slump forward in relief.

As long as the sun still rises in the sky each day, the darkness can be beaten.

As long as the light still remains, the darkness can't win.

She rakes a hand through the loose curls of her hair, thinking over the somber scene that filled her dream.

It wasn't a nightmare.

It was just... so sad.

And it had all felt so real.

The rough texture of bark beneath her fingertips. The icy chill of the air. The bright glow of the fire.

Rex's sobs of anguish.

Her throat closes up, choking down the clog of tears at the mere thought of Rex's pain.

The dream couldn't have been real. Melanie had no memory of something like that happening between Rex and Ahsoka.

So, what does that mean? Is her brain just... unconsciously conjuring up horrific scenarios of what could happen to the people she cares about, if she fails at what she has been sent here to do?

Or...

Was it The Shopkeeper?

A muscle in Melanie's jaw clenches in frustration at the thought.

That could be it. After all—The Shopkeeper warned Melanie before vanishing into thin air that she wasn't done with her yet.

"This isn't over." The Shopkeeper hissed in her direction.

A shudder ripples over Melanie's shoulders.

Oh, yes. That could definitely be it.

Maybe The Shopkeeper has purposefully been messing with Melanie's head.

That could be possible.

Right?

After all—the best way to get her to go home, would be to convince Melanie that trying to save this universe is a lost cause.

Melanie can definitely see The Shopkeeper projecting some vivid hallucination of the future into her mind, trying to make her lose hope.

She growls under her breath, quickly rising to her feet.

All at once, she deliberately decides that—under no circumstances—will she let that creepy, dark-haired woman win.

She will not give up hope. Ever.

Melanie nods to herself, and then stomps over to her steel closet that remains hidden in the wall of her room.

She reaches out to tap the blue touchpad, watching as the metal door slides open.

Her green eyes take in the same earthy-toned robes and brown boots she wears each day while at the Temple; thinking dimly over the "unofficial Senate meeting" she will have to go to in a mere hour.

Ugh, she is so not looking forward to that.

She shakes the thought off, reaching down to begin picking out her outfit.

As she starts to get ready, Palpatine's wrinkled face flashes behind her eyes, making her shudder.

She can only pray to all that is good in The Force that she will not run into that man again.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

About thirty minutes later, just as Melanie is pulling her hair up to tie the long golden strands out of her face, she hears a quiet knock echoing from the other side of her door.

Her heart stutters in her chest, already knowing deep inside who is waiting for her.

Her throat forces down a swallow, taking a deep breath while struggling desperately to calm her nerves.

And then she squares her shoulders, making her way to answer the door.

She taps a random code into the touchpad beside the wall, watching anxiously as the automatic door slides open.

And—just as she knew he would be—Anakin's familiar presence stands on the other side of it.

Anakin towers over her with a hand raised mid-air, almost as if he had been about to knock on the surface of her door again.

Her eyes roam across his figure, taking a quick once-over of his appearance.

Anakin wears the same jet-black robes as always, the leather and cloth material stretching tightly across his broad shoulders. Brown locks of his hair fall messily over the blue of his eyes; appearing wild and untamed. And of course, the familiar gleam of his lightsaber hangs lowly on one side of his hip.

The angled curve of his jaw clenches, almost as if he is holding back some unnamed emotion; body just barely shifting from one foot to the other.

Melanie's lips stretch into a tight smile, wringing her hands together in front of her.

And then she waits.

Seconds of suffocating silence ticks by as they stare at each other.

Then—just when she thinks she can stand it no longer—Anakin finally opens up his mouth to speak.

"Hi." Anakin murmurs softly, giving her a slight quirk of his lips.

Melanie swallows, hands clenching tighter in front of her; heart pounding through her ears.

"... Hi." she whispers back.

She raises a hand to fiddle with the length of her ponytail that spills down the slope of her shoulder, feeling slightly awkward.

Does she look okay?

She didn't have as much time to get ready as she would have liked. But the "unofficial Senate meeting" had been scheduled so early in the day that she just decided to deal with it.

Her fingers smooth the golden locks of her ponytail down, before shakily reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

Across from her, Anakin's eyes track the motion with a burning level of intensity.

His eyes lower, lazily sweeping across her form, before focusing back on her face.

A heartbeat passes.

Then—

"You ready to go?" Anakin asks, tone filling with an undercurrent of gentleness.

Melanie's chin jerks in a quick nod, gaze lowered to the center of his broad chest. "Yeah."

On the edges of her vision, she registers the tendons in Anakin's neck flexing in a rough swallow.

And then Anakin steps back, allowing her the space to walk ahead of him.

Melanie ducks her head as she passes him by, chewing at her bottom lip anxiously.

It's strange.

She's not afraid.

She's just—

Nervous.

Her brows furrow in confusion at the realization.

Huh. How weird.

Time loses all meaning as Anakin and her walk quietly towards the turbolift, before stepping inside the automatic doors to begin making their way down to the hangar bay floor.

The Council informed Melanie a few days ago that Anakin would be the one to accompany her to the Senate building. The Jedi Masters apparently thought Anakin was the best choice for the job, since—technically speaking—Melanie was indeed "his" advisor at the moment, since she was still assigned to the 501st battalion.

Personally, Melanie also suspects that the Council decided to send Anakin with her to the Senate because of the dark-robed man's gained fame and notoriety during the war.

Usually, she would have argued against it. But since she's already convinced herself to try and get over her terror of Anakin, she decided that a scenario like this would probably be the best time to do it.

And besides—since Anakin is the main "superstar" of the war, perhaps the Senate might go a little easier on Melanie, considering Coruscant's famous General will be right next to her.

That's probably just wishful thinking.

But, hey—a girl can dream, can't she?

She blinks back to reality as the automatic doors of the turbolift slide shut, enclosing her alone with Anakin's towering form.

A surge of suffocating silence settles over the room.

Then—

"So, how's your new comlink doing?" Anakin asks, angling his head to gaze down at her.

Melanie freezes under the weight of Anakin's stare.

She forces a swallow from her throat, before peering over at him from the corner of her eye.

"Oh, it's doing great!" she says, letting out a nervous chuckle.

On a whim, she raises her hand, banging the metallic device wrapped around her wrist against the hard surface of the wall.

"See? Good as new." she states, tone just barely managing to hold back her anxiety.

Anakin's lips curve into a soft smile. "That's good. Ahsoka missed talking to you those few days without it. And..."

A tense beat passes by.

Melanie peers up at Anakin, watching in slight confusion as the dark-robed man's face seems to flicker with hesitation.

They both stare at each other a moment more.

Finally—after a few more heartbeats—Anakin opens up his mouth to speak again.

"And... the boys... missed talking to you too, of course." Anakin says, clearing his throat.

