Disclaimer: Star Wars is the property of George Lucas and Lucasfilm. I mean no infringement and make no profit.

A/N: Thanks again to my beta Alicia, and thanks so much to everybody who has reviewed! Please keep 'em coming!

Chapter Three: Coruscant II

The meditation chamber, one of many in the Jedi Temple, was dim and quiet. It was constructed to be a place of refuge, a calm point in a galaxy of chaos. The padawan seated at its center knew the room's purpose well, but he was finding it very difficult to escape from the disquiet and chaos raging inside his mind.

He had slept fitfully the night before. His wounded arm had hurt but, more than that, his heart was tormented. He was sure that Padmé loved him—he had seen the truth in her eyes when she'd said it. The only thing he was more sure of was his love for her. What he was not sure of now was whether they would ever speak to one another again.

And so he was building a lightsaber—his new lightsaber, to replace the one he'd lost on Geonosis. It was a craft that required the utmost concentration, which was why he had chosen to pursue it-- to take his mind away, temporarily, from Padmé. This was also why he was failing at it. The crystals, the metals, all fitting together, and… Why was she so afraid to be with him? Why did it have to be so hard?

The shell of the lightsaber fell apart and the pieces scattered. He bent to pick them up, not really seeing them, seeing only her. Not as he'd last seen her, or, for that matter, as he saw her most of the time: stately, formal, and serious. He was seeing that neutral countenance break, suddenly, into a radiant, laughing smile, meant only for him to see. That was the image of her face he'd carried with him for ten years. Each rare smile, then and now, filled him with complete joy at having had some part in that happiness. He liked to see her happy.

Without his realizing it, the lightsaber had begun to take shape again. His train of thought had led him into a sort of meditative state. His prosthetic hand, though, now fumbled and got in the way. The delicate balance that held the pieces in place was broken, and once more the parts lay disconnected before him. Anakin sighed and began the process again.

He liked to see Padmé happy. Would this separation, practical as it seemed, make her happy? He could not believe that it would. How often did she smile when he wasn't there, these days? How often was a decorous and dignified Senator allowed to laugh? And how could a heart that was breaking, as he knew his own to be, a heart in so much pain, know happiness?

It changes nothing, she'd say. We have our responsibilities. And she would follow the call of public service, always making others happy. And it would kill her.

The parts of the lightsaber flew apart, bouncing off the walls. Anakin buried his head in his hands.

This wasn't fair! It wasn't fair to either of them! He was a Jedi, she was a Senator. So that was it, there the matter must end? Couldn't either of them have been anything else? But no, they'd chosen their paths and were now forced to follow them. The padawan took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.

He'd been hurt by what she'd said to him. "No, you don't. You don't know what love is. You don't even know me. Just because you're a childhood acquaintance…" Each word like a blaster bolt, striking home, leaving him stunned. Could she really think that? What he'd told her had been the truth; did she think she had been telling him the same?

But she was wrong. This went beyond the mere idol-worship felt by a ten-year-old boy. This was deeper. He knew her heart. He would never tire of learning everything else. Wasn't that enough?

In the dim, solitary silence of the meditation chamber, the answer seemed to be a resounding "no."

Back to the lightsaber. The casing, first. She was a Senator and he was a Jedi, and so he would construct his Jedi weapon. He would use that weapon to become a great Jedi, wise and powerful, respected throughout the Order. She was a Senator and he was a Jedi, and that was all they could ever be. Except… that wouldn't be true.

The lightsaber crystals locked into place.

Years ago, she had entered the Legislative Youth Program on Naboo and had found her calling. Year ago, he had set his feet on the path of the Jedi and begun his training according to the will of the Force. Young as they'd been—too young, perhaps—they had chosen their fates. They had decided.

The tiny metal parts all fitting together…

And yet… something beyond both his understanding as a Jedi and hers as a Senator connected them to one another. He'd felt it the first moment she'd seen him and smiled. If he had some destiny, he had known then that she would be a part of it. It was the will of the Force, and the will of the Force worked mysteriously. Something inside of Anakin knew that it wouldn't matter even if he and Padmé never set eyes on one another again, never exchanged another word. Even should they each live out their separate public roles to apparent perfection, that perfection would be a lie because their souls would never stop crying to be reunited. They were bound to one another.

