Padme walked into her suite at 500 Republica and collapsed on a large brown chaise. She raised a hand to her forehead and cringed in frustration.

She missed her husband.

Their careers threatened to keep them even further apart, now with her writing that bill with Senator Sien at Palpatine's suggestion. A great bill, at that alloting a certain amount of the republic's budget to serve the poor. Who could resist it? Even if she was working with a man who on more than one ocassion had been quite flirtacious with her.

Not that it mattered, or that he could sway her. Her heart belonged to one man. A Jedi.

Threepio took mini-steps into the living room then a few more down a tiny flight of stairs, wishful that he should not fall again and bend one of his plates.

"You summoned me, Milady?" he asked.

"Yes, Threepio. I need you to go to the temple. I have a message I'd like you to deliver. But it must, it absolutely must be held in the strictest confidence. You will give it to no one but Master Skywalker, understand?"

"Yes, Madame."

"Oh Threepio, it's so urgent, and so utterly private."

"I understand, you have my word, Madame. I would never surrender the correspondance, not even the threat of a scrap yard would deter me from my mission."

"Thank you, Threepio. I knew I could count on you."

He turned, and quite human-like, looked at Padme: "Always Madame...Always..."

Padme smiled warmly at the droid then gave him a pink envelope. Threepio slipped the letter into a hidden compartment beneath his shoulder plate then trotted out of the room. He "liked" the Senator. She was one of few humans who treated him like a real person. And he was eternally grateful.

When Threepio was finally gone, boarding the ship with Typho, Padme peeled the robe she wore from her body, revealing the strapless empire style dress beneath. She walked to the veranda, all the way to the edge. Her hand gripped the balcony as a gentle breeze blew soft big curls about her head.

Where are you? Padme muttered. She loved Anakin but couldn't help but wonder if this was a sign. If the wedding was just a big mistake? She wanted to feel her husband's strong muscular arms around her, to feel his lips pressed upon hers... Padme cringed.

When did it happen? On Naboo? So suddenly? Why was his seduction so hard to resist? Why was it so hard to reject his marriage proposal knowing everything about it was wrong? These were questions she had not yet addressed. She asked him once, if he were using a Jedi Mind Trick against her. He told her only the weak minded were susceptible. But with Anakin being so strong in the force, who is to say, he hadn't imposed his will on her? Convinced her into loving him? Jedi Mind Tricked her into accepting his proposal? The dishonesty and lies went against all that she stood for... and yet she couldn't resist.

They've been of one mind since he was assigned to protect her those weeks ago on Naboo. Even now, she couldn't stop thinking of him -- not even long enough to fulfill her political duties. All she could think about was being with Cobra Sien alone in her suite tonight and what Anakin might think. If he would approve...

Padme sighed. She didn't want to anger him. Was she in love? Or was she afraid?

Padme turned away from the balcony angrily. I love Anakin, I could never be afraid of him, she thought.

But despite her vehement declaration, it was the voice of doubt that answered:

What about the sand people? it asked.

"It was a mistake!" she shouted, as though she were speaking to someone else. Suddenly exhausted, Padme spun around and looked up, tears swelling in her eyes. She found herself looking right at Cobra Sien.

"Senator!" she exclaimed.

"Yes, Senator Amidala. We were meeting tonight? No?"

Flustered, she straightened her dress, pulling it high enough to cover her bosom. She was so lost in her thoughts, that she had forgotten to change.

"Are you alright?" Cobra asked.

"Yes, I'm quite fine, just a little... out of sorts," Padme answered, brushing a strand of hair from her eye. "You have something for me? Your provisions?"

"Yes," he answered. "But, before we settle down for business, I am quite hungry, Madame. Would you like to take a walk in the park? Share a meal, perhaps? I have a picnic basket..."

"Oh, Cobra, I can't."

"Please... I beg you," he replied, a charming smile spreading across his face.

Padme cringed. "Fine, but no walk in the park," she said, pointing her finger accusingly. "You'll have to eat here. I have plans and wish to be done soon."

"Another meeting?"

Padme pretended not to hear him.

Cobra left the veranda, then came back a few minutes later, meeting her in the living room with a picnic basket and blanket. Padme watched, mouth open as he spread the blanket at center of the room, right on the floor then set the picnic basket on top. He gestured for her to join him, and Padme, electronic databoard in hand, reluctantly sat down.

Cobra opened the basket, laying fruit, meat, wine, and bread before them.

"I find it somewhat ironic that we would enjoy a lavish meal, as we write a bill to help the poor and starving," Padme commented.

"Ironic, but not against the law," Cobra replied.

Anakin was frugal when it came to eating. He understood charity, the poor, and abstaining from excessive amounts of food. Cobra on the other hand came from a wealthy family and didn't care to understand such things. How he came to work with her on such a sensitive matter was beyond her understanding. What was the chancellor thinking?

Cobra slurped and smacked on pieces of fruit, and at one point, tried to stuff a piece of cheese in her mouth... an effort at being romantic no doubt. He was no Anakin, indeed. There was not a subtle bone in the man's body.