Hey look! A massively long chapter! I was expecting to spend only an hour on this, but the chapter kept going, and I wasn't gonna let Anakin rest until some things had been explained and contemplated, so I just kept going. It ended up taking me two hours, so I've not gotten a lot done today. That will soon change. Late as it is, I've got stuff to do. So, while I do that, you guys can read this. Please be sure to comment and review. If you don't like what I've done to the Jedi Order, don't worry, I'm not liking it either. I'm not sure what I'm going to do, but I sort of what to fix this messed up relationship Anakin and Padmé have, then I'll go back and see what I can do about the Order. This is driving me crazy, because I just want to write about Anakin and Padmé, but at the same time, I've got to remember all this stuff about Palpatine being an a**, and the Clone Wars, and the Jedi Order's stupid rules, some of which I've shot down, which you will find out by the end of this chapter. I hate politics. Unfortunately, for this to be a good story, there's got to be some. So, anyway, enjoy, and if you have any suggestions, PLEASE let me know. I'd love to hear them. I might even throw some in the following chapters. :)

{t6d}

Chapter Two

Padmé Amidala was tired.

Padmé Amidala never got tired.

She had the reputation for being the very last person to back down. If there was a problem, she would stay until it was fixed. She'd had to when she was Queen. And now as a Senator, she felt it her duty to see to her people before herself. It was not unheard of for Padmé Amidala to manage only on four hours of sleep. And she was never tired, no matter how little sleep she got.

Padmé Skywalker, however, was a different story.

She was tired.

And she'd slept quite well the night before, thanks in part to the drugs her mother had slipped her before bed. She wished her mother was there to slip her some more drugs. She was going to need them.

With an aggravated sigh, Padmé gritted her teeth in annoyance. A severe headache was making her thinking slow, and she rubbed her temple as hard as she could in hopes of alleviating it. To no avail. It wasn't possible.

"I asked you what you thought of the idea," she was saying now, through clenched teeth, trying valiantly to keep from exploding. "You said it wasn't necessary."

"No, I said it was pointless," came Anakin's calm reply. He was standing on the open balcony while Padmé was seated inside, on the large sofa, facing him. His arms were crossed across his chest and he was leaning on the railing, doing his best to keep his own temper in check.

"And why would it be pointless?" demanded Padmé, and Anakin was afraid her breaking point was quickly approaching.

"Because, technically, we don't even like each other. Why should we go anywhere when it's destined for failure? Come on, would you rather stay here and work, or take a vacation with the last person in the galaxy you ever want to be in contact with?"

"Is that a question?!"

Anakin was pressing his luck, but he figured she might have a tiny bit more composure to work with, so he continued.

"What, you want to go?"

"What do you think?!"

"I think you can't make up your mind."

Padmé bolted upright, but that only aggravated her headache and she stamped her foot while she vigorously rubbed her temple and tried to breathe. After a minute she spoke, and her voice was a strained sort of calm that Anakin feared more than silence.

"I think that I would like to get out of here for a few days. Master Windu said the Council would pay for our honeymoon, so why don't we just take advantage of that? We don't have to like each other, but can't we agree that a break would be welcome? A few days without orders. Haven't we gotten too many of those recently?"

"You have a point," agreed Anakin with a tip of his head, then there was silence, and when he looked up at Padmé, he saw her still grimacing, but trying to appear stronger than she was. The pain of her headache could be felt through the Force like a strong electrical current, and it was starting to irritate Anakin. "Good gosh, woman, sit down before you fall down."

"I'm going to bed," was all she said, then lurched forward, toward her bedroom. Their bedroom.

Anakin shook his head and turned to look out at the vastness of Coruscant. He was tired too, which was strange for him, even as it was for Padmé. He could fight epic battles for days on end, but one day off to get married exhausted him. That, or having a new wife to fight with. He had to admit, the various arguments they'd had since the wedding kept things entertaining. They'd managed to work pretty well together in their attempt to flee the Temple, but once they were on their way back to Padmé's apartment at 500 Republica, it had been one long argument. Anakin was driving too fast. Anakin had missed a traffic signal. Anakin had evaded a security official. Anakin did this, Anakin did that. And by the time they'd landed on Padmé's personal parking deck, Anakin had also perfected the art of ignoring.