Melanie smiles up at him, features brightening at just the mere mention of her chosen clone friends. "I definitely missed talking to them too." She raises her wrist, wiggling her hand in a emphasizing gesture. "I promise to be careful. I just gotta make sure it doesn't slide off my wrist again while walking around. Wouldn't want to go another week without talking to the men and Ahsoka." she finishes with a warm chuckle.

Anakin tilts his head at her, a frown forming on his face. "That's how you broke it?"

Melanie nods in artificial seriousness, continuing to completely bullshit him. "Yep! It just wasn't tight enough on my wrist, I guess. The comlink just..." she sweeps her hand outward in a 'whooshing' gesture, "... slid right off!"

Anakin swallows, the blue of his eyes lowering to her comlink.

Slowly, his arm reaches out to graze against the skin of her wrist.

"May I?" he murmurs.

And just like that—

It's like all the air has been sucked from her lungs.

Melanie blinks, staring down at the way the burning edges of his fingers ghost over her right hand. "Um... uh... alright."

Anakin's touch is feather-light as he cautiously reaches down to pull her hand over to him, before twisting her arm so that her palm is face up. The scorching sensation of his fingers curl around her wrist; while his other mechanical hand begins to fiddle with a small nob that juts out from the side of her comlink.

Melanie stares, hardly breathing.

"All comlinks have a mechanism that tightens the wrist brace to the person wearing them." Anakin explains in a low murmur, the pads of his fingers brushing against the soft skin of her pulse point as he tugs her body a little closer to him; peering down at the device with intense focus.

"Uh-huh." Melanie says dumbly, heart thundering in her ears.

Anakin could easily break the narrow bones of her wrist with one flick of his metal hand.

It's nerve-racking.

And yet—

Here he is, holding her as gently as possible.

It's... strange.

He's capable of such destruction.

But he's also capable of such ingenuity; able to build an entire droid from mere scratch.

He's so confusing.

Her breath hitches in her chest as the burn of Anakin's fingers finally tightens the mechanism of her comlink; the wrist brace coiling tighter around her skin with a quick snap of motion.

She dizzily watches as Anakin raises his head; the wide length of his body still leaning over her comlink in a makeshift bow.

He peers up at her with heavy-lidded eyes, voice but a low rumble as he asks, "That feel better?"

Melanie swallows roughly, arm slightly twisting in his hold. "Y-Yeah. Never better."

Anakin's carved features soften, and he gives her a warm smile; appearing pleased that she is happy with his work. The scorching heat of his fingers flexes around her wrist, before finally sliding away from her skin as he rises back up to his full height to tower over her. "Good."

The shrill ding of the turbolift doors opening yanks Melanie swiftly back to reality.

She glances over at the exit, lowering her hand back to her side, recalling the reason he and her are even in this moment to begin with.

Across from her, Anakin blinks rapidly; some kind of daze seeming to clear from his eyes.

Melanie shuffles awkwardly, still struggling to calm her lingering anxiety. "I guess we should get going. We don't want to keep the Senate waiting."

Anakin loudly clears his throat. "Yeah. Sure."

The dark-robed man ducks his head, mumbling something unintelligible under his breath, before turning to stomp out of the turbolift.

Melanie trails after him, reaching up to rub at the skin of her wrist; the ghost of Anakin's touch still burning across her narrow pulse point.

Strange.

The tense moment could only have lasted a minute or two.

And yet—

To Melanie, it had felt like hours.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Melanie stares unseeingly ahead at some fixed point in the distance, continuing to lean her back against the cool surface of the Galactic Senate building's hallway.

To her left, Anakin's towering form does the same.

He stands a respectable distance away from her, but even now, she can still feel the intense heat radiating off the surface of his body.

She chews on her bottom lip, shuffling uncomfortably at the sensation.

Her mind wanders, thinking anxiously of how long Padmé will take in preparing Melanie's "grand entrance", so to speak, for the entire Galactic fucking Senate Chamber.

She's so nervous.

And she absolutely fucking despises being back in this goddamn death trap of a building again.

Some part of her can't help but believe that she'll say something to screw this whole thing up.

Can the Senate technically fire Melanie?

She hopes not. Because that would royally suck for her plans moving forward.

The metallic weight of her comlink is heavy on her wrist; a physical reminder of Melanie's triumph over not running in terror from Anakin the mere moment he had requested permission to touch her.

And honestly—considering the level of nightmares she's endured of Anakin gruesomely killing her—she feels like she's doing pretty good while being near his presence.

The low rumble of Anakin's voice fills her ears as he brushes his fingers over her shoulder.

"Melanie?"

She flinches away from him, jerking her head over to gaze in his direction.

Anakin raises his flesh hand in a peaceful gesture, giving her a rueful smile. "Sorry. I was just trying to get your attention."

Melanie takes in a shuddering breath of air, struggling to calm her nerves. She's more apprehensive than usual while being in the Senate building.

After all—Palpatine is still lurking around here somewhere.

"No, it's okay." she breathes, raising a hand to rub at the center of her chest.

Anakin's eyes lower, fixing on the way her fingers splay out; rubbing near the skin of her collarbone.

He watches the rise and fall of her chest for a moment, before raising his burning gaze back to her own.

"You don't gotta be nervous, alright? Everything's gonna be fine in there." Anakin tells her, tone laced with assurance.

Melanie nods in thanks at the clear words of comfort. "I hope so."

"I know so." Anakin emphasizes, the angled slope of his jaw tightening in stubborn determination. "You'll be back on the field with us in no time." But then he chuckles, carved features filling with warmth. "I know Ahsoka will sure be ecstatic."

Melanie's face brightens. "She's such a good kid."

Anakin throws back his head and laughs; a loud, deep sound that chips away at the icy wall around her heart. "Don't let Ahsoka hear you call her that. She'll take offense."

Melanie lets loose a quiet laugh of her own, shoulders shaking with amusement.

She decides not to break it to Anakin that Ahsoka seems to not mind it so much when Melanie calls the young Togruta "kid." She doesn't want to start an argument between the young Padawan and her Master.

Gradually, as the seconds drag on, Melanie and Anakin's laughter slowly dies out.

The two of them descend into silence, smiling quietly to themselves.

The moment is... comforting.

It's so strange. She's been terrified of him for months.

And now—here she is—having a genuine conversation with him.

The low rumble of Anakin's voice drags her back to the present.

"I never thanked you for that, by the way." Anakin mutters.

Melanie furrows her brows in confusion, green eyes flickering in his direction. "Thanked me for what?"

"Thanked you for being there for Ahsoka." Anakin says in explanation, angling his body to the side. He leans the broad slope of his shoulder against the wall, peering down at her through the brown strands of hair hanging over his eyes. "For just... being her friend, I guess."

Melanie blinks up at him, utterly stunned at the words.

