A/N:I've returned from the glorious sunny coast (in Queensland, for all you non-Aussie readers) and oh my gosh was it a well deserved holiday. Anyway, as promised, I've got a new chapter for you (it's actually the longest one I've written so far).

And no, once again, PADME IS NOT PREGGERS. Please, please believe me when I say that I am terrible when it comes to subtly. What I'm saying is, if she's pregnant you'll DEFINITELY know about it. She emotional because she's in love. She's hungry because she's hungover. And she's tired because she hardly had any sleep. There you go.

Also, father-daughter moments between Padme and Ruwee AWWWWWW.

Also Anakin-Ruwee future bonding moments AWWWWWW.

The salt-water must have gotten to my head. Sorry about the rant. Please enjoy xx

Going back to Harvard was always a bittersweet moment, but lately Padme was finding it more bitter than sweet. Of course, she loved Harvard. She loved the campus, the atmosphere, the people. She loved the classes she took. It had been her home for so many years and she would definitely be sad to leave it behind once she'd graduated. But, Harvard lacked Anakin, and anywhere without him was a place she didn't want to be.

She arrived back late Sunday, the least busiest day of the week. Hardly any students passed her on her way up to her room and Padme smiled at that. No doubt everyone would be curled up in their rooms, dreading for Monday to come. She had felt that way many times over the weekend. Dread. Dreading to come back to Harvard. Dreading to leave Anakin.

Her roommate opened the door as she arrived, smiling at her brightly and helped her with her luggage. Their room was one of the nicest on campus, courtesy of her father no doubt. It was spacious, far more spacious than Anakin's was, and they had a small little common room as well, equipped with a television, a sofa and a small kitchenette, which split off into two bedrooms and a shared bathroom. The distinct aroma of Indian takeout was strong, and immediately, her eyes zoned in on the small, takeaway boxes sitting on the coffee table. Her stomach grumbled. She hadn't eaten since breakfast.

"Did you have a good weekend?" Dorme asked her, following her into the room as she began to unpack her things. She was a pretty thing, brown hair, brown eyes, rosy cheeks. Most people thought she and Padme were sisters, their likeness was so uncanny. She was one of the only people Padme had told about Anakin, one of the only people who knew that they visited each other as often as they could.

Smiling sadly, Padme nodded. "Too short."

Dorme nodded her head in sympathy. "When is he coming here next?"

The only one of Padme's friends Anakin had met was Dorme, simply because she was her roommate and it was impossible for them not to run into each other. Particularly when Padme had class and Anakin stayed behind. They got on well. Yet, for some reason, Padme had told no-one else at Harvard that she was in a relationship. Her mother and sister knew, of course, but not even her own father. Perhaps, a more logical side of her reasoned, she didn't tell anyone because she didn't want her father to find out. But that was only partly true. Padme just didn't like telling people about her private life.

When she had been with Clovis, everyone had known, so of course, when they were no longer together, she was flooded with sympathy and people wanting her to talk about it, something Padme had been less than inclined towards. Although she shouldn't compare her relationship with Clovis to her relationship with Anakin - because they were very different people and she had never felt half the emotions Anakin brought out in her that she had with Clovis – it was the only thing she had to base it on.

"I don't know," she replied sadly. She hadn't heard from him since she'd landed. Not that she was worried. He'd call her later tonight, like he always did, to ask her if she'd had a safe flight. It was one of those incredibly simple ways he showed her he loved her and Padme always thrilled for those little conversations.

"You want some food?" Dorme asked as she went back out into the common room. "I ordered too much."

Without even waiting for a reply, Dorme reappeared with a container of butter chicken, making Padme grin. Airplane food was always awful, and she had not even eaten lunch.

"Thanks," she took the offer, putting the container on the top of her dresser. Dorme sat down her bed, crossing her legs expectantly while Padme continued to unpack her things. The clothes from the party had been wrapped up in a plastic bag and she took it out gingerly, ignoring the smirk her roommate sent her way. She wasn't in the mood to discuss her disgraceful behaviour and simply deposited the soiled clothing articles in her laundry hamper. Time for discussion would be later, when vodka martinis were involved.

"So," Dorme grinned slyly. "How was lover boy?"

Padme sighed, rolling her eyes at her friend, though she couldn't hide the small smile on her face. Dorme had taken to calling Anakin lover boy every time he came to visit, and the name had stuck, which pleased him immensely. Though Padme didn't exactly approve, it was better than the original suggestion. Boy toy. No, lover boy was much better.