Padmé didn't nag, contrary to popular belief. When Anakin was driving, she knew there was nothing she could do. But she could irritate him. That, he was sure, was her objective all along. And she'd succeeded.

Now here he stood, looking out at Coruscant, and he felt like a caged beast. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, leaning his hands on the railing. His life was getting tricky. It now consisted of evasion. Occasionally, though, that wouldn't work, so then he needed to perfect the art of pleasing his wife. And there was no way he was going to do that the old fashioned way, with love making and hardcore sex. He'd heard tales of how that made women swoon, but something told him that wouldn't work on Padmé, and there was no way in Sith's hell he was going to give it a try. Not with her.

No, he'd have to, somehow, locate the names and numbers of every store in Coruscant which sold perfume, jewelry, chocolate and flowers. And he'd have to convince the Council to give him more money. If he was going to succeed in this task they'd put up for him, he'd need resources.

Anakin sighed irritably. If it weren't for the stupid Council, he wouldn't be in this situation. No, that wasn't entirely true. The Council was merely exploiting his greatest weakness: his midichlorian level. Now the swarm of memories returned.

Shmi Skywalker, a single mother, with no good reason as to how her son got conceived, or who the boy's father was, disembarking from a transport at the Coruscant spaceports. On her hip rested her two-year-old son Anakin, his eyes as blue as the sky as he stared about him at the awesome sight of the galaxy's capitol.

Shmi was a waitress at a pub in Mos Eisley, on Tatooine, where Anakin had been born. She'd learned about the Jedi from a space pilot, and eager to see if her son qualified to be one of their ranks, she'd gotten a doctor to take a small blood sample from Anakin so that she might send it to the Jedi testing labs on Coruscant. They'd responded almost immediately, requesting her to bring the boy to the Jedi Temple for further testing.

Now here she was, on Coruscant, and a Jedi escort was awaiting her.

As it turned out, the Council was more than interested in the story of Anakin Skywalker. They talked for many long hours to sort out every bit of information Shmi had. There was very little. Anakin had been conceived in a way beyond the knowledge of any of them, and judging from his midichlorian count, they thought perhaps he'd been conceived by them. It was a strange idea, and terrified poor Shmi Skywalker when she found out, but it was the most logical explanation.

A week later, Shmi was set to return to Tatooine, but this time, little Anakin was not going with her. She'd agreed to leave the boy in the hands of the Jedi, to be trained as one. They called him the Chosen One, and were convinced he would bring balance to the Force. As a mother, Shmi was proud of that fact, and so was at peace when she gave him up. Any other mother would have fought to the end, but not Shmi, and once Anakin got older, he wondered at that. He was content just to believe that, though she was his mother, Shmi had feared him more than a mother should, simply for his strange conception. He wasn't strange. He knew that. If he were, he would have been hunted. But she had feared him nonetheless.

Shmi never came back. When Anakin was five-years-old, the Council was informed that she had died. Hit in the head by a beer bottle during a late night run at the pub. Her death had come as a result.

The memory faded and Anakin once more found himself on the balcony overlooking Coruscant. He took a deep breath. He never knew his mother, nor remembered her. He'd always wondered why she hadn't tried to find a better life when she had the chance. Here the Council was, offering to pay for an expensive honeymoon for Anakin and Padmé. They would have supplied Shmi with a job and a house if she'd only asked.

Then Anakin closed his eyes, another memory forcing it's way to the front of his mind.

Padmé. She'd looked like an angel when he first saw her. He was nine years old and immediately in love. She was fourteen, and dressed in the orange dress of the Queen's handmaidens. She was a handmaiden, for all he knew at the time, and for many hours they'd been content to sit and talk in one of the great hallways of the Theed Palace. Only now did Anakin realize that his old Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, had put Padmé in charge of keeping Anakin out of trouble. That was no encouraging thought.