The completed lightsaber rested between the padawan's hands.

And he could not believe that the Force would be so cruel as to put them through all of this if they were never to see each other again.

Anakin ignited his lightsaber, cut the air once with its glowing blade, and then shut it off. He clipped the weapon to his belt and strode purposefully from the room.

She was a Senator and he was a Jedi, and so he would perform a Jedi's duty. He would accompany the Chancellor to the day's meeting of the Loyalist Committee.


Padmé had scarcely slept at all the previous night. For some time she had listened to Dormé and Captain Typho's muffled voices. They were laughing together over private jokes, they were murmuring into one another's ears. They were happy, Padmé reflected distantly, in a way she would probably never be again. She felt numb. What she'd said to Anakin… those hateful things, hurtful things. But they'd needed to be said. And he'd hurt her, too.

Once or twice she caught the sound of her own name coming from the adjacent room. "She doesn't seem like herself," Dormé was saying. "Haven't you noticed?"

"Yes, well," Typho muttered uncomfortably. "Give her time."

And then she's lost the thread of the conversation again. When the voices eventually ceased, she lay staring into the shadows of her darkened room, too tired to think, too troubled to sleep.

When the morning came, her body was sore again, the gashes across her back burning. She snapped at Dormé and Typho while getting ready for the meeting, and then had to watch them exchange doubtful glances as they clearly entertained the possibility of prohibiting her from working today by lashing her back onto her bed and locking the door to her chamber. The stiff Senatorial gown only made her discomfort worse as she made the journey to Bail Organa's apartment, where the meeting was to be held.

There she somehow managed to meet every concerned "How are you?" with a reassuring smile. While this satisfied the rest of the committee, it did not deflect the anxious attention of Jar Jar and Bail. The Gungan was hovering so close that once or twice he tripped over her train. The Alderaanian Senator was constantly at her elbow, warding off the more curious delegates with a protective air and a warning gaze. Padmé quickly grew grateful for both Bail's support and Jar Jar's clumsiness, and manifested this by graciously pretending not to notice either. Everything was going smoothly, she almost felt relaxed, when…

She could not be sure, afterward, which had come first—the sudden, strange awareness of his presence or Jar Jar's delighted squeal of "Ani!" Perhaps they had both reached her consciousness at once. As Jar Jar babbled a series of questions about Anakin's health, Padmé, a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, slowly turned to face him.

He looked horribly tired. His attention, thank goodness, was monopolized by Jar Jar. At his side stood the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic. Padmé winced at Jar Jar's lapse in courtesy, not greeting the Chancellor first. And she, Senator Padmé Amidala, would have to set it aright.

Steeling herself, she stepped forward and politely addressed Palpatine who, inevitably, presented her to Anakin. He bowed.

"M'lady." His voice was so cold, so distant.

"Jedi Skywalker." She could scarcely utter the words. For a fraction of a second, their eyes met, but Anakin looked away too quickly for her to get any sense of what he was thinking. Last night, she thought, just last night we could have drifted in one another's eyes like sunlight on the sea, forever. But there was no use wasting time on those memories now, she told herself. Best to attend to the matters at hand.

The ten members of the Loyalist Committee seated themselves in a circle with the Chancellor at its head and the Jedi padawan standing behind him. The meeting began.

"Esteemed delegates of the Senate representing the Loyalist Committee," Palpatine made eye contact with each in turn, "may I begin by thanking you for your dedicated service to the Republic and to myself."

To the Republic, Padmé thought, not to you.

"And let me congratulate you on your initiative in a crisis, the rapid and necessary gain of approval for our Grand Clone Army."

Padmé caught an uneasy look on Bail's face which matched her own feelings about this army.

"You have stood firm and performed your duties efficiently in confronting the Separatist crisis," Palpatine continued. "Now, sadly, it is our misfortune to have fallen into civil war. This necessarily changes the situation in nearly every aspect of our government. We must now determine the function of this committee, if it is to remain intact, in the new and difficult times to come."