Before she can open her mouth to reply, Anakin continues on.

"You know... it's funny. Before you got here, I never really realized how... isolated... Ahsoka actually is." Anakin admits, lips curling into a frown. "I try to be there for her. And I know that she knows the 501st and I am always here for her if she needs anything. But... it's not the same as having friends her own age. Not really." He heaves out a weary sigh, shaking his head to himself. But then his features soften; raising his gaze up in her direction again. "But you... you're the first friend besides Barriss that Ahsoka's had in a while. And I know it means the world to her."

Melanie swallows, ducking her head down at the praise, feeling strangely shy. "It's nothing you need to thank me for. I love hanging out with her."

On the edges of her vision, she almost swears that Anakin's features soften into a look of fond endearment.

"Still... thank you." Anakin mutters quietly.

Melanie nods carefully, green eyes focusing back on the dark blue of his intense gaze.

A few seconds pass like that as she and Anakin both just—

Just look at each other.

Melanie tilts her head, eyes sifting over every angled carve of his face.

Anakin cocks his own head to the side, slowly stepping away from the wall to stand in front of her.

He towers over her; blocking out half of the artificial light spilling down from the high ceiling as he gives her his rapt attention.

"What?" he murmurs gently.

Melanie rolls her body around to face him, shoulder blades digging against the hard surface of the stone wall behind her.

She stares up at his looming form in silence, feeling a strange emotion well up in the pit of her stomach.

"You're just so..." Her voice trails off in thought, struggling with what to say.

Across from her, Anakin's features flicker with vulnerability. "Just so... what?"

Melanie swallows, tracing her tongue across the seam of her lips. "You're just so... different... than I thought you'd be." she admits quietly, before ducking her head to stare down at her clenched hands. "F-From the holobooks, I mean."

Anakin's eyes follow the gesture with a searing level of intensity, before rumbling out a low chuckle. "So, I'm not the Big Bad General you thought I was?"

Her head snaps up, eyes widening in shock at his words.

Anakin throws back his head, letting out an amused laugh at her reaction.

"You think what goes around on my ship doesn't get back to me eventually?" he teases, lips widening in a smirk.

"I-I—" Melanie stutters, ducking her head down to fiddle with her hands.

Anakin leans a little closer, the heat of his body almost burning her with his nearness, as he tries to meet her eyes. "See? I'm not that intimidating. Right?"

Everything about this moment feels like déjà vu to Melanie; reminding her of another moment in time where Anakin had backed her against the wall.

But this time feels different. It feels safe.

Because this time, although he remains suffocatingly close, Anakin has still purposefully left open spaces on either side of her; allowing Melanie the chance to escape from him if she wishes to.

She raises her head, trailing her gaze over the broad plains of Anakin's chest, lingering on the way the tendons of his neck flex in a swallow, before focusing her eyes on his own.

She stares up at him, taking in the clear fond endearment that shines in his eyes.

In spite of herself, her features soften; another loud crack echoing out from the icy wall around her heart.

"No." Melanie admits, giving him a small grin. "Maybe not... that intimidating."

Anakin's features brighten like the warm glow of the sun; lips stretching into a wide smile.

Another sharp crack echoes out from the icy wall around her chest, making her groan internally in frustration.

So much for polite distance.

Ah, whatever.

She watches Anakin duck his head; the low baritone of his voice letting out a fond chuckle.

But then, slowly, his smile fades away.

Melanie's brows furrow, unconsciously ducking her head to try and meet his eyes. "What?"

Anakin swallows roughly, a flicker of pain flashing across his expression.

Then—

"I really didn't mean to scare you, Mel." Anakin whispers, eyes glazing over with muffled sorrow.

Immediately, Melanie somehow knows deep in her bones that Anakin is referring to the moment he snapped at her while on the Lurmen villager's planet.

She gives him a weak smile, feeling a lump of emotion building up in the back of her throat.

"I know." she whispers.

Something in Anakin's face clears at her words; the broad slope of his shoulders slackening in relief, internally realizing that she has accepted his apology.

A few heartbeats pass as they continue to lock eyes.

Then—

"Alright, the Senate is ready to see you now, Advisor Bains!" Padmé chirps, elegantly stepping out of the Chambers to greet Melanie and Anakin.

Anakin takes a step back from Melanie at his secret wife's entrance, some unknown emotion playing across his face.

Melanie purposefully ignores this. Padmé and Anakin can ogle each other later. Right now, she needs both of their help to make it through this Senate meeting intact.

As she and Anakin begin to follow Padmé inside the Senate Chamber, a sense of dread fills Melanie's bones.

Here we go.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

The Galactic Senate Chamber is certainly a breathtaking sight to behold.

Hundreds and hundreds of steel grey repulsorpods span over every inch of the rotunda's massive interior, with senators and representatives from every corner of the galaxy slowly making their way to their respective seats.

The dim lighting allows a shroud of darkness to fall over the enclosed space, and the small points of artificial light emitting from the repulsorpods are the only thing that gives Melanie even a slight clue over how high up the ceiling of the chamber actually goes.

Melanie comes to a stop near the front of Padmé's own Senatorial pod, gaping up at the wide expanse of the room with complete amazement.

There has to be at the very least over a thousand senators in here.

She gradually twirls around in a small circle—purposefully ignoring the suspiciously fond look of amusement growing on Anakin's striking features—as she takes in the entire structure of the space.

"This is... insane." she mutters quietly under her breath.

On the edges of her vision, the familiar blurry shape of Padmé's figure washes into view.

"The Senate Chamber is indeed quite magnificent." Padmé agrees, glancing over at her with an elegant smile.

The surge of heat erupting to life behind her back alerts Melanie of Anakin's close presence; the dark-robed man choosing to stand just slightly behind her left shoulder.

His shadow looms over her, making hairs rise on the back of her neck in a dull sense of anxiety.

A muscle in Melanie's jaw clenches, and she deliberately forces herself to shove the emotion to the side.

Her pulse rapidly increases as Anakin leans down, the heat of his body almost burning her with his nearness, as he ducks his head to her ear.

"Just wait till you see it from the center." Anakin whispers, hot breath rustling the blonde strands of hair skimming the length of her neck. "Senator Amidala always used to tell me that the sight is enough to make a grown man fall in love."

"Uh-huh." Melanie says dumbly, trying to ignore the rising level of nervousness pounding through her veins.

Damn. Guess this this whole 'burying her terror in the ground' thing isn't gonna be as easy as she thought.

And it's such a shame too—they did so well with each other while talking out in the hall.

But even then, Melanie's heart had skipped a few beats when Anakin had drawn closer.

Ah, whatever.

She's sure she'll slowly grow less terrified of him as time goes on.

Hopefully.

Ugh—she'll try her best, okay?

