Author's Notes: Well, I have returned. Perhaps for good, but who honestly knows these days. And so the Story continues ... forgive any grammatical errors - I have not had this beta read - and the shortness - it seemed like a good place to stop.

Part Twelve (4/22/04)

The speeder pulled alongside the entrance of a quaint inn. It was in the human sector of the city, nestled in between two similar buildings. Here the ivy still grew strong and lazily streamed down the cream colored walls. These walls were made from natural, coarse stone, which had been cut roughly into the shape of brinks and placed together as if they were conjoining pieces of a large-scale game puzzle.

Despite the mismatched formation of the facade, the rock created the impression of well-conceived beauty and unity. These buildings had been designed not by a mere day labor, but by loving architect, who had seen fit to incorporate nature into the human realm.

But enough of my rambling; I'm certainly no critic and my description could never give the city of Theed a grand enough eloquence. It must be sufficient to simply say that it was awe-inspiring.

Needless to mention that Maecenas hated it. He barely waited for the speeder to stop before jumping out on to the curb and yelling at the driver of our transport.

"What?" he hissed. "I asked the committee chairman for deluxe accommodations! Not some prewar-relic-turned-hostel. This is Anakin Skywalker!"

Yes, as we all know, I was only the galactically famous podracing hero when it suited my master. I found it painfully ironic, but I covered my emerging smile with my hand so as not to irritate Maecenas even further.

The droid pilot didn't brother to turn his hand to look at the fuming gambler.

"The committee assigned you here, Glowing Leaf Inn, corner of Fourth and B, Sector Eighteen," he answered. There was no hint of annoyance or sarcasm in the droid's voice, he was programmed to drive and drive alone.

I followed Maecenas with my own jump from the speeder. I offered the still shrouded Padmé a helping hand up, which she took gracefully and silently. She lifted one foot up over the side and prepared to step down onto the curb, but her other foot caught against the speeder's side. She lost her balance and tumbled into my arms.

If anyone could tumble with elegance and poise, it would be Padm ...

I caught her, of course, by sliding my hand quickly under her arm and around her abdomen. My other hand flew to her elbow as she cascaded down to me. The contact of our bodies was surprisingly gentle, but our foreheads nearly met in a forceful collision. She threw her head back a second before the impact, causing her hood to fall back around her shoulders and reveal that beautiful face once more.

My breath stopped in my throat as I beheld both her and our precarious placement. Her eyes were still red and puffy, makeup-less, but it seemed as through she had not shed tears too recently. We stared at each other for maybe a day ... or was it mere seconds?

I've never actually met a person that could distort time and space quite like Padmé.

"Thank you," she said honestly, quietly, and without any intention of offering more.

"Don't mention it," I managed to say, "yours is a sweet weight."

A what? Anakin Skywalker, by the gods on high, you did not just say that aloud! I was no poet, to be sure, and such sayings only made that fact appear more obvious. I felt like a complete fool until I saw Padm's reaction.

She smiled. Not a crack of the lips in jest, mind you, but a pleasant, genuine smile.

I smiled back.

"Well, take us back downtown," Maecenas said, his voiced pitched. "We'll check into a proper hotel there."

Had he been yelling at that droid the entire time?

"Forgive me, Sir," the droid answered, "but those lodgings are reserved for the Neimoidians." His dull, monotonous voice presented a sharp contrast to Maecenas's.

Before my master could continue with this pointless conversation, I interrupted:

"I don't think he's going to listen - just another dumb droid. You're going to have to get on the comlink with the Neimoidians."

Padmé slid herself completely out of my grip as Maecenas attempted to give me one of his blood chilling stares. I shrugged. When I'm right, I'm right, and even Maecenas could do nothing about it.

"Fine," he finally snorted. "Grab all your junk. But don't unpack; we won't be staying here too long." He directed his death-gaze to the droid, who could still not care less, and arrogantly walked into the lobby.