He opened the floor to the delegates. Bail was the first to speak.

"I move to continue the committee's diplomatic function, in light of recent events," he stated.

Padmé nodded. "I concur."

"Well, I don't!" Ask Aak interjected. "Surely this committee is unnecessary, now that we have passed the phase of negotiation."

Padmé stopped listening. The Senator from Malastare was loud, patronizing, and defensive in debate situations, unable to see reason until it was practically presented on an engraved plaque ten centimeters from his eyestalks. She had no patience for this today.

Anakin was deliberately not looking at her. His gaze was fixed on the far wall.

She looked down at her lap, and realized that she was playing with her hands, knitting her fingers together, clenching and unclenching them. She remembered Anakin's words from the night before.

He's right, she thought. I do do that.

Sithspit. How was it that he knew her so well after only a handful of fleeting days? Was it some Jedi power?

No. No, because I know him, too.

They'd shared so much, words and feelings and… moments. Looks and kisses… a picnic in the meadow. What did it all add up to, really? Not much. Not on the surface.

But he'd bared his soul to her. She'd seen him completely vulnerable before the fire at Varykino. She's seen him angry, devastated, on Tatooine. He had frightened her that day. What he'd told her had been horrible, and even now the thought of it caused icy fingers of dread to grip her heart.

But she had held him as he cried. She'd held him to forgive him, or maybe just because she didn't know what else to do. She'd held him to protect the innocence of that little boy she'd met ten years ago. She loved that boy, and she loved the man he had become. She loved him for loving her in a way no one ever had. And that day in the Lars' garage, when she'd seen him broken and sobbing and she'd knelt down in the sand beside him, she fully realized it, deep inside herself, for the first time.

Many things will change when we reach the capital, Ani, she'd told him once, when she'd knelt beside a crying, grieving boy separated from his home and all he knew, and had held him in the same way she'd done only days ago, But my caring for you will remain.

And it had. Though everything was changing all around, that one thing had stayed. She cared for him, so much. So why were they avoiding eye contact, separated by a few meters of carpet that might as well have been half the galaxy?

Suddenly Padmé felt very alone.

She wasn't used to feeling alone. Usually she felt herself to be intimately connected with others through her service, tied to the life of the community. But somehow that wasn't enough, now. Of all those people she made it her duty to serve, not one of them really knew her. And here, surrounded by bickering Senatorial delegates of varying moral worth, she was lonely in a way she had never been before.

Someone had said her name. It was Orn Free Taa, the Twi'lecki Senator.

"As Senator Amidala should be able to tell us, we cannot hope to reach the Separatists through peaceful means."

Padmé started to respond, but was abruptly cut off by Onaconda Farr, the Senator from Rodia.

"Oh, yes, Senator Amidala should be able to tell us all about the Separatists," he said in a withering voice.

"And why is that?" Ister Paddie asked, sounding bored.

"Isn't it clear to you? Isn't it clear to you all?" the Rodian shouted, and pointed at Padmé. "That one is in league with them! Has been all along! That is why she advocated a non-aggressive stance in the dispute, it is why she stalled the work of this committee, and it is why she was on Geonosis when battle broke out! Not captured by the Separatists, but employed by them!"

Even Anakin's carefully neutral expression turned to one of shock at this outburst.

Padmé, flushed with anger, scarcely knew how to begin, but Bail beat her to it.

"This is ridiculous!" He fixed Senator Farr with a fierce glare. "How dare you, sir?"

"I must ask you, Senator Farr, to calm down and, if you have proof of this very serious accusation, to bring it forward. Otherwise, we must move on. I will not entertain groundless arguments." Palpatine's stern words were supported by his tone.

"How can you say it is groundless?" Farr continued to yell. "What further proof do you need?"

"I advocated peaceful resolution to this conflict as well," Senator Lexi Dio, from Uyter, spoke evenly. "Do you wish to accuse me also?"

"Not yet," Farr answered sharply. "But you were not there when the war started. She was."

