A/N: Comfortable? This is the longest chapter of the fic by far. Enjoy 'agony'.


VII. CORUSCANT

Chapter 48. Agony

Man little knows what calamities are beyond his patience to bear, till he tries them.

Oliver Goldsmith

"That one's a… a… reveeseal?"

"Very close! It's the cousin to it, so to speak."

I squinted my eyes, as if by narrowing my field of vision my ears might open. I may as well have left them as they were— it was the dead of night, after all. There were just enough stars and moonlight for Saché to watch my face fold into concentration. I saw her humor my efforts with a smile. Over her shoulder, Rabé rose onto her toes and eyed me too. She shook her head and chuckled. "They all sound the same to me." Trying and failing to prove her point, Rabé then made a very obnoxious series of shrills no creature which took itself seriously has ever sounded.

Saché threw her a look, but I focused all the harder on the distant, actual bird's call. It was difficult to perfectly ascertain given the gentle roar of the nearby waterfalls, but finally I grinned and half-answered, half-asked, "A phenthrollup?"

"Yes!" My teacher looked at me with such pride that, for a moment, it was easy to make believe I was a pleasing Apprentice Legislator again and she was my satisfied mentor, instead of the reality of Saché being my handmaiden and I, her queen.

All five of my handmaidens flanked me on either side along the balustrade— Saché and Rabé on my right; Sabé, Yané, and Eiraté on my left. Moments like these were becoming exceedingly precious, and we seemed to collectively steal them more and more when we could. The second and last term of Queen Amidala was ending in four short months. Campaigns to name my successor were well underway. Our confident hopes aside, none of us knew for sure what would become of our sisterhood once we left the palace. Enjoying respites from duties and stress had become a cherished luxury moving on a ticking clock. In truth, I couldn't remember whose idea it had been to venture out here to chat leisurely under the stars, but the setting couldn't have been more tranquil.

The view from the monarch's private quarters was beautiful but restrained behind reinforced glass. For security's sake, there was no balcony attached to it. We were a pacifist people, but we knew not everyone else in the galaxy was— measures had been taken centuries ago when the palace was built to ensure no one with a jet pack could fly uninhibited to the king or queen's personal patio.

Hence why my handmaidens and I were here, at an obscure balcony on the south end of the symbolic structure. Stars above twinkled at us six women leaned forwards on the beige balustrade. Far behind us, on the other side of the palace, most of Theed was asleep. However, enough light pollution yet lingered that I saw a fraction of the celestial heavens I knew I'd behold in the Lake Country, or back in the mountain village where I'd spent the earliest years of my life.

Some of us were talking amongst ourselves. Eiraté, farthest down on my left, seemed lost in her own thoughts as she slanted against the railing, but contently so. Poor Rabé, at the other end, had found herself with no one to have stimulating conversation with. Ever since I'd learned that Saché had a knowledge of Theed's local birds, I'd asked her to teach and subsequently quiz me on their distinctive callings. Three years into my role, I knew well by now that there was no official obligation any monarch had to acquire such information, but I enjoyed expanding my library. It reminded me of the habit adopted at Varykino. I suppose, in that way, it made the palace feel even more like a home… just as I was emotionally preparing to say goodbye to it. The building's warmth came not from its marble columns, grand staircases, or colossal domes, but from the memories shared within its walls with the five at my side. We'd grown together from scrawny teenagers to blossoming sixteen, seventeen, and eighteen-year-olds on the cusp of reemerging into the world as women. There was a palpable excitement for all of us with this, as well as a nervous fear. Even I was not immune to it. Actually, I might have felt this anxiety more acutely than the rest. The persona of Amidala had begun as a customary shield for protection and privacy's sake, but now, I wasn't sure anymore where she ended and I— Padmé Naberrie— began.

Perhaps, once I'd belatedly discovered my and Saché's mutual interest in this particular skill set, it had become something of a tether back to the familiarity of childhood. I hadn't been the wide-eyed novice— the little girl— enjoying innocent pursuits on the sand of Varykino for a long time. But that little girl's past was still more tangible to me than Amidala's future.

However, Rabé was anxious for more lively conversation than identifying bird calls.

She leaned far forward on the railing, straining to capture as many faces as she could in the moonlight. "Have any of you heard about the Waterfall Queen?"

All five persons to her left paused their respective chats or private musings and looked back at her. It was Yané who asked, "The who?"

A nonchalant shrug. "The Waterfall Queen. Surely, you've heard of the Waterfall Queen?"

Yané, again speaking for our combined ignorance, deadpanned, "Say 'the Waterfall Queen' one more time, and I'm sure it will click into place for all of us."

Rabé rolled her dark brown eyes, but she smiled. She seemed glad she was the only one of us who possessed whatever knowledge was about to be shared. "The Waterfall Queen was one of the first monarchs to live in the palace. Probably one of the first to die here too."

I can't speak for my fellow listeners, because my focus was on the speaker, but my own eyebrows shot up rather quickly. "'Die?'"

Instead of looking like she was second-guessing her topic, Rabé only nodded and smiled bigger. She was pleased she had all of our attentions. "I don't know if anyone's sure anymore what's fiction and what really happened. But apparently, she had the rivers of Theed diverted to fall over the cliffs here by the palace—"

"OH!" Eiraté suddenly got very excited on the opposite end. Her small fists beat on the balustrade. "I've heard of her! The Waterfall Queen!"

"Yes." Rabé had the grace to appear amused. "Like I said." Then she expertly shifted into the role of storyteller, retaining our ears without further interruption. "She was extraordinarily beautiful. Suitors from all the surrounding sectors and beyond came to court her hand. They offered her and Naboo wealth, security, power. But she fell in love with a humble young man from Naboo's own Dee'ja Peak. Unfortunately for her, this was back when monarchs had to submit to arranged marriages if strong alliances could come from it."

Sabé made a disapproving noise in her throat. "What an antiquated idea."

"Thank goodness they wrote that out of the constitution a long time ago," I agreed. It was sobering to think that— instead of the practice ending due to rational thought prevailing— it more so ceased when amendments passed shortening a monarch's term from twelve years down to five, which later became two.

Rabé had paused while we commented, but Yané pressed her, "What happened to them?"

All of us were leaning with our forearms on the balustrade now, our eyes taking advantage of the ashen light offered by the stars and the moons to take in Rabé's resumed retelling. The waterfalls provided an ominous soundtrack to her speech.

"Well, her advisors ignored her pleas and picked a lord from another, much more powerful planet. And as if that wasn't bad enough, he was cruel, selfish— all the things you don't want your future husband to be. To save her from this fate, the man the Queen loved challenged this outsider to a duel…" Her voice grew quiet, though more intense. "But he was killedHe collapsed on the ground right in front of the Queen. She demanded his injuries be treated and his life saved, and they hurried him away to heal him, but soon she was told he'd died."

There was a long moment when none of us said anything. Then Sabé's dry voice asked, "Why exactly are we talking about such a happy, happy story?"

Rabé continued, "When the Queen found out, she couldn't be consoled. She was completely grief-stricken by her heartbreak— but then, suddenly, she agreed to marry the cruel lord. She only had one condition for him."

Sabé's unenthusiastic voice drawled out once more. "Let me guess—"

But Rabé carried on before Sabé could interject her theory. "She told him to use his considerable manpower and money to divert the city's rivers towards the palace cliffs. She was very clear she wanted waterfalls visible from both sides. She told him it would be the perfect wedding present— an even more beautiful vista for the palace, visible from almost every window."

"The Jewel of Naboo," Eiraté murmured, softly speaking the nickname the Royal Palace of Theed had long carried.

I was fairly certain the waterfalls pre-dated the construction of the palace, but for the animated storyteller's sake, I kept my mouth closed.

"He was arrogant enough to believe he could do it. And he did!" Rabé gestured to the cascading water to our left. Gushing currents submitted to gravity, thundering to the lake below to eventually join with the Solleeu River. In contrast to their rage, soft mist from their efforts lifted up, surrounding their violent columns like ghostly fog. "But guess what?"

We all must've collectively thought her question was a rhetorical one meant to create a suspenseful but brief pause, until Rabé's expression abruptly and clearly communicated that she wanted us to say something.

Speaking more to indulge Rabé than for the team's mood, I volunteered a "What?"

"The man she loved was alive!" Rabé's face stretched into a grin. "When he realized he was going to lose the duel, he faked his death so he could try to save the Queen another way. Her freedom was the ultimate goal after all, and he couldn't help her if he was dead. But he couldn't tell her the truth, because her grief had to be believable until he could recover—"

"Oh, you lost me right there," Sabé interjected. "That's terrible. How can you say you love someone and then put them through that?"

Rabé shushed her. "It's a story! Possibly a true one— maybe even completely true— but just— so, he faked his death—"

"I don't see why he couldn't have sent her a note." Sabé wasn't done trying to find holes in the story. "And that was an awfully big chance he took that he might actually get killed in a duel—"

"Shh, Sabé!" Now it was Eiraté doing the quieting. "Let her tell the story!"

