Ch. 8

The bright morning sun illuminated the living room as it shined through the large picture window. The stairs creaking slightly as footsteps came down them, and the sound of bacon sizzling in a pan echoed through the space. She wasn't quite awake, existing in that space between sleep and consciousness, trying to keep her brain from engaging with the rest of the world just yet. Padmé shifted her shoulder as she rolled one way, then the other, before a small sigh escaped her lips when two large arms came around her tighter. She turned over, throwing her arm over the firm, warm body holding her close. Then, someone cleared their throat, none-too-subtle.

Padmé's eyes flew open, the chest of one golden-tan man pressed against her cheek. She cringed, hoping she was still asleep, before glancing up to see her mom's face peering over the back of the couch with an eyebrow raised. And the nightmare continues… She wiggled an arm free and gave a small wave to her mom, smiling awkwardly as Jobal's face shifted to one she knew would be followed by an 'I told you so' speech later.

"Breakfast's ready, if you two care to join us," she said.

"Mhm," Padmé managed, her lips sealed tight with a thumbs up. Her mom snorted as she turned and left, leaving her to direct all attention back to Anakin. "Anakin, wake up." No response. "Anakin…" She nudged him with her elbow when his mouth twitched. "Wake up."

He grumbled something that sounded like a no. His hands slowly made their around her back, fingers wrapping around her hip under her robe. Oh, no you don't, she thought. She reached down, stopping his hand, unsure at what point they'd shifted to cuddling, but that ended now. She rolled back, leaning her face beside his ear.

"Anakin, my parents just caught us sleeping together, you have to get up. Now."

His eyes shot open, frantically pushing her away in a huff and sending himself falling over the edge of the couch. "They what?!" He cried out.

Padmé sucked in her bottom lip to control herself before she lost it, seeing him in a heap, his short curls tousled and eyes as wide as the open sky. Laughter roared out of her as she kicked at the sofa and held her stomach before two hands grabbed her and pulled her onto the floor with him. Crashing down on his chest, she swatted at him as he started tickling her mercilessly. She elbowed, kneed, and squirmed, trying to escape him until they were both out of breath from laughter and a familiar voice called out again.

"Padmé. Anakin. Breakfast. Now!"

They both froze, her eyes following his as they scanned down his body and the reality set in that he was still only wearing his underwear. This looked… Well, this was bad. So, so bad. And if she wasn't already feeling a bit like a teenager, she was now with no way for him to join them and no excuse why he couldn't.

"Anakin, you're—"

"Yep, I… Yep, sure am. Any suggestions?" He asked, a nervous smile on his face.

"Let me think…" She scrambled to her feet, retying her robe around her tight as Anakin's eyes raked over her body almost unconsciously as she narrowed hers at him. His cheeks turned a shade of red when she caught him, his eyes finally catching up with her face. She grabbed the giant quilt they'd been wrapped up in and threw it at his head. "Don't move."

"Can't I get back on the couch?"

"Would it make you mad if I said no?"

He looked at her indignantly. "Uh, yeah?"

A sly grin crossed her face, the look in her eyes daring him to say something else. "Then no." She watched his nose wrinkle slightly before he groaned, making her laugh. "I'll bring you food, though?"

He tilted his head. "Oh, thank you. So much. For your kindness and generosity," he said sarcastically. He pulled the blanket into his lap, sitting in the middle of the floor pouting like a child that woke up on the wrong side of the bed.

"You're welcome so much," she grinned as he extended his middle finger to her before she hurried off to the kitchen.

"Good morning, Padmé," Ruwee called, not looking up from his morning crossword puzzle.

"Good morning, everyone," she said back in a sing-song voice, earning another side-eye from her mom.

"Care to explain our overnight guest at all?" Jobal asked, handing her two eggs, sunny side up on a plate with the platter of bacon to carry over to her dad. "Anakin, I thought you'd be joining us!"

"Oh, no, Mrs. Naberrie, I don't want to be in the way. I-I'm fine in here, really!"

Her mom laughed. "Mrs. Naberrie? He hasn't called me that in… Anakin! Join us, don't be silly."

"Oh, god, this is so bad…" Padmé murmured to herself. "Mom, he… can't…"

"Nonsense, Padmé. The man is here all the time," her dad said. "What reason would there be for him to not come in here now?" He set his paper down, feigning innocence with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, trust me. Please? Please, just give me a plate to take him." She didn't even care about eating herself anymore. Didn't even know if she could.

