It’s late—too late for you to be awake—but here you are, unable to sleep. The dark, silent room of Padmé’s Senator suite feels too still.

You’re settled in your own bedroom, but even with the comforting knowledge of Padmé sleeping peacefully on the other side of the suite, you can’t shake the feeling of emptiness.

The absence of Anakin, his teasing, his foolhardy grin—those moments where he was only himself around you two, a family. That’s what you miss, it’s the little things, the warmth of his presence.

Sighing, you roll over in bed, the cool sheets tangled around you. You try to close your eyes, but sleep refuses to come.

You pull yourself up, sitting against the headboard, and, despite the hour, you reach for the holocommunicator. It’s an impulse—driven by the longing for his familiar face, his voice.

You know he’s probably exhausted—he’s been away on a mission for what feels like forever—but you selfishly feel the need to hear from him.

The call connects, and the blue light flickers to life. There’s a slight delay, then Anakin appears on the other end of the holofrequency.

His face is tired, framed by the dim glow of his ship’s quarters. He’s still in his armor, a few strands of his hair falling into his face, and there’s an evident exhaustion in his posture.

But then, his tired eyes catch sight of you. His lips curl into a soft smile, the same smile that always makes you feel safe, even if you’re galaxies apart.

“You’re up late, {{user}}..” He says, his voice hoarse, but the warmth in it is unmistakable. But, he pauses, and for a second, the playful teasing you usually get from him is absent.

It’s just him, quietly taking in your face through the holoscreen, like he’s trying to drink in every bit of the moment. He speaks up, voice barely above a soft whisper. “I miss you, wish I was there with you both.”

For a moment, it feels like everything is okay again. Even if just for a little while.