Then there was the threat of war, and Anakin had gone with Qui-Gon and his old apprentice, Obi-Wan Kenobi, to speak to the Council. Padmé had gone with the Queen to speak to the Senate. Then chance had brought them all together again to return to Naboo, where they found a less than convincing sight. The planet was overrun by Separatists, and what resulted was a battle of epic proportions. Anakin managed to steal a royal starfighter and break through the enemies defenses to blow the command ship to bits. It was his first act of valor, though not his last. And then Qui-Gon had died fighting a Sith Lord, who was subsequently killed by Obi-Wan. Such darkness, and pain.

After Qui-Gon's funeral, the Council had put Obi-Wan in charge of Anakin's training. They'd returned to Coruscant, and Anakin did not see Padmé again for a very long time. He almost forgotten her, but not quite. He still saw her face when he thought of angels.

Ten years passed, and the war raged, thinly spread in the far reaches of the galaxy. A few Jedi were sent to keep order, but that was the extent of the effect this growing threat had on the Republic. No one was concerned about it, but concern or not, it was still a threat, and a massive clone army was ordered to be made by the Supreme Chancellor, Palpatine, when Anakin was nineteen. He and Obi-Wan returned from a year long mission in the Outer Rim to sit on the Senate, on behalf of the Council. There he had met Padmé again.

Now she was a spunky twenty-four-year-old Senator, intent on destroying this clone army before it was made. War was the last thing she wanted, and Anakin had to agree with her. It would only make matters worse.

As it were, neither of their attempts made much of a difference, and the creation act for the clone army was passed anonymously. Then things started moving faster than they should have, and by Anakin's twentieth birthday, the Republic was at war with the Separatists, who had increased the numbers of their own army and now had several Sith Lords within their ranks. So the galaxy fell into darkness, and for the next three years, Anakin and Obi-Wan spent their lives on the front lines. Anakin was supplied with his first and only Padawan learner, a Togruta princess by the name of Ahsoka Tano. She was one of the greatest warriors Anakin had ever had the chance to fight with, and for the length of the Clone Wars, as this war was called, Anakin trained her.

Then Anakin's twenty-second birthday approached, and at almost the same time, word came from Shili that Ahsoka's father, the ruling monarch of the Togruta people, had died. Ahsoka, the only known heir to her father's crown, turned in her resignation to the Jedi Order and returned to Shili. Her withdrawal hurt Anakin deeper than he would have admitted. He loved her as a sister, and having her leave left a mark on his heart.

The Clone Wars were raging harder now, and the battles were quickly becoming a struggle for survival as the Jedi fought to hold their ground. After a particularly difficult mission, Anakin returned to Coruscant to discover that the Council now had a much different plan for his life. He was to marry Senator Padmé Amidala, whom he had seen occasionally over the expanse of the Clone Wars, and whom he admired for her strength and resolve. The Council knew how he admired her, and so were of the opinion that he wouldn't mind the marriage. They were wrong. Anakin might have come to love the Senator, if left to his own devices, but when ordered to, he could not find love within him.

Anakin should have been pleased. Marriage was not popular within the Jedi Order. If it were commanded by a species, it was allowed. If it were well placed and given the approval of the Council, it was also allowed. Were a Jedi to marry without seeking the Council's decision on the matter, it would mean expulsion. Therefore, having the Council actually form a union between a Jedi and someone else was considered extra special.

But Anakin wasn't pleased by it, because the Council's objective was a lot clearer than they would have admitted.

To the Jedi Council, Anakin Skywalker was the Force. The Force ran through him like lightning ran through the sky. It gave him life. It gave him energy. It gave him power. He was power. The Council had used him to their advantage. He had fought their battles, lead their armies, used his strength to give them the upper hand. But he was nearing on twenty-three years of age. He had fought constantly for three years, even longer if you included what he'd done before the start of the Clone Wars. He was a seasoned warrior, but his luck was running thin.

