Chapter Fourteen

The first two days back on Naboo are the hardest for me because I'm obsessively chained to my commlink, unable to banish the hope that Anakin will end the stalemate between us. I continually vacillate between anticipation, disappointment and anger with each hour that ticks by without his call. Shmi does her best to reassure me that Anakin is not as indifferent as I think.

He's in incredible pain, she claims, and he misses but he's convinced himself that she doesn't feel the same about him. She wants me to put him out of his misery. However, I am steadfast that doing so is not my responsibility. After all, I am not the one who caused the rift between us in the first place. If Anakin wants to open a dialogue, then he will need to be the one to initiate it.

In the meantime, Sola is all too eager to assist me in maintaining my resolve by keeping me distracted. She fills my first day with endless activities. After finally coaxing me from bed, she convinces me to take in various Nabooian sights together. We enjoy a relaxing afternoon at an exclusive spa in Theed and spend our evening being entertained by a dramatic opera at the local theater house and then cap the night with a tour of the newest art gallery. We also spend obscene amounts of money. Generally, we run ourselves ragged to the point where I can do little more than fall into a stupor when we return home.

Sola was right, of course. The various activities afford me with little time to think about Anakin and, by the time we reached out parents' estate later that evening, I am much too tired to think about him then either. And while I appreciate my sister's efforts, I also feel like she's going to kill me.

When she comes bouncing into my room that night before I can fall into exhausted slumber, no doubt to plan our itinerary for the following day, I bury my face into my pillow with a longsuffering groan. "Please Sola, no more," I plead when I feel the bed sag slightly under her weight as she settles in next to me, "I cannot abide anymore frolicking adventures!"

"Very well," she chuckles, "How about we spend the day with your physician instead?"

I roll a glance up at her, eyeing her in suspicious confusion. "What physician?"

"The physician who will be performing your much needed and probably long overdue well visit."

"I don't have a physician to do that, Sola."

"You do now. I took the liberty of making the arrangements for you."

I flop over onto my back with a doleful groan. "You did what?"

"Padmé, a pregnancy requires specialized care. I'm sure you know this."

"I can choose my own doctor," I argue petulantly, "I'm not a child!"

"And have you as of yet?"

I sniff defensively. "I was going to get around to it. If you weren't so busy running me into the ground today, I might have done it already!"

"Have you even seen a physician since your pregnancy was confirmed?" she presses further, smoothly ignoring my rancor. I obstinately refuse to answer, but my lack of response only deepens my sister's smug self-righteousness. "It is settled then. You will see Dr. Moren first thing in the morning. You'll like him. He delivered both of my babies you know?"

"I am aware," I reply dryly, "Since I was present for both births, if you'll recall."

"So then you know you're in good hands with Dr. Moren."

"And what am I supposed to tell Mom and Dad when they ask me why I'm seeing your obstetrician?" I demand in a flash of irritation.

"Tell them that they're going to be grandparents again," she says, "That's a good start."

For all my ingratitude and protests to the contrary, I'm extremely grateful to Sola for taking control. It is comforting not to have to face these new challenges on my own. Revealing the pregnancy to my parents also lightens my stress levels considerably. Of course, I must also deal with their barrage of commentary regarding how quickly I conceived, Anakin's conspicuous absence at such a delicate time, and any possible inclinations I might have to raise their new grandchild on that "Force-forsaken dust ball in the Outer Rim." For the most part, though, they are genuinely excited about the baby. It's a welcome change of pace from all the doom and gloom I've endured from Anakin.

My appointment with Dr. Moren is routine. The visit is focused more on my health than the health of my baby. The physician confirms that my pregnancy is progressing as expected but warns me that miscarriages typically occur in the first trimester, so I should not have another appointment with him until I've progressed into my second trimester. He assures me at that point that they will conduct more careful monitoring of the baby's progress but, for this visit they only access the baby's heartrate. His matter-of-fact summation those facts is alarming, but Dr. Moren assures me that he expects a good outcome because I am "young and healthy." We plan for another appointment in six weeks.

"Eating small, frequent meals should help with your nausea," he tells me, "As long as you continue to maintain a healthy diet, stay active, and minimize stress, you should have no complications."

