A/N: Dearest Readers: thank you all for the comments and encouragement.

I'm back in the country…was far, far away in a place where I could rail against sand (I HATE SAND), and have some quiet time to think of this story.

Chapter 11: How Soon Is Now?

Padmé woke on her bed in the same dark blue velvet gown she had worn in the previous dream. She took a deep breath. The bodice felt much too tight. She was restless and impatient to see Anakin. But she felt so much better in this fanciful world than in the wakeful hours.

Here she was not plagued with the myriad of aches, near constant fatigue, and throbbing headaches. Oh yes, the weak, craven side of her liked it much better here. Where she did not have to really think of how truly horrid things had become, although she knew deep down that she really should have been thinking of those things- and dealing with them.

But she had never been allowed to be weak; never as Senator Amidala and definitely not as Queen of Naboo. This was a secret haven for her.

She allowed the irritation to arise at the thought of the burden of false perfection that had weighed so heavily on her. Of course, everyone expected their young Queen to be 'perfect' and that expectation had spilled over into her idealistic senatorial career. She had played that role flawlessly.

But she did have many faults, all kept in secret. And the biggest, most glaring shortcoming, and the largest of her skeletons in the cupboard, was that she had done what was most forbidden: she'd fallen in love with a Jedi.

And married him.

And then look what happened, she thought.

She quickly banished the negative thoughts from her mind.

Where is he? she thought, feeling slightly annoyed.

Sighing, she stretched her body and made to rise from the bed.

Now, where could he be?

Padmé took a deep breath to quiet her thoughts and finally could sense Anakin's presence. He was near. Very near. She could actually feel him.

"Anakin," she whispered in wonder, as she turned and instinctively shifted her body toward him. She could feel his aura like a warm caress.

Anakin stirred from a seat the far corner of the room where he had been cloaked in shadow, watching her. He approached the bed as Padmé sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed to stand upright.

They both stood there looking at each other intensely for what seemed like eternity.

Her conscience, though, could not stay silent.

Her last attempt at conversation with Anakin, when she had, once again, asked about his injuries, had ended very badly. Perhaps they could speak easier in this more neutral setting? There were many, many things she needed to discuss with him. Things that would only get worse in time.

"Anakin, we really need to talk…there is-"

"No Padmé-" he interrupted her abruptly. "No words now; not yet."

She recoiled at his sharp tone and the intense and brooding look in his eyes. She stiffened with apprehension, and then quickly felt white hot indignation roll through her at his manner. Her eyes were flinty and she opened her mouth argue with him.

Oh, yes we will talk, Anakin!

Wisely interpreting the thoughts he could no longer hear from her, but instinctively knowing how she would react to what had amounted to an order from him, Anakin spoke quickly to soothe his earlier harshness.

"Please, Padmé…" his face softened as whispered his plea to her. He ground his teeth, hoping that she would not argue with him now.

Please don't be your usual, pig-headed, stubborn self!

She paused for an excruciatingly long moment, weighing his entreaty, and an icy bolt of fear shot through Anakin as he thought she just might have been able to read his thoughts. That would be bad. Very bad.

Sith!

Then she held her arms out to him.

Flooded with relief, Anakin swiftly moved into her embrace as his mouth came down upon hers in a tender kiss. He could feel her trembling as his tongue gently caressed her lips, seeking entrance. As her lips parted, Anakin deepened the kiss and heard Padmé groan with pleasure. Hot desire coursed through them both.

It has been too long, they both thought, simultaneously.

One hand moved up to stroke her tresses, while the other hand skimmed down her back, caressed her buttocks, and then pressed her hips against his, allowing her to feel his turgid length. She felt his desire and it matched her own.

Padmé's hands moved up his chest and wound themselves around Anakin's neck, pulling him even closer. His breathing turned harsh as his passion continued to rise. His hands moved to splay across her back, grazing the lacings of her dress. He wanted to feel the silky texture of her skin.

Suddenly, Anakin broke the kiss. Padmé moaned in disappointment. He swiftly turned Padmé so that she was facing away from him as he looked anxiously at the intricate corset fastening of her dress. His fingers moved clumsily across the lacings, trying frantically to loosen them.

I could have imagined a simpler gown, he thought with rising irritation.

A string of Huttese curses came to his mind.

Padmé held her tumbled curls over her shoulder to give Anakin a better view of the cords. His fingers tangled and fumbled with the lacing and he made no progress. It was taking far too long, and she sighed her displeasure. Anakin, feeling her impatience, smiled a devilish grin as he used the Force to cut the offending laces.