Rabé gave the blonde woman a grateful look. "He was going to rescue her before her wedding so they could run away together—"

"But why didn't she just abdicate?"

"Because things were done differently back then, Sabé! We've practically turned the constitution inside out since that era, and— stop interrupting!" A quick huff. "As I was saying… He was going to rescue her, but she didn't know he'd lived. So, on the day the project finished construction and the waterfalls began pouring over the side, she invited everyone— the cruel lord, the advisors who'd pushed her into the engagement— to the side of that cliff." Rabé's hand lifted from the railing, and she pointed at the top of one of the nearby waterfalls. "She went up to the edge there to give a speech, and everyone thought she was going to thank her betrothed for granting her this elaborate gift she'd requested of him, but instead… She announced it was all a ploy so there would be a testament to her fallen love bigger and more audacious than any fountain in Theed, and as a reminder— that every time the advisors looked at the waterfalls, they would think of her endless grief; every time they listened to the sound of their roar, they would remember the anger in her heart; every time they looked at the lake below, they would see it as a wide pool of her tears." Rabé paused expertly for a few moments, and we all seemed to pensively take in the sound of the torrential falls on either side of the palace. "And then she… jumped. She jumped into the water and went right over the edge before anyone could get her out."

My eyes lingered on the cascade closest to us, the one Rabé had pointed to. Its clashing torrents looked silver under the moonlight. Despite the beauty, anyone swept up in its forces was certain to meet their death in the steep drop to the lake underneath.

Whilst looking at it, I remembered a fountain in one of the plazas near the palace, one which depicted a young, weeping woman drenched in her "tears". She seemed poised on a cliff's edge. The artist and any record of his inspiration behind thesculpture had long since passed away; now, I wondered if this fable had been the muse for his work.

Then, given what knowledge I had of such things, I wondered precisely how much of Rabé's tale was, indeed, fiction. I'd been surprised more often than not to find such stories were often threaded with a least a small merit of factual narrative. Naboo had an illustrious history of dramatic monarchs.

Yané's voice drifted to the storyteller. "What happened to the man she loved?"

"When he heard what had happened, he went mad. He threw himself into the same waters and went over the ledge. They both perished."

The wordless reaction to Rabé's sad conclusion felt like a moment of silence for a couple which may or may not have ever even lived. After a short while, Yané spoke again. "I'm not sure I can look at those waterfalls the same way now."

"Agreed," muttered Saché. "Hard to think of such a beautiful sight as a resentment vendetta."

Eiraté made a sound of disagreement. "But that wasn't her sole intention. Isn't it obvious what she wanted others— her people— to think of when they saw the falls?" When we all looked back at her dumbly, Eiraté sighed wistfully. "To remember to choose love, and to never give up on it."

Sabé made that sound in the back of her throat again. "Just on your life."

Saché nudged my elbow with her own. "You're quiet. What do you think about the story?"

I could practically feel five heads shift their attention in wait for my coming reply. I didn't want to injure Rabé's obvious excitement over sharing her tale, but I had other ears listening for my verdict too. I chose honesty. "I… Well, personally… I think it's ridiculous to kill yourself over a broken heart."

Sabé's hands flung into the air. "Thank you!"

Eiraté sighed audibly again. "I think it's romantic. Tragic, but romantic— as all the best love stories are."

Sabé leaned far forward on the railing to turn and make pointed eye contact with her. "But these stories are all the same. There's always some grand misunderstanding, or some magical piece of fruit that comes along and ruins everything or saves the day."

A huff from the other end. "There wasn't a single mention of fruit in my story."

"No. But there was quite the misunderstanding, wasn't there?"

As Sabé and Rabé continued their back-and-forth on the benefits of suspending one's disbelief when it came to tales, Saché nudged me again. Quietly, privately, she asked, "Do you ever think about being in love?"

I shook my head like the practical person I was. "I'm too busy to let distractions like that impact my responsibilities, at least anytime soon." I gave her a look. "I'm still Queen."

"Yes, but you're also seventeen years old, about to be eighteen. Most women our age are getting consumed with thoughts of love." Her voice dropped. "Just look at Eiraté." The left corner of her lips tugged up. "I've seen that one guard who stares at you whenever you're dressed as Padmé the handmaiden. I would love to see the look on his face if he ever knew who you really… But I don't even know if you've ever noticed him. You're telling me you don't think about love at all?"

I sighed and supported more of my weight on the balustrade. I knew which guard she was speaking of. He was very cute, but that was the last sort of distraction I needed. "I'll have a family one day. But I'm too young to be thinking about marriage."

"Padmé!" She laughed. "No one says you have to marry the very first boy you get into a relationship with." Then she brought her lips together. Gazing at me, she smiled hugely and too all-knowingly.

"What is it? What are you thinking now?"

Saché shifted her weight and leaned further onto the railing beside me. "Nothing. I just thinkthe people who push love back the furthest and the longest seem to be the ones who submit to it the most when love finally has them under its spell."

I grinned and shook my head. "I don't know if that's true, but this is one Queen who would never throw herself over a waterfall for a man." I adjusted my forearms on the balcony rail and peered at the cascades once more. "I intend to have a simple, uncomplicated love story. Maybe something with an amusing twist, like how my parents did. One day. Far away from today." My words had come out sincere, which only made me grow puzzled when Saché laughed at them. "What's so funny?"

She linked her elbow with mine. "Nothing. I just pray for whoever wishes to capture your heart. He's going to need to be a tenacious warrior." She grinned again. "And then, once he does, my dear Queen— then, I am going to pray for you."


Hour 1

Ten hours. Ten hours of horrific misunderstanding had plagued us, and I'd slept through all of it while Anakin alone had borne its brunt. Liquid fire animated my muscles as I sped to my bedroom, resolved to remedy this mess as quickly as possible.

I'd barely had time to put suitcases on the bed when a signaling at the cabin door reached my ears. At that very moment, I'm not sure I could have heard a more beautiful sound. My feet almost yanked an ornate rug from its position on the tile when I hurried to the entry hallway.

The hopeful syllables burst through my lips a second after I slammed the button to open the sleek barrier. "Anakin?!"

It wasn't a Jedi waiting on the other side. It was, however, the next best thing.

A rush of exhale— something between a sigh and a pitiful moan— charged through my throat as I surged forward and pulled the dearly-missed woman into an embrace. Dormé hesitated for only a moment before wrapping her arms around me just as tightly. She buried her chin into the back of my shoulder, and I felt coiled tension melt out of her body.

Words need not be said. The mutual strength in our grips spoke volumes. My eyes had shut themselves in the desperation of my clutch of her to me, but I opened the lids when I heard the ambiguous clues of other bodies nearby. Three Naboo guards were standing some feet behind Dormé, watching us with bemused faces.

I gave her frame one last squeeze, then I pulled back to see her face again. She studied mine just as thoroughly. Each of us finding what we needed to see most in the other— life, endurance, vitality— I took her hand in mine and pulled her towards the door. To the guards, I ordered, "Wait out here, please."

Dormé followed me through as the others stationed themselves accordingly. My fingers compressed around hers once more then let go to close the door. I almost took her hand again as I led the way into the open dining and lounge area. My handmaiden, who knew me as a former monarch, had a neutral reaction to my luxurious accommodations. Artoo rolled over to her while chirping a series of friendly beeps, and she placed an affectionate hand on his dome. "Welcome back, Artoo."

"I was just setting my suitcases on the bed." My throat was parched from several hours of sleep, and I moved into the kitchenette to fill myself a glass of water. I gestured at Dormé with another glass, non-verbally offering to fill it for her as well, but she shook her head. After a few gulps, I asked, "How was your lock-in?"

She made a candid sound, the kind she'd only ever share in our private company. "You have a beautiful apartment, milady, but I am relieved and happy to be out of it." She made a comical face of exasperation, but then plainly smiled. "It might be a year before I'm ready to go back to it." The last statement was an obvious tease, but the mood wasn't at all surprising. On my own conditions for agreeing to leave Coruscant, poor Dormé had been restricted to the apartment from the day I'd left. She'd only been able to move around again after word came about Geonosis. Even then, without a Senator to follow around the capital, she hadn't had much elsewhere to go.

"No bug infestations then, I take it?"

She laughed at my wink. It was too easy to remember the squeal she'd emitted at the sight of the halved, murderous Kouhuns; I was glad we'd gotten to a place where we could joke about them. "None that I've seen. But we can always spray the apartment again, just to be sure."

As I set down my emptied glass, I chose not to share what had been recently surmised— that, for whatever reason, the bounty hunter left Coruscant after the second attempt and traveled as far outside the Republic as beyond the Outer Rim. We couldn't have known, and I didn't regret securing her away for safety, but I didn't think Dormé would love hearing her two-week confinement had, in hindsight, been totally avoidable.

Besides, without these past two weeks, Anakin and I wouldn't have had Varykino, nor him a chance to see his mother alive once last time. Nor for I to say goodbye to…

I had been walking towards my bedroom with Dormé in tow, but I came to a slow stop. I turned to look at her solemnly over my shoulder.