I want to reply to him, "I'm married to Anakin Skywalker. My life is nothing but stress," but I wisely refrain from making the sardonic quip in my sister's presence. Unfortunately, Anakin has not endeared himself to her with his recent actions. I certainly don't want to add more fuel to the fire by implying my marriage to him has been worrisome or unhappy because, barring this most recent hiccup, that cannot be further from the truth.

"Are you planning to stay on Naboo indefinitely then?" Sola asks once we're in our vehicle and headed back to our parents' estate. I give her a blank look and she clarifies, "I couldn't help but notice that you scheduled your six-week appointment with Dr. Moren. Does that mean you intend to stay?"

"I don't know," I mumble anxiously, "I hadn't thought that far ahead."

She purses her lips thoughtfully. "Are you thinking of ending your marriage, Padmé?"

I swivel to face her with an incredulous scowl. "No!" I cry stridently, "Why would you say such a thing? I still love my husband!"

"I'm not saying that you don't and I'm not suggesting you do one thing or another," she responds in a mild tone, "But it's clear you don't have any immediate plans to return to Tatooine. So, what else should I think, Padmé?"

"That I'm waiting for Anakin to…"

"…To what?" she prompts when I trail off, "To change his mind?"

"It's only been two days, Sola," I argue weakly, "He needs time and that's all."

"How much time? A week? A month? A year?" she retorts, making it abundantly clear how ridiculous she finds my declaration, "It doesn't serve you to be naïve, Padmé. You should start thinking about the future, one that might not include him if you both can't come to an agreement about this."

I start to tell her that I will never be ready to contemplate that sort of future at all, but my angry retort is interrupted by the sudden chiming of my commlink. Once again, I'm disappointed when the caller isn't Anakin, but I manage a warm smile for Bail Organa, nonetheless. I staunchly ignore Sola's mouthed reprimand that I should "wrap up" the conversation because she, no doubt, thinks I'm using Bail's call as an excuse to avoid further discussion with her. It's partly true, but I will throw myself on a funeral pyre before I ever admitted that to her.

"Padmé," Bail greets me with an ironic grin, "Representative Binks is certainly an…ahem…colorful fellow but he is a poor substitute for you, my dear. Surely this sabbatical of yours has lasted long enough!"

"Sabbatical? Really, Bail? Do you never give up?" I chuckle with a dramatic eye roll.

"Not when I'm highly motivated," he says, "Stop being coy. Come to Coruscant. At least, if you're going to make your resignation official, you should do so in person."

"I already have made it official," I remind him, "Or did I imagine the long discussion we had before I went off world?"

"Yes, but I was interim chancellor at the time. I'm afraid that didn't count. Now that I've been officially elected to the seat, we should discuss your intentions."

"You really are quite maddening. Do you know that?"

"Will you come?" he entreats, "At least give me the opportunity to sway you face to face. I do miss you, my friend."

"Fine," I concede, sighing dutifully, "I can be there by the afternoon."

"Excellent. I look forward to seeing you."

When I glance up after ending the transmission, I find my sister regarding me with a knowing look. For some reason, the thoughtful gleam I note in her eyes irritates me. "What?"

"You're going to go back, aren't you?"

"No, I'm not, Sola! My marriage is a complete mess! I can't think about fixing the Galaxy right now!"

"But you'll try, won't you?" she predicts almost sadly, "Because you need to fix something."

Sola's words stay with me as I leave Naboo later that morning. On some level, I know she has a point. I'm so reluctant to confront my current circumstances that I'm essentially choosing to stay in denial. But the truth is stark. No matter how much Anakin and I love each other, it's unlikely that we'll come to an agreement about the baby. Either I'll be forced to concede to his wishes, which will no doubt devastate me and probably widen the rift between us because I know I'll resent him for it. Or, Anakin will have to resign himself to becoming a father, which will likely only trigger his most self-destructive tendencies. Or, even worse, we might eventually conclude that we can't stay together at all. No matter which outcome, one or both of us will be left broken in the aftermath.