The Council knew that, the more time passed, the higher then chance that Anakin Skywalker would die. He would be killed or be run down to the point of incurable exhaustion. Eventually, his body would betray him. He was a fighting man, but even he had only so much strength.

So the Council was using a new tactic.

Anakin Skywalker was power, so why not make more power. That is, why not breed him?

It was a disgusting proposition, and appalling. Anakin had chosen to ignore it, but the closer to his wedding they got, the more he couldn't ignore it. They were marrying him off so he would legitimately conceive Force-sensitive younglings. And they were marrying him to Senator Amidala because she had influence in state. It was the perfect combination of power and power.

Now here Anakin stood, and when he opened his eyes again, he realized that he was gripping the railing so hard that his knuckles were turning white. The Council had ordered his marriage to Padmé for the mere sake of exploiting his greatest asset… or weakness? It made him cringe. It made him want to wring someone's neck.

"Why was I powerless to stop this?" asked Anakin to himself. He wrenched his gaze off the expanse of Coruscant and glanced back into the apartment, in the direction that Padmé had gone. Stretching out his feelings, he brushed on her consciousness and found her fast asleep, the pain beginning to recede. He sighed and gritted his teeth. "She doesn't deserve this." She'd been used, even more than he had, and for that, he hated the Council.

Just then, the bell tolled, informing Anakin that someone was on their way up to their apartment. He walked back inside, shivering when he realized how cold it actually was outside, and closed down the shade covering the balcony. He ran through the apartment with his senses, using the Force to lock everything that could be locked. He knew Captain Typho normally did it, but tonight, the Captain had retired in an attempt to give them a bit of privacy. Not that they really needed it. Their lives, it seemed, were an open book.

Then the doors to the elevator opened to reveal Obi-Wan, standing patiently in the lift, his hands folded in front of him.

"Master," acknowledged Anakin with a nod of his head and a twist of his wrist in the direction of the sitting area of Padmé's apartment. "Make yourself at home."

"I hope I'm not disturbing you," answered Obi-Wan, but the tone to his voice was not sly, but sympathetic.

"No, you're fine," said Anakin, collapsing on one of the sofa's while Obi-Wan sat down across from him. "Padmé wasn't feeling well. She's already gone to bed."

"A very eventful first night, I take it," observed Obi-Wan, but he wasn't smiling. Anakin frowned in response.

"She wants to go on the honeymoon. I think it's pointless, but whatever makes her happy. You'd have to be an idiot not to notice how tired she is. A think a trip would do her well."

"She's only gotten tired since joining up with this plot," observed Obi-Wan dryly, and Anakin looked away, hating to agree with him, but knowing the truth of it. "Which reminds me. I slipped away right after you did. I'm not exactly into the whole party thing, especially if you're not there. You might have made it interesting." He grinned good-naturally, then fished around in the pocket of his tunic. "I brought you the Council's compensation." He pulled out an envelope and handed it to Anakin. "There should be enough credits in there for you and Padmé to have a fairly decent honeymoon. We would have made reservations, but I was able to convince the Council out of that. If you're okay with taking a few extra minutes during your trip to find places to stay, it would be a good way to slip under the Council's radar. I wasn't sure if they were going to spy on you while you were gone."

"Thanks Obi-Wan," answered Anakin, and the gratitude was clear in his voice. "Padmé will love the idea."

"I thought she might," agreed Obi-Wan, then stood up. "I only came to bring you that. I should leave now. You need your sleep. The Council has offered you the use of one of their skiffs. I said I'd mention it to you."

"Another method of spying?" observed Anakin dryly. "Thanks, but no thanks. We'll take Padmé's skiff. If you could stop by Captain Typho's quarters on your way down, could you have him get the ship ready for an early morning departure?"

"Of course," answered Obi-Wan, then there was silence for a moment. "Good luck Anakin."

"Thanks Master."

Then Obi-Wan, with a nod of his head, turned and was gone.