Melanie is swiftly yanked back to awareness as the short beep of an alarm screeches out over the Senate Chamber's massive speaker system.

She flinches, raising her arms up to press her palms against the surface of her ears.

Beside her, Padmé winces. "My apologies. I should have warned you about that. It's to alert the senators of the start of the meeting."

Melanie slowly lowers her hands back to her sides, trying to ignore the distant ringing still echoing through her ears from the sharp noise. "But didn't you say this was an "unofficial" meeting?"

Padmé nods. "Oh, yes! Not to worry, Miss Bains. The Senate simply follows these procedures out of habit." Her glossy lips stretch up into a teasing grin. "After all—if this was an official meeting—the Chancellor would have to be here."

Melanie's stomach curdles with bitter dread at just the mere mention of the grey-haired man.

She forces her features to remain blank, simply giving the former Queen of Naboo a vacant smile in acknowledgment.

Padmé must sense a lingering tension in her gaze, because the woman extends her hand over to grip Melanie's own.

"Try not to worry so much, my dear." Padmé says, tone taking on a slight soothing edge. "The Senate only wishes to ask you a few questions. You will be through this ordeal before you can even blink."

Melanie stares at Padmé, feeling a strange surge of emotion rising up in the back of her throat.

Just barely; she finds herself squeezing the senator's hand back.

"... Thanks." Melanie mutters quietly.

Padmé's lips curve into another soft smile, finally pulling her hand away. "It is not a problem. I am always happy to help."

A dull sensation of rage echoes near the back of Melanie's head at the words, but she shoves the emotion down; forcing herself to purge the flash of a small Tusken child from her brain.

I am one with The Force, and The Force is with me—

All at once—the lifeless repulsorpod the three of them stand in surges forward, and Melanie's hands blindly reach down to grip the edges of the steel death trap before her body can tumble to the floor.

Behind her, the low baritone of Anakin's voice lets out a muffled curse; the scorching heat of his hand just barely grazing her side for a moment as he slightly stumbles forward.

Melanie holds back a shudder, biting her tongue until the intense pressure of his touch finally slides away from her.

Ugh! Do the Galactic Senate pods have to be so goddamn small?

It's ridiculous. People barely have room to breath in these freaking things.

She is yanked away from her quietly seething thoughts at the designer of the Senate's stupid fucking repulsorpods; glancing to the side to watch Padmé finally pull her hand away from the blinking control panel controlling the sci-fi machine.

And then, the gigantic holographic glow of Melanie's own face appears right before her very eyes.

She jumps slightly backwards, almost tripping over her own two feet as she slams into the muscled chest behind her.

The burn of Anakin's hands engulf the skin of her upper arms to steady her balance.

"Careful!" Anakin chuckles, the deep sound of his voice resonating down the length of her spine.

"S-Sorry." Melanie stutters out, taking a careful step away from him.

Anakin lets her go without a fight; the intense heat radiating from his fingers leaving her another moment later.

"Forgive me for saying this, Advisor Bains," Padmé starts, glancing over at her with an inquiring eye, "but you are acting as if you have never seen a hologram before."

Melanie's forces her lips to stretch into a too-wide grin. "Oh, no! I've definitely seen holograms before. I talk to Ahsoka on holocomm all the time! Ha ha ha—"

She deliberately does not mention the fact that she has never seen the size of such a massive holographic figure up close before. It is not important, and will only bring more suspicion upon her.

Well, there was that one time she saw Palpatine's massive holographic figure in the distance from the grounds of the Jedi Temple, the very first day she had entered this insane universe.

But that had been miles away. The distance had allowed the sheer scale of the hologram to lose its weight; the colossal size of the artificial projection not fully registering in Melanie's brain as real.

But this—

There is no denying the enormous sight of the glowing hologram in front of her.

It's so fucking weird to see every single detail in her face so up close like this.

Padmé and Anakin's figures also are being artificially projected on either side of her own; and it's even weirder to watch the way Padmé's hologram begins to speak, the very same moment as the flesh and blood Padmé beside her does so as well.

"My fellow senators—" Padmé begins, the boom of her melodic voice amplified by the microphone in front of her, "—I have come before you today to present Melanie Bains, the advisor of the Jedi Order."

Melanie shuffles nervously as the entire gigantic rotunda grows dead silent.

And then the Senate Chamber erupts into chaos.

Hundreds upon hundreds of voices begin overlapping with each other, morphing into a blended chorus of white noise.

Behind her, Anakin scoffs.

"Warm welcome." he mutters near the shell of her ear, hot breath trailing over the side of her neck.

Melanie's lips just barely quirk upward at his quiet sarcasm; somehow finding the strength to not move away from him.

To her left, Melanie watches as Padmé raises her hand in a gesture of silence. "Senators, please! Let us allow Advisor Bains the chance to speak."

"Speak?!" a gruff voice booms out from across the massive speakers of the room.

Melanie blinks, watching in dizzying amazement as another massive holographic figure is projected near the center of the Chamber floors.

Across the wide expanse of the room, a small repulsorpod lurches forward.

The gray-skinned alien is too far away for Melanie's eyes to distinguish his features in person, but the massive holographic projection still allows her to see the face of a Neimoidian male politician staring back at them.

"Senator Lott Dod, please—" Padmé begins in barely concealed exasperation, before being swiftly cut off.

"—I do not see why we should listen to this... civilian... when she has so very clearly disrespected our political process of going about things." Senator Dod sneers, the croak of his voice screeching over Melanie's ears like nails on a chalkboard.

Hundreds of feet to the right, another Senatorial pod floats outward near the center of the room; the massive hologram next to Melanie's own switching to the familiar carved features of Senator Rush Clovis.

"I must say, I quite agree with Senator Dod." Rush Clovis says, features twisting in artificial concern. "This woman disregarded the very way Coruscant goes about doing things. The Senate should have been informed."

Melanie's shoulders shrink down under the weight of their criticism, a rush of embarrassment flickering across her face.

But then—just as she is contemplating reaching up to hide her face under the weight of the brown robes clinging to her shoulders—the low baritone of Anakin's voice rumbles to life from behind her.

"Alright, that's it." Anakin mutters, stepping forward to yank the small microphone of Padmé's repulsorpod near his lips.

"Ana—General Skywalker!" Padmé hisses in alarm, just managing to catch herself before giving her relationship with Anakin away. "Are you out of your mind?!"

Anakin lazily waves Padmé's concern away.

Melanie watches in stunned silence as Anakin clears his throat, before finally beginning to address the entire Galactic Senate Chamber.

"Senators, I can definitely understand your frustration over not being informed about Advisor Bains's new role in the war." Anakin says, the deep resonance of his voice booming across the length of the rotunda without a care in the world. "But you have to understand—we're in a war. And there are just some things that have to be kept a secret, for the sake of operational security."