The look on her mom's face was as devious as she'd told Sabé her plan was, whether her friend had believed it or not. Maybe she was a Palpatine proxy, stationed in this house to make sure something permanently threw her off her game. If so, it was working. The level of amusement her mom was gaining from this… "Sure, sure. Don't mind us, it's just our house, our couch…" Jobal said.

"Our food!" Ruwee chimed, lifting his coffee mug as her mom pointed in agreement.

"Our daughter, too," she said, laughing again.

"You're both terrible. I swear it. I can… explain… later," she said as calmly as possible. "Just give me some food."

"Oh, dear, you have nothing to explain to me. Maybe an apology to make, but no explanation needed," she said, tilting her chin up high with a smile. "I was young once."

Oh. My. God. "Mom… I—we did nothing. Please do not give me that speech again… There's no way I'd do something like that on your sofa, are you crazy? I hope you know I have more sense—and class—than that!" She reached for the plate of eggs and home fries her mom held out before snatching it back at the last moment.

"I'm not crazy. I'm a mother who raised two rather mischievous daughters, one of whom continues to give me grief well into adulthood. And I'm someone with ears, Padmé." Her mom handed the plate to her with both eyebrows raised and she swore her dad was about to spit out his coffee at the table. "You should think about that the next time you decide to leave yourselves half-naked and on display in someone else's house after waking them up in the middle of the night with your yelling and arguing. While being concerned about your sensibility and your class."

She stood there in stunned silence for a moment, her eyes fixated on the crisp, browned potatoes staring back at her. There was no way she could face either of her parents now. Being in an embarrassing or compromising personal position, as Jobal had put it 'half-naked,' was never a parent-friendly conversation she wanted to have. Whether she was twenty-two or thirty-six, or… fifty! And they'd woken them up. That was somehow even worse.

"We were not… We did not… I didn't…" She sighed. "Okay. I'm sorry," she said, her ears flaming hot as she quickly turned to leave. The sound of her dad's chuckle acting as her exit music walking back to the front part of the house.

"What was all… that… about," Anakin said, each of his words quieter than the one before as he looked at her. "What's wrong?"

"I don't want to talk about it right now. Eat your food so you can go." She shoved the plate and dinnerware at him, still on the floor.

He nodded, taking it from her without a word. She took a seat at the end of the couch furthest away from him, tucking her knees under her as she watched him. The sound of his knife scraping against the plate, the distant chatter from her parents in the other room, the endless blaring inside her mind of every single word they'd said last night. It was sort of like quiet, if quiet were a monster trying to rip you to shreds. She'd almost forgotten about their fight, probably not indefinitely, but it had been escaping her for the moment while they were wrapped up in each other and flailing around on the floor. Now it was at the forefront of her brain as she watched him methodically choosing which of the foods on his plate to eat and in which order. He always ate like that. It was such a strange detail to remember about a person, how they ate their food. Like her brain threw out all the bad things it could and chose this small, mundane behavior as a keepsake.

"Hey, listen—"

"Hey—"

They glanced up and spoke at the same time, catching each other's eyes before they both broke away. He went back to his food, pushing it around with his fork, while she eyed her cuticles. A stupid thought in the back of her head reminding her she needed to make a nail appointment to get them redone before they hit the road. As if that were a pertinent detail now. Like it mattered at all. Honestly–she had the thinking capacity of a bowl of jelly this morning.

"Oh, go ahead."

"No, what, Anakin?"

"No, you," he said, with a wave of the hand before eating the last bite of bacon.

"Oh. I was just going to tell you I think I'll go upstairs," she said.

He didn't respond. Instead, he simply cut the last of his eggs in two and stuffed it in his mouth. She waited, listening to the laughter and dishes clanking in the other room. Nothing.

"I just need to shower is all…"

Still nothing aside from a slow nod while she continued to wait for anything more.

"Okay, well… If I don't see you, guess I probably will later. Thanks for… Yeah…"

Her neck practically shrunk into her shoulders. Was she about to say thank you for sleeping with her? Legitimately sleeping? There was something wrong with her.

The second her feet hit the steps, she heard him quietly say, "See you later." Presumably to her, since the sound of the door didn't follow, but she didn't wait to find out or offer a response.