Perhaps dissolving our marriage is the only way to avoid such unhappiness. But my heart physically aches at the thought. I don't want a divorce, and besides wasn't that the point of the vows me made to each other? To honor one another through prosperity and adversity? Well, this was certainly adverse! I simply hadn't expected it to come so soon.

At the same time, I can't see how what Anakin and I currently have can be considered a marriage at all. We're like two combatants instead, a pair of obstinate people locked in a battle of wills, each of us determined not to be the first one who breaks. In hindsight, I can finally understand what Shmi had been trying to tell me that day she and Cliegg left Coruscant, about how marriage cannot be based on passion alone. Compromise is necessary and fundamental. Only I cannot fathom how Anakin and I can compromise on something like this.

By the time I reach Coruscant, I still don't have any ready solutions. So, I make the deliberate choice to put Anakin out of my mind. After all, there's no use in dwelling further on things I cannot change.

I don't realize how much I've missed the planet's busy, metropolitan ambience until I enter its climate-controlled atmosphere for the first time in nearly two months. Traffic in the capital remains just as congested as ever, but I'm able to navigate my way to the Senate building smoothly almost as if I hadn't been away from the place at all. There is a certain comfort in the familiarity this place offers to me. I'm reassured to know the Republic still stands even after the staggering blows it has received. Surely if this ailing government can recover, there might be hope for my marriage…

Upon entering the building, I am greeted by numerous colleagues expressing their heartfelt gladness over seeing me again. I accept their well-wishes and exuberant welcomes with a demure smile and a healthy degree of skepticism. After all, some of these very same senators had been frothing for my resignation only a couple of months earlier. I'm understandably wary of their apparent approval now.

Bail is anxiously awaiting my arrival. That much is apparent with the way his secretary waves me right through without the benefit of a formal notice. As soon as I clear the threshold of the newly refurbished office, Bail is on his feet and striding over to greet me with open arms. I embrace him warmly.

"My dear friend!" he booms jovially, "It is so good to see you in person again."

"It's good to see you as well, Bail," I reply with a smile when we part, "But you know very well this isn't a social call for me."

"Yes, I know," he acknowledges, "But before you launch into the many reasons that you are determined to resign, please allow me to detail all the reasons you shouldn't." He motions for me to take the empty seat before his desk and then takes his own behind it. "I'm anxious to share our proposed changes with you."

"What changes?"

"As you know, for the past two months, I have been solely focused on rooting out the corruption in the Senate and the courts."

"I know that. You have an incredible task ahead. I don't envy you."

"All the more reason I could use your assistance," he replies with a meaningful look, "For now, we have a small committee tasked with creating a stricter standard for any senator or representative who wishes to hold office."

"What would that entail?"

"First and foremost, new candidates will be subject to a rigorous background check," he says, "Any hint of impropriety will constitute immediate disqualification for office. In addition, all possible conflicts of interest will be routinely assessed. Any charitable donations made to a politician must be reviewed and sanctioned by an appropriate committee before being approved for use. And finally, all allegations of fraud, corruption, and misconduct on the part of any senator will be investigated by a neutral third party. I'll abide no further cronyism is this new Republic."

"What 'neutral third party' would that be?" I ask him, "In the past, we've always investigated such allegations internally to prevent public loss of trust."

"Which only perpetuated corruption as some senators were willing to turn a blind eye to their colleagues' misconduct if doing so served them," Bail explains, "My hope is that the establishment of the GFCA as a new investigative body will curtail such problems in the future. That is why I am hopeful that you might be able to bring Anakin onboard with this. I've only had brief conversations, but he has always struck me as being one politically neutral. I'm eager to get his input on the matter."

"You should talk to him directly about those plans," I advise him, "I don't speak on his behalf."

"I'm surprised to hear you say that, Padmé," he murmurs, "It's certainly a shift from the conversation we had weeks ago, which is curious given the recent rumors I've heard."

"What rumors are those?"

"That you and Anakin Skywalker are married now."

"Are you asking me, Bail?"

"I'm asking you."

I sigh wistfully. "Yes. Anakin and I are married now. Nearly one month."

"Then allow me to extend my official congratulations to you." There must be a flicker of disillusionment on my face despite my best efforts to keep my expression neutral because he says, "Oh? Trouble in paradise already?"

