Author's Note: Thanks again, a hundred times over, for the feedback, guys!

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Part Ten (8/1/02)

Maecenas was one of those people whose every movement could drive you insane, if you hated him enough. Of course, I hated him galaxies more than enough, and right now, as we sat in his office, he paced.

It wasn't just aimless walking back and forth silently, mind you. No, Maecenas made an event out of it. He always did it when conjuring up a new scheme – usually one that was disadvantageous to me.

His hand cupped his chin as he paced, scratching his goatee. The constant kerripppp of the pads of his fingers touching the unshaved portion of his face would have generated sufficient noise to fill the entire room, had it not already been drowned out by the squeak of his boots, and the whip-whip of his trousers, as his legs rubbed passed one another.

I leaned back in my chair, allowing my head to rest on the wall behind me. I sighed quietly, willing myself not to think about the pacing.

I saw Padmé give me a sidelong glance out of the corner of my eye. She was sitting next to me, but unlike my slouched form, Padmé's posture remained rigid and elegant. She returned her attention to Maecenas, and he stopped his movement.

I was so grateful at the cease of the malicious pacing, that in my relief I almost missed what Maecenas said.

"I'm sure Skywalker has told you all the juicy details, girlie," he began. "So, you must now realize that you don't have a place here."

I turned to watch Padmé. Her eyebrow was less than a fraction away from what one might consider raised. She kept composed and only nodded at his statement.

"I'm sure you can sell her back to one of the Grans," I offered, knowing when Maecenas wanted suggestions. "Perhaps a family needs a nanny or a housekeeper …" I'd often heard many places that have children were more hesitant about abusing their slaves; I wanted to give Padmé the best possible chance.

Maecenas regarded me with a cold stare, designed to inform me that I was the biggest idiot this side of the Core.

"In case you've forgot, we're leaving in less than five hours," he hissed. "Placing a listing in the trader would take a little too long." Cruel sarcasm dripped out of those words. I wanted to offer him a characteristic scowl, but quickly decided that this effort would prove detrimental to my cause.

"Right," I 'remembered'. "Is slavery legal where we're going?"

This planet was new to the pro-circuit - usually we stayed on Malastare until the Tatooine season started. Maecenas was always one for a good deal though, and he figured a new place would have serious credit potential.

I didn't know this place at all, which was surprising because the listed coordinates showed it as being only a few light years away from Tatooine.

"I don't know," Maecenas admitted gruffly, folding his arms across his chest. "The Neimoidians use droids for all their serving needs, so I don't think they'll have the demand. Many of the humans on Naboo are dirt poor - too poor to afford a whore."

I would have reacted more heavily to that remark, but Padmé beat me to it. She immediately stiffened and let out a sharp intake of air. She completely ignored my gaze, and stared at Maecenas with wide eyes. Upon closer inspection, I noticed that those very same brown spheres were covered with a glaze of tears yet to fall.

Padmé did not cry, however. She kept whatever emotion was causing those tears at bay, letting her eyes drop to her lap as her bottom lip continued to quiver. She wrapped her arms around herself and sat almost perfectly still.

I wasn't the only one to see the change in her mannerisms, for when I snuck a peek in Meacenas's direction I noticed him looking at her in emotionless wonder.

"Well," he continued, starting up the pacing again. "I'll figure it out when we get there. For now, make sure to pack all your garbage and get the ship ready for departure."

I nodded, noting those words as my dismissal. Padmé, for the most part, was sitting, shell-shocked, and I was beginning to wonder why such a generic insult had unnerved her so.

"Take the girl with you," Maecenas ordered. "I'm too busy to keep a watch on her."

Thankfully, Padmé heard this command and was on her feet next to me - snapping out of her trance.

Maecenas immediately turned back to the affairs on his desk, so Padmé and I left without so much as a final nod.

We walked in silence back towards our rooms. Padmé was still distracted, so I wasn't very surprised when she followed me directly to my room. Her haziness faded though, when she saw the level of disrepair my living quarters were in.

"You live like this?" she asked, her voice a weary half-mumble. I turned to offer her a sheepish grin, as she took note of my various clutter.

"Only when I'm on Malastare," I said playfully, hoping to get a small laugh or even a smile out of my distressed guest. She locked eyes with mine as if her soul was trying to stay in this reality, and was slowly fading.

I broke contact when I felt her heart-wrenching gaze too much to bear in this quiet room. I activated Threepio a few seconds later, hoping his presence would either cheer her up or annoy her into forgetfulness.