"He was… good," Padme conceded, making Dorme raise her eyebrows.

"Just good, huh? I'd expect, after a month apart, it'd be better than just good."

Pursing her lips, Padme turned on her friend. "Why is everyone so concerned with my sex life?" First Aayla Seccura, now Dorme. It was starting to get ridiculous.

Dorme merely shrugged. "Padme," she began, seriously. "I'm your best friend. It's my job to inquire about your sex life. And," she added with a smirk, "you're the only one of us getting any, so it's your duty to impart your knowledge onto me."

"You had sex last week, let me remind you." she informed her.

Dorme dismissed that comment with a wave of her hand. "Drunk sex doesn't count. Now, spill your dirty deeds, or should I just ring lover boy and ask him myself?"

Padme groaned, not bothering to ask how Dorme had Anakin's number. Her roommate did this every time she came back from Chicago, constantly pestering her for every detail, until Padme eventually gave in and spilled. Of course, Padme couldn't begrudge her that, for she had done the same thing before she'd been with Anakin and Dorme had been in a relationship. It was just what they did.

In hushed tones, as though she was afraid there were eavesdroppers outside of her room, Padme disclosed to Dorme everything about her weekend, making sure to leave out the drunk episode, knowing that she would never hear the end of it if she did, and tried to be as discrete as possible, and Dorme absorbed every word with obvious intrigue.

When she was finished, Dorme flashed her a wry smile, "a college party, eh? Was it one of those – ah, what're they called? Traffic light parties? Did you have to wear a red wristband or something ridiculous?"

Padme frowned at her friend. "No, it was just a house party," she replied.

"Did you get high?"

"No!" Padme gasped in shock, horrified at the very thought. She had never even thought about doing such things in her life; regardless of whether people thought she was a stiff, she had never succumbed to that way of life. Her morals were high in that regard at least. And Anakin? Anakin was clean now. He wouldn't get high. Not after everything that had happened to him.

Sensing she'd struck a nerve, Dorme explained, "sorry, I was just asking. It seems to be a thing people do at parties." The apologetic expression that adorned her face made Padme soften and she gave her friend a small smile.

They sat in silence for some time after that, neither one knowing how to continue the conversation after that point. Padme was grateful for the silence. She was tired from her flight and simply wanted to relax, and maybe even take a nap.

"Your dad dropped by," Dorme suddenly exclaimed, as though the idea had just occurred to her. That was interesting. Her father? He'd never been to visit her before, he was more the type to wait for her to visit him. What did he want? It had to be important if he'd made the effort to come to her dorm room, even though he lectured at Harvard and occasionally they bumped into each other on campus.

Another, more terrifying thought crossed her mind. Had Dorme told him where she had been? Padme had made a point not to tell her father about Anakin, simply because she knew he wouldn't approve of her relationship with him, and she didn't have the inclination to argue with him about it, nor the time to deal with his scoldings. She was a grown woman of twenty-four; she should not have to comply to her father's wishes about whom she dated. It was not the eighteenth century.

"What did he want?" she asked skeptically.

"I don't know," Dorme replied with a casual shrug of her shoulders. She had relocated to the common area, and was lounging on the sofa, flicking through the tv and picking at her butter chicken. "He didn't say why. He just asked where you were."

The feeling of dread returned again and Padme swallowed uncomfortably. "What did you say?"

"That you were in Chicago."

Blanching, Padme bit her lip. "You didn't tell him about Anakin, did you?" she demanded, suddenly nervous and anxious.

Her distress signals must have been extremely obvious, for Dorme turned to face her, giving her a reassuring smile and shook her head. "No, of course I didn't. But…" she broke off, looking unsure, "you should probably tell him, though. He didn't exactly seem… happy."

Groaning, Padme slumped down next to her roommate and put her head in her hands. Of course, it had lasted too long. Not that she liked to acknowledge the fact, her father paid for her credit card. Of course he knew that she was flying off to Chicago at least once a month, without any explanation. They had had five months of secrecy; that was better than anything Padme had anticipated. She had always known she'd need to tell him sooner or later, but it had always been later, never sooner.

"Why don't you just tell him?" Dorme suggested softly, with all the good intentions of a best friend, but Padme snapped her head up and scowled at her in response.

"You know why I can't do that."

