Owen Lars poked awkwardly at the dish in front of him, a slimey tentacle like substance dipped in a green sauce.

"Is this even cooked?"

"Enough to sterilize it," Padmé explained. "The Mon Calamarians believe that excessive heat takes away the raw vitalness of their food."

Their table was at one of the finest restaurants in Coruscant, and it had taken Padmé weeks to secure a reservation. Aquatic tanks brimming with exotic sea creatures surrounded them, giving off the impression that they were eating underwater, and also giving their table privacy, so that few could glance in upon them. Padmé was far from the only Senator, much less holoactors and singers and the richest barons and guild heads, who dined at A-Kw'a, so she was dismayed that her guests did not appear to be enjoying their meals. Well, at least one person was.

"It's not that bad once you chew through it," Beru Whitesun said happily. Padmé liked Owen's new girlfriend, an innocent who lacked any sense of pretense or guile. While she had heard that Beru had been reluctant to make the trip to Coruscant, once here she took everything in with ease, actually enjoying herself freely . It seemed odd that Beru was only a few years younger than her, and much older than Anakin, when the way she acted sometimes was almost like a child, and Padmé wondered if this could have been the life she led had politics and the Sith not taken hold of her life. Or Anakin's, had he the privilege of growing up free.

Her own husband squinted at his dish, only slightly less skeptical than his step-brother having come from the same waterless planet after all. He had gotten a sour fish dish, a bit safer than the eel his visiting family had unwittingly ordered. "The Mon Cal are aquatic themselves, no? Isn't it a bit...cannabalistic, for them to eat this stuff?"

"Does it make me a cannibal when I eat a Shaak, only because we both dwell on the same land?"

I think what we do to each other comes pretty close, angel.

Padmé heard his remark through their bond and tried to hide her blush. Shmi, sensing the unspoken communication between the two, chalked it up to just another one of their inside jokes, of which they seemed to have many.

"The soup was amazing, Padmé. Don't tell me what was actually in it, but it was very good." Not that she wasn't grateful to Padmé for everything she had done for Anakin and her family, but Shmi had nevertheless been concerned a few years ago when Anakin had told her they were in a relationship. They were so young, and while Shmi knew her son had always pined for the Queen, she had been worried that he didn't fully understand what he was getting into. There was no denying that Padmé cared deeply for her son, but she was almost a decade older than him, and Shmi wondered whether this relationship was an odd phase for her, a fleeting physical attraction that she would get tired of soon, leaving Anakin horribly hurt in the aftermath.

A small part of her brain had wondered whether Padmé could be taking advantage of her son in some way she couldn't discern. She had done so much for them, after all, and on Tatooine there's always a motive, and no one helps anyone else out of pure generosity. Most of her fears were allayed in the months afterwards at seeing how genuinely happy and content they both were around each other, though there was still some mysterious bond between them that she didn't fully understand. Now, sitting with them in one of the finest restaurants in the galaxy, Shmi allowed herself to breathe a sigh of relief. He may not be a Jedi, but Ani was happy, and that was all that mattered, and he was still working to make the galaxy a better place, only with a trusted partner. And Shmi was still part of his life in a ways she never could have imagined, which would not have been the case had he gone along with Obi-Wan.

"I'm so sorry we won't be able to stay with you longer and show you the sights. This negotiation to Ryloth is critical to the passage of my bill, but I've instructed Dormé to pass along to you a list of places to see and the best restaurant recommendations, and she has been authorized to use my codes to book any place you wish."

"Oh Padmé, what you're doing for the slaves is wonderful. I can't tell you how grateful I am that you would embrace our cause as your own. I cherish every minute with you two as I can here, what you would accomplish will mean so much more. And I hate to trouble Dormé any more than we already have."

Anakin and Padmé exchanged another secretive glance at each other. Shmi certainly did not even know half of what they had done to free slaves on their training missions in the Outer Rim over the years, though Padmé wondered if the woman ever had any suspicions as to the identity of the two ghosts who had slaughtered Jabba's entourage and destroyed his palace. She also had a feeling that the Lars would prefer to dine at Dex's for the rest of the three days they were on planet rather than sample more galactic delicacies.

"I just don't get this stuff you guys eat in the Core," Owen grumbled.

"Owen," Cliegg snapped angrily at his fully grown son. He looked apologetically at Padmé. "I'm sorry, milady, but in all the years I raised my boy, I never expected that I would need to teach him etiquette in front of a galactic Senator...just wasn't something I ever..."

"It's okay, Cliegg. You're family, and it's been my pleasure hosting you here." In truth, Padmé rather enjoyed watching their discomfort in their new surroundings. Not for any reasons related to the Dark Side, but rather because it reminded her of how innocent Anakin had been when she had shown him everything outside of what Tatooine had to offer.

"...I mean a Hutt maybe, or a heavyweight smuggler, but those are folks we'd rather avoid anyway, so that's why I've always told my boy Owen, keep to ourselves, and keep away from trouble."

Still smiling, Shmi gently moved her husband's glass of fizz whiskey away from him. "Cliegg, honey, you're rambling. Let's take it easy for a few."

Their serene atmosphere was interrupted by the clanging of two droids, chased by a very flustered waiter.

"Threepio," Anakin asked. "What are you doing here? You were supposed to stay in the speeder." No wonder his mother insisted on giving him the droid back every time they met.

"Oh, my apologies Mistress Shmi, Master Anakin. I insisted on staying put but could not talk reason into this Artoo droid."

"What's that Artoo? Obi-Wan's arriving at our apartment in one hour?" Padmé frowned. "He's early. Tell him to take his time, and we'll pick him up."