"Thank you, again, for aiding the families in my stead with arranging the funerals." My smile rose in sad appreciation. "And for arranging for former handmaidens and guards to be at Cordé's. I'll never forget that."

She dipped her chin respectfully. "It was my honor."

It turned my back to Dormé as I resumed our walk. "Did you come here alone?" I was purposely hiding my face from her with this question, but I failed to disguise the strained interest in my high-pitched voice. I eagerly hoped for news that Anakin was nearby.

If the woman who knew my inflections better than her own noted my unusual tenor, she said nothing about it. "Captain Typho will be here shortly. We were told your starship was still on board, so we knew you were still here too. Once we learned your cabin number, he and I split up so we could expedite the yacht's release into our custody and get you home."

Home. What a simple yet monumental designation. I had used and heard it used many times in the past two weeks to describe different places. Different people.

The word brought to mind tender hands tracing abstract shapes onto my back. Sensual serenity as we'd breathed together, one soul in two bodies. From that moment forwards, I'd stopped counting home as anywhere Anakin was not.

Unable to keep the subject of my thoughts from slipping into our conversation, I somewhat crossly and defensively murmured, "I'm sure he was storming all over my bodyguard when you heard about Geonosis. I can just imagine him, raging away, blaming my presence there all on Anakin."

"Not at all." Dormé completely failed to hide a laugh, which I was surprised to hear. "Don't get mad at him for saying this, but he kept muttering that you were going to get the poor Padawan killed. You should have heard him the day you two left—" she slipped into an exaggerated impersonation of our Captain Typho, "—Oh no, Master Kenobi, I'd be more worried about her doing something, than him." She opened my closet and began removing dresses from the rack. "It took nothing short of the Supreme Chancellor to get you off-planet. He knows a Padawan isn't capable of dragging you around the galaxy."

Eerily identical echoes of my fight with Anakin reverberated through my memory. Morose, I mumbled, "Couldn't have said it better myself."


In contrast to Dormé's methodical ways, I was shoving fabrics and toiletries into luggage boxes with no sense of order. I could see her peering at me from the corner of my eyes even as she worked, yet I was in too much of a hurry to care that I was clearly operating with frenetic, almost manic energy. I'd been elated to see Dormé, but her arrival hadn't removed the haunting memory of Anakin's expression when he'd stared up into the door camera.

Thanks mostly to my chaotic methods, we finished packing as if a trophy waited at the end of our efforts. Quickly, I moved into the privacy of the bedroom's fresher one last time. I hadn't used it in quite a long while, and regardless of my other agendas, my body refused to step foot outside my quarters without relieving itself. After I'd readied and walked to the open entertaining area find Dormé again, I found myself staring at a face I'd not seen in the flesh for far too long. Its single, gray eyepatch covered one dark brown pool, but the other eye radiated unfiltered emotion at the sight of me.

"M'lady," Captain Typho greeted with a graceful bow. "There you are. It is a pleasure to have you back on—"

But he temporarily lost ability to speak when the force of my sudden hug pushed the air from his lungs. I'd crossed the room to him almost instantly, his formal pleasantries going in one ear and out the other.

We'd never embraced before. He'd only gotten round to calling me 'Padmé' once— during our emotional transmission at Cordé's funeral. Unlike with my handmaiden a few minutes ago, only one arm of Captain Typho's came up to press me to him, but for a man as little prone to breaking decorum as he, that one arm said more than enough.

He smelled of leather and soap. I smiled against his uniform— he consistently had the cleanest one I'd ever seen. It reflected light better than any other vest, as if he personally polished it every morning. I eventually stepped back and looked up into his face, a wide grin on mine.

"It's good to see you, Captain."

He gazed down at me like a finally eased father, brother, friend, protector— some combination of it all. Then he nodded more formally, once, and dropped his arm and took a step back. With a knowing smile, I watched him establish polite distance between us.

"It's good to see you too. And I am glad to hear you are well-rested, Senator. We were beginning to worry."

Apologetic, I looked at Dormé then back at him. "I'm sorry. I'm assuming Dormé already told you what happened?"

"An innocent mistake," Dormé interjected with a shrug, all already forgiven. Then her eyebrows bent in a little more motherly. "Just be more careful next time. You're luckily you only took two."

"Agreed." Captain Typho gestured to the suitcases on the dining room table. "Shall we?"

He took two luggage boxes in his hands, and Dormé took the third in one of hers before I could grab it. I was unhelpful only for a moment, before I moved to the vast window. I cared not for the view at this point. My fingers quickly found the switch to reanimate Threepio, and I felt a wave of joy when his eyes came to life.

"Oh, hello, Senator. I was just telling—" The droid seemed to halt in confusion. "Oh, I suppose he is not here anymore." He centered himself towards the two figures watching him from the dining area. "Hello, I am See-Threepio, human-cyborg relations."

"Threepio, this is Dormé, my handmaiden; this is Captain Typho, head of my security."

The people of Naboo respect high-functioning droids as sentient beings, so it was not strange at all for me to take one of the gray, metallic hands and hold it while I addressed the key-most members of my staff. "C-3PO is to join my home and our work," I shifted my gaze to the droid next to me, "if, and only if, he so chooses."

"Oh, oh my, well isn't this a day! One I did not think I would ever see—" Threepio leaned backwards and waved his other arm, obviously flustered. "Bless my circuits, a Galactic Senator— asking me to join her staff. What an amazement! It's a good thing I can't tremble with excitement or else my bolts might come loose. I only hope I can be of use to you. Fortunately, I speak over six million forms of commun—"

"Thank you, Threepio." Although the matter had otherwise been settled between his maker and myself, it was genuinely important to me to dignify the droid with the choice. Silently, I wished Anakin was here to witness this moment. "Is that a yes?"

"Oh, most heartily so. A million times yes!"

"Welcome." Dormé looked at him with a warm smile. To me, she offered, "I can place an order for new plating for him. Perhaps white? Or gold?"

"All in good time." Failing to take into account the adjustment which was about to hit his circuits, I casually remarked, "Turn around, Threepio, and see your new home."

If I thought he'd been flustered at my inviting him to join my staff, it was nothing compared to the near meltdown of a droid who'd only ever seen Tatooine and Geonosis. Even the blue sky— perhaps the only element which would have been familiar to him— was a foreign sight, as it was filled with crisscrossing streams of close and distant air traffic. Skyscrapers plowed above the horizon as far as the eye could see. Concrete, glass, and steel replaced any and all signs of sand. Just below us, more beings moved about as dock handlers than I'd wager existed in the entire population of Mos Eisley. To say he was "overwhelmed" wouldn't quite do his reaction justice.

The only one of us who seemed to enjoy watching the intimated Threepio's abrupt and vocal registration of the most cosmopolitan of all cosmopolitan planets… was Artoo. He was zero help as we calmed his new official counterpart down.

At last, my entourage of two droids, a handmaiden, my head of security, three guards and I were walking down The Credence's wide hallways. Typho, ever mindful to keep a defensive hand free to reach for his blaster, had handed off my suitcases to the guardsmen. Our boots, wheels, and high heels were a myriad concert as we walked. I didn't realize how accustomed I'd become to moving about the ship in my one-woman way until the awkward unfamiliarity of company sunk in. Nothing— not our docking in Coruscant, not the sight of the suitcases that had zigzagged their way to the Outer Rim and back— made the reality that my isolated time with Anakin was over more clearly than walking in a small sea of bodies and not sensing his towering form close by my side.

I swallowed back a swell of pain. How I missed him.

My eyes darted around the near-empty hallways, hoping he might emerge from a doorway or separate corridor at any second. A scowl on his face for me, along with a gritted apology for being late. I would instantly pull him into a private room to tell him the basics of what he'd misconstrued, share a deep, quick kiss to say the rest, and then I'd get us off this damn ship and closer to extended privacy.

We were halfway to the hangar when Captain Typho's comm notification went off. He was behind me, but I heard him unclip it from his belt as the group continued its pace. His voice had an obvious edge of annoyance. "Is this who I think it is?"

The Captain's uncharacteristic opening immediately caught my attention. I'd never once heard him answer a comm in such an unprofessional way.

A terse, male voice on the other end replied, "Yes."

I stopped in my tracks immediately. That it had spoken one single word didn't matter. Happy, anguished, adoring, sarcastic— I knew that voice in all its musical varieties.

The group halted with me. "She's with us right now. I have everything in hand." I turned over my shoulder in time to see Typho give a disgruntled look to Dormé as he reclipped his comm. "Him again."

Knowing perfectly well who it was, I still queried, "Who was that?"

Captain Typho's focus switched to me, a flicker of surprise on his face at the intensity of mine. "The Padawan. I can't seem to go more than ten minutes without him hailing my comm."

I felt my chest squeeze as if blast doors were compressing on my sides. "Anakin's been hailing you?"

"Since the moment your cruiser came out of hyperspace. Maybe now he'll finally stop."

Dormé was noticeably studying me as she reported, "He was the one who told us your cabin number when he heard we hadn't received an answer from you yet."

This has to be a good sign. But—

"Where is he? Where did he go?"