"I'm learning that marriage is not without its challenges," I reply, "What do you do when there's a fundamental matter that you and your spouse cannot agree on?"

"You must decide what is more important," Bail advises sagely, "The thing you want or your mate's happiness. It's a constant volley of give and take for both parties. The compromise is not always easy, Padmé, but always well worth it."

"And if there's not room for compromise at all?"

"There is always room for compromise. You're both still very young," he laughs, "You'll figure it out. And while you do, you can both help me bring order to the Galaxy as well."

"Bail, you should really allow Queen Jamillia to hold a new election for my successor as soon as possible," I tell him sadly, "I won't be returning."

As excited as I am for his proposed changes, I make the determination to let my resignation stand for many reasons. Most primary is the precarious state of my marriage. Repairing it (if it can be repaired) needs to be my sole focus right now. Further, while more rigorous background checks for new senatorial candidates is a welcome change, I wonder what that will mean when it comes to detailed search of my own background…or even Shmi's for that matter.

While Anakin has been hailed a hero in the aftermath of the war and Palpatine's treachery, his actions in the preceding months remain largely unknown by most. He spent much of that time exercising his own brand of vigilante justice. Though his objectives had been noble, his actions were inarguably illegal. I wouldn't want to do anything that could subject us both to more scrutiny than we've already endured. It's possible the same concern will arise with Shmi's bid for a senate seat as well, but the attention might not be as pronounced since Anakin is her son and not her husband.

In addition to those concerns, I can also add motherhood to the growing list of demands I have on my time. I'm not sure if I want to divide my attention between preparing for that new role and driving the agenda of a well-meaning but slow-moving bureaucracy. Besides that, I have other projects to which I would like to give my attention. Projects that would be inevitably stymied by political minutia if I chose to address them as a senator. At the same time, however, I recognize that I will be unable to accomplish any of the lofty goals I have planned without the backing of very powerful individuals. I wonder if Bail might be willing to help me in that regard.

"I know you're disappointed with my choice," I say when he reluctantly accepts my resignation, "But just because I've decided to no longer serve as Naboo's senator, that does not mean I don't want to help you improve things."

"I'm listening. What are you suggesting?"

"You mentioned to me before that you wanted to preserve the GAR. What of the clones who don't wish to reenlist? What happens to them?"

"We haven't yet determined a solution for that."

"They can't be compelled to continue to serve in the army, Bail. That would be tantamount to slavery and is in direct violation of Republic law."

"I understand that, Padmé, and I don't disagree with you. But there are no easy answers here. We have so many issues to address and that is but one of the various challenges the Senate faces. Unfortunately, I cannot make that a priority at this time."

"Might I suggest a possible solution then?" I ask, "What if you created a social program specifically designed to place clones who choose to discontinue their service in the army in jobs that fit their skill set? And, if they don't have a skill set, develop a specific education program that will prepare them for the civilian workforce? It would give them the opportunity to know life outside of the army for once, to decide their own futures."

"Sounds intriguing. It sounds as if you've given this a great deal of thought."

"Anakin and I have discussed this at length. We both feel very strongly about it."

"Are you volunteering for the job?" he counters with all seriousness.

"Are you making me an offer?" I volley back.

"Just tell me what you need," he says, leaning closer, "I will make sure you have it."

When I finally leave Bail's office several hours later, I can't help but marvel over how I had gone to him to resign from one position only to end up leaving with another one entirely. The fact that I've chosen to assume this role when I'm newly pregnant and enduring serious marital troubles is probably shortsighted and foolish to say the least, but also completely on brand with my personality. I can never do anything in half measures. You have only to look to my choice in life mate for confirmation of that.

But, even with the mild uncertainty that I might be acting rashly given the circumstances, I can't dispel the budding excitement I feel. There is a renewed sense of purpose and drive that is building inside of me. I'm eager to contemplate my future for the first time in weeks, to look forward to what comes next with genuine anticipation whereas before all I could feel was dread over it.