The rooms themselves made me want to stay at the inn even more. The stone walls were also present on the inside and decorated with cloth panels instead of ivy. The furnishings complimented the rock perfectly, matching the calm coloring with an array of beige, cream, soft pink, and green fabrics. The place was entirely comfortable in its basic design and, in this respect, reminded me of the dwellings on Tatooine.

Another possible attribute: only two bedrooms.

Maecenas didn't hesitate in assigning both Padmé and I to the smaller of the rooms. He was still too irritated to really care about the fact that we would have to share a room; he complained about the "filthy, low class" furniture until he managed to get the representative of Naboo's podracing committee on the line.

Not wanting to hear Maecenas's griping any longer, both Padmé and I retreated into the back bedroom.

"I'll take the floor," I said as I threw a large pile of semi-folded clothes into the corner, allowing my whole wardrobe to greet its new home in a single shove. I pulled out a few blankets from the horde and arranged them comfortably on the ground.

I could hear Padmé sitting on the bed behind me as I plopped myself down on my makeshift bed, turning around to face her in the process. She had removed her cloak and sat it beside her, folding it neatly.

"Are you sure?" she asked. She didn't look at me, instead her eyes focused on the seam of her dress.

"Yeah, of course," I said. I leaned into the cloth, burying myself in the folds.

"Anakin," she started, her voice low. There was a slight pause as she forced her eyes to lock upon mine. "I'm sorry I snapped at you on the ship. I was upset, it wasn't your fault. Thank you for all your kindness. Really, I needed someone to care."

"You're welcome," I responded, beaming at her compliment. There was comfortable silence for a moment as we both smiled like to schoolchildren. I couldn't help but wonder if she felt the same attraction for me as I did for her. My usual formula for courting wouldn't work on Padmé - not that I would want it to - but, since that was the case, I had no real way of truly discovering her feelings.

So I did the next best thing: I continued to talk.

"So, um," I started, "where'd you grow up?"

She lowered her head quickly, her eyes closed, and she looked like she was about to start crying again. Could I do nothing right?

I changed the subject as quick as I could. "Hey, do you want to see a magic trick?"

That chestnut colored main rose sharply, and she turned her gaze back on me, slightly confused.

"What?" she asked. Her eyebrows rose.

Noticing that her interest had stopped her grief at least momentarily, I jumped up and sat next to her on the bed.

"Watch," I told her. "It's really wizard, you'll see."

I gently pulled off one of the pins, which were holding her hair back against her scalp. Her hair cascaded over her face, but she shoved it recklessly behind her ears and focused her attention on the pin.

I held it out in my hand, resting it in the center of my palm. Then I concentrated on that little pin with my entire will, forcing all my thoughts and desires on it, until the whole universe consisted of just the two of us. Much like the focus I used while podracing or at that sabacc game, but, instead of seeing the near future or a present that was otherwise invisible, I activity worked to change my surroundings.

I wanted the pin to move, willed the pin to move, and saw the pin moving in my mind's eye.

And so it moved.

The hairpin lifted from my palm and floated in mid air, spinning slowly on a vertical axis. I could feel the sweat beading up on my brow, but I ignored it. My breathing was steady, as if some other part of my mind had taken over its regulation, and I was completely calm.

I have no idea how long I managed to hold it aloft, but Padm's gasp finally broke the link I had established. The pin dropped back onto my palm, and I came back into reality with my soul surprisingly at peace.

Padmé grasped my outstretched hand, pulling it down suddenly and forcibly. I looked back up at her, confused by her harsh touch. Her face was a mask of shock and fear. Her hand was nearly shaking as she crushed my palm against my knee.

"Anakin," she managed to say in a hoarse whisper, "where did you learn how to do that?"

"Nowhere," I answered her truthfully and without hesitation, as her fear was quickly seeping in to me. What had I done wrong this time?