Typho frowned. "He didn't tell you?"

I shook my head. "The sleeping pills. I only woke up minutes before Dormé was at my door. He left no message."

Typho sighed, his expression saying such absent-minded behavior was to be expected of a teenager. "He went straight to the Jedi Temple as soon as the ship docked. This port is not far from it."

My heart fell. The Temple… where I could not follow without raising suspicion. My frustration grew along with my misery. I'd accepted there would be pitfalls in taking on a young husband, one with even less relationship experience than myself; we seemed to be facing one of those pitfalls sooner than I'd expected. Anakin and I couldn't hope to resolve misunderstandings and arguments in a marriage if he thought he could run off to a building which I could not enter without good reason. It was an immature tactic, and it would be reckless to allow such a precedent to form.

A hand itched to grab Typho's comm right out off his belt and hail Anakin myself. I could chastise him for abandoning me and mandating his protection duties onto others from afar. And yet… I shouldn't use my Senatorial card to order him to come to me anymore than he should fall into the habit of using his Jedi den to escape. Both would be abuses of our positions. Besides, if I stepped away for the comm call to be able to talk to him in private, I didn't trust that my voice wouldn't start to shake once I surely began to beg him to come.

"How has he sounded?"

Typho blinked at me dumbly. "How has he sounded?"

I felt heat rise in my cheeks. "Has he seemed…" I searched through a box of words I could not use. Angry? Brokenhearted? Like he might hurt himself in a rage? "Bothered?"

"He sounds tense and in over his head, Senator, like he has since day one. Shall we continue to the hangar?"

I nodded shakily, and our entourage resumed its route. I sensed Dormé's pensive stare on me every so often and flatly ignored it.

We were nearly at the hangar bay when a face I could've gone a longer while yet in seeing was suddenly rounding the corner ahead. Jurue Batar greeted our pack— most of whom he knew from keeping company with me during the past year— with a pleasant smile. "Hello!" He nodded specifically at me. "Fancy seeing you here."

I gave him a confused look, only belatedly adding to it with a smile. "What are you still doing here?"

He gestured at me. "I could ask the same of you."

"We're leaving. I was… I overslept. What are you still doing on the cruiser?"

"I had final arrangements to make. Are you… heading towards the hangar?" His shoulder turned in the direction we'd been walking in. The answer to his question was rather obvious. The hangar was the only area available ahead.

"I am, to the ship I told you about— the one recovered for me on Geonosis." My voice was clipped. It wasn't his fault, but I wasn't in the mood for Jurue's company after the misinterpretation of it Anakin and I were enduring.

Surprisingly, Jurue's lips pressed together and turned down disapprovingly. He stood straight and clasped his hands behind his back. "Forgive me, but… wouldn't it be best if you disembarked on the public ramp?"

"Whatever for?"

"Well, no one has seen you since your speech to the Senate before you went into hiding two weeks ago. And then word gets out that you were almost killed at the first battle of the new war, injured to the point of needing hospitalization—"

"Injured!" The word burst from my mouth just like the explosion of realization it was.

That's why he wasted no time going directly to the Temple! He needs to get outfitted with a new arm before he can return to my service!

A tremendous weight lifted from my shoulders. So desperate was I to cling to this reasoning, my heart refused to take into account there could be more than one explanation for why Anakin left me behind on the ship. Hope overrode all lingering warning signs. It couldn't bear to dwell on the gravity of what Anakin thought he'd discovered— not when all would be cleared up the moment he had his new arm and dutifully returned to his still-active protection assignment.

Several pairs of eyes were staring at me, stunned and perplexed.

"Injured," I exercised with a nod, now fully aware of the oddness of my outburst. "Right. You were saying I was injured."

"Yes…" Jurue looked at me like I needed head scans again. "I think there are still some HoloNet reporters camped out there. I saw them earlier from my window."

"No, no press conference." I waved a hand dismissively. "I'm don't want to do that yet."

"We wouldn't need to go to that extent, milady." My handmaiden stepped closer in towards my side. Dormé's voice was reluctant but honest. "Jurue's right. It will be good for the people of Naboo to see you alive and well. If you leave on your yacht, it may look like you're sneaking away to hide that you're still in a hover chair or something. Let the holophotographers see you walking off the ship on your own two feet, that's all we need to do."

Captain Typho stepped forward. "I can send one of our guards to fly the yacht to a landing area nearby. We can rendezvous with it right after you disembark."

Just as much as I didn't want my constituents to hear and worry over rumors I was still injured, I did not want my adversaries in the Senate to relish in them. I hadn't separated myself from Anakin that first day under the weight of all those bacta bandages just to look like the beaten down Senator now. "Very well. Let's go give them their picture."

"Wait, milady." Dormé put a cautionary hand up, stopping my advance. I watched, briefly confused, as she maneuvered her fingers nearer to the top of my head. "I wasn't going to say anything when I thought we were boarding your ship directly, but— well, it won't be my best work right here in a hallway— but we first need to do something about your hair."

Hour 2

The gray, curved ceiling was just as I remembered it. A silly thought, perhaps, considering I'd walked underneath its embossed beams only two weeks ago. But it had felt like years since I'd last been in my apartment.

The Naboo guardsmen went on ahead of me and Dormé to place the suitcases in my bedroom. I'd instructed Artoo to give Threepio a tour of the entire apartment— they were still diligently doing so on the lower floor. My feet slowly moved across the dark purple path of the carpet. My eyes were glued to the cream-yellow couches, in particular the one on the right. Anakin had sat there.

{We will find out who's trying to kill you, Padmé, I promise you.}

Anakin had stood there as we plotted the trap that would ensnare an assassin.

{It's like dangling you over a Sarlacc pit and hoping for the best.}

And Anakin had slept there.

{Good night, Ani.}
{Good night, Padmé.}

How it easy it was to imagine his long form on its bench, his feet hanging over the edge. It was the very first night of delicious electricity whilst my nervous body tried to fall asleep across from him. It had frightened me in its unexpected appearance and magnitude. Now, its absence made me feel like I was only half-awake.

"Milady?" Dormé had come to my left side. She put a soft hand on my upper arm. "May I fix you something to eat?"

I nodded, my vision still lingering on the phantom form I saw on the couch.

{You don't know how much I've missed that smile.}

"Thank you, Dormé."

Lost in my memories, I walked towards the sofa as she went to prepare something for my stomach. My heart, however, lifted my hand and placed it on the back of the yellow furniture. I ran it just over the spot on which Anakin had leaned the morning we left for Naboo.

{Do I pass?}
A smile of reverence.
{You're perfect.}

The texture of the couch's fabric was soft and familiar. But my heart came away mournfully empty.

I peered around my apartment with new eyes, suddenly terrified it would become a masochistic mausoleum of memories if Anakin didn't get here soon.


I was finishing the last of my lunch in the living room— perched on what I had secretly come to call 'Anakin's couch'— when Dormé emerged from the curved corridor leading to my bedroom.

"Milady," she started, a hesitant frown on her face. "Did something happen to your wardrobe while you were traveling?"

I raised an eyebrow at her. "Dormé, I can assure you— what's left of the white jumpsuit was not a souvenir I wanted to keep."

"No, no, it's not that." She pointed over her shoulder towards the bedroom behind her. "There are other articles missing."

"Missing?"

My keen-eyed wardrobe mistress, who noticed everything when it came to my clothes, nodded confidently. "Two outfits— both blue pieces, one with an open stomach and a hood; another with red and orange linings. I haven't pulled everything out just yet, but neither seem to be in your suitcases."

I rose and began walking to her, already smiling in understanding. She was speaking of the ensembles I'd worn on Tatooine. They were in Beru's care now. "Yes. I gifted them to someone who I thought might appreciate them."

"So, I should remove them from your wardrobe inventory list— permanently?"

I couldn't help but smile wider at her expression. There had been no indication in my answer that the garments were coming back. Sometimes, I think Dormé was as protective of my clothes as parents are over their children.

"Permanently."

"Ah." She turned to walk back to the unpacking, and I followed behind her. As I rounded the corridor, the familiar setting came into view. I came to a gradual stop in the open archway as my eyes took it all in like they were seeing it for the first time. The last time I'd been in here, I'd had a somewhat prophetic moment of knowing I would not be the same woman who'd one day return. I'd been right in more ways than I ever would've guessed.

Dormé must've been aware of my presence, but she went about her duty as if I wasn't strangely standing just beyond the bedroom like the space belonged to someone else. I watched her soft hands as the fabrics inside the suitcases became reacquainted with her motherly touch. She lifted each piece out one by one, inspecting for snags, blemishes, or any other reason why it would need to be repaired, aired out, or cleaned before being hung in my closet. Clothes had always just been clothes to me— a tool to enhance my position's costume— but they'd become something entirely more when a grownup Anakin's eyes became their audience. I didn't feel much of anything when she removed articles he'd never seen me wear, but something bittersweet and nostalgic flared up when I saw ones he had removed from the cases.