Melanie's breath hitches in her throat as Anakin reaches around her body to settle the scorching weight of his touch over her right shoulder.

It's strange; she should probably be nervous about his cybernetic hand being so close to her carotid artery; considering the fact that he could snap her neck like a twig with one flick of his wrist.

And yet—she's not afraid.

Just... nervous, she supposes.

Time seems to lose all meaning as the burn of Anakin's thumb just barely rubs along the juncture between her shoulder and the column of her throat; making Melanie's heart skip a beat in her chest with every careful stroke against her skin.

The gesture is strangely soothing.

She waits for the anxiety filling her veins to morph into terror; waits for the steady beat of her heart to begin pounding through her ears; but the emotion never comes.

It's almost like the gentle caress of Anakin's thumb is lulling the terror to sleep; the dark-robed man slowly but surely taming the beat of her heart, simply waiting patiently until the fear of him will one day be purged from her mind for good.

She inhales, feeling the leather texture of his metal thumb graze along the pale skin of her throat.

She exhales; the slow thump of her heart staying a steady rhythm, except for the barely there thud of her pulse skipping a beat every time his touch moves back and forth across her skin.

Maybe this is how she'll get rid of her fear.

Maybe the weight of Anakin's comforting touch will gradually tame it from her veins.

The low rumble of Anakin's voice yanks her back to the tense reality in front of her.

"Advisor Bains has been an amazing asset to the Jedi during this war, and it was our responsibility to keep her safe. That's why we decided not to tell anyone yet." Anakin explains, the blue of his eyes flickering around the massive room.

Senator Clovis frowns, already opening his mouth to refute the words, but Anakin never gives him a chance to try.

"And honestly—you guys should really be apologizing to us." Anakin says with a shrug. "The Chancellor is my friend, and he already told me that he knows he made a mistake. All this attention could jeopardize future missions in the war."

Melanie gapes up at Anakin in complete astonishment.

Did... did Anakin just criticize Palpatine?

That wasn't a hallucination. That actually just happened.

Anakin—the future Darth Vader—just criticized Palpatine's actions of his own free will.

What the fuck? Melanie mouths quietly to herself.

She never has the time to truly contemplate the sheer insanity that just occurred, because before she even knows it, another Senatorial pod is lurching forward to speak.

The familiar holographic image of Senator Organa is a mind-boggling sight to behold, considering all of what Melanie knows about the man.

She watches with a strange sense of wonder as one of the future leaders of the Rebel Alliance opens his to speak.

"I agree with General Skywalker." Bail Organa says, inclining his head in a show of respect towards Anakin's direction. "We cannot always expect to be informed of such sensitive information at the very beginning. I am confident that the Jedi Order would have followed political procedures and informed the Senate once it was safe to do so."

"Thank you, Senator Organa." Padmé replies, stepping forward to speak into her microphone with a quick glare towards Anakin. "I am glad that we can all agree on the matter here. And so, it is with a fond farewell that Advisor Bains must bid you all goodbye."

Padmé ignores the growing murmurs of annoyance building up from the Chamber around her; simply reaching down to begin maneuvering her repulsorpod back to its respective position.

Melanie lets out a quiet sigh of relief at finally managing to escape from the Galactic Senate's prying eyes.

God, that was so awkward.

She doesn't even realize that Anakin has still been gripping her shoulder, until the burning heat of his touch is pulled away from her skin.

Melanie glances up at him, giving the man a thankful look of appreciation for stepping in to defend her earlier.

Anakin's features soften at her gesture, ducking his head down in a strange show of some unknown emotion.

Melanie smiles quietly to herself, before following Anakin and Padmé back out into the wide stone halls of the Senate building.

All around them, dozens and dozens of senators are beginning to leave their pods, murmuring quietly to each other as they take a curious peek in Melanie's direction, before making their way down the hall and to the large exit of the building.

Melanie stares at the alien-like features of some of the senators passing them by, something in her internally wondering what the politicians all think of her.

It's anxiety inducing to be the "talk of the town", so to speak.

Ah, whatever.

At least the Senate meeting wasn't official. Then Palpatine would have been there.

And that would not have been a fun time.

But then—because of fucking course this would happen to her right now—the dark croon of Palpatine's voice materializes to life from behind her.

"Ah, Senator Amidala! Anakin! I am glad to have caught you before you both could leave." Palpatine says with an artificially comforting smile.

Melanie watches in a type of delirious horror as Anakin's face brightens at Palpatine's presence.

"Chancellor Palpatine." Anakin greets, giving the gray-haired man a boyish-looking grin, before reaching out to shake his old friend's hand. "How have you been?"

"Ah, as good as can be expected, my dear boy!" Palpatine chortles, dark eyes glinting with false kindness.

The disguised Sith Lord inclines his head in Melanie's direction, scanning over her face with a chilling precision.

"Advisor Bains, I was wondering if you would be so kind as to allow me the chance to speak with you in my office for a moment." Palpatine requests, before slightly gesturing a wrinkled hand over his shoulder. "It is only a short distance away from here."

Melanie's heart skips a beat in her chest at the terrifying idea of being alone in a room with the Devil himself.

Her expression is stiff as she turns to face Anakin; the whites of her eyes just barely more prominent than usual.

Anakin's features soften, giving her a look of quiet encouragement.

She numbly watches Anakin duck his head to speak into the shell of her ear.

"Don't worry. Palpatine's nice." Anakin murmurs lowly, hot breath rustling the strands of hair skimming the length of her throat.

And then the dark-robed man pulls away, allowing Palpatine the chance to interrogate Melanie within the dark depths of his office.

She internally screeches inside her head as Anakin and Padmé turn around to fuck off together towards some unknown location, abandoning Melanie to her terrifying fate.

She takes the terror by the throat; strangling it into silence.

And then she turns to follow the Devil down the hall.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Anakin follows Padmé down the wide corridor of the hallway, before they both finally come to a stop beside one of the rectangular stone columns that spans the length of the walls.

He leans the slope of his shoulder against the surface of the column, watching lazily as Padmé turns around to stand near him.

With a respectable distance away, of course.

His hands itch to touch her, but he beats the urge back; already knowing Padmé would berate him for even trying it in such a public setting.

He's never had much of a problem with keeping his hands to himself while in the Senate Building. But for some reason, a strange surge of heat has grown inside his veins over the past thirty minutes since entering the building.

He can't explain exactly why. He didn't even get a chance to see Padmé in person today until she walked out of the Galactic Senate Chamber to greet him and Melanie.

Maybe it's related to that old saying he used to read about in old holonovels as a young Padawan.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Or some kriffing crap like that.

Either way, his body aches for the touch of a kind hand, and his wife is always eager to give him the soothing caress of her nimble fingers in the safe confines of her apartment; away from prying eyes.