An extremely unwanted thought of his old Master reprimanding him for using the Force for trivial matters came into his mind. Even more foul Huttese curses came into his head, as anger welled up in him at any memory of Obi-Wan.

Of all the times and places-

Focus, man!

Anakin shook his head to clear his mind and concentrate on the immediate task. His hands violently parted the back of the bodice and he turned Padmé to face him as he ripped the fabric from her body and hurled it to the floor.

He was not going to stop there.

Soon the full midnight blue velvet skirt was pooled on the floor around Padmé's feet. Stepping out of the fabric, she was now only covered in a gossamer thin, pale blue strapless long silk chemise. Although it ended at the floor, it left absolutely nothing to the imagination. At this point, both of them were panting with their carnal thoughts.

Anakin's gaze devoured her form before him. The myriad of things he wanted to do to her flashed in his mind, egging him on. He had to calm himself for a moment or he knew it would end too soon. He slowed himself; he wanted to savor this moment.

His eyes skimmed over the rosy peaks of Padmé's breasts, the gentle curve of her hips, and the dusky shadow at the juncture of her thighs. She blushed under his smoldering gaze as he gently, but firmly pulled her closer to him. His hands began to slowly caress her, his fingers trailing down her body as he looked deep into her eyes.

He wanted more.

He brought her tightly against him as he claimed her lips once again in a deep, fevered kiss, and she moaned as the rough fabric of his tunic brushed against her aching breasts. She wanted to touch his flesh, to feel his warmth against her.

Padmé's hands reached to undo the knotted sash around his waist, pressing her body against him. She pulled the belt roughly from him and threw it to the floor. She pushed the garment apart and off his shoulders as she kissed his neck and caressed his torso with her hands as he groaned in ecstasy. She grasped the collar of his tunic and pulled it off his body, leaving him with only his trousers.

Panting, eyes feverish and glassy, Anakin stepped back from Padmé while his hands continued to stroke her neck and collarbone. His fingers trailed lightly downward as their eyes locked gazes. He hooked his fingers between her breasts, under the edge of her chemise. The offending garment tore completely down the front, was snatched from her body, and tossed violently from them.

Anakin paused to regard her with wolfish and possessive eyes.

Mine.

She was not coy and feigned no false modesty under his determined perusal. Padmé's nakedness inflamed his passion to even higher peaks and his mouth descended to fiercely claim her lips once more. The feeling of her warm, silken flesh against him was… intoxicating. She wound her arms tighter around his neck, pressing herself flush against him.

Body tensing with anticipation, Anakin picked up Padmé into his arms and gently laid her on the bed, never losing eye contact with her. It was now time to reacquaint themselves with the pleasure and the passion they had shared so many years ago.

Together they reclined on the bed, their bodies entwining.

But they would not sleep…

x x x x

They lay pressed together under the covers, savoring their last moments together until their next meeting.

Anakin's strong arms were wrapped around her and she could hear his heartbeat thudding solidly as her cheek rested on his chest. Padmé's other hand was curled around his neck, caressing his hair. They each lost themselves in the tactile sensations that they were deprived of otherwise.

It feels so real, she mused.

Like the sand in an hourglass, Padmé could feel herself slipping languidly away, but she desperately wished she could stay longer. She dreamily looked up at Anakin's face to get one last look at him. Her brow furrowed in consternation.

He was definitely troubled.

He looks so sad this time, she thought as sleep descended upon her. Why?

She could vaguely hear Anakin whisper, lips against her temple, "I'm so sorry, Padmé, I hope you can forgive me..." and then she was gone.

x x x x

Only the sound of Darth Vader's harsh intake of breath was heard in Padmé's darkened chamber.

His continual respiratory inhale and exhalation cycle broke the heavy silence. The control function panel lights on his breastplate glowed eerily, making his presence even more ghastly in the gloom. It was the stuff of nightmares.

Vader painstakingly smoothed the cover over her sleeping form and gently wound one of her long curls around his gloved fingers before reluctantly withdrawing his hand. He wanted to savor the moment, but his ever-present companions, fear and doubt, had returned and sidled up next to him while he watched her serene expression.

My Love…

He slowly rose and, giving his Angel one last regretful glance, went into the solace of his own chamber. It tormented him because he knew that soon their idyll would have to end.

It was inevitable.

Love, for them, was part and parcel to suffering. Their past had not been easy. His jaw hardened at the memory. Their future would never be easy together, he knew, but they could not be apart. He would not allow it.

Yet, for all his love for her, he still had his duty.

It is destiny, Padmé. We can not escape it.

His chamber door locked silently behind him as he reclined and allowed the droid to remove his helmet and mask.

He would now rest.