For two weeks my own hands had shifted through those luggage boxes, often frustrated to find a lack of options— first for professionalism's sake, then for a depressing row of funerals. That frustration in and of itself was now a weighted, partly amusing memory, but watching the refugee disguise and the black corset with matching skirt each be handled— however mindfully— like they were just another outfit made my stomach twist possessively. A precious and secret history was interwoven into those clothes as surely as the tangible, thin threads which held them together.

When she lifted up the blue, cinched dress, I chose the lighter memory to associate with it than the massive Jedi funeral.

"My father really loved that one. Couldn't stop praising it."

"Really?"

"No."

But my conspiratorial snicker conveyed this was totally fine.

My smile faded when I saw Dormé's fingers stroke the bottom hem. I'd had the garment cleaned by laundry service onboard The Credence, but the red soil of Geonosis was a formidable opponent to detergent.

"Can it be saved?"

I should've known better than to ask. Dormé took on such challenges with the same gusto I employed against antagonists in the Senate. She looked at me over her shoulder and winked. "Don't worry. It'll be safe with me."

Quietly, I watched as more items— headpieces, never worn capes— were retrieved and stowed away. My lips twitched up as I counted the number of shoes pulled out from the stash. I'd have to relate to Anakin that eight pairs of shoes was not a lot for one Senator packing for an extended trip.

"Oh." Dormé, who'd been bent over a case at the moment, stood straight and held an ombre river of yellow, pink, and purple fabric in both arms. She needed both in order to examine the dress. "Oh, my. This is new."

A fog of remembered floral aromas and water-blue eyes caressed my senses. Reflexively, I rubbed a tender hand over my left forearm. Its replicated movements had been designed by another.

"It was a gift from my mother. I picked it up at my house on the way to Varykino."

"It's beautiful. Absolutely beautiful." Dormé's voice was filled with sincere awe. As her fingers delved into the cloth further, she seemed to discover the back— or rather, the lack thereof. She turned over her shoulder to look at me again. "You wore this?" She gestured with it subtly. "In front of Anakin?"

I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned against the interior wall. I couldn't stop the corners of my lips from rising. "In front of Paddy Accu, too."

She laughed and gingerly placed the dress on the bed. Its deep-hued train cascaded over the side like a waterfall.

"Ahhh. I remember this last-minute addition." My reminiscing eyes lifted from the dress to see the reddish orange, Chimiliean scarf in my wardrobe mistress's grasp. Dormé had it unfolded and stretched tight by the corners. I felt a knife-like stab in my chest at the clinical sight.

She suddenly crinkled the very silk Anakin had kept folded next to his heart into a quick ball, tossing it onto a nearby pile of laundry like it was a used tissue.

"What are you doing?" The words spilled out accusingly as I marched across the bedroom floor. I picked up the scarf from its discarded heap and straightened to find an astonished Dormé looking at me.

We stared at each other awkwardly for a suspenseful moment. I didn't realize my fists— one empty, one tightly gripping the scarf— were clenched until I felt my nails digging into my palms. Relaxing them, I pushed the release up into my taunt shoulders and back. But I fidgeted with the silk between my right hand's fingers even as I calmly said, "I'm sorry. This doesn't need to be washed."

I didn't have an explanation nor the confidence that I could come up with one suitable for Dormé's ears. The best I could do was to nod at her before leaving the room and returning to Anakin's couch. Upon sitting, I took one haphazard look at the open corridor to make sure Dormé hadn't followed me, then I buried my nose in the silk and inhaled the lingering scent.

Hour 6

"Thank you, Bail." I regarded the blue image in the hologram with a smile. "I appreciate you sending all this over to me. I'll read over it tonight and get back to you with my thoughts tomorrow."

"Sounds excellent." The gentleman from Alderaan gave me a courteous nod. "And again, welcome back, Senator. It's very good to have you at the capital once more. You've been missed."

"Thank you. Good night."

"Good night."

The blue image fizzled out and I was left in the silence of my reception room. I gazed outwards through one of the many floor-to-ceiling windows. Dusk was settling on 500 Republica, casting the sky in oranges and deep pinks. A cheery voice from over my left shoulder chimed in with its thoughts.

"What a truly delightful man. If all the Senators of the Republic are like you and Senator Organa, I think I shall have a wonderful time in my new service."

I grinned wryly and turned to look at the droid. I was tempted to leave him to his optimism, but instead softly warned, "I wish I could tell you they're all like him, Threepio, but they're not. Prepare yourself for a wide variety of characters."

Instead of becoming worried at the sound of this like I expected him to, Threepio actually produced a merry sound. Had I just heard C-3PO laugh? "Oh, no worries there, Miss Padmé. I believe ten years of colorful interactions with all sorts of nefarious creatures in Mos Eisley have me well-prepared for whatever politicians will come our way."

I only tentatively smiled back at him. In my silent opinion, a few in the Senate could give even the Hutts some steep competition.

Maybe it was the thought of the Hutts, which lead me to thinking about Tatooine, or simply just the mention of Threepio's time there… but an idea lit in my mind. I looked around the otherwise empty room. I knew a guard stood around the corner in the entry hallway, near the elevator.

"Where are Dormé and Captain Typho?"

"I believe Miss Dormé is fixing herself a dinner, and Captain Typho is on a call with Fregor Antilla, the top advisor for Her Majesty's Administrative—"

"Yes, thank you, Threepio. I know who he is." I eyed the dividing wall separating us from the guard on the other side. "Follow me, please."

With this, I left the portable comm station by the window and steered us into my bedroom. The droid shuffled in along after me, as did Artoo— I think out of curiosity. I shed the professional persona I'd just worn for my conference comm with Bail Organa and scurried onto my bed like an excited teenager. I crossed my legs underneath my skirt and faced Threepio.

"Will you tell me about Cliegg and Shmi's wedding? I saw a holograph of what she looked like on the day, but I'd like to hear the stories you told Ani."

Hour 8

"I appreciate you reaching out, Chancellor. I was just speaking with the Senator from Alderaan earlier this evening. I promised him, as I promise you, that I will take a look at the Tuffton-Maner Referendum tonight."

The Supreme Chancellor of the Republic gazed back at me passively from his chair. Was it simply my imagination, or had I never seen him look so relaxed into the seat before? There seemed to be a new air of ownership about him.

"Thank you, Senator Amidala. My office looks forward to your input, as always. But do not rush yourself— you only returned to us today. No one expects you to resolve the war overnight."

I took a quick breath to steady myself. For reasons I did not understand, I felt strangely nervous to segue into the next topic. "I'm sorry to have missed your grand moment. How wonderful that a representative from our own Naboo was there to instigate it."

There was a brief pause as Palpatine studied my features through our transmission. As it stretched on, I feared my Amidala mask and tone had not been sufficient enough to hide the concern I'd harbored now for several days.

"It is only a temporary endowment of responsibility. Why, I'm already finding the increased workload tedious. You can trust I will be most happy to alleviate myself of the extra duties when the time comes."

First, I only pressed my lips together and smiled in response. But then I pushed through the nerves and let loose my question. "And who will decide when that right time has come, Your Excellency?"

It was a purposely chosen end, one I knew he'd see through. Others called Palpatine by his more fanciful titles. Mindful of the power of his position, I'd always preferred to refer to him exactly as he was— 'Chancellor', 'Supreme Chancellor', 'Chancellor Palpatine'. After all, what titles could carry more esteem than the ones the Senate, and thereby indirectly the public, had granted him? Such brandings eventually would and should be taken away.

Palpatine's grin only grew. "I understand your concerns, Padmé. Trust that we are still a republic, and I have her best interests at heart."

"Of course, Chancellor. As do we all."

"Quite. And as are we all grateful you are back to defend our great institution." His thin lips dropped their smile and came together in something of a pout. "I am so sorry I couldn't make it to the cremation ceremony on Geonosis." He tsked, but then met my eye with serious intent. "So very many Jedi lost to the flames. You truly have no idea how much I wish I'd been present for it."

I dipped my chin, remembering. "I hope to never see another service like it."

"Indeed." Palpatine seemed to reset himself with an energizing inhale. "I spoke with young Anakin earlier. His new arm seems to be working out well for him."

My head snapped up. "You've spoken with him?"

"Oh, yes. As many Jedi went to Geonosis to stop Count Dooku, only three truly dueled with him. I've spoken with Master Yoda for his insights, but with Master Kenobi on Tartoon, I asked Anakin to fill in the blanks."

I swallowed and tried to steady my racing pulse. Gratitude filled me that the Chancellor wasn't able to hear it.

Questions flooded my throat, not the least of which was why Palpatine thought it prudent to send Jurue Batar to my side. Ultimately, I let out the most important question first.

"How is he?"

Palpatine's tilted his head slightly. "Ready to serve the Republic in whatever way he is called to do so— his words." The thin lips pulled back into another smile. "I believe young Skywalker will be a great asset in the years to come."

My feelings on hearing such a pronouncement were… complicated. The figure in the hologram was talking about the man I now ardently hoped would be my husband— the future father of my children. I wanted Anakin to help as many people as his rich skills could allow, and the Jedi's prophecy wasn't far from my mind. Indeed, it felt like cosmic insurance that he was destined for great things. But my heart wanted him safe and far from harm's way, regardless of whatever aid and glory waited on the other side of his career as a Jedi.