"Senator Amidala," Anakin begins, lips curving up into a small smirk, "forgive me if this is improper to say, but you look absolutely radiant this morning."

He watches in barely concealed delight as a pink tinge appears on Padmé's cheeks.

Padmé ducks her head slightly, clearing her throat to try and gather herself. "Why, thank you, General Skywalker."

Anakin's chest puffs up with pride at his wife's clear flustered expression, a pleased grin tugging at the edges of his lips.

He loves the way Padmé makes him feel. It's utterly addicting. Like a drug that he just can't quit.

He leans forward even more, opening his mouth to begin whispering sweet nothings near the shell of her ear.

A red flush travels up the length of Padmé's neck.

"Anakin!" Padmé hisses quietly, reaching out to swat gently at the muscles of his shoulder. "Stop it. You're going to get us—"

Their backs both instantly straighten at the faint echo of footsteps drawing closer.

Padmé pales, taking a deliberate step back, just as Mon Mothma's small frame walks past the stone column.

Anakin rolls his eyes quietly, before glancing over his shoulder to give the auburn-haired Senator an award winning smile. "Senator Mothma. Lovely to see you."

Mom Mothma raises an eyebrow. "Ah, hello, General Skywalker. I did not expect you to still be here." Her eyes flicker over to Padmé, a knowing smile playing at the edges of her lips. "But I can see you are busy at the moment, so I will allow you both to continue your... conversation."

Anakin watches the Chandrilan politician incline her head in a show of respect to him, and then to the figure of his wife standing near him.

And then Mon Mothma turns, making her way further down the hallway.

The second the auburn-haired woman is out of earshot, a sharp stab of pain hits the back of his skull.

"Ow!" Anakin groans, rubbing at the back of his head with a muffled curse. "What was that for?"

"You almost got us caught!" Padmé hisses up at him, crossing her arms with a small pout. She sighs, shaking her head in exasperation. "One day, Ani... I swear you will be the death of me."

Anakin purses his lips in an artificial pout. "Aw, come on. Don't say that, Angel." He leans down slightly towards her. "You know I can't help myself."

Padmé tilts her gaze to the side, giving him the silent treatment for a few short moments.

But the anger doesn't last. That's one thing he loves about being with Padmé. She never stays angry at him for long. She almost seems incapable of it.

Across from him, Padmé's shoulders heave in a weary sigh, before finally glancing back in his direction.

"You are lucky you're so handsome." Padmé mumbles petulantly, squeezing her arms tighter across her chest with a quiet huff.

Anakin smirks at his victory.

Just as he is beginning to contemplate what next to tease his wife mercilessly about, Padmé opens up her mouth to speak again.

"So, it would appear Advisor Bains has grown more comfortable around you." Padmé points out.

Anakin instantly straightens up, features brightening at the words. "Yeah! It's... kriffing amazing... to be honest."

A part of Anakin still can't believe that Melanie actually hugged him after the recon mission on Kudon III blew up in all of the 501st's faces.

Sometimes, late at night, he thinks back on that moment. On the pure and utter relief that shined in Melanie's eyes as she peered up at him to search for some unknown... something... in his gaze.

Whatever Melanie found—Anakin remains grateful for it. Whatever it was had apparently been enough to convince her to give him a real chance.

His heart thumps louder in his chest at the thought; and before he even realizes it, a soft smile blooms across his face.

He's trying so hard not to get his hopes up.

After all—things could always end up going backwards again.

Like that time he put his foot in his mouth after snapping at Melanie near the Lurmen village.

He internally winces at his past self's harsh actions, already feeling a sharp stab of pain at the reminder of the sheer terror that flashed in Melanie's eyes after that moment.

It hurts him now to even think about it.

He's never felt like this before. He's never been so... so utterly afraid of making a wrong move around someone.

He doesn't want her to be afraid of him.

Force, he wants—

He wants her to like him.

He wants her to look and smile at him the same way she smiles at everyone else aboard The Resolute. He wants to have the same level of trust that she clearly has grown to share with Ahsoka. He wants to be able to come up and stand beside her without her flinching at the brush of his fingertips against her shoulders.

He wants... he just wants to be her friend.

It feels like he and her are in this tentative standstill at the moment. And it scares him. Because he's so afraid to screw it up.

Anakin doesn't know what he would do if Melanie went back to avoiding him.

Or even worse—referring to him as "General Skywalker" again.

Ugh. It's amazing how quickly he grew to kriffing despise that military title over the growing months.

Melanie had done everything possible to avoid saying his name those first few months.

And damn it all to hell if it wasn't smart, because Anakin couldn't call her out on her clear effort to push him away, since he technically was the General of the 501st.

After all, it's not like his entire clone legion—including Admiral Yularen—didn't also refer to him the same way.

And so, Anakin could do nothing but grit his teeth and deal with it, arms crossed and shoulders hunched with hurt as he watched Melanie and her chosen group of clone friends laugh and interact with each other over the growing months, as if they had known each other for years.

Anakin holds back a shudder.

Like hell if he's going back to that level of icing out again.

After the hug between them, Anakin finally feels like he's made a breakthrough with Melanie.

Ever since that moment, Melanie hasn't uttered his military title even once to him.

Usually, she would duck her head and speak to him in a low voice if he asked her a question—not truly having a need to actually say his name.

But there were those few precious times over the weeks after Kudon III when she had addressed him by his first name, and it makes something inside of him ripple with pride every time her lips move to form the word.

Still though—he has to remember to be careful. He promised himself that he would never take his anger out on her like he had done that day on the Lurmen's planet again.

It's a kriffing miracle she ever decided to give him another chance, what with how clearly nervous she still remains around him.

A surge of muffled anger rises up inside of him; and he quietly seethes at whatever useless fucking sleemo had hurt Melanie enough to make her react with such utter terror to Anakin's familiar type of anger.

If he ever gets his hands on the bastard who did that to her—

He is yanked out of his rapidly darkening thoughts of rage by the melodic sound of Padmé's voice.

"Try not to worry about it too much, Ani." Padmé says, reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "You'll win her over. After all... you won me over." she finishes with a teasing grin.

Anakin huffs out a small chuckle, ducking his head in amusement.

But as Padmé begins to speak about the logistics of her and Senator Organa's plans to arrange new personalized interviews with the Jedi Order, Anakin's mind begins to wander.

His thoughts unwillingly drift off towards Melanie.

His talk with her in the hallway before the "unofficial Senate meeting" had gone better than he hoped.

It went great, actually. More than great.

A flood of warmth fills Anakin's chest; the bright glow of Melanie's smile flashing through his mind.

He would do anything to keep that expression on her face.

Because for just one second—

She had been at complete ease around him.

Anakin smiles quietly to himself; slowly allowing Padmé's words to begin morphing into white noise.