She heard her phone vibrating on the bathroom vanity while she was in her room getting dressed. It was the fifth time it had done so, and she was too afraid to see who was calling. Instead, she was hopelessly distracting herself. The buzzing noise had gone silent for maybe twelve seconds before it was back. She groaned. Deciding it could've been something that she should pay attention to, she grabbed it quickly and answered. Probably a regrettable decision.

"Ye—"

"So! How did it go?" Dormé said, squealing like a they were kids on a playground before the greeting was even out of her mouth.

"Yeah, I want details and lots of them!"

"S-Sabé? Is… Dormé, what did you do now?"

"Wasn't her. You can't tell my little gossiping cousin something like that and expect me to not get a text about it. In the middle of the night, too?" Sabé said with a laugh.

Padmé scoffed. "Dormé, remind me to fire Saché when I get back to the office."

"Yeah right, okay. You're stalling. So, something happened!"

Padmé pressed her lips together in a smirk, looking in the mirror as she tied a bandana around her hair like a headband. They deserved to be tortured, and slowly. "Hmm… Did it? I don't… can't recall anything that would interest any of you happening." She set the phone down on speaker before going back to the closet to consult her small summer wardrobe. There was a silence laced with breathless laughter that made her cover her own mouth to not cackle in response.

"You're a liar!" Sabé shouted.

"Tsabin!" Padmé said with a mock gasp.

"Hah, more proof. You only use her full name when she catches you in sticky situations," Dormé said.

The emphasis on the word sticky was not lost on her. Fine, they wanted more than they bargained for? Padmé could play that game, too. "Well, Anakin and I slept together… But it's nothing serious." It truly took all of her training as a former lawyer and, more importantly, a politician to keep her composure at the loud gasps from both of her friends along with the clattering that she didn't even want to ask about.

"You what?" A third voice chimed in.

"Oh my god, Saché, have you been here this whole time?" She said, choking down a laugh.

"Uh… no?" she said shyly.

"Never mind her! You did what?"

"Thank you! You can't say something like that and then just… stop?" Sabé practically screamed, a level of excitement in her voice she hadn't heard in a long time.

This was more fun than she expected it to be. She let the silence hang in the air while she put on a v-neck pale blue romper, humming to herself. Letting them all sit on pins and needles while she took her sweet time with her skincare routine, painting her lips a nude pink, picking at her nails, and fluffing her hair.

"Excuse me? Any day now you'll continue that statement, I hope?" Sabé lost her patience first, but Dormé and Saché led the chorus of questions afterwards.

Padmé's face lit up as her exterior cracked and she laughed without restraint. "Oh, God, you all are so predictable! We did sleep together, but not like you're thinking."

Their amusement quickly turned into disgusted groaning before her phone was ringing again. She tapped to accept, their phone call transforming into a video chat instead.

"I want you to see the look on my face right now. I am… appalled. Shocked. Put off completely," Dormé said. "And more than anything…" she huffed. "Disappointed."

She grinned. "What you are is dramatic."

"Be that as it may, what do you mean you slept with him? I need contextbecause last we talked, you didn't even want to talk to the man you were so afraid you still had feelings," Sabé said.

"Yeah, well, that didn't change. Actually, I don't even know if what we had counts as a conversation…" She swore she wouldn't tell them this part… Anakin's reputation was probably already on shaky ground, and she was already tired of thinking about it.

"What does that mean?" Dormé asked, a level of suspicion in her tone.

"My money's on them fighting," Sabé said.

"I would like in on that bet. You know the best kind of sleeping together comes after you…"

"Shut up, you two. Okay, yes, we may have argued a little…" Their eyes were all wide, staring at the screen, Sabé rolling a hand in the air to encourage her to keep going. "Or a lot. But he was sad. And drunk…"

"He's a sad drunk? I would've thought…" Dormé started before Padmé held up a finger to stop her.

"He was being sad about… us…" she said. "And we were outside, yelling at each other for so long. Eventually I gave up and told him to come inside, and—"

"Then you…" Sabé raised her eyebrows and made a rather suggestive gesture with her hands, causing Padmé's face to go bright red before her hands flew up to cover it.

"No! Wow, you all have no faith in my ability to say no,do you?"

"Oh, we do. Or I do. I just don't know why you'd keep wanting to," Dormé said with a grin.

