Hey guys! Reviews are loved! This is not to say I expect you to fall all over yourself gushing, I just like hearing what readers think about the story thus far, where they think it will go, where they think it should go... Ya know. Interacting and such.

I digress. Moving on. I apologize for the tedium of the backstory in the previous chapter... It was just kinda necessary to set up the story. I promise it will move along soon. Again, not endorsing hurtful, dysfunctional relationships, blah blah blah. Just a different perspective on the epic romance tale.

It was late when Padmé arrived at home. Home on Coruscant was still 500 Republica, though they had moved to a larger apartment with four bedrooms, each with their own attached refresher, and an additional refresher for guests. It was not long after they moved that Padmé began to feel extreme guilt over the opulence of their extravagant home when countless others in the Republic did not even have a place to lay their head. Anakin insisted it was a necessary evil; the security of the building was unparalleled, and they were high profile figures with young children to consider. More than once, Padmé considered that she would much rather be at home on Naboo in the lake country than continue living such an excessive lifestyle on Coruscant. That would entail leaving her position as Senator of Naboo, however, and she could not bring herself to seriously consider such a thing. She loved the Republic, and she loved its citizens, so who could better serve their interests in the Senate? Really, her feelings on the matter were rather inconsequential. Anakin was instrumental to the restructuring of the Jedi. His duty prevented him from leaving Coruscant just as much as hers did, if not more so.

The apartment was dimly lit when she entered. She had expected that the children would already be in bed. Elay was a stickler when it came to bed time; the woeful pleas of small children did nothing to sway her. It was yet another thing Padmé appreciated about their nanny. Elay was nowhere to be found. It was likely she had already retired. These days, she slept in the baby's room. Padmé could hardly handle Amila in daylight hours. There was no conceivable way she could handle caring for the child all night long, especially considering the fact that she was often needed at her office early in the morning.

With a heavy sigh, Padmé removed her cloak and lay it on a nearby chair. She was nagged by only a twinge of guilt, knowing that one of the servants, likely Elay, would find it the next day and put it in its proper place. At the same time, she was too tired to care.

"Hello."

She turned to see Anakin exiting the kitchen eating a shuura fruit. If he was as tired as she felt, he hid it well. She knew he often got up in the middle of the night with the children, to comfort them after a bad dream or assist Elay in caring for the baby. It was supposed to be a secret, or so she thought because he was very careful to never wake her when he rose from their bed. On rare occasions, he did wake her, but more often than not it was the emptiness on his side of the bed that woke her. A few times, she quietly followed him, only to find him feeding the baby or rubbing one of the twins' back while softly coaxing them back to sleep. He always knew when they were awake. She imagined it must have something to do with the Force, as all of their children had a high midi-chlorian count and were obviously quite Force-sensitive.

"Hello," she greeted him quietly, and there the conversation stalled. They stood seeing one another, though not really seeing each other, eyes diverted to avoid the other's.

Finally, he broke the silence. "Did you have a productive day?" he asked, making himself comfortable on the arm of a nearby chair.

A productive day, she thought dryly. That's what he would like to know about my day. Was I productive? "It was fine," was her short reply. Fine had been her standard response for some time now.

His brow furrowed slightly, but only for just a moment. "I'm glad to hear it," he said in return, keeping up their formal pretense. He took another bite of shuura, his eyes never leaving her.

She grew weary of these games, but pride stopped her from being the first to bare her heart. Pride - and guilt. Padmé couldn't understand what had happened to her after the birth of their third child, but she had changed. She was no longer who she used to be. She was miserable to live with, and she could somehow never be happy. This discord in their marriage was all her fault, and she knew it. Surely, he knew it, too.

"As for you? How was your day?" she politely asked, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

"Busy," he admitted, "but that's nothing unusual. Jocasta Nu found pieces of the original Jedi Code buried deep within the archives. The information she brought to light may actually make a great difference."

Padmé raised an eyebrow, genuinely interested in the topic at hand. "Oh? Is that a good difference or a bad difference?"

"A good difference," he affirmed confidently. "Maybe we might start making real progress now," he muttered as an afterthought, eyes cast downward.

"Well, then, I'm glad she took the time to find and present that information, even if the meeting was boring," Padmé said, remembering his sarcastic words during their conversation earlier.

Anakin nodded. "I am, as well," he agreed. "I thought it would be much worse. I'm thankful I was disappointed." Padmé sighed, ready to turn and head back to their bedroom to retire for the night. His eyes found hers again, and inexplicably, she found herself rooted to the spot. There was something in his eyes that she hadn't seen in a long time. Sorrow? Remorse? Love? She couldn't tell anymore. The intensity of his gaze unnerved her.