Shaking her head, Dorme sighed in exasperation. "I think you're making a big deal out of nothing. Why wouldn't your dad approve of Anakin? He's studying engineering, that's pretty impressive. And he's a nice guy. I mean, I suppose the age gap would be the only thing, but that's so minor. It's not even a factor."

"You don't understand," Padme sighed melodramatically. "You should have seen the way he doted on Clovis. He treated him as the son he never had! The golden, prodigal boyfriend of his youngest daughter, from a wealthy, aristocratic family, destined to be a lawyer," she said the words with a dramatic air, waving her hands about. "If I bring anyone, anyone, home who isn't the same brand of pedigree, he wont' approve. He just won't." She crossed her arms in firm defiance, as though that settled the matter.

"Clovis cheated on you, Padme," Dorme reminded her with a hardened scowl. "Your father hated him much after that." It was true, but Padme had always believed that was because he was disappointed that his dream son-in-law was gone, that Padme hadn't done enough to keep him. That it was her fault that he was a lying, cheating bastard. "I'm sure he just wants the best for his little girl," Dorme continued. "That's what all fathers want. And Anakin hasn't treated you badly once. He's bound to like him."

There was truth in her words, but Padme knew her father too well. Sola had disappointed him, running off with a Swedish man when she was twenty-one. It was down to Padme to make a successful marriage. It was a burden she didn't want. She was an idealist. At least, she was to a certain extent. She had never harboured the views of her father. She was too much like her mother in that regard.

"In any case," Dorme continued, oblivious to the turmoil that was swirling in her roommates brain, "you should at least call him. He wouldn't have stopped by if he didn't want to see you."

Padme nodded reluctantly. If her father didn't know about Anakin now, he would by the end of the day. It was inevitable. "Yeah, I know. I will," she promised solemnly.

Later that afternoon, when she eventually called her father, she was surprised when the topic of Chicago did not arise. Even more oddly, her father had simply dropped by to see how she was, and invited her out to dinner, not to investigate her love-life or frequent Chicago visits. It was all very confusing.

Dinner was scheduled for seven at their favourite little Italian restaurant down the road. It had been a frequent dining spot for them during her time at Harvard, whenever her father felt inclined to take Padme out and shout her dinner, it was always to that restaurant. She had wanted to take Anakin there, but, as he had pointed out, they rarely left her room when he came to stay, only to get coffee.

She dressed comfortably, but prettily enough, in a teal dress with grey leggings, brown ankle boots and her trusty jacket, pulling her curls back into a ponytail. The weather had grown exceptionally colder between October and November, and now, as it was heading into the final month of the year, the air often held a sort of icy chill to it.

Padme didn't mind the cold. She loved rugging up under sweaters and scarfs and gloves and boots, sitting by roaring fires and watching her breath turn to mist outside. She loved skiing and ice-skating and drinking hot chocolate, letting it warm her from the inside out. Anakin, on the other hand, hated the cold. At least, that was what he had told her. He loved sweltering heat and the scorching sun on his back, when his skin was damp and hair dripping with perspiration. Though Padme enjoyed swimming, she found the heat to be a little unbearable. There were only so many layers you could remove before you were naked and still hot.

The campus was busier when she left her room than when she had arrived earlier that day. A local band were busking in the courtyard, serenading couples who lay spread along the grass, snuggling into each other. As always, the sight made Padme think of Anakin. It was something she could picture the two of them doing, and her body warmed at the thought of her lying, curling into him, his arms around her and cheek pressed against her hair, holding her softly as they listened to the mellow sounds of alternative folk music. Yes. It was something she could picture very clearly.

A part of her sighed at how pathetic she was being. They had only been apart for six hours, and yet she already missed him immensely. It was ridiculous and also a little depressing. Get a hold of yourself, she scolded firmly as she passed several couples walking hand in hand along the footpath, gazing at each other with fond, star-struck eyes. There was a time, when Padme was newly single, that such sights gave her the same pangs of agony, just for entirely different reasons. Now, all she could see was Anakin, and she wanted nothing more than to be by his side again, in his arms again. It was where she belonged.

Her father was waiting for her at their regular table, standing up as she approached to pull out her chair, before sliding it in behind her. No matter his views on her achievements, he was a gentleman and she beamed at him in return.

"You look lovely, Padme," he told her fondly, his brown eyes crinkling at the sides.

"Thanks, dad," she replied, friendly enough, but there was an awkward, almost uncomfortable air between them. Perhaps Padme was imagining it, but Ruwee seemed to be scrutinising her more than normal, and she squirmed under the gaze, crossing her ankles under the table and shrugging her jack off her shoulders, draping it over the back of her chair.