Returning to something specific Palpatine had said, I asked, "He has his new prosthetic then?"

"Why, yes. He has for some hours now. The House of Healing at the Temple is well-equipped for such… unfortunate events."

"Oh… I didn't realize." I felt the pressure of a frown on my forehead and tried to quickly regulate my discomfort in hearing this. I'd been so sure Anakin's delay in coming to me was from the continued absence of a functional right arm. But then it dawned on me what this meant— as late into the evening as it was, Anakin could walk off the elevator at any moment. Instinctively, my head shot in the direction of the open archway leading into the elevator lobby. Though it was empty, a surge of elation went through me.

"Senator?"

I turned back to the comm and gave the elderly man a smile I could not narrow. "Thank you for your time, Chancellor. I must bid you goodnight."

Hour 12

From behind the reinforced window— a staple of my life— the noise of air traffic could not be heard, but its lights were as active and steady as ever. Speeders, taxis, and small merchant ships floated past in distant, organized lines. The cruisers in the Republic's fleet had it wrong— Coruscant was a planet which did not know sleep.

Neither did I. Not tonight.

I was dressed in my white, long-sleeved nightgown, and I'd long bid goodnight to my staff. Even Artoo and Threepio had switched into their nocturnal modes. The tranquil view from my apartment was mine alone to witness from the privacy of my bedroom. Dressed as I was, I couldn't fathom sleeping, hence why I'd stationed myself in front of the curved pane's opened blinds. I was too eager to be awake for Anakin's surely impending arrival. The last thing I wanted was to miss the sound of him moving quietly in the reception room, moving with his signature stealth so as not to wake me. I'd like to think of him missing me so extremely even through his misplaced anger and heartbreak that his yearning would still drive him to my bedside. I did not want him to find me asleep, not when I couldn't stand one more moment of him enduring his misconstrued puzzle pieces.

I'd tried reading the Tuffton-Maner Referendum. Multiple times. But I couldn't get past the first page. I was insanely well-practiced at reading legislative texts, but the documents may as well have been a series of dots on the digital page. I couldn't concentrate on any of it, not when any minute sound had me springing up to check if my Jedi protector had returned to his post.

Instead, I'd eventually found myself at the window, one thumb's nail balanced between my teeth. I went back and forth, debating whether it was best to shower Anakin with the rehearsed speech in my head or just assail him with kisses until the point got across. Both strategies had their merits. Both also required absolute privacy.

I felt the eyes of the cameras in my bedroom ceiling on my back. A stash of heavy scarfs was nearby, ready to be thrown over the lenses at a moment's notice. I'd even gone so far as already dragging a chair underneath the first intrusive camera.

I need to have a talk with Typho. I may be a Senator, but I'm still a twenty-four-year-old woman who is owed privacy.

I could guess at what time it was. If Anakin and I were to have total privacy, this would be the perfect time for him to appear. Ironically, my forbidden love might be the only man in the galaxy who presently had permission to come to my apartment in the middle of the night, and no one would question it.

Suddenly, the thick glass separating me from the muted buzz of Coruscant was not wanted. The air of my bedroom was too comfortable, too controlled. Finding the blue robe I'd donned at Varykino, I wrapped myself into its smooth, heavy sleeves and pulled my hair free of its weight. I'd decided early in the night that I wanted my tendrils shaped into their natural curls. I'd styled my hair into the tight, restrictive fashions for most of my stay on The Credence— or as well as I could without the expertise of my handmaidens. I'd gotten good at tucking the strands back into place after Anakin's hands had run themselves through them, but tonight, I'd willfully returned to the curls of the romantic Lake Country and an optimistic age on Tatooine. I could think of no better way to greet Anakin when he arrived.

I ventured out into my dark living room and walked towards the small balcony. After I pressed the button to lift the curved glass, the chill night air wrapped itself around my ankles and flew up my legs regardless of the capable cloth of my nightdress. I didn't mind the shock which came with the briskness. It sent a spike of adrenaline through me. Nothing that at all compared to Anakin's effect, but a rush of aliveness all the same.

By the time the breeze hit my face and danced with my hair, I had goosebumps lining my arms and the nape of my neck. Glad to be wearing slippers, I walked out onto the gray patio. It was much smaller than the veranda off my bedroom's other archway, but it gave an equally beautiful view of the skyline on the other side of the building. I didn't stop moving until I was leaning against the balcony, my arms folded underneath me on the flat top of the wide rim. The sturdy barrier separated spectators from the ground hundreds of stories below.

The low rumbles of some engines mixed with the high-toned pitch of others. I wondered if Anakin could decipher their individual make and models just by their audible signatures.

I can't say I'd ever loved the sound of the busy, endless air traffic that was the trademark of Coruscant, but time with Anakin had changed my appreciation of the mechanical and engineering world. I still preferred mountains and hills to industrial skyscrapers, but those weren't the same as the gadgets and gizmos he could build— one of which was the newest dweller of my home. There was a small device in my room I occasionally used to listen to the sound of waterfalls; I wouldn't be trading it out anytime soon to replace the soothing cascades with traffic noise… but I found my current environment's soundtrack comforting in a way I never had before. Almost melodic.

My weight was supported from the solid surface underneath my forearms, and the sight beyond my elbows was an interesting dance all on its own, but my focus was drawn up. Jeweled lights from the hundreds of visible buildings shone at me, all competing for an eye's attention. Billboards blinked with advertisements and tabloid gossip too far away to discern.

Knowing full-well what I'd find, I still lifted my gaze towards the upmost top of the sky. White and yellow circles blinked at me from their heights, but I knew they were not stars. They were ships— passenger, merchant, and maybe now even military vessels entering and leaving Coruscant's orbit. The light pollution was too strong on the capital planet. Even the brightest solar forces failed to break through.

{I used to tell my mother— and Qui-Gon once, actually— that I was going to visit them all.}

As I listened to the sound of my soft, lonely breathing, I bit the inside of my cheek and shifted my weight from one foot to the other. At last, I admitted to myself that this marathon of waiting was becoming a laborious struggle on my heart. It had been easy to explain away Anakin's absence prior to my call with Chancellor Palpatine. But it wasn't even that I'd learned he'd already been fitted with a new arm— it was that I had yet to receive a single communication from him. He'd proven by his exchanges with Captain Typho and the Chancellor that he'd had access to comms spanning before and after the attachment of his prosthetic… but not once had he reached out to me.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to keep my anxiety in check as I watched the traffic flows. It ignored my efforts for calm and crept its way up my spine. Anakin and I had already lost so much time due to doubts, misgivings, and misunderstandings. However, we'd managed to find our way back to each other every time. I didn't know how or even if I should be the one to initiate repairs when he was hiding himself away from me in the Temple.

My faith in us was as strong as ever, and I was sure all this would be resolved once we had a chance to privately talk. His continued assignment was a gift— it sooner or later had to guarantee us face-to-face time. But that very responsibility was yet another reason why I hesitated to contact the Temple. By all rights that I understood, Anakin was supposed to be at my side once he was cleared again for duty. He'd mastered his previous prosthetic arm in record time, and assuming there had been no issues with the replacement, my apartment was where he was likely expected to be. Granted, I had no idea what was happening over at the Temple— an unknown which also fueled my anxiety— but I didn't want to risk adding to our current dilemma by outing his abandonment of his duty. This was a matter between us. I didn't want to inadvertently get him in trouble when his superiors realized where he wasn't.

The fact that this was even an issue tore at my heart and my sanity. This was Anakin. He took his protection of me more seriously than anyone. Its blatant and strict priority to him had at times been a maddening, contentious annoyance between us.

How angry and or hurt must he be if he would stay away?

I ran my chilled palms down my chilled cheeks. I didn't feel alive out here anymore. I just felt cold.

I stayed out on the balcony for a few more minutes, just trying to be in the air that would connect me that much more closely to Anakin. I wanted to pretend the same current that blew through my curls had first spun its way around the Jedi Temple. I closed my eyes and listened to it, opening my ears to whatever whispers the wind wanted to bequeath me with.

When my goosebumps had long turned into shivers, I finally went inside. I comforted myself by remembering it had been twelve hours already. How much longer could his standoff really last?

Hour 30

Artoo whistled from the side of the wall. He'd been watching me from his station for several minutes. I think he wanted to be sure I hadn't fallen asleep on the edge of the bed while sitting up.

I lifted my heavy lids to look at him and gave a ghost of a smile. "I'm still here, Artoo."

An incalculable number of seconds later, I heard the sound of heeled shoes moving against a thick skirt and the carpet. A hesitant Dormé walked into my room.

There was a long moment as I felt her stare on me. Eventually, I made an expression to say I was waiting for her reason for entry.

"Senator Organa has comm'd, milady. He's asking if you've had a chance to go over the referendum."