Maybe Padmé is right. He just has to keep trying, and eventually—he'll win Melanie over.

His thoughts trail off to what Melanie must be doing in this moment.

Melanie had seemed strangely tense as she allowed Palpatine to escort her to his office to talk.

Anakin knows it probably has a lot to do with the way Palpatine had bluntly announced Melanie's presence to the galaxy.

But the Chancellor honestly hadn't meant anything malicious by his statement. He holocommed Anakin about it later that same day, explaining how he felt awful about the whole situation. Palpatine had only wanted to commend Melanie for her bravery in the war.

While Anakin still wishes that his old friend had taken the time to talk to him about it; he can also still understand where the Chancellor had been coming from.

He hopes this little talk will help clear the air between Melanie and Palpatine, allowing them to find some common ground to get along.

Besides, it would be good for Melanie to have the Chancellor in her corner.

After all—

Palpatine is one of the kindest people Anakin knows.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

The faint sound of the automatic doors of Palpatine's office swishing shut behind her reaches Melanie's ears, making her stomach curdle with pure dread.

It feels like the room darkens slightly as the exit slides shut—even with the large glass viewport that spans across the length of the far wall.

Maybe the darkness of the room also has something to do with the shrieking and wailing mass of shadows that wriggle and slide across the surface of the blood-red walls around her.

But that's just a guess.

Her footsteps echo eerily throughout the wide expanse of the room as she walks over to gaze vacantly out into the orange horizon that gleams over Coruscant.

"You have a beautiful view." Melanie mutters, a surge of numbness washing over her as she hears the sound of Palpatine walking up to stand behind her.

"Yes, it is quite magnificent. Is it not?" Palpatine replies, letting out an icy chuckle that chills the very blood in her veins.

Distantly, on some offhanded level, Melanie registers a dull ringing has started to fill her ears.

She briefly closes her eyes, clenching her hands loosely behind her, beating back the urge to dig her nails against the skin of her palm.

Her heartbeat is steady.

Strange, she thinks dizzily, finally managing to blink open her eyes again. She shouldn't be so calm with the Devil standing near her.

But she has to be calm. There is no other choice in the matter.

She imagines her heart; what it must look like as it beats inside her chest. Imagines her hand wrapping around the wet muscle to keep the organ pumping at a slow rhythm.

She imagines the Jedi—internally thinking of how they would all react in this situation.

And so, Melanie vacantly decides that she is not herself in this moment.

No. No, instead—she is Obi-Wan; calm as the air.

She is Luminara; serene as the sea.

She is Yoda; soothing as the sun.

She is Mace, as steady as a mountain.

She is even Anakin in this moment; as brave and as strong as a hurricane.

She imagines that the Jedi are all here with her in this dark and deadly encounter with the Devil, the sturdy weight of their hands on her shoulders to calm her nerves, whispering a quiet murmur of steady, steady—

She stares at the outline of Palpatine's face reflecting back at her from the surface of the glass, watching dimly as his dark eyes focus on the back of her head, before his wrinkled features flicker with a surge of irritation.

A blink passes by, and then it's like the dark expression had never been on the gray-haired man's face at all.

Some detached part of Melanie manages to realize past the bone-chilling shrieks of shadows filling her ears that Palpatine just tried to read her mind.

Clearly—since she is still breathing—he didn't succeed.

She inhales, chest rising calmly as Palpatine comes up to stand beside her.

She exhales, a stream of air flowing from her lips with a steady breath; staring out at the distant shapes of skycars traveling over the expanse of the city.

"I suppose you are wondering why I requested to speak with you alone." the disguised Sith Lord murmurs, tucking his wrinkled hands into the large sleeves of his Senatorial robes.

A hum of acknowledgment leaves her throat before she can even think about it. "Maybe just a little bit curious."

Vacantly, the low chuckle of Palpatine's amusement resonates over her eardrums.

"Yes; I suppose you would be." Palpatine mutters, before slowly turning to face her. "Well, my dear, I just wished to speak with you alone for a moment, so I could offer you my sincerest apologies over my rash statement of your presence to the galaxy a few weeks ago."

Gradually, Melanie turns to face him, watching numbly as the Chancellor's wrinkled features twist into a look of false remorse.

"This whole ordeal has just been tearing me up inside." Palpatine says, taking a terrifying step closer to her. "You simply must forgive me."

Melanie feels the edges of her lips twist upward into a blank smile, allowing the man's bullshit to go unchecked. "It's f-fine, sir. I was just startled. I've never been on stage before."

"Ah!" Palpatine's eyebrows raise in a show of teasing surprise. "Well, it is something you will have to get used to, Miss Bains. After all—you have gained quite the level of fame recently." he finishes with a grandfatherly grin.

A low hum of acknowledgment is already leaving the back of her throat before she even realizes what happened, continuing to stare through the gray-haired man.

Distantly, on some offhanded level, she registers the blurred sight of Palpatine's head tilting to the side in curiosity.

"I do hope this is not presumptuous of me to say," Palpatine begins in a low murmur, "but you seem slightly nervous."

Melanie blinks at the words; a dull haze clearing from her eyes as she focuses back on the features of the disguised Sith Lord in front of her.

"Oh. I'm sorry." Melanie mutters, ducking her head slightly in a show of anxiety. Hopefully the man will simply view the gesture as a show of shyness. "It's just... you're the Chancellor. The head of the Republic. And I'm just... me." she explains with an artificial touch of embarrassment in her voice. "It's just... a little bit intimidating."

On the edges of her vision, she spots the way Palpatine's features twist into a look of false sympathy.

"Ah, I see." Palpatine replies, letting out a quiet hum of acknowledgment. "My dear friend, Anakin, also mentioned to me that his status as The Chosen One was a source of unease for you."

Melanie blankly takes in that horrifying statement, struggling to comprehend just how long Anakin has been talking about her to Palpatine.

She supposes that it doesn't truly matter. If Anakin had actually told Palpatine about Melanie being from "the future", then she wouldn't still be breathing at the moment.

She is yanked swiftly back to the terrifying reality in front of her as Palpatine takes another short step forward.

Palpatine looms over her, giving her a sharp smile. "There is no need to be nervous, Miss Bains. I am simply a man. Flesh and blood." He raises a teasing eyebrow. "The same as you."

As Palpatine leans down to place his wrinkled hands over her shoulders, Melanie internally pictures the wet muscle of her heart in her mind again; imagining squeezing the spongy organ in a calming rhythm.

She does not flinch as the suffocating weight of his fingers dig into the edges of her shoulders. She can't. It would show fear. And to show fear in this moment would alert Palpatine to what she knows about the pure evil that lies inside his heart.

If Palpatine ever finds out what knowledge Melanie carries inside her head, he'll kill her where she stands.