"Well, no. For the tenth time. We fell asleep on the couch together. That's it. I should've never gotten your hopes up." The three of them made a sound, something between admiration and confusion. Padmé shook her head.

"On the couch? What did your mom say? I know she said something about her plan working out…"

"Her plan did not work out, because I…"

"Don't want to see him again?" Dormé asked. "Seriously?"

"I—no, that's not it exactly. But just… We—I didn't get anything close to… It wasn't real. Nothing about it. Just surrealism. It's a fantasy. An absurd, abstract version of events where we can scream at each other and then kiss and make up. Aka not happening. It didn't work then and—I won't invest myself in it now, I won't. I can't. This isn't going anywhere, it's just a car crash playing in slow motion."

A long silence fell over the call, Padmé keeping her eyes pointed toward the ceiling. It could have counted for closure, there in the end. Her whole point about never being able to hate him was the truth. And it was the whole truth. But she had a feeling there was a healthy dose of honesty packed into his bigger gut punch – he wished he hated her. She knew it was true because she'd felt that way. And beyond everything else, that was no place to start any kind of relationship back up from. So why did it feel like she was only trying to convince herself of that...

Dormé cleared her throat, everyone directing their attention back to their screens, including Padmé who practically locked eyes with her. "I'd love to indulge your… everything you're saying. I would. And I support any and every decision you make, including whatever you do here and say next. But also… You're overlooking, or oversimplifying, a few things. And jumping to conclusions."

"Jumping to the biggest conclusion of all. That you two get in one drunken argument after you told me all you'd done is scold the man and now there's no chance or shot at redemption? Do you really think you can't talk to him anymore? Work it out?" Sabé said. "Padmé, I love you, but that's crazy. Is that what you want? I didn't think it was from our last call, but maybe I'm wrong."

"Or ours, last night. Before you saw him. And you told me you wanted to talk to him if you could."

Padmé sat there at a loss for words, slowly tuning out Dormé and Sabé as they rattled on about their prior 'Anakin-hour' conversations and lectured her about her impulsiveness in not wanting to talk to him. And maybe they were right, it was all salvageable and she was being ridiculous. Or they were dead wrong, and she had every right to not want to even try to do anything with him ever again. Or something in between if she would just let herself let go…

"Padmé Naberrie—"

"—you're ignoring me!" Sabé and Dormé both said, nearly in unison.

"I don't understand what the problem is now. Big deal, you argued with each other, you argue with people all the time. You argue with us all the time!"

"It's not about the argument, it's about what we argued about."

"What could have been so bad you're ready to chop his head off? Because chances are it'll piss off everyone on the call if that's the case, and we can be in it together!"

Padmé let out a frustrated groan and sighed. "It's not… Him. Sabé. It's me…"

"What does that even mean?" Dormé said. "What is it exactly that you want to do here?"

"That's what I'm trying to say. I don't know…" she mumbled.

"What do you mean, you don't know?" Sabé asked.

Padmé walked away, leaving the phone on her bed to go back into the bathroom, setting everything back in its place – her lotion, her makeup, her manicure set. She stood there, staring at herself in the wall-length mirror, uselessly adjusting the straps of her romper one way, the other. Leaning in to check her face for the hundredth time. Lining and turning all her bottles of beauty products, labels facing out. Chasing perfection, chasing control.

She felt… unnerved. Not wanting to answer any more prying questions about her and Anakin, or her feelings or desires. She only wanted to avoid and hide. And all of that made her feel ashamed. This was not who she was. She ran into the fire, not away from it, only frustrating her further. The chorus of questions hadn't relented from her call, now a few comments being thrown in about their lovely view of her ceiling as well. The panic from last night started building inside of her, swirling thoughts in her head, the tightening in her chest, like the strings of the fabric of her reality continued slipping from her grasp until she broke.

"I don't know what to do!" She shouted, stomping her foot against the tiled floor. "I don't! I have no answers, I have no solutions, I have nothing. I don't know what I feel, I don't know what I want, I don't know how to move forward. The only thing I want is… I just want to go home…" She wandered back into her room, retrieving her phone as she crashed against her wrinkled sheets. "I want to give up… But then I'm letting down everyone else that I promised I'd dedicate my life to… The people I'm supposed to be bettering the lives of instead of wasting mine away getting into petty arguments with Sheev to be blasted across social media or ones with my ex-boyfriend on my damn vacation! And all I do is sit on the phone with all of you and bitch and moan and groan about every little thing that inconveniences me when there are real people with actual problems. And it's pathetic. Like I'm the only person in the world that matters, like the little things that bother me are more important than anything else. And I'm… sick and tired of my own shit. I'm sorry." She let her face fall into the pillow.