"Are you alright, sweetheart?" he asked her, noticing her discomfort, and she nodded her head quickly, trying to abate him. She was nervous. She shouldn't be, but she was. "How are you liking your classes this semester?"

Relieved at the change of subject, Padme smiled and nodded her head, "yeah, they're alright." A waiter suddenly approached the table, interrupting their small talk, something Padme was grateful for because she had never been good at it. Ruwee ordered a bottle of red between them and gave the waiter a hefty tip, which he took gratefully, before leaving. Moments later, he returned with the wine and poured each of them a glass. Raising it up, Ruwee nudged his glass with hers and they each took a sip. It was sweet, sweeter than most reds she had tasted, and she enjoyed it.

"So, what did you want to see me about?" she asked, running her finger around the rim of the glass. There was no point dancing around the subject with aimless courtesies. They both loathed that.

Ruwee frowned. "Do I need an occasion to see my daughter?" he asked sternly.

"No," Padme admitted. "But you never see me unless you have something you want to tell me. So, what is it?"

His frown deepened and Padme knew she was being short with him, but she couldn't help it. She couldn't handle the suspense and just wanted the argument to be over and done with. Instead, she had not anticipated how upset her father seemed to be at her assumption and, instinctively, took another sip of her wine to calm her nerves.

"Is that what you think of me?" he asked her, his voice low and gruff and she could sense that he was unhappy. The look in his eyes made her feel incredibly guilty and she swallowed the uncomfortable lump in her throat.

"No, dad," she assured him, trying to brighten him up with a smile. "Of course not. But, the last time you took me out to dinner it was because you told me I'd gotten a high distinction in one of my classes." That comment made him smile again, which she was grateful for. It was last year, and when her father had found out, seeing as he was a member of staff and friends with some of Padme's professors, he'd wanted to tell her in person.

Chuckling good-naturedly, Ruwee beamed at her. "Well, it was an important occasion and I wanted to celebrate it with my little girl. That's allowed, isn't it?"

She grinned and nodded, "yep," and they raised their glasses again.

It wasn't until after their meal – Padme had decided to be cliché and ordered a chicken carbonara, which had been absolutely enormous and left her sinking in her chair, glad she wearing a flowy dress to hide the food baby that was bloating her stomach – that her father finally broached the subject. It was almost as though he had been lulling her into a false sense of security with food and wine, then taking advantage of her weakened state and launching a full scale attack. If it were any other topic, Padme might have praised his cleverness.

"So, who's the Chicago boy?" he asked – or rather, demanded, once the waiter had taken both of their empty plates.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Who said anything about a boy?" she queried, trying to test how much he had weaselled out of someone, most likely her mother, without giving any answers away.

Ruwee heaved a sigh. "I'm not a simpleton, Padme, don't treat me like one. I've been watching your expenses. I've seen all the trips to Chicago. I mean, it's a great city, but it's not that great to go there almost twice a month. So, I'll ask you again, who's the boy?"

He was leaning forward now, one hand still around his glass, the other resting lazily against his cheek. There was almost a smugness to him that reminded her alarmingly of Anakin; the teasing nature of it was frighteningly familiar that it made her start.

She didn't reply for a while, merely running her finger around the rim of her wine glass, a habit she had been resorting to of late when she was nervous or uncomfortable. "Who told you?" she asked quietly. "Was it mom?"

Ruwee nodded curtly. "I asked her. But, I find it a little disconcerting," he added, rather bitterly, "that my own daughter couldn't tell me herself."

Padme groaned. This was exactly what she didn't want to happen. "It's not that," she insisted, even though she knew he was right. She hadn't told him. He'd had to find out from her mother. Resorting to such desperate methods made Padme realise she'd been very foolish and childish.

"Then what is it, Padme?" he asked her. "Why are you keeping secrets from me? Why am I the only one, the only person, who doesn't know about this? Your mother, your sister, even that hair-brained friend of yours!" He was upset. She had bruised his pride, she had wounded him.

She sighed and put her head in her hands, unsure of how to go on. "I'm not keeping secrets from you, dad," she began. "I was going to tell you – "

" – When?"

" When I was ready," she snapped, growing tired of his harsh tone. He had no right to question her decisions like this. "You don't exactly make it easy for me to confide things in you."