"What?" she breathed, and suddenly found that her mouth was as dry as Tatooine.

He paused, obviously hesitant to speak his mind, which heightened the nervousness Padmé felt. Don't, she hoped silently. Please, not right now.

"What's happened to us, Padmé?" he asked softly, his voice so low she had to strain to hear him clearly.

She felt frozen. She wasn't sure what to say or what to do, and that was a feeling to which she was unaccustomed. She always had the answers, and when she didn't, she was delightfully brilliant at faking it. This... she could not fake.

He took her silence as encouragement to continue. "We used to talk more. We used to laugh. We used to play. We used to..." His blue eyed burned into her, sending a shiver down her spine. "We used to enjoy one another."

Padmé could hear her heart pounding in her ears, throwing her off balance all the more so. "I..." When she opened her mouth to speak, she found nothing there. She had no defense, no excuses - just the apprehension and guilt growing in her abdomen, spreading through her veins and infecting her body like a deadly disease.

"I understand we are both under pressure," he allowed. "This is a critical time for all of us. Before, we would rely on one another when things got difficult. But now..." His voice trailed away, and his eyes drifted towards the window, searching the Coruscant sky for an answer she couldn't (wouldn't?) provide.

She felt cornered, and with that realization came the defensiveness. It was easier to be defensive than to be weak and feel pain. A burning answer bubbled in her throat, though part of her didn't want to do this. She didn't want to unleash this frustration and anger on him tonight, not when he looked so... vulnerable. His eyes caught hers again, and her words died in her throat. He knew what she was thinking. He knew how she felt. Maybe he couldn't understand, but he could sense her inner turmoil. Why did she insist on playing these games?

"I don't know," she finally conceded wearily, her hands twisting and pulling at each other in front of her. "I don't know what happened." She wanted to tell him the truth. She was an awful mother and an awful wife, and she had her doubts about herself as a senator. Three children had proved to be more than she could handle, and she wasn't even primarily responsible for them. She failed at that as well. She could never be around for her children. Instead they were being raised by Elay, and though Padmé trusted the nanny implicitly, she knew the nanny was no substitute for the children's real mother. She could change this, but she had no desire to do so. She didn't want to stop being a senator. She couldn't handle the thought of being the only one there for her children all day every day as they incessantly tugged and pulled at her and demanded attention she simply did not have the energy to give. This knowledge of herself only lead to self resentment. Did she not love her children enough? She tormented herself to no end over these thoughts every single day. But how could she explain this to Anakin?

And Anakin... He was so sure of himself, held himself together so well. He was so strong. He showed no weakness, not even with her any longer. He had taken on a great responsibility at only twenty-seven years old - rebuilding the Jedi. Though it was a tedious task, and he often had complaints, he did not falter or seem to second-guess himself. She envied him that. At the same time, she felt like a embarrassment in his overpowering shadow. Look at how she fell apart, even now, simply because motherhood had proved to be too much for her. She felt as though she did not deserve him, and the weight of their deception at the start of their relationship threatened to crush her. The galaxy at large had forgiven them long ago, and the few who refused to do so hardly mattered any longer. She could not forgive herself. She had almost guided Anakin to the dark side, had allowed herself to be a part of Palpatine's plan to manipulate Anakin's fall. How could she explain this to her husband? How could she ask his understanding and forgiveness?

There was too much to be said, and she knew not where to begin or even how to express herself. She didn't feel that she genuinely desired to express herself.

Anakin watched her mull over these thoughts in silence. After a few minutes passed, he stood and went into the kitchen. She wasn't sure if she was meant to follow but found that she was still rooted in place. He returned quickly, empty-handed, having obviously thrown away the remainder of his late night snack. He crossed the short distance to her and pulled her into his arms. She meant to resist but found she couldn't. Neither could she return his embrace. So she found herself standing there as cold as a statue as he attempted to provide some sort of comfort to her and bridge the gap between them. The warmth of his embrace could not reach deep into her core, where all of the fear, resentment, pain, and uncertainty festered and flourished.

At last, he sighed and pulled away, reaching up with his flesh hand to caress her cheek with a gentleness she had forgotten he possessed. "I still love you, Padmé," he whispered.

Suddenly, she was released from her invisible prison. Pushing him away abruptly, she turned on her heel and headed for their bedroom. 'I'm tired. I'm going to bed," were her last words to him for the night. She did not look back once. She did not want to see his heart written on his face.

Any guesses what's bothering Padmé? A big fat e-high-five for you if you get it right.