"Padmé…" Dormé called, her voice lower and steadier. The voice she used for her in public, in the senate, at strategy meetings.

"What?" she said, not bothering to lift her head.

"Get your ass up."

That was a demand, not a suggestion, and definitely not aimed for sympathy to make her feel better. She lifted her head, thankful for the bandana holding back her curls she'd let loose for the day, peeking nervously back at her phone. Both Saché and Sabé had at least an eyebrow raised, but she could tell they, like her, were focusing completely on Dormé.

Dormé's eyes felt like they were peering straight into her soul. It was that feeling of being seen without speaking that she usually adored and cherished in her friend and chief of staff. It was also the thing that made Dormé such a fantastic political operative in her own right, the wordless promise that there was nowhere to hide. To put people trained to remain unbothered but attentive in a position to feel exposed and weak. It's why she was so good. It was also… terrifying to be on the receiving end of.

"I don't know exactly changed with you since I told you to get out of the senate building that night… But this is not the woman I work for. Hell, I'm not even sure it's my friend anymore. My law school roommate, my grade school rival-turned-best-friend, my entire job, because believe me, you are a full-time job. You… You pay me to make your problems go away, and I do. And then you make new ones, and we fix those too. On and on. And do you know why?"

She sighed. "Let's just say I don't, so you can tell me," Padmé said.

"Well, I'll start by assuring you it's not so you can throw a pity party for yourself because of your inability to make a decision in the personal life you rarely lead."

She smacked both of her hands against her face, her voice muffled. "Great. Is that it?"

"No," she snapped. "It's because I believe in you, even when you're doing this. Because you're the first one in our office and the last one out, after the staffers, the interns, the endless meetings. Hell, even me some days. The one checking and answering emails at 2 in the afternoon and at midnight, and again on your ride into work at an ungodly hour that I know you struggle to be up for. The one that shows up with binders full of plans, research notes. Your thought-out detailed bills on how we solve all the problems of the free world, and the not-so-free world at the lower level, your level, and the executive level. I get to watch you wipe the floor with lobbyists and the likes of Sheev's cronies without so much as breaking a sweat or raising your voice. I can set you in front of any interest group, any demographic, any venue, and you take over. Naturally. You command attention, you own your space, and you've been doing it for nearly a decade. It's your arena. This is not the time to quit. This is not the time to warp your self-image into some has-been like we are not so close to your end game. You're reluctant for power, you're hesitant about making the wrong calls, but willing to make the tough ones. That's why you deserve it. That's why we back you up. Day in, day out. So, do what you do best. Make a call. Right now. What do you want?"

"I—" The word had barely left her mouth and Padmé was already stuttering, shaking her head. She was right, and of course she was right. She was, or she tried, to be and do all the things Dormé had just listed. Still, she was so off her game it tempted her to just agree with her friend. Maybe she wasn't the woman she worked for anymore. And what a disaster that would be to add to her list of not-quite-mid-life crisis revelations.

"What do you want?" She repeated, adding emphasis and power behind each of the syllables.

"I…" She took a deep breath, clawing at the covers to pull herself upright and stare her support team in their digitized faces. "Want…" She took a deep breath, her forehead creased.

Saché leaned so far forward into the phone it looked like she might break her back. "What? You want what?"

"…to be the person who you… just described. I want to be all of that, but that's not… That's Senator Amidala… That's all a totally different side of me."

Dormé's eyes widened. "Like hell it is! Maybe in chambers, maybe in front of the media when you're pressed and polished. But the only reason anyone cares about 'Senator Amidala' at all is because of whoPadmé Naberrie is. Are you really discrediting your entire life or career like you have some alternate identity? You're a woman, not a box. You don't have sides."

Padmé's shoulders slumped, feeling so conflicted. For years now, her public persona and her private person had been intertwined. She was one, and the other was her. No difference. There wasn't time to turn either on or off. But maybe along the way one of them had become too much of her and the other no longer enough and all her problems came to be in the space between who she once was and who she ought to be. Only parts of herself rather than the whole person.