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Seriously, dad? You have all these expectations of what I'm supposed to do and who I'm supposed to associate with. I mean, you don't even approve of Dorme," she cried, trying to keep her voice down because they were in a public place, but finding it difficult to control her emotions. "How are you going to react to Anakin?"

Ruwee scowled, suddenly concerned. "Is he a criminal or something?" he asked, suddenly very serious and Padme gulped. Anakin wasn't a criminal, at least, he wasn't any more. He'd had a tough life and made bad decisions but he'd learned from those and he'd grown up and she loved him all the more for it.

"No," she said, not lying because it wasn't true, not now at least.

"Has he hurt you?" Ruwee asked again, his expression hard and completely serious.

"Of course not!" Padme exclaimed, insulted at the very idea. "He would never hurt me."

"Then what's the problem?"

They met each other's stern glares for several, fiercely silent minutes. For two people so very different, they were strangely alike in their stubbornness and determination. Padme eventually gave in, sighing heavily. She didn't like arguing with her father. She loved him, but he could be annoyingly stuck in his own views, unwilling to see other options or opinions or even take them into consideration. The last thing she wanted was for him to be angry with her..

"I saw how you were with Rush," she began sadly, refusing to look up at her father. "You loved him. He was part of your world," her frown deepened as she remembered just how quickly her father had taken to Clovis, at how he had not just lied to Padme, but to Ruwee as well. He had betrayed and left his scars on both of them. "But Anakin… he's not like that. He's not from your world." Anakin was leagues above Clovis in every regard according to Padme. He wasn't perfect, but he was perfect for her and she was so deeply in love with him that it ached. How her father saw him was a different matter entirely.

Ruwee absorbed her concerns quietly, his eyes downcast, before he eventually met her gaze, full of sincerity. "Is that what you're worried about? That I won't approve of him because he's not from wealth?" Padme couldn't speak, so she simply nodded her head in reply. "Padme, all I want is for you to be happy. That is all I have ever wanted for you and your sister." His voice broke off, strangely emotional, and Padme realised this was probably a difficult thing for him to say. She'd never seen her father like this, except at Sola's wedding. "I know I was hard on you girls… but that was because I thought I knew what would make you happy. Your sister…" he smiled fondly, "well, she gave me quite a talking to after her wedding. Said I didn't know anything about being happy." He laughed and glanced up at Padme, who couldn't help but join in. That was Sola. So very forthright in her opinions.

"What I'm trying to say is – does this boy, Anakin is it? – does he make you happy?"

Tears filled her eyes and she nodded, "very much."

Ruwee reached across and took her hand, giving it an affectionate squeeze and Padme felt her heart constrict tightly in her chest at the contact. "And, he's good to you? He treats you well?" She nodded again. "Well, then," he said tenderly, "that's all that matters to me."

Sniffing back tears, she returned his smile, beaming at him through watery eyes, trying to convey how much those words meant to her. "Thank you, dad."

He brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed it sweetly. "I should like to meet him. Does he visit you as often as you visit him?"

"We take it in turns," Padme informed him. "It's his turn next."

Nodding seriously, Ruwee took back his hand. "Very well. When he next visits, I would like the pair of you to join me for a weekend at the country house. There's no better way to get to know a man than over a friendly hunt, is there?" he chuckled to himself and Padme blinked at him, in total and utter surprise. The country house? Padme hadn't been to the country house in years.

Her father's family were very wealthy and owned a large block of land out in the country. It wasn't a farm, but it was an excellent place to hunt for game; rabbits and pheasants and such. Though Padme was not one for hunting poor defenceless animals, her father enjoyed it immensely. So had Clovis, she remembered bitterly. She had brought him to the country house when they were together, and she could recall him and her father bonding over rifles, talking politics and stocks and other such aristocratic matters that she had never cared for. A thought crossed her mind of how Anakin would react in a situation like that. She was sure he had never hunted before, or used a rifle, and he definitely didn't care for politics. The scene that played out in her mind was one of awkwardness and uncomfortableness and Anakin constantly looking to her for help. What have I gotten you into, Ani?

It was then she realised she hadn't answered her father, and blinked her eyes several times, ridding the image from her brain. "That sounds lovely, dad. I'm sure Anakin would love that."

They finished dinner on a much happier and easy note than how they started, and Padme hugged her father goodbye, promising to keep in touch about the country house once she had heard from Anakin. As she was heading back to her dorm room, she noticed she had a missed call from Anakin and she hurriedly rang him back, almost mortified that she hadn't answered his call.