I sunk backwards into my sit, caving my back. My voice was devoid of feeling. "I haven't. Please apologize to him for me and tell him I will take a look at it soon."

"Yes, milady. Would you like me to go over it with you?"

I shook my head and curled backwards on to the bed, not bothering to slip under the sheets. My decayed curls spilled across the pillow behind my head. "No. I think I would like to take a nap. Please wake me if there are any visitors."

"Yes, ma'am."

Numb, I saw her turn to leave only in my periphery. My wide-open eyes were focused on the sunny view beyond my window's blinds.

Suddenly, I propped myself up on my right elbow. "Dormé?"

She halted immediately at the abrupt energy in my tone. "Yes?"

I tried not to mark the hope in her eyes. I could guess what would happen to it after I asked my question.

"Any comms from the Temple?"

I had my answer by the concern that spread across her face. "No, milady."

"That will be all, Dormé."

Hour 32

I was beginning to feel lucky humans had been born with their heart built into their bodies, securely buried by tissue and ribs. At this point, I felt sure that if my heart were an extremity like a hand or a foot, I would have already severed it.

Hour 35

I heard their muffled exchange coming from around the corridor. They were being quiet, but the strain in their voices made them just loud enough for my ears to detect.

"I don't know what to say to her. She's barely eating, she'd turned down multiple requests for comm calls, she isn't reading over anything. She's never acted like this before."

Typho's deeper voice was harder to make out. There was something about "calling a doctor".

Mercifully, Dormé wasn't near as difficult to understand. "I don't think that will help."

With incredulity, I could've sworn I heard Typho's response mention "Jurue".

"I don't think so. It could be, but I don't think all this is about the coverage." There was a pause. My brain was working over what the hell she could mean until I abruptly forgot all about her previous sentence. "I reached out to Anakin—"

I sat straight up in my bed, suddenly completely alert.

"— but he didn't stay on the comm longer than a few seconds before he ended it."

"Did—" I fought to understand the timbre of Typho's voice. "say— coming here?"

Dormé's answer was low and quiet. I knew her reply better by its tone than its actual word.

No.

I felt something in me break. I sunk back against the mattress like I'd been shot.

Hour 37

"I'd like to be alone. Thank you." I didn't even try to make my voice sound strong. I hoped she would heed the words more than she might the tone they were delivered in.

My dutiful handmaiden, who'd already spent so much time over the past weeks worrying about me, gazed at my face from the archway of my dark bedroom. The ashen and golden light from air traffic beyond my blinds created stretched patterns on her upper half.

I was worried she was going to push back again, until she quietly murmured, "As you wish, milady."

Dormé walked forward to retrieve my meal tray from the glass bench at the foot of my bed. Half of its offerings were still present, but now cold.

She gave me one more mournful look as she picked it up. I averted my eyes to the left wall, unable to compound my pain with the ample load I saw in hers. As Dormé retreated and left me to my solitude, my focus lingered on the spot it had fled to. Pushing my sheets back, I rose from my mattress, barely feeling the hem of my blue dress gather around my ankles. My wardrobe schedule was all out of sorts. I'd switched back into a nightgown early in the afternoon. A few hours ago, I'd managed to don a simple day dress, even though the sun had been down now for some time. My choices seemed to fluctuate with the swing of my optimism from hopeful to destroyed and back again.

Slowly, I walked across the carpet on my bare feet until I stood in front of the wall. My fingers rose. Their tips ran across the bumpy, light gray surface. Inspecting. Searching.

{I'm more worried about the paint on my wall. That residue looked acidic.}
{It probably was.}

My eyes dropped to the carpet directly underneath. A single square, perhaps seven inches in length and width, looked richer in color than the surrounding area, as if the sun's rays hadn't had the time to leak its hue.

A breeze from the stairway leading to the veranda lifted my hem. Putting on my slippers, I moved into the grand space I'd not returned to in two weeks.

The white curtains billowed hauntingly in welcome. I felt an ember of happiness at the sound of my peaceful fountain. I left the four lamps book-ending the two couches on a mild setting, letting the cool, almost purple ambiance bath the space.

The mammoth statues at either end of the platform looked as impassioned and dramatic as ever. I'd always favored the one on my right— how her elegant right leg was lifted in dance, her back arched in abandon, and the instrument held high above her head. Such freedom in her gait, as if she could fly from her riser and soar over Coruscant at any moment she chose.

Out of long-set habit, my feet carried me to my spot on the couch behind the dancer. I was relieved to find it still accepted my body as willingly as ever, despite the fact I felt like a stranger compared to who I'd been the last time I'd sat there. It felt like it had been years, not weeks, since a different Padmé tucked herself into this spot while she waited for news of Obi-Wan and his apprentice's daring retrieval. As my eyes gazed out over the horizon, I marveled at how much could change so quickly.

How did this happen? How could I miss someone so badly who, as recently as last month, I hadn't even thought about in a year?

How could not even two full days of silence feel like an eternity?

A data pad was further down the couch, perhaps one left behind by Dormé during her lock-in. I lost track of how many times I looked at its clock.

What if being back in the Jedi Temple has woken Anakin up to all the arguments I made?

A tremor ran down my spine that had nothing to do with the chill wind.

I knew better than to underestimate what a return to the sacred grounds might do to his psyche. I pictured him walking the disciple halls, surrounded by history; talking himself out of all the things he'd said, writing them off as fanfare resulting from the exotic Lake Country, and then later, as the adrenaline-based celebrations of two survivors relishing in a near-death high.

I'd been the one to push him to see the light of reason at every turn, but that was a lifetime ago. For me, no "return to reality" had caused our heated touches and passionate declarations to lose their luster. My stark reality was that I felt as passionately for Anakin now, sitting alone on my couch on Coruscant, as I did before. Stronger. This time and distance hadn't diminished my yearning— it had magnified it ten-thousand-fold.

His absence rendered my senses useless. My fingers did not know 'touch' unless they were running through his hair or felt his warm skin. My ears endured monotony unless they heard his voice. My nose was ineffectual stump until it could once again take in his masculine scent. I missed everything about him. His being melted all of the parts of my body into one shape, and I did not know how to operate its limbs without him. Reflexively, the pads of my fingers caressed across my lips as I remembered the fullness of his. I missed his eyes— I closed mine and only saw his. I couldn't miss how it felt to be held in his arms without suddenly fighting the urge to cry. He thrilled me and excited me and scared me and…

…He made me feel so exquisitely alive.

When it came to Anakin Skywalker, the only perspective time and distance was giving me was that I knew more than ever I couldn't live without him.

But where was he?!

I'd never been more willing to join him in his blindness— no, in his clarity— yet had this cruel misunderstanding with Jurue, his return to his monastic home, and being apart made him second-guess his devotion?

{You still think I'm just swept up in all the flowers?!}

A tidal wave of frustration and shame came over me, and I shook my head, bitterly disappointed in myself. Anakin had made this very charge against me on The Credence, when he mistakenly thought I'd summed what we were to a summer tryst. He'd looked brokenhearted and gutted when he presumed I'd doubted the depth of his feelings. And here I was, doing exactly that.

Oh, my love, will we ever get this right?

Needing a distraction of any kind, I picked up the closest one to me. I held the data pad again and loaded a HoloNet tab, only half-paying attention to the articles as my eyes grazed over them. There were more statements from systems— some from the Republic, others from the Separatist Alliance. I'd been privy to the first releases of information— confidential or otherwise— while on The Credence, so nothing here was really anything I wasn't already aware of. My efforts to distract myself were in vain.

Feeling like a morose teenager, I hesitantly searched Anakin's name, along with a few keywords to specify him (the galaxy is a big place). I'd done it a few times over the years, when thoughts of the young boy I'd known had come to mind and I'd wanted to see how he was doing without going through the trouble of making a formal inquiry. There was no such thing as an informal inquiry when one is a Queen or Senator and the target of their interest is a child student of the Jedi.

I scanned the news feed with eyes hungry for updates. There was relatively very little mention of him in the HoloNet after the glory of his success on Naboo— or rather, his success in space above Naboo. Even the amazing feat of a nine-year-old battling in a starfighter had fallen victim to the continuously churning news cycles that covered updates from thousands of systems. However, he'd continued to receive mentions through Naboo channels. They were all in commemorative articles released annually on the anniversary of the Trade Federation's defeat. Within four or five years, the article writers seemed to have reduced the bits to simple copy and paste edits whenever he was mentioned year to year. Once Anakin was within the folds of the Jedi, they'd kept almost all news about their prodigy under wraps.

This particular time, I paid close attention to a genre of editorials posted years ago. They were written by the sort of independent writers I would've classified as conspiracy theorists once upon a time. With the abnormality of Anakin's late acceptance into the Order, they'd seem to notice and guess at his special prominence— yet, overall, they failed to hit the mark of spelling out the Jedi prophecy of The Chosen One. I would never be allowed into the Jedi Archives, asking Master Yoda about the prophecy at our next meeting was out of the question, the HoloNet was a dead end, and me and the source himself were painfully not speaking. I came away from my brief research attempt with more questions than answers.

