Author's Note:Wow, I am so grateful for all your feedback. Thank you very, very much! I managed another chapter today - hope you enjoy!

LATE EVENING - DORMITORY E

Feeling light on her feet, she worked through the routine, smiling lovingly at Anakin as their eyes met before she twirled away, her body keeping perfect time with the music. She worked her way through the complicated steps, speeding up more and more until her feet seemed to be moving in a blur. As she came around for the Throw, she grinned, feeling Anakin's strong hands grasping her ankle as she spun round and round, lifting off the ground. Catching a glimpse of her partner's face she started to frown. That wasn't her Ani. She started to struggle, but the unknown assailant grasped her tighter, daggers digging into the tender flesh of her ankles. Just as she opened her mouth to scream, she was released and hurtled towards an unknown blackness. One she was sure she'd never escape-

Gasping, Padme sat up into bed, finally coming fully awake and leaving the horrible nightmare behind. Turning, she saw Anakin sitting up, bringing his lightsaber to his outstretched hand by using the Force.

"Padme, what is it?" he asked, concerned. His eyes scanned the room, seeking out the danger.

Putting a shaky hand to her forehead, she replied. "Nothing, I'm sorry. Just a bad dream. I think I've done the Zobaa one too many times." She attempted to laugh but it came out more like a whimper. After a deep breath, she quickly recounted the dream while Anakin listened patiently.

As her words died away, he returned his weapon to the table beside him. Turning, he drew Padme into his arms and gently smoothed her hair over the pillow, murmuring reassurances and words of love. Gradually, her breathing returned to normal and then grew deeper. Chancing a look at her face, he was relieved to see she had fallen back to sleep. But it was a long while before he did the same, pondering the possible meaning behind her nightmare.

NEXT DAY - AFTERNOON - STUDIO 5

"Faster!" Threepio called over the pulsing music. After a moment, he added a meek, "please!"

Gritting their teeth, Padme and Anakin's feet pounded the dance floor as they worked through the series of intricate steps. As they gradually turned to face each other, their hands met and held tight. Without missing a beat, Anakin turned Padme in a series of circles, her hair flying out behind her. After each rotation, her body met up with his and paused, the moves sharp and precise. Once again face to face, Anakin placed his hands on either side of Padme's waist and she pushed off with her feet, letting Anakin turn her upside down as he lifted her over his head. After a moment, she was returned to the floor and ended the dance with a flourish, sinking to the ground with her head thrown back.

"Bravo!" Threepio cheered. Exhausted, Padme let her body collapse to the floor. How she was going to do that routine tomorrow in front of millions of people was beyond her. Staring blankly at the ceiling, she couldn't help but grin when she saw Anakin peering down at her. Returning her smile, he extended his hand and helped her up.

"You can't do that tomorrow, you know," he joked. "You have to jump right up and jog offstage."

"Don't remind me," Padme groaned.

DAY OF COMPETITION - TWO HOURS BEFORE PERFORMANCE

Once again, Padme felt like she was looking at a stranger in the mirror. The make-up artists had done an incredible job. This time, they had woven burgundy strands through her hair, twisting it into a series of complicated braids which were fastened securely to the back of her head. Her eyes were lined in dark pencil again with matching burgundy shadow dusted across the lids. Her lips echoed the intense color and emphasized the healthy glow of her complexion. Padme was sure her own mother would have a hard time recognizing her.

Reaching for the costume that had been placed next to her, she had scarcely picked it up when a costume droid rolled by and stopped her.

"No, no, Milady," it corrected. "You are wearing the burgundy costume tonight. There must have been a mistake." Its mechanical arm reached out and took the dark green costume from her fingers. Rolling away, it called back, "one moment."

Returning moments later, the droid dropped the burgundy costume into her lap and left her to get changed. Recognizing one article as a pair of pants, Padme sighed in relief.

30 MINUTES LATER

Anakin looked at his dark burgundy costume and smiled. The droids must have remembered him from last week - although the basic attire was the same, there wasn't a single sparkle to be found.

Thank you, Anakin thought to himself. If he regularly appeared in sparkly clothing, Obi-wan would never let him forget it - undercover assignment or not.

Padme's presence brought him back to the current moment. Laughing, he took in her delighted expression as she pointed to the pants that were covering her legs. The matching top was off the shoulder and decorated with elaborate embroidery. A wispy train was attached to the low waist of her pants - thankfully, it looked like it stopped just before it hit the ground. Anakin knew he didn't need the added pressure of worrying about stepping on her costume.

"Beautiful," he commented, wrapping an arm around her and kissing her temple. Padme just smiled and leaned into his chest, waiting for their turn to come.

FIFTEEN MINUTES BEFORE PERFORMANCE

Surely, her hands were on fire, Padme thought. Resisting the urge to scratch at them, she buried them in the featherlight material that made up her train.

Standing next to her, Anakin meditated, carefully evaluating every step of their Zobaa routine. Suddenly aware of her discomfort, he opened his eyes, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Padme replied, smiling tightly. "Just nervous. Really nervous."

"You're not the only one," he assured her and quickly went back to meditating. Turning from him, Padme brought one of her hands out of the fabric. Horrified, she noted the blood red color of her fingers. Rolling up her sleeve, her stomach sank as she saw the crimson trails that seemed to slowly creep up her veins.

"Hirtii?" she whispered, disbelievingly. Her mind flashed back to her childhood.

She gasped as she looked down at her arms and legs. Deep red streaks now seemed to run up and down every inch of her extremities. The pain was unbearable, and seemed to culminate at the origin of the attack - her hands. The pain and redness had started there about two hours ago and Padme had retreated to her room, not wanting her parents to know she had apparently injured herself while playing in the forest. They had warned her against going there. Cradling the stinging appendages, she bit her lip to keep from crying out. Her eyes squeezed shut so hard she saw stars. And then suddenly, it became too much. She screamed before everything went black.

Starting to pace, Padme fought to stay calm. She quickly pushed her sleeve back down as another memory flooded her mind.

The machines beeped continuously. She was vaguely aware of her mother's quiet sobbing but it was hard to concentrate - her whole body felt like it was burning. "You couldn't have known," the medical technician soothed. "An allergic reaction to hirtii is extremely rare. There are only twenty cases on record." The news didn't seem to help as Jobal continued to weep. "Milady, she will be all right. We must take care and see to it that she never comes in contact with it again, especially not in large doses. We are fortunate that the plant is so rare and the reaction takes some time to spread..." At that point, Padme had let the blackness take her again. She was tired. So tired.

"Padme?" Anakin's voice cut into her memories. "Are you ready?"

With a determined nod, she pushed the pain into the back of her mind and followed Anakin to the stage. It couldn't be hirtii - it was just a coincidence, she told herself.

But Padme Amidala Skywalker should have known that events in her life were never a mere coincidence.