Anakin flew his ship to Coruscant. His heart thumped wildly with nervous anticipation. Twice now, he almost crashed his ship into an asteroid field.

He couldn't stop thinking about her. He didn't want to stop thinking about her. He dreamt of this moment in time for ten long years. How will it happen? When will it happened? He was only nine years old when they parted. Who knew the Sith, whoever they were, could unintentionally bring him so much happiness? The irony of which, who knew the Jedi could bring him so much misery? For once could they just leave him alone? Let him rest? Let him be with the wife he's not supposed to have in the first place?

And what was so wrong with having a wife? Married people have children. And children have the genes of their parents. So how then, wouldn't the Jedi benefit from reproducing? Their children would be as powerful as their parents. The Order would grow manifold. This could only be good for the galaxy.

But no... the Jedi were afraid of love. They were afraid of letting him love. If it weren't for the love he found with Padme, he might have never forgiven them for keeping him away from his mother...allowing her to die. And even now that forgiveness was questionable.

Anakin sighed as his ship passed through Coruscant's stratosphere, its speed declining as it neared the ground of a Temple landing base. He missed her so much. Wanted to kiss her so much, wanted to touch her...

He let the thought trail, to be heard only in the echoes of his heart. It was time to pretend again. To talk, be officious, act as though the woman of his dreams were not somewhere waiting for him. He wondered if he were the only one.

A short while later, Anakin entered the temple, hurrying to stand before the council, who were more than concerned about his injury and prosthetic arm. Not many Jedi wore prosthetics. In fact, it was known to diminish one's force abilities in the region of the particular implant.

"Come in, Young Skywalker..." Mace demanded.

Anakin walked in, hands folded behind his back, glove covering his injured arm.

"Yes, Master."

"Strong the force still is, with our Padawan," Yoda commented with some relief.

Mace let his eyes roam over the young man. "Well... he is the chosen one," Mace answered.

"How are you Anakin?" Obi Wan Gently prodded.

"Fine, things considered. I'm adjusting to my new limb, but nothing has changed for me. I'm working to better my sabering skills."

"Have you an instructor on Naboo?" Obi Wan asked.

Anakin colored. "No, Master."

Members of the council looked hither and fro, as they murmured to themselves and each other.

"I felt, some time off was needed for my rehabilitation. I chose to go to Naboo."

"Did Master Obi Wan Kenobi-"

"Master!?" Anakin exclaimed.

"During your rehabilitation, Obi Wan Kenobi was promoted to the rank of Master and is now a member of the council."

Anakin met his eyes: "Congratuations, sir." A proud smile crept across his face.

"Aside from that, you are still a Padawan learner, Young Skywalker, therefore, decisions regarding your rehabilitation will be made by Master Kenobi."

"I...I understand, sir," Anakin said disappointedly. There was no telling where Obi Wan might send him to. And somehow he sensed, the Jedi Master would want to send him as far away from Padme as possible. He knew how deeply Anakin felt for her. Anakin never kept his feelings a secret, and told his master how he dreamt of her more often than a should have. A decision he had come to regret.

"Don't worry Anakin, I've not decided to send you to some faraway rehabilitation center. We have one of the best physical therapy centers in the Republica right here on Coruscant. Your reflexes will be as natural as rain when they're done with you."

Anakin beamed. "Thank you, Master!"

Padme had a place at 500 Republica. If he could get the message to her, she could meet him there.

Obi Wan handed him a sheet of paper. "Report there first thing tomorrow morning, you will begin physical therapy, which will focus on teaching you to interface the prosthetic limb with the nerve endings in your upper arm. Though you are already functioning, you are not quite ready for battle."

"Yes, Master."

Were they done yet? How much talking did they need to do? Shut up so I can call Padme, he thought.