It took a long time for him to answer and before she could even greet him, she heard him yawn loudly through the phone. The sound made her giggle.

"Did I wake you?" she teased.

"Yes," he responded, his voice thick and heavy with sleep. It was adorable.

"It's only nine-thirty," she chastised him. "How old are you?"

He yawned again. "M'tired," was his reply, and she could imagine him, lying in bed, eyes half-closed and groggy, looking gorgeous and dopey and oh how she wanted to see him. "Did you have a safe flight?" he asked after a while, once he had gotten control over his yawns.

"No, Anakin. That's why I'm calling you. Because my flight wasn't safe."

She could tell that he was in no mood for dealing with her teasing or sarcasm, but she felt she had earned the right. He had done the same thing to her when she had been hungover. It was only fair.

"Ha ha ha," he fake-laughed through the phone. "You're hilarious."

"You love me," she quipped back, taking a leaf from his book and throwing such simple, explanations around as though that excused everything. She could practically hear his goofy smirk from the other end.

"Good thing too," he teased back. "I don't know who else would put up with you.."

She gave a melodramatic gasp. "If that's how you feel, maybe I should leave."

His laugh was so loud she had to hold the phone away from her ear. "As if you would. As if I would let you. You're mine and you know it."

There it was. That honesty disguised by humour that caught her off guard every time. She shuddered at the sound.

"When are you coming here?" she asked, changing the subject before things got out of hand.

She heard the sound of rustling paper and then a very Anakin-like curse and a loud bang, which made her laugh in spite of herself. He'd tripped over something. Again. Probably his shoes, she thought to herself.

"I dunno, angel," he told her, his voice laced with disappointment. "I can't get away for two weeks. I'm just so busy right now. And I've got this stupid fucking group assignment…"

Her face fell at his words. "Oh." Of course, he was entitled to be busy. He had a life after all. But that didn't mean she wouldn't miss him. Two weeks was an awfully long time.

"I'm sorry. I wish I could. You know I'd rather be with you," he tried to reassure her to no avail.

"I know, Ani. It's alright. I just… miss you, that's all."

He sighed. "I miss you too."

Trying to lighten the mood, she added, "but hey, it gives you more time to prepare."

"Prepare for what?"

"Meeting my father."

The silence was defeaning. "W-what?" he stammered after a few moments, clearly surprised by the sudden proclamation.

She grinned into the phone. "I know. I'm just as surprised as you. He's invited both of us to stay at the country house."

Anakin scoffed. "You have a country house? As in a 'I play polo and hunt pheasants and eat scones' kind of country house?" His voice turned all proper all of a sudden, with an English accent that made Padme think he'd imitated Obi-wan way too many times.

"Don't make fun," she told him, though she was smirking all the same. "It's actually a nice place."

"It could be the Whitehouse and I wouldn't care, as long as you're there," he said sweetly, and she felt her cheeks blush, just in time for Dorme to catch her reaction as she opened the door to her dorm room. She waggled her eyebrows at her cheekily and Padme glared at her, before disappearing into her room and shutting the door.

"Well?" she lay down her bed, facing the ceiling. "Are you up for it then?"

"Sure."

"Think about this, Anakin," she said seriously. "An entire weekend. With my father. Doing stupid 'posh' things. With my father."

"You saying I can't hack the rich life?" he was teasing, but she could tell he was a little insulted. When it came to his background, Anakin was extremely sensitive.

"No, I'm saying you can't handle my father for that long." Even Padme had trouble dealing with him for more than a day.

The statement only seemed to make Anakin more determined. "Challenge accepted."

Padme rolled her eyes at him, but was grinning madly all the same. "You're such an idiot," she told him affectionately.

"Yeah, but I'm your idiot."

She felt her insides turn to mush at his words. The things he could do to her, even when they were apart. It was like nothing else. "Yeah," she agreed, all gooey and sappy and lovely.

He yawned, straight in her ear. "Well, as much as I love talking to you, angel, my bed is getting jealous."

Laughing, Padme smirked, "I guess I have some competition, then. I'll have to show it who you belong to when you come visit."

"I look forward to it," and she could practically see his wild grin.

"See you soon?" she said, not wanting to end the conversation because talking to him was the best part of her day, but she could tell he was tired and it wasn't fair to keep him awake for her own selfish purposes.

"See you soon. Love you."

Her heart soared at his words. "Love you too, Ani."