"Anakin," she repeated even more urgently, "tell me."

"I swear, Padmé," I said, my mind reeling. "I taught myself. It's just something I can do."

"Are you a Jedi?"

My throat grew even drier than I thought possible. Me, a Jedi? Violent flashes of the recent holoreports flew through my mind. The bounties on Jedi were ridiculously high - more credits for one Jedi corpse than I could make in an entire plant circuit - and their heads had to be delivered to the Supreme Chancellor himself. They were lower than the slime that crawled the streets of Mos Espa; they were galactic assassins.

"Padmé," I cried out, nearly in shock, "I am not a Jedi. I've never even seen one in my entire life, I swear, I swear."

Padmé visibly relaxed and clasped my now sweaty hand between both of her own. She continued to look me straight in the eye.

"I'm sorry for scaring you, Anakin," she said, her voice soft, almost as a mother to a child. "Have you ever done that in front of people, in public?"

I shook my head fiercely. "Just to you, and the Lars. Not even Maecenas."

"Anakin," she began, but then paused as if looking for the right words, "that's a Jedi trick. If somebody sees you ... they could turn you in, Anakin, they could kill you." Her tone betrayed nothing but seriousness, harsh and concerned.

"But I'm not a Jedi," I said again, my voice cracking.

She placed one of her hands on my shoulder, trying to comfort me in my distress, but I could barely feel it.

"It doesn't matter," she said soothingly. "You're of their blood. It's enough."

"No," I hissed, "I'm not one of them." I stood, pulling myself away from her and desiring, more than anything, to escape this room that seemed to be such a haven only a short time ago. I was not an innate criminal; I was the son of a slave, foster son to a farmer.

Padmé was surprised by my sudden movement, but she held up her hands in defense, almost trying to reach out for my fleeing form.

"It isn't necessarily a bad thing, Anakin," she told me, "the Jedi were good beings once, benevolent. You just have to be careful."

"I'm not a criminal," I said louder than I had to.

"Anakin," she started, but I wasn't listening to her. My mind was wandering, switching between the tapestry at Wiphshun's and the wanted posters plastered in every bar I'd set foot in since the beginning of the season.

I had to leave. I had to get some fresh air. I turned and left, not bothering to say farewell to Padmé.

I thought I heard her say, "but they were my friends," as I fled, but I couldn't turn around. I couldn't stop.

Maecenas looked up from his comlink as I passed him in my race towards the front door, but he didn't call me back - it was close enough to dusk to warrant the start of my usual nocturnal outings.

I nearly broke out into a run as I reached the lobby; I don't know if it was panic or denial that kept me moving and I didn't really care.

The warm air of a spring dusk greeted me as I exited the lobby. I sucked it in greedily and tried to focus my eyes on the light hues of purple and pink that filtered through the sky. After a few moments of even breathing, I jogged away form the inn, lest Padmé or Maecenas attempted to follow me.

I needed to be alone now. I sank down into a crouch upon finding an abandoned alleyway. I leaned my head against wall and sighed.

I remembered when I had first shown my little trick to my family. My mother had smiled and clapped, Owen stood dumbfound, and Cliegg had become scared, but never told me that it was wrong or that it was a Jedi skill.

But, as much as I hated to think about it, as much as I wanted to deny it or ignore it, the feeling was there. Yes, the feeling that I had always known that my place was not with the podracers, the slaves, or the even farmers, but with the Jedi.

That was the urge that I felt when I saw that tapestry. I had belonged there, with those lasersword-wielding figures, in the heat of battle.

But, how was that even possible?

I was Anakin Skywalker, slave and podracer. I wasn't a hero, I wasn't a criminal, I just was.

Have some fun, Maecenas's words crept into my conscious at the most opportune moment.

Have some fun indeed. I picked myself up and headed to the nearest tavern, decisively ready to drown my fears, shock, denial, and self-proclaimed fortunes in a large amount of alcohol.