"Let's back up for a second, okay?" Sabé spoke up, Dormé groaning as she walked off the screen. "Padmé, what exactly is the problem?"

"The problem is… Everyone's asking me what I want. And I don't get to choose what I want, just because I want it. I belong to the people, especially if… They elect me, I work for them. I'm about to ask America to put all their faith and trust in me, this… it's not about me. This is about my duty, to my state. To my country."

"No one wants to elect someone that looks like they hate themselves, their life, and the rest of the world… People want someone to grab a beer with. That's a scientifically proven fact!" Dormé shouted from somewhere Padmé couldn't see.

"This is a race with Palpatine in it, so… you might be speaking too soon, but we'll let that go because the point is still the same," Saché said with a soft chuckle.

"Bringing this back to Padmé, Dormé is right. You are a fantastic politician because of who you are as a person. People love you because of who you are on the road. But we love you because of who you are behind the scenes! It's not… You're still you, somewhere beneath your policy jargon and beyond your campaign fundraising voice."

"Exactly. Your damn voters don't know you take emails all times of the day and night, they don't know how rare it is to take as many personal constituent calls as you do, and they've never seen you at a 6am strategy meeting. You don't do that for them. You do that because it's who you are," Saché said.

Padmé raised her eyebrows, her head hung to the side. She wasn't sure if this felt more like a strategy call, a parent-teacher conference, or sitting backstage for an interview while she listened to the five hosts talk about her like she wasn't there. Knowing they were all doing it out of love was the redeeming quality.

"Padmé. Listen," Sabé said, snapping her fingers and squaring her shoulders as she looked into the phone. "You are allowed to have a life. You are allowed to be you outside of DC, outside of your offices, outside of your campaign headquarters. Your colleagues go home to wives and husbands and kids, take extravagant out of country vacations, practically live on golf courses, and here we are trying to convince you to live a little. Just to exist for a few weeks without your power suits and pencil skirts. In fact, people might like you even more if you had some fun. Likability ratings matter, for better or worse. You're allowed to date someone if you want to! If that's your hang-up here. Even if it's messy, even if it doesn't work out, even if you only want to be friends in the end. You've dated before, it's not… a big deal. Not like you're making it."

"As long as he doesn't start some shit for me in the press again, because I'll have to—"

"What, Dormé? Break his kneecaps? Contact the local hitman you keep on speed-dial?" Padmé teased with a smirk that got a genuinely smile out of her friend in return. "If Clovis is still alive and well I think Anakin would be okay."

Sabé rolled her eyes at them both. "See? Exactly. You do want to. All I'm saying… Is it sounds like the only thing holding you back is your fear that taking a moment for yourself somehow cheats everyone else. But not taking a moment for yourself is only cheating you. And in the end, that's going to destroy you more than any nasty public breakup, bad press tours, or poor election results ever would. We've already had this conversation. And this time I'm nearly certain you know what you want and just don't want to say it."

Padmé nodded slowly, taking a second to soak it in. Maybe they were right, that it was okay to want it all… Maybe it wasn't so selfish, to think that she could have some version of her suburban fantasy, and still be… everything she wanted to be. Everything she already was. Or it was at least okay to try. "Thank you…" she responded quietly.

"Of course," Sabé said with a smile.

Dormé came back into focus, taking a drink from her water bottle before clipping her hair to the back of her head and propping her face in her hands, her elbows on her knees. "This is what we're here for. To support you and make fun at the same time, just like you'd do for any of us. Now, let's try this again… What do you want?"

"I… Want to try…"

"To try what?" Saché asked.

"I want to try to let go and see… what happens. I want my personal life back. Or, I guess I want to have one. I want the… I want to be me again," Padmé said at last. "The person who… is all the things you just said, but still be… Padmé."

"Fuck yeah, you do!" Dormé said, practically cheering.

"And… there she is, after all. Our best friend, coming back to her senses," Sabé said, lifting her water bottle to toast to Dormé's now actual cheering. "I told you, underneath it all…"

She laughed, playfully rolling her eyes. Despite how ridiculous they were, practically dancing and doing backflips over her simple admission… It felt liberating. The sense of relief washing over her almost immediately, a wide smile growing wider by the second as she continued repeating her words in her mind that she could… have it all.

