That night, just after the sun had set over Coruscant, Padme was in her bedroom sitting on the edge of her bed, the stark décor bleak with her mood. She never did anything to add color or flair, this was her residence as a senator. The only place that ever truly felt like home to her was her parent's home, her childhood home, in Theed. Everything else was temporary, or by necessity.

R2-D2 was sitting quietly in the corner of the room, occasional clicks sounding from within his canister body, but the red light on his dome was blinking as he rested. Corde was sitting behind her, braiding her hair contentedly. Her handmaiden was so relieved to see her senator safe and sound that she almost cried, but it was followed quickly by silent reproach of Padme. The senator's safety was her responsibility, it was why Corde often served as her decoy when a situation was deemed too dangerous. Corde was very pleased that there was a Jedi there to see the senator safely home.

"I remember Obi-Wan Kenobi from all those years ago, when we fled Naboo…" Corde said suddenly, her fingers thoughtfully threading through Padme's hair. "The girls were so smitten with him," she chuckled.

Padme was smiling at the memory. They were all girls at the time, the Queen and her handmaidens, and they hardly knew what to do with themselves in the presence of a strong Jedi Padawan.

"Has he changed much?" asked Corde. "I haven't seen him since…"

"He has a beard now," Padme was still smiling. She couldn't help it, especially after feeling it with her hands, her chin, nose, lips, she quite liked it.

"That's unfortunate…" Corde said quietly.

Her friend's disapproval of facial hair made Padme laugh, but she said nothing more about it. Her heart was fluttering to think about him. And she realized that she accepted the reality that she may not see him again and if she did it would be in a purely political, professional setting. They would continue to be friends, to respect one another, and to pretend that they didn't know what each other tasted like.

No rules were broken. No one was attached. Though she did wish she could have experienced a little more than just his hand outside of her clothes. Or what the Force felt like from the inside.

"There," Corde's voice drew her from her dreaming.

Now that Padme's hair was braided intricately over her shoulder, she was ready for bed at last. "Thank you, Corde."

"Do you need anything else before I retire, milady?" Corde was on her feet, hands together attentively.

"No thank you… I'll see you in the morning."

"Yes, milady… Good night."

"Good night."

Her handmaiden made a swift, but quiet exit from the room. Padme sat there on the bed long after she was left alone, her eyes looking distantly out the window at the mesmerizing lights of the city, the endless ships and speeders along the stationary buildings. There was such a yearning in her that was screaming in spite of how content she was.

"R2-D2…" she said, still staring out the window.

Artoo whirred awake, his head swiveling and a low whistles sounding, ending in a higher beep.

"I'm sorry I woke you…"

Artoo bleeped lightly.

"Will you go to the Jedi temple to find Obi-Wan…?"

Of course he could, but she felt the need to ask politely. He bleeped compliantly, his body tilting back as his front wheel went forward, rolling him over to her side. He stopped in front of her, tipping upright against, his black lens on her patiently.

He was ready to record a message, as he often did for her. Problem was, she didn't know what she wanted to say. She didn't know what was safe to say aloud, let alone recorded in audio or hologram.

Artoo swiveled his head impatiently.

"No message…" she finally decided. "Just find him."

She hoped Obi-Wan would be obligated by his chivalry to return her droid to her. She hoped he would know that she sent him on purpose.

Artoo squelched a little in confusion but ultimately agreed to carry out the strange command. He tipped, rolled, and beeped and booped his way towards the door, his head swiveling about the room.

She couldn't stop moving around. It was foolish to send R2-D2 into the Jedi temple without any message. Maybe there was a risk to Obi-Wan, but what risk? R2-D2 didn't have anything incriminating to say. It seemed entirely likely that Artoo would return to her, alone, perhaps with a return message or none at all. That would have been fair. Obi-Wan was right to walk away and act as though what happened between them was imagined.