Bail has decided to name this new initiative the "Clone Societal and Workforce Induction Act." His immediate plan is to bring it to the floor for the next Senate vote in one week and to officially appoint me as director over the program. While nothing is official just yet, I'm overcome with a sudden case of the jitters.

This will be a monumental endeavor. I wonder if I'm up to the task given everything happening in my personal life. Not only will I be responsible for hiring personnel, but I will also need to develop the education program and brainstorm a marketing strategy for advertising the program to the public. There are many moving pieces and people I need to get in place before I can even begin laying out a foundation for how it will all work. I spend most of my trip back to Naboo embroiled in multiple communications with friends and former colleagues, formulating a general structure for how to turn my rather ambitious idea into reality.

By the time I reach Naboo, I'm so filled with eagerness and ideas that I can hardly sit still. My first instinct is to comm Anakin and share the news with him. I know that he would appreciate this initiative more than most because he has such a special affinity for the clone troopers based on his past association with 501st legion, who had served under him in both the Clone Wars and Palpatine's Imperial regime. I reach for my commlink and start to hail him only to change my mind at the last second.

We haven't had an actual conversation with one another in four days. Anakin is very likely a swirling vortex of anxiety and short-tempered impatience right now. The last thing he needs is to hear that I've accepted a new job only two days after I left him. It's probably foolish to even assume he wants to hear from me at all.

Rather than allowing that fact to dampen my spirits, however, I decide that sharing the news with my parents and sister is the next best thing. After landing my ship, I quickly make my way to the house. I burst inside the foyer with the enthusiasm of a schoolgirl eager to show off her first school project, expecting to be greeted by my mother and father as soon as I clear the door, but when I do, they are nowhere to be seen. To my surprise, the interior of the house completely quiet. I can't even detect Ryoo and Pooja's heavy, clattering footfalls as they run back and forth in the upstairs hallway.

Frowning over the peculiar circumstances, I call out cautiously, "Mom? Dad? Sola?" No answer. More curious than alarmed, I round each corner of the lower level, my frown deepening when I note the general lack of activity going on. A few of the servants mill about inside, but my parents have yet to be seen. It's only when I notice several housemaids carrying clean white linens towards the dining room that I belatedly consider the lateness of the hour.

Realizing that it's nearly time for last meal, I head for the dining room with the expectation of finding them there, but that room is empty too. "Where is everyone?" I mutter to myself, before snagging hold of a passing servant to ask her. She smiles at me and nods towards the sealed door of sitting room across the grand hallway.

"Your sister has taken the girls into the city, and I believe your parents are entertaining a guest."

I'm curious as to who might have dropped in on my parents in the middle of the week. Neither of them had mentioned that they were expecting anyone. Immediately, I think of Anakin, but I'm reluctant to let my mind race with the possibility for fear I'll be disappointed when I learn he hasn't come for me after all. It's more likely my mother has taken it into her head to set me up with someone she deems more suitable. She has been not so subtly dropping hints lately. Still, my heart flutters with the former possibility though I'm resolved to remain neutral.

On shaky legs, I start towards the sitting room. I can only faintly detect the voices sounding from the other side. The conversation is much too muted for me to follow it with any real detail.

Unable to endure the suspense any longer, I quickly wave open the entrance to find both my parents seated together on the large, ornate sofa before the fireplace, seemingly locked in an intense discussion with their unknown guest. Upon my arrival, the conversation immediately ceases and they both lurch to face me with startled smiles that are noticeably forced. From my vantage point at the threshold, I don't have a full view of the third occupant in the room at all, but it's evident from the guilty glances that my parents exchange that it has something to do with me. I groan inwardly. The matchmaking theory is suddenly seeming more plausible…

"Oh, Padmé, my dear!" my mother exclaims, beckoning me closer, "This is splendid! You're finally home! We weren't sure how late you would be. Look who finally decided to show his face here at last!"

As I come slowly into the room, I am afforded with a full glimpse of their unknown visitor for the first time since my arrival. My breath freezes in my lungs with a painful gasp when I see Anakin sitting there regarding me with an impassive stare.

An uncontrollable trembling begins in my limbs as he rises to his feet to greet me, his handsome features inscrutable when he says quietly, "Hello, Padmé."