"So, now what? What are you going to do first in this big effort to reclaim your… life?" Dormé asked, mischief dancing in her eyes. "What's first on the new wilder and crazier second half of your summer vacation agenda?"

"I… Well, I don't think some things can be solved in one simple…" she started.

"Don't back out already! Just talk to him," Saché said. "We all know you want to—"

Her eyes went wide, looking at her phone and then at the window as she heard the familiar vroom of a certain someone's motorcycle fire up. Remembering back on the way she'd left him earlier, Saché was right. And her moment was soon to fade. "I— Can I call you later? He's… I swear I'll be less self-indulgent then!"

"Get out of here! And don't worry, we still haven't heard about whoever this man in the office next to ours is," Dormé said to Saché's now-blushing face.

"Go fix your shit! I'm ready for my 'Padmé for President' t-shirt and I can't get to that if you never make it through your vacation!" Sabé said with a laugh.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, one thing at a time," she said quickly before the rounds of goodbyes came and she bolted from her bedroom at the second firing up of that damned motorcycle's engine.

She practically spun her mom in a circle in her rush out the door, barely making time to get her shoes on her feet. If she missed her chance, she might never recover the nerve…

"Padmé, wait!" Her mom called. She froze, halfway out the door, glancing at him, sliding the helmet on his head.

"No, hold on! I'll be… Just hold on!" She waved a hand, nearly tripping down the steps of the porch trying to look back at her.

Anakin had rolled the motorcycle down the drive when she ran out into the street, waving her arms around like an idiot, or at least that's how she assumed she looked. He came to an immediate halt, lifting the visor of his helmet.

"Padmé? Wh—"

"Where are you going?"

"For… a ride? I was trying to give you space." He raised his eyebrows, motioning to his current seated position. "I thought that's what you—"

"Take me with you," she said, stepping forward.

"What? Padmé, you hate motorcycles. Why would you—"

"Just… Take me with you," she repeated, coming closer to him.

He looked at her, his face scrunched, chewing his lip thoughtfully with his arms across his chest. She stood there, waiting for what seemed like an eternity. She started rocking back and forth on her toes, running a hand through her hair. Maybe she'd taken her friends' advice a little too quickly. This wasn't exactly her best day, or her best work.

"If you… don't want me to come… I probably shouldn't assume like this. I know you have your own life after all…" She laughed nervously, scratching the back of her neck.

"Padmé."

"Yes?"

He sighed, shaking his head. "That's not it. You're just… about to give me whiplash. And you don't even have a helmet."

She stood there, pressing her hands together, unwavering until he relented.

"Fine. See if there's one that fits if you're really this determined to come. They're not throwing me in jail because the senator demanded I take her for a ride without protection." The garage door started lifting behind him as he nodded in the same direction.

Back to innuendos, she thought, hiding her smile. She tried not to make a sound, but based on his laugh, a small squeak may have escaped her anyway while she rushed off and grabbed the other helmet. Anakin helped her get it on and situated, continuing to shake his head in the process and mumble under his breath.

"I just can't believe you sometimes… You make me crazy," he said. Anakin held out a hand, helping while she climbed on behind him.

"You're the one that makes me want to do crazy things…" she mumbled, adjusting her shorts, and getting her feet comfortable. He laughed, patting the side of her thigh.

"Yeah, right. I never had to twist your arm very much. Now, hang on tight. Just like the old days." He reached around, grabbing her by the waist and roughly pulled her forward against him. Her eyebrows shot up as she cleared her throat. She didn't remember them being quite this close. "You good back there?"

The regret started setting in as soon as he started the motorcycle back up, but she'd committed herself and there was no turning back now. Her first effort at reclaiming who she was by doing something completely unlike her. Ironic. She wrapped her arms around him tight, gripping his jacket. Suddenly feeling like it was a little harder to swallow, she did her best and nodded, even if he couldn't exactly see her between their helmets. "All good, Ani."

"Great. Hey, by the way…"

"Yeah?"

He turned his head and grinned; his dumb devilish smile that made her want to roll her eyes and knock him off the bike. "I was headed up to Breakheart, your favorite trails." He flipped her visor down, then his own. Before she had a chance to protest, they were moving, and she was hanging on like her life depended on it.