But the madness that took over her to send the message in the first place was still there. Her very skin was crawling, an ache deep within her with every thought on Obi-Wan Kenobi. It was physical attraction, completely superficial longing for a handsome and aloof warrior. It wasn't exactly unusual for Jedi to be lusted after for their power, their serenity, and their complete unavailability. People have a way of wanting what they can't have. And yet, aside from the shallow attraction, she could not discredit the way that he made her smile, how his genuine compassion and kindness, his friendship towards her had been so invaluable to her. His presence always assured her that things would be alright.

No, she didn't have feelings for him. She told herself this was all carnal, no attachments.

As soon as he finished his report to Master Yoda about his assistance to the refugees on Saskiel, and how the Regent Yook Gibodehan was working with the Trade Federation, he then informed him of the dubiously illegal assistance from Senator Padme Amidala in her own clandestine mission. Master Yoda understood the seriousness of this and assured Obi-Wan that he would address it as necessary.

"Reveal the Senator's involvement, I will not," he said. "On Coruscant all this time, I believe Senator Amidala has been."

The master Jedi was centuries old, one could only wonder what secrets he kept in him.

"Training hard, your padawan has been," Yoda said with a hint of a proud smile.

"He can learn from no better teacher than yourself, Master Yoda…" Obi-Wan said modestly as he crouched on one knee before the chair where Yoda sat meditatively. He was back in his Jedi robes, the winter gear discarded.

"Hm. Learn much from you, young Skywalker can, Master Kenobi. You have taught him well, the Jedi teachings. Natural compassion, he has. Natural control, he does not. You do."

Control was not quite the word that Obi-Wan would have chosen for himself when in that tiny cockpit with the lovely Padme.

"I confess that control does not come as easily to me as Anakin perhaps thinks…"

"Show him. Learn, he will. Not mutually exclusive are difficulty and success." Yoda then slowly uncurled his legs from beneath him, gracefully crawling off the seat and onto the floor, pulling his walking stick into his hand with the Force. He leaned on it with a soft grunt. "Admire you, he does, Master Kenobi… Guidance in his own feelings, he will need."

Yoda then walked slowly out of the room and Obi-Wan rose to his feet. From the day that Master Qui-Gon had brought the boy to the Jedi council, they were persistent about Anakin's control on his feelings. They were afraid of a tendency to lose balance with himself, and it was no secret. No one had seen the progress of the boy more than Obi-Wan, though. The pain of the struggle to control the raw emotions inside.

He found his young padawan in one of the training facilities where Obi-Wan watched from the doorway. Anakin seemed far too focused to notice his own master, as he was surrounded by twenty training remotes, set to non-lethal blasters. They were firing orange beams at him relentlessly and the boy jumped, spun, rolled, dodged, and deflected with his blue lightsaber with such speed that Obi-Wan inwardly applauded.

Anakin was 17 years old now and was already taller than Obi-Wan. Thin, strongly built, smarter than ever (he was, after all, something of a boy genius) and becoming a great warrior. Obi-Wan had his doubts when Qui-Gon declared the boy was the Chosen One. Young Kenobi couldn't imagine a sand covered desert whelp to be anything special enough to bring balance to the Force. But time and time again Anakin proved himself, in a million tiny ways, and Obi-Wan was converted to his former master's ideology. Even if he had not subscribed to it at the moment that he promised to train Anakin.

Anakin was remarkable, and Obi-Wan felt a gleam of mischievousness with his need to teach.

"Too slow…." He called out.

Anakin's head whipped around towards the voice and the remotes saw their opportunity. They fired all at once, and Anakin was pelted from all sides by the orange blasts. He cried out in pain, dropping to a knee, and the remotes withdrew into a line formation, going into a stationary mode.

Anakin's clothes were smoking where they were hit, the wounds entirely superficial, even if they did smart. Obi-Wan approached, arms folding. Anakin turned off his lightsaber and gripped at his shoulder where one of the blasters had hit at too close a range.

"You must always be mindful of your surroundings, Anakin…" Obi-Wan said for the thousandth time this year.

Anakin huffed, his chin dipping, his brows furrowed as he rose to his feet. "Yeah, I know, Master…"

"Isn't it a little late to be combat training?"

Anakin was poking his finger into the hole in his tunic. "I have been practicing my mediations all day with Master Yoda. I needed a break." When he looked to Obi-Wan, Anakin had that little smirk that one might call devilish.