"WAR!" was very popular headline. Most of the articles covered the new scale of civil war and its possible impacts on the Republic as a whole. The previously little known Geonosis was quickly going down in history as "the birthplace" of war— a horrible phrase, considering so many lost their lives in and out of that hellish arena— but also as the first emergence of the clone army. But the articles covering that landmark day on Geonosis itself were skim. I almost felt sorry for the HoloNews reporters— their on-the-ground sources were either clone soldiers they had no access to or the notoriously tight-lipped Jedi.

Dead ends all around.

A self-scolding frown gathered on my forehead at the accidental pun.

The summary of the battle, as much as could apparently be patched together from the scant amount of officially released substance, mostly centered on those who were known to have fallen. The sounds of blaster fire meeting bodies, lightsabers slicing through metal, and thunderous gunships rang in my ears as I read, while traces of adrenaline entered my haunted bloodstream. I knew the fact-gathering of the reporters was limited, but it was surreal to read detached recaps of such a vivid and brutal day. It wasn't even a week since I'd faced the mortality of my life. I reminded myself that even the best, most detailed article could never truly capture the bravery displayed, nor the serene yet vigorous courage with which the Jedi had met their fates.

When I reached a long— impossibly long— paragraph that listed names, the pad of my index finger traced over the letters on the screen. Knights, Masters, Councilman Trebor. When I read further, air hitched in my throat. Lumas Etima. Galdos Stouff. Tan Yuster. Their names were not familiar to me, but what made my breath catch was the ages and ranks next to their listings. Padawans.

Were they friends of Anakin's? Why hadn't I thought to ask, instead of shoving my tongue into his mouth on The Credence?

I found very few articles mentioning Anakin Skywalker as an affected Jedi on Geonosis. There was nothing about his lightsaber duel with Count Dooku. But seasoned investigative journalists on the HoloNet were very good at what they did, and I wouldn't be surprised if Anakin was making headlines by the end of the month. As it were, I was mentioned in far more current articles than he was, although that seemed to stem from a confused tizzy about my being there at all. Apparently, Dormé had done her job well in selling the story of me being on Coruscant, and the fact that I'd suddenly popped up in an execution arena on Geonosis— a remote planet no one in general public circles had ever heard of— had yet to be explained. Perhaps that's what Dormé had been referring to earlier that day about rejecting interview requests. I rolled my eyes at an article ridiculously headlined, "SENATOR AMIDALA— NEW SUPER-SOLDIER-SENATOR FOR THE REPUBLIC'S SECRET ARMY?" It featured an illustrated photo of me muscular, taller, and leading a legion of troops into some battle. My teeth were gritted, and I looked sweaty. They'd drawn a revolving blaster gun the size of my torso in my cartoonishly flexed grip.

I almost slapped the data pad down as I pushed back a different kind of remorse. Apart from endearing videos of us on the top steps of Naboo's Victory Parade, I'd come away without that which I'd most wanted from my HoloNet search — a single, recent picture of Anakin.

A ping sounded from my data pad.

I do not subscribe to tabloid literature— if you can call it that— but I do have a trigger on my devices so that I am alerted if any piece of news, tabloid or otherwise, has my name attached and is gaining a significant amount of traction. The best kind of exposure, only when you're specifically talking about gossip tabloids, is for a particular fashion day to be positively exalted. I'd let go of the wish long ago that they would talk about any of my actual achievements. I used to think the worst kind of news story the gossipers produced was when they'd call me a spinster, one who was never pictured on the arm of a lover. I'd only truly realized how lonely my life was when Anakin crashed back into it, but still— to have my aloneness broadcast for public fodder had been… hurtful.

And then I saw the small thumbnail alert in the corner of the screen, and I had a new personal definition of what the worst possible mention in a gossip tabloid could be.

My lungs froze in my chest even as my heartbeat quickened. I tapped a shaking finger on the icon, my eyes narrowing in panic as a photo of me and Jurue disembarking from The Credence filled my screen.

Of all the things to be discussed in the galaxy right now, I was front and center on dozens of tabloid magazines. "SENATOR AMIDALA FINDS LOVE AT LAST", "BATTLE OF THE HEARTS— WARZONE BRINGS LOVERS TOGETHER", "BABY ON THE WAY FOR SENATOR FROM NABOO"

All the publications shared the same ridiculous photo. My head spun as it registered that these images wouldn't be restricted to just HoloNews searches— this photo would've already been plastered on flashing screens along the city streets up to the side of skyscrapers.

With every pulse it pumped, my heart fissured more and more. The camera had captured us as we'd reached the end of gateway. What gave the gossipers their fire was the fact that we were standing an embrace, and I was smiling. My very eyes shone with love.

I knew exactly when this moment had happened. It was a goodbye between two people committed to staying friends. Jurue had taken my rejection of his marriage proposal with dignity the day before, and I had not denied him a friendly parting when he'd respectfully asked if he could hug me farewell. It had been a very loose, extremely quick gesture.

I've had sneezes that lasted longer than I was standing in Jurue's arms!

Under my breath, I muttered a litany of Nabooian curses words that would've given my mother good cause to shame me.

What's more, I'd only been smiling like that because at the same moment we'd embraced— if you could even call it such a thing— I'd caught sight of the spires of the Jedi Temple in the distance. Where he was at that very moment. I'd briefly been renewed with a sense of hope.

I was smiling because I'd been thinking about Anakin.

I hadn't known in that second that I'd be sitting here, still enduring silence from him almost two days after the fact. Despite the horrific door video, when this damn picture was apparently taken, I'd been sure that once I was on Coruscant cement, Anakin and I would have the whole thing resolved within a few short hours.

I actually screeched out loud when the first "article" accompanying the photo read that me and Jurue had grown close over the past year while working on the Military Creation Act— THIS is how my hard work is finally mentioned in the tabloids?!— and that we were quoted as being "inseparable" on The Credence according to "several unnamed sources."

When it got to the part about us planning a big wedding to be officiated by the Supreme Chancellor himself, I threw the data pad to the other end of the couch. It collided against a pillow with an insultingly soft thump, mocking my indignation.

Please, please, please, don't let Anakin see that junk!

I couldn't imagine gossip tabloids were widely read in the Temple, but the Jedi had access to the HoloNet same as anyone else. If Anakin had gotten the idea to search my name like I had for his, or if he'd even mildly branched out any search from one of the Geonosis articles I'd been mentioned in, this would've been inescapable. For goodness sake, if he just strolled down a city street or flew past a billboard through a traffic lane— he was likely to see the image of me and Jurue "basking in our love" on a screen the size of a house. Coruscant lived to gossip about politicians in such a way.

Suddenly, my frustration morphed. Quadrupled. I got passionately, furiously angry. Not at the tabloids. Not at Jurue. Not at the Jedi Order and their archaic rules.

At Anakin.

My mournful behavior burned away, becoming ashes in the heat of my righteous anger.

All Anakin would've had to do was lift the cabin door, walk into my bedroom, talk to me, and it would have been a very different final eight hours on the ship. Well, perhaps not, considering I'd still ingested the sleeping pills at that point, but at least we could have slept in each other's arms. But he didn't do that. He didn't even knock, which if he'd done when he'd first arrived, then maybe he would've inadvertently stopped me from swallowing those pills just in the nick of time.

My blood boiled as my indignity kicked in and I saw the scene with new perspective. He hadn't even bothered to investigate before he'd so quickly thrown away any trust he had in me the second things looked suspect. Everything that happened was completely innocent— for Force's sake, it was actually my conversation with Jurue that made me not just accept the idea of marrying Anakin, but desire it with my entire being.

But he had taken the only two pieces of evidence he concretely had— seeing Jurue in the hallway, and me not magically knowing to answer the door once he'd arrived— and he'd tried and found me guilty, enough so to sentence distance and the silent treatment. I should have been walking off that ship with him. Yet Anakin's inability to give me the benefit of the doubt after all we'd been through resulted in my face being blasted on gossip tabloids in who knows how many alien languages.

I clutched a nearby pillow with a fist. So much important work had been waylaid today. I hadn't read two pages of the Tuffton-Maner Referendum. Dormé and Captain Typho were looking at me like they wanted to get me committed. The formidable and productive Senator Amidala had become a woeful catastrophe.

The tabloid image of me and Jurue had been the trigger to make my indignation erupt, but my anger paled in comparison to the level of unbearable pain I'd endured at Anakin's separation the past two days. That's what my anger truly masked— agonizing hurt.

All this struggle from Anakin to get me to trust in the depth of his feelings, but at the first test— however wrongfully misconstrued it was— in mine, I'd been dropped by him like I was nothing. For two days, no presence of another around me could outweigh the lack of his. The way I felt right now, though— if he were to at last show himself— I was as likely to throw him over the balcony as I was to kiss him until he never trusted his eyes again.

"Quite a view."

I sat up on the couch with a jerk and turned towards the growling voice behind me.

My eyes focused on a hooded figure standing a few meters away. In the dark, I saw a face that echoed a version witnessed in the Lars garage. Haunted. Dangerous. Inhuman.

Anakin had finally arrived.