And so she cannot flinch. To flinch is to die.

She watches numbly as he lowers his head to gaze into her eyes.

"I expect great things from you, my dear." Palpatine murmurs, the glint of his sharp teeth widening further across his face.

Melanie stares at him for a few seconds, allowing a flicker of nervous confusion to fill her face at his words.

She'll make him work for her "friendship" a bit.

She jerks slightly at the shrill beep of her comlink echoing through the silence of the room; distantly registering in the back of her mind that Anakin's deep voice has started to crackle from the speakers of the device.

"Mel, you about done yet? I gotta head back to the Temple for a meeting with the Council." Anakin says, the rumbling baritone of his voice traveling up to her ears.

Across from her, Palpatine chuckles, finally releasing her shoulders.

The disguised Sith Lord steps back, allowing her a moment to breathe. "As always—the work of a Jedi is never truly done."

Melanie quirks her lips upward into another vacant smile at his joke, before ducking her head in a slight bow. "Well, I should probably get going. I don't want to keep Anakin waiting." She slowly turns to begin walking back towards the door. "It was nice to see you again, sir."

"The pleasure was all mine!" Palpatine says, giving another grandfatherly chuckle.

Melanie nods, dimly staring at the way the automatic doors of the room swish open to allow her the chance to escape to freedom—

But then the low croon of the Chancellor's voice makes her screech to a halt.

"Oh, and Miss Bains?" Palpatine calls out.

The muscles in her body are as still as a statue as she slowly turns to look over her shoulder.

The glint of Palpatine's teeth look like razor blades as he gives her a wide smile.

"If you ever need anything... do feel free to contact me." Palpatine tells her.

A heartbeat passes by as Melanie takes in those words.

She allows a flash of nervous confusion to flicker over her face; reeling the disguised Sith Lord in to continue trying to manipulate her.

Across the room, Palpatine's eyes grow darker, as if he has found a new puppet to control; only simply needing to work for it a bit more.

Melanie watches this look pass over the Chancellor's face, before numbly thinking to herself that it will be a goddamn miracle if she ever manages to outsmart this man.

Finally, her lips twitch up into the ghost of a smile, giving the man a curt nod.

And then she turns, walking calmly out the automatic doors.

She doesn't relax when she makes it out into the hallway, or when she finds Anakin again, or even when she finally manages to escape back to the confines of her room at the Temple.

She can never relax again.

Because she's not safe anywhere.

Not truly.

Not until all of this is over.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

☽

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

A/N: Wow! 😱 That was INTENSE!

So, this was a pretty interesting chapter to write. It had a lot more world building, with getting to see a little how the Senate works for situations like Mel's, where the Senate kind of presses on the Jedi when they do things they don't like, like hiring a new adviser without the Senate's permission.

The situation was pretty... tense... for Mel, to say the least. 😬😬

But hey! Anakin came through there for Mel at the end. Were you surprised that HE of all people managed to diffuse the situation? 😂

Mel was pretty grateful for it though.

What did you think of the scenes between Mel and Anakin? Especially the scene in the turbolift. ❤️‍🔥👀

And Anakin FINALLY brought up the moment he snapped at Mel on the Lermen's planet, which made her pull away from him. It's obviously been eating at him a lot.

But Mel and him finally got to clear the air! ❤️🥹

And then, finally, the Devil reappears. 😬🚩☠️

What did you think about the scene between Palpatine and Mel. Was it anxiety inducing? 🥶🥶 It definitely was for Mel.

But hey! Mel did pretty good alone with him, didn't she? She managed to hold it together.

The dissociation helps though. Lol. 😂

Also! I recently had a comment mention how they theorized that this story might end tragically. And I love when people speculate on my stories! ❤️ It makes me feel like I'm writing out a TV show. Haha.

However, if you're reading this from A03, and not Wattpad, then you will see how there is a tag that clearly says "Angst with a Happy Ending" and also one with a "fix-it" tag.

I am pointing this out, because very rarely would I ever consider writing a complete tragedy.

However! That does not mean the story could end completely happily. 👀 There are other ways. Like a bittersweet ending, or something else. Not that I'm saying it WILL end that way, but it's just an example of things that can be done.

But a happy ending is a different thing for a lot of these characters. Mel's happy ending is saving the galaxy and going home to her sick mother. But also, as time goes on, she's growing attached to the people in the SW universe, so how would that change? 👀

Anakin's happy ending, after Mel and his relationship develops more, would obviously have Mel involved in his life. But that conflicts with MEL'S happy ending.

The Jedi's happy ending is winning the war and convincing the Senate to free the clones eventually, and give them rights.

The clones's happy ending is basically the same as the Jedi's.

Palpatine's happy ending obviously involves everyone dead and under his boot. ☠️ Loool.

So! My question for you all, dear readers, is to tell me how you WANT this story to end, but then to also tell me how you think it will ACTUALLY end.

Maybe those two things are connected! Maybe they aren't. 🤔 Either way, I am curious to hear your thoughts on how you think the ending of Mel's journey will go.

I will not confirm or deny this until the end of the story, but I will still reply to everyone to offer my thoughts on your responses.

But I will say that the ending of this story also connects to the main theme and lesson that this story is supposed to convey to its readers.

Anakin and Mel (since they are the main characters of this fic) both must go through a journey to come together. They literally cannot enter into a romantic relationship, UNTIL they both begin to change and work on their flaws; seeing things from a new perspective.

Think about what I said Anakin and Melanie's fatal flaws are.

What is the main lesson that Anakin must learn in this story to change and grow?

What is the main lesson Melanie must learn?

Just something to think about. 👀👀

So sorry for the delay! 😭😭❤️ I've been fighting my depression again, and it slows my writing speed. I always hate taking so long, but I never want to give a chapter that isn't good for you guys.

Anakin x Mel fans better enjoy this chapter. 😭😂 💕❤️ I poured my blood, sweat and tears into it. So I hope you all like it!! 💕💕🫶

It's kind of funny: it feels like we all switch places at the end of each week when I finally finish a chapter. 😂

You all wait with excitement all week for me to finish a chapter, and then I wait with excitement all week to read all of your sweet and lovely comments! 😂❤️ Hahaha!

I hope you all enjoy it! 💕❤️

See you all next time, my little reader ducklings! 👋 🥰

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

☾

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

"How can you win the game if you never make a move?"

   ♟︎ ♟︎ ♟︎ ♟︎ ♟︎ ♟︎ ♟︎           ☾⋆☽ ♙ ♙ ♙ ♙ ♙ ♙ ♙ ♙
♜ ♞   ♚ ♛ ♝ ♞ ♜ ☾⋆☽ ♖ ♘ ♗ ♔ ♕ ♗ ♘ ♖
________                        ________
♟︎ ♝