"So you found meditating to be exhausting and looked to unwind by fighting something…" Obi-Wan stated plainly.

"It's nothing like that…" Anakin rolled his eyes.

"That is precisely what it sounds like. You must learn to focus your frustrations, Anakin. Not in a fight, but within. There may come a time when you will need to control those feelings and there will be nothing to take it out on."

"Yes, Master…"

"Now… Have I missed anything?" Obi-Wan put on a lighter tone now.

"Meditating," Anakin said pointedly, thought for a moment. "Meditating." He put a finger to his chin, his brow furrowed. "Let's see, what else…"

"More meditating?" Obi-Wan flatly finished the joke for him.

Anakin almost smiled, but the frustration was still there. "When will I be allowed to go on a mission with you again?"

"When you prove that there won't be any repeats of what happened the last time. You are still far too reckless."

"I knew where the mines were, I wasn't going to step on any of them…"

"That is beside the point—"

"Master Kenobi!" A tiny voice rang out into the chamber and they both turned to see a youngling stomping towards them, his sleeves flapping in the process. "Master Kenobi, there is an astromech droid sent here for you!"

Obi-Wan and Anakin exchanged curious glances, and in moments R2-D2 came rolling in quite casually, his head swiveling curiously along the walls of the Jedi temple. He let out a low wooooooooo, impressed with the architecture. There did not seem to be any particular urgency for the droid, but that did not make his appearance any less curious.

"Artoo!" The cloud that was over Anakin faded and he approached the droid, lowering to a knee.

The droid's domed head snapped towards Anakin and a high beep rang out. He came to a clicking halt in front of the young Jedi, a few whirs and boops.

Anakin chuckled, setting a hand on top of the dome. "It's been awhile."

"R2-D2, what brings you here?" Obi-Wan stood nearby. He didn't sense anything ominous about the droid's presence, but he knew it had to do with Padme and he felt a twinge of fear that she was once again being reckless.

The little droid turned his single lens to Obi-Wan. He beeped and booped.

"I don't understand…" Anakin rose to his feet and looked to Obi-Wan. "No message? Does it have to do with Padme? Artoo is still her droid, isn't he?"

"Yes. Did the senator send you?" Obi-Wan asked neutrally, careful not to betray any feeling beyond curiosity or caution.

Artoo made some vague beeps, turning his head slowly away.

"He seems to be malfunctioning," Obi-Wan concluded.

"We can bring him to Padme!" Anakin said suddenly, quickly checking himself. "I mean, the Senator will be missing her property… won't she?"

Obi-Wan sensed the spike of emotions the boy felt to see her again. He knew well that Anakin had been infatuated with her since he was a boy. After all, when he was taken from his mother, she was the kindest soul around him. Obi-Wan could not tell him about meeting Padme on Saskiel, as it was a political secret now. But even more so, if the boy knew that he had once again missed out on seeing her again over the years, it would not do any favors to his frustrations. Never mind what she and Obi-Wan had committed in that cockpit.

"Certainly," Obi-Wan had to agree, but with a perfect air of disinterest. "And her property will be returned to her."

Anakin smiled. "Let's go!"

Obi-Wan placed a heavy hand on Anakin's shoulder, a single look telling him no.

Anakin's features hardened, his jaw ticking. "You want me to stay."

"Two Jedi to deliver a little droid seems like a bit much, wouldn't you agree?"

"Then just let me go. By myself." Anakin was almost pleading.

"Not when you are this worked up. I want you to meditate."

Anakin let out a groan. "I am tired of meditating—"

"Anakin," Obi-Wan sharpened his tone. "You will do as I tell you."

The boy straightened and hesitantly nodded. "Yes, Master."

"Good. Then I will see you in the morning."

"Good night, Master." The words were forced through his tight throat, and the boy stomped away, his deactivated lightsaber tightly gripped in his hand. "Bye, Artoo..."

The droid followed his steps with the swiveling of his head before snapping his attention back to Obi-Wan.

"Come on, then. Let's get you back where you belong."