"Senator Farr." Padmé at last found her voice. "This is out of line. If I had wanted war, would I have spoken out for peace my entire life? My reason for going to Geonosis was diplomatic, and I was imprisoned for espionage and would have been executed if—"

"And why were you accused of espionage?" Ronet Coorr asked. "I do not support Senator Farr's claims of treason, but it seems to me that a legitimate diplomatic conference would not have gotten you arrested—"

"And we all know what the holonet is reporting," Ask Aak inserted, unwilling to be left out.

"Dis is nutsen! Senator Amidala is no doin' nutten wit da Separatists and nutten wit da war!" Jar Jar Binks interjected, and was largely ignored.

"Come now, Senators." Horox Ryyder, ever placid, motioned for calm. "Surely we have not come to that. The holonet has been reporting something different every hour."

"And any way they report it," Farr finished maliciously, "she was the final spark which ignited open warfare in the Republic."

That's not true, Padmé wanted to scream, You know it's not true!

But Palpatine spoke first. "Delegates, we are off topic. I order the committee to return to the matter at hand."

Bail met her eyes apologetically. Padmé looked down at her hands as they smoothed out her dress. She was alone here. Even Bail, whom she trusted and respected, even liked, even he she had not let in. She would always be alone here. Senator Amidala, cold and untouchable.

She longed for Naboo suddenly, for a place where she was simply Padmé Naberrie, a woman who, until a week or so ago, she'd almost forgotten existed. She thought about being a child, swimming across the sparkling lake, laughing. She thought about her parents, how they tried to convince her that her service was done, that she should come home. She could never tell him how often she'd secretly agreed. She thought of her sister Sola's reproachful, "Don't you ever want to take, just a little?" Sola, who had seen in Anakin what Padmé hadn't wanted to. "Just a boy? Have you seen the way he looks at you?"

She thought of her nieces Ryoo and Pooja, laughing as they danced around Artoo.

She thought of how she'd laughed, when Anakin was with her.

We'd be living a lie, she'd told him, but were they living any less of a lie now, by not being together? All at once she knew that she could not go back to being Senator Amidala, content to be always alone. Nor did she want to.

What she felt for Anakin wasn't simply some irrational whim. Anakin knew her. Truly knew her, even if she couldn't explain it, just as she somehow felt that she knew him. When she was with him, she felt safe. Safe from all of this, all of the bickering and the corruption and the violence. When she held him, she knew that they both felt sheltered from the forces of chaos they could not control. Now, when she may have lost him forever, pushed him away of her own free will, she just wanted to feel safe again.

She wanted to be somewhere where she could feel safe.


Anakin hadn't really been following the committee's debate until they'd started talking about Padmé. Now that they'd stopped, his attention waned again. He realized that he'd been gripping the hilt of his lightsaber, and wondered what exactly he'd been planning to do with it. He imagined himself drawing it on that paranoid idiot from Rodia, defending Padmé's honor—that would at least have been amusing, if not entirely appropriate. Surely they must be wrong in saying that public opinion held that Padmé had had a hand in starting the war. No one who knew her could possibly believe that. And if they did, if Aak and the others were right about what the holonet was reporting, then that just proved that all politicians were less than worthless. All except the Chancellor and Padmé. And, for the sake of disputing Obi-Wan's general opinion of Senators, perhaps a few others—Organa, for instance, seemed tolerable.

He only glanced at her occasionally to avoid attracting her notice, but Anakin noted that Padmé wasn't paying attention either, although she concealed it well. Every now and then she would glance up at whoever was speaking, but she wasn't seeing them, and she wasn't hearing anything. He wished he knew what she was seeing. She never looked in his direction.

The debate went on.

"What if we were to convince systems which could be leaving now to stay?" Lexi Dio asked. "Surely that is a purpose worth remaining active for."

"Dis is true," Jar Jar agreed. "More systems leavin', 'tis mui mui bombad for all of ussens. Needin' more support."

"Let them leave," said Ask Aak. "Our army does not depend on the number of star systems in our control."

Horox Ryyder shook his voluminous head. "Resources. We must have their resources."

