Disclaimer: Star Wars and all associated characters, plotlines, and worlds (good and bad) are property and copyright © of George Lucas (aka The Richest Man in Hollywood). This is purely for fan entertainment only.

Chapter 2

A dump. That was the only way to describe the tiny office the therapist kept, on the fringes of Coruscant and away from the main traffic. If there was anything this therapist was, she was discreet. But messy.

Padmé sighed, easing deeper into the thick cushions of the couch, knowing better than to interrupt the uptight woman in front of her when she was on a rant, giving Padmé "advice". She listened to snippets, hearing something about telling her family, keeping secrets, and pent up aggression. She pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation.

The young woman paused, noting Padmé's disinterest. "This is going no where." She observed, leaning onto the palm of her hand. "We have discussed your situation with your illicit husband many times, and I've grown to know his problems better than yours. He should definitely be in therapy." She furrowed her brow and thought for a moment.

The Senator tried her hardest to not roll her eyes. She was probably the highest paying client, but yet somehow she felt like she was getting the least amount of help. At last the therapist beamed, having come up with an idea. "You should have a Holonet journal." She nodded enthusiastically, proud of herself. "And you can't talk about your husband in them… this is just about you. We need you to talk about you so that I can help you." She smiled, patting the Senator's hand, "We can't have you giving me a nervous breakdown."

A dignified shrug was the best answer Padmé could come up with, she hid the grin at the therapist's joke. "I will let you know what the username is in our next session."

Padmé frowned, going through her Senator Amidala journal, not happy at the prospect of having to maintain yet another journal and having to censor herself in it as well. She knew from the millions of hits that her journal got every day that the things could be rather popular, so keeping it anonymous seemed rather important if she was talking about her feelings on her journal.

She rolled her eyes as yet another post showed up, anonymous as usual, about the rumored love affair between herself and Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. This time, the poster had provided a poorly manipulated image of the two of them, apparently using another's body, as Padmé had never hugged Master Kenobi.

Grimacing at the neon colors, she blinked at the inscription on the image, "Obidala always?" she sniffed, "Why can't it be Amiobi? Or… Padmewan?" she stared at the image of the bearded Jedi Master and frowned, "As if I would pick a disgruntled old Jedi!"

The community page proved to be more interesting… of the contacts, many came to her rescue, noting how ridiculous they thought the rumor was. The comments from one manicpoet made her giggle, old fart, indeed. She paled when she read his comment about being with Anakin. What could he know, though? I haven't put anything on the journal about it; he's just picking any random person. She shrugged it off, moving through the content of his journal.

On his poetry page, one word struck her; she moved to go read the poem entitled "Serendipity". That's an interesting word… could describe how a lot of the events in my life happened.

(entry from Serendipity later that day)

I'm new to this community, and I would just like to introduce myself. I am Serendipity.

I have followed the Senator's work for quite a while and would like to extend my support as well.

I will update more later, but I am rather curious, manicpoet… How does one cuddle hair?

Padmé shook her head and went back to the poet's journal, interested to see what the manic one referred to as poetry, sighing at the sappiness she found.

I look upon your face and sigh

Knowing someday I shall have to try

To tell you what you mean to me

How very sweet this dream can be.

In your hands, my dear wife,

I humbly place my very life.

When my soul begins to drift

Your smile is a precious gift.

"He's too sweet." She whispered to herself.

The goofy Ani poetry was written by my wonderful beta. Wonderfully awful, isn't it? I'm looking for contributions for Ani's poetry… the worse, the better! If you're interested, PM or email me. : )