For several minutes, Anakin just sat there, staring at nothing. After a while, he roused himself, reaching out toward Padmé one more time, only to find her headache completely gone, though her sleep was troubled. She was searching for something. Probably me, thought Anakin grimly, then he shook himself and stood up, calling for R2 as he stretched. The droid came, and Anakin fit the envelope of credits into one of the safety compartments he'd been able to locate. The droid was full of surprises, one of them being the fact that he was perfect for using as a safe.

Then Anakin shut off the lights with a wave of his hand, double-checked the locks on all the doors, and made for the bedroom. C-3P0 had already been powered down, and without bidding, R2 went to his charging station, so that he could be in top-notch condition come morning.

Silently, Anakin slipped into the bedroom, palming the door shut so as not to wake Padmé. She was lying on one side of the bed, looking as if she'd purposefully left the other side undisturbed. Anakin couldn't tell if she normally slept like that, or if she'd done it specially for him. With a wave of his hand, he dimmed the curtains a little more, so as to reduce the light from the traffic, then slipped into the closet to change into his sleep pants. He went shirtless. It was pointless to dress higher than he normally did for the sake of modesty. There was no modesty when it came to wedding nights. His and Padmé's was as discrete as it came.

On silent feet, Anakin made his way to the bed, carefully lifting the sheets from his side of the bed so as not to disturb Padmé. There was a low whine, and he quickly turned to see Thunder approaching from Padmé's personal sitting room, which was attached to her bedroom. No door separated the two rooms.

Anakin waved the dog off, and obediently, Thunder turned and returned to his post. There was no sign of Lady. Anakin could tell that Thunder hadn't killed her… yet… and that the two canine's were getting better acquainted, simply by having to spend every waking moment together. His worry in that regard quickly faded as he felt Thunder take up his spot on the veranda, watching out, not only for Anakin and Padmé, but for Lady as well. Nothing would get past him.

Then, worry at last aside, Anakin slipped between the sheets, welcoming the warmth. Padmé stirred beside him and turned over so that she was facing him. She yawned and slowly opened her eyes.

"Are you just now getting to bed?" she asked when she saw Anakin fiddling with his comlink, trying to turn it off in the dark. Task complete, he set it down on the bedside table and burrowed down in the blankets, turning as he did so to face her.

"Yup. And you?"

"I was asleep."

"I know."

"How?"

"Jedi. Remember?"

"Oh, yes." She didn't sound bitter, just tired.

There was a moment of silence, then Anakin spoke again.

"Obi-Wan came by. He brought us the credits the Council promised for our honeymoon."

"We're going, then?"

"First thing in the morning."

"What's wrong then?"

Anakin didn't respond immediately, then sighed and turned on his back.

"I'm afraid the Council will try to follow our every move. They don't trust anything we do. We'll have to be extra careful."

Padmé said nothing, and when Anakin dared a glance at her, she wasn't asleep, as he had originally suspected. Her face was lined with worry, so badly that Anakin felt compelled to take her in his arms. Which, upon compulsion, he did, reaching over to brush the hair out of her face. She snuggled closer to him, almost instinctively.

"I don't like this," she said softly, and Anakin kissed the top of her head in a soothing manner that he didn't quite understand. This wasn't his way. He was a violent warrior, not a lover, and here he was… No, he wouldn't think about it.

"I don't like it either," he said shortly, and for several long minutes they lay there, Padmé in Anakin's arms, Anakin staring at the far wall, wondering what in Sith's hell he was doing. Then Padmé's breathing stretched out, and when he looked down at her, he found her fast asleep, her hands pressed up against his chest. In her sleep, she was slowly brushing her fingers down the warm tightness of his abs. It was a very strange feeling to Anakin. It was almost as if he did care.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he removed one of his arms from around this woman who was his wife. Then Padmé latched onto his other arm and he was reduced to leaving it there, wrapped around her small form. And so he fell into a restless state of half consciousness, not knowing what he was doing, and not particularly caring.

He wasn't in love. That much, he knew was true.

Force, I hope I'm right, he thought, and that was his last thought before sleep consumed him.