"Master Anakin, you've returned," the droid stated the obvious. "I took the liberty of going on stand-by while you were away."

Padmé tilted her head slightly to the side when she noticed Threepio. She stepped closer, moving away from the door towards the center of the room. Threepio saw her when she started walking, and immediately introduced himself.

"Hello, Miss, I am See-Threepio, human cyborg relations, at your service," he said, reaching his metal hand out in greeting. Padmé took it tentatively, and the two shook. "Master Anakin told me you would be joining us. I am so pleased to meet you."

"Pleased to meet you, too," Padmé said, allowing a small sign of a smile onto her face. I wanted to sigh in relief at this soft change.

"I built him when I was a kid," I told her honestly. "Maecenas let me keep him as a hobby."

"Built him?" Padmé asked, raising an eyebrow in my direction. I was about to answer when my protocol droid spoke up.

"Master Anakin is my maker," he stated, as though it was the only information anyone would need.

"I made him out of spare parts," I continued, giving Threepio a pat on the shoulder in hopes to calm some of his excitement.

"Amazing," Padmé finally said, after a few seconds of looking him over. "I've never seen such fine craftsmanship in a protocol droid." She turned back to me, and must have seen the desire for approval in my face. "He's perfect."

"Perfect?" Threepio asked, but his ramblings were drowned out in my mind by the echo of Padmé's praise.

"Thanks," I said shyly. "He's great company."

"Miss, pardon me, but what should I call you?" Threepio questioned Padmé, after his initial giddiness had quietened.

"I'm Padmé," she told him. Now her sadness had faded some, but not completely. Somehow, I doubted it ever did. She placed it away from her mind, perhaps allowing her eyes to glisten slightly less over time.

"Mistress Padmé," Threepio repeated, as if entering her name into his memory banks.

"Just Padmé," she reminded him playfully.

"Yes, Miss," Threepio agreed, causing Padmé to shake her head in pseudo annoyance.

"I'm gonna pack up some of this stuff," I told her, reaching for a discarded shirt lying on the bed. "You don't have much stuff you're taking with you, so maybe you can stay in here and talk while I pack up?"

I was worried that my eyes would show the desperate hopefulness that ran through me now, so I continued to focus on my clothes pile.

"Sure," she responded, and made her way hesitantly to the bed. She cleared out a spot next to the pillow and sat down.

I smiled up at her as I grabbed a pair of trousers that had been near my newly acquired shirt. I thought for a few minutes on what to say. I dropped some clothes into a bag as Threepio told Padmé about the numerous planets we had been to.

Padmé listened politely, but any living being could tell that she wasn't really listening. Her gaze was distant; much like it had been when Maecenas called her a whore.

"I'm sorry that Maecenas said those things about you," I spoke up softly, when Threepio took a rare rest between sentences. Threepio barely heard me, and was about continue when he noticed that Padmé's attention was focused on me.

"What?" she asked honestly, confused. There was nothing in her voice that suggested she remembered her previous upset.

"He said you were no better than a common pleasure girl back in his office." I threw a couple of more pairs of pants into the half-full bag. "It riled you up a bit. It made me mad, too. He shouldn't talk about you like that; it's not his place, no matter how much money he has."

I was starting to feel the anger that was cut off earlier. It wasn't fair that he spoke to her like that; it wasn't fair that she just sat there and took it; it wasn't fair that I did nothing to stop him from saying it.

"It's not your place to apologize for him, Anakin," she told me flatly. "I've been called worse."

"Why were you so sad about it, then?" I asked, genuinely curious. She looked at me, as a womp rat caught by a wayward speeder would. When she realized what she was doing, she tilted her head down a bit.

"It looks like you're almost done here," she said meekly. "I better go get my things, so I'll be ready when he asks."

Before I could retort with the simple fact that I was nowhere near being done, she had manoeuvred though the room and out the door.

"That was abrupt," Threepio stated, when the door closed. "Master, was she not interested in the gulf stream of Ando Prime?"

"I don't know, Threepio," I admitted. I stared at the door, as if something would happen. If it wasn't Maecenas's comment, what had hurt her so? What had hurt her so that she would flee at the briefest mention of it?

Padmé was a series of layers - a person with something to hide, or a past so horrid that she dared not remember.

I could only hope that a trip to Naboo would help her. I had heard that the planet was quite naturally beautiful. She could perhaps find some peace there, however fleeting it would be.

Threepio found a new subject to talk about, and I allowed his voice to accompany my mindless work.

Yes, Padmé is a mystery. A mystery I will unravel.