Orn Free Taa and Ronet Coorr concurred.

"Our key function would be morale, you mark my words," said Onaconda Farr.

"One of them, certainly," Organa conceded. "And that is no bad thing. But above all we must bring a swift conclusion to this war."

"That is out of our hands," Ister Paddie answered. "Our troops arrive here shortly. It will be up to them."

Palpatine's eyes, Anakin noticed, had come to rest on Padmé. Undoubtedly he had noticed her lack of attention, too, and now wished to recall it.

"Senator Amidala, what is your opinion in this matter?"

Becoming aware of the eyes on her, Padmé looked up. At first, Anakin thought that she would have to ask the Chancellor to repeat his question. He observed that, for an instant, she met his eyes before fixing them steadily on Palpatine.

She said, very quietly, "I want to go home."

The delegates stared. But Padmé, seeming not to notice, calmly addressed Palpatine in the formal manner of a Senator. "Chancellor, I request a leave of absence from the Senate to return to Naboo, effective immediately."

"Your request is granted," Palpatine answered, caught off guard.

"Thank you." Abruptly she rose and exited the apartment.

The Senators stared after her, then looked at one another, bewildered. On another day Anakin would have followed her without hesitation, but after the events of the night before he wasn't sure that he'd be welcome. He waited, therefore, until Palpatine looked up at him and said, "Jedi Skywalker, would you escort Senator Amidala back to her quarters?"

"Certainly, Chancellor." Amid muted Senatorial voices murmuring things like "delayed post-traumatic reaction, only to be expected," Anakin strode out after Padmé.

He spotted her walking quickly toward the end of the hall. Even as he increased his pace to catch up with her, though, she stopped and stood still, her back to him. It wasn't until he was directly behind her that he noticed her shoulders shaking. She was crying.

He reached out and touched her arm with his left hand, the living one. "Padmé—"

She pulled away. "Why did you follow me?"

"To escort you back to your room," he replied, not bothering to hide how he resented her continued coldness. "You'll want to prepare for your journey back to Naboo."

He heard her breath catch as she struggled to compose herself, and his heart melted. He couldn't be angry with her when she was like this.

"You shouldn't travel back alone. I can arrange for someone from the Order to accompany you," he murmured uncomfortably.

She turned and looked up at him, wiping away the tears on her cheeks.

"Anakin," her voice was breaking, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Ani… What I said… I didn't mean…" And suddenly she was in his arms, sobbing. "Please don't leave me."

"I won't," Anakin answered immediately, stunned. Any bitterness remaining from the night before vanished in an instant. "I could never."

"I'm sorry. I love you." She clung to him tightly. "I don't want to lose you."

"It's all right. I'm here." He wasn't sure what to do or say, so he tried to soothe her through the Force. Yet it was hard, because all he was able to concentrate on was the one thought, She needs me. It had never occurred to him before, and the very idea astonished him. She needs me just as much as I need her. After a moment, she began to calm down, and he leaned in to gently kiss her.

"Let's go home, Ani," she said softly. "Take me home to Naboo."

He promised that he would.

Late that afternoon, Anakin found Obi-Wan in a meditation chamber of the Jedi Temple. The older Jedi opened his eyes as his padawan took a seat opposite him.

"Where have you been today?"

"I was speaking with Senator Amidala. I leave for Naboo tomorrow. She wishes to return home as soon as possible, and I've told her I have permission to escort her."

"Very well." Obi-Wan eyed him closely. "You cannot stay there too long."

"I know, Master."

"A week, perhaps. Not much more."

"Yes, Master."

Obi-Wan sighed, resigned. "Be careful, Anakin."

The padawan nodded and closed his eyes to meditate. He hadn't wanted to leave Padmé's apartment to return here. He wouldn't want to leave Naboo after a week. Forever there, with her, would not be long enough. But he was not in the mood to argue. He wanted to meditate, to reflect. Finding Padmé in tears in the hallway had left him feeling stunned and helpless. Together they had been through so much, shared so much, and yet he realized… before today, he had never seen her cry.