"Hey," their gran server ran over grumpily. "Droids are not allowed in the restaurant."

Padmé gave Anakin a knowing look and winking, he nodded back at her. With a slight wave of his hand, he spoke to the waiter. "These aren't the droids you're looking for."

"These aren't the droids I'm looking for," the waiter repeated, eyes suddenly blank.

"Obi-Wan did manage to teach me a little bit," Anakin whispered to his mother, who stared at the scene in horror then surprise. He focused his attention back to the server.

"You will spread the word of the Senator's goodwill and benevolence."

"I will spread the word of Senator Amidala's goodwill and benevolence."

"You will make up for this misunderstanding by comping our desserts."

"I will make up for this misunderstanding by comping our desserts."

"An Alderaanian custard and fruit medley for the Senator and...," he looked over to his mother with a mischievous glint in his eye, "and another ale, your strongest, complimentary of course, for the gentleman here," gesturing to his step-father.

Shmi was not happy.

"Ani!"


"Be mindful of your thoughts Ani, they betray you. You're nervous."

"I haven't seen him in nine years, Padmé. To think, I almost pledged my life to that man."

She looked to him with concern. They sat alone in the transport, awaiting their soon to be bodyguard on a landing platform by the Jedi Temple. "Are you worried about any semblance of a bond you may have formed?" While Anakin's natural abilities with the Force made him a quick study for virtually everything she taught him, the one area he struggled with was shielding. To not be himself, to not broadcast his essence to the world without filter went against his entire being. In a rare moment of frustration, she had even considered withholding sex as a punishment, but decided quickly against it, since she didn't want to punish herself as well. Eventually he learned, but this would be his biggest test yet.

"No. I don't think so. I just...I just wonder how he would think of me."

"Don't let the judgment of the Jedi bother you, Anakin. Obi-Wan is a Jedi. He will have trained himself to not have taken your rejection personally. You only knew him briefly, after all, and whatever bond he shared with you had more to do with the promise he made to Qui-Gon."

"I understand. Still, if you could...," he faltered, not wanting to actually ask her, but she understood.

"I'll be extra wary of my shielding, just in case." She looked at the young boy sympathetically. Padmé had subjected him to many rigorous trials by now, but this one was different. Nothing meant more to Anakin than trust in the people he cared about, and nothing hurt the boy more than asking him to betray those trusts (though were she a normal Sith, that trial would already have been repeated many times over by now) and despite however brief his relationship had been with Qui-Gon's former apprentice, it did exist at one point.

"This won't be easy Anakin, but if we can bear this through, you will have completed your training."

Anakin took a deep breath. While he knew that it would matter not, that he and Padmé were bound to each other by the Force itself for the rest of their lives, this would still be the definitive end of one stage of their relationship, a time that he was not fully ready to let go of yet. He sensed that she could feel his apprehension, so he could only joke. "Can I still call you 'master' when we're role playing?"


"Well hello there." They both left the ship to greet the young Jedi Knight, exchanging customary bows. "Senator Amidala, it's been far too long."

"Master Kenobi." They hugged each other briefly, and Obi-Wan turned his attention to the boy who would have been his Padawan. "Naboo still owes you a debt of gratitude."

"Anakin Skywalker," he said, looking the young man over, studying him almost as if assessing a potential threat. "You've grown."

"So have you, Master," Anakin said reflexively. He paused, reconsidering his words. "More scruffy, I mean."

Indeed, the young knight sported a clean, shortly cropped beard to go along with his neatly groomed coif of hair reaching down to his neck.

"Oh Anakin, always the free spirit."

"So tell me Knight Kenobi," Anakin started politely as they boarded the ship.

"Obi-Wan's fine."

"Obi-Wan then. How many adventures have I missed out on over the years."

"Quite a few, actually. Ragoon IV was...not a good time. I could've used an extra hand there. And Vanqor, there were this nest of gundarks..."

He trailed off, not apparently wanting to relive the ordeal. Padmé laughed, naturally, as if around a friend. "Sounds like you didn't need Anakin's help to keep your life interesting."

Obi-Wan sat back in his seat, watching in fascination as the young couple in front of him adjusted the knobs and machinery of the ship, the two of the acting wordlessly as one, almost as if they were a smooth running machine rather than human, though machines never looked at each other the way these two did.

"It seems Anakin had the right idea," Obi-Wan commented once they were in hyperspace. "I wonder if I should have taken the same path, to take the life of a noble, find myself a Naboo woman."

"It's not too late, master Jedi," Padmé shot back with a grin. "My mother has a friend whose husband just passed away. I can tell Jodé that you're available."

"Your mother? Surely you don't think I'm that old, milady!"

"No," Anakin said, more at ease now than before. He looked over lovingly at his wife. "But as you can see, I've managed to teach stiff old Amidala how to have a sense of humor now and then."

"I'm may be a Jedi," Obi-Wan remarked as Padmé shot a sharp look at her husband, her mouth open in exaggerated shock, "but even I know better to call any woman old. Especially your wife."

"Jokes about age leads to anger. Anger leads to the Dark Side," Anakin pressed. "Is that right, Obi-Wan?"

"Close enough." He was enjoying this display, the boy bringing out a side of the former Queen and Senator that few ever saw.

Anakin reached a hand over to his wife's in a conciliatory manner. "I like her angry." She still looked like she was fuming, but Obi-Wan could sense she was putting up a front.

"Just be glad she's not Force sensitive, young Skywalker, or you'd really be in trouble."

"Oh, I know."


Annie:Thanks for reviewing. There will be a full story arc written for this specific excursion, yes.

Nightshade's sydneylover150: Smooth sailing? Probably not :\