A/N: I'm so sorry for this late upload, work and life have been beyond crazy just when I think they'll be slowing down. But here it is, and not as late as I was afraid it would be. I hope everyone enjoys and has a great week! Thank you so much for reading and your lovely reviews! It's such a pleasure to read your thoughts as you go!

Ch. 11

"Excuse me, but did you see this news report? Bail Organa? Running for president?" Dormé said, exasperated, and a little slurred on the phone. Padmé had already prepared herself for the worst while the phone was ringing. Racking her own brain for her own thoughts on the matter. "What the fuck is going on in the world? Why?"

Padmé was practically running now, having long ago abandoned her desire for a simple walk. She'd do anything to get the excessive energy and anxiety out of her system while her chief of staff rambled on like the news was the worst thing that had happened to her rather than focus on the bigger picture of what the hell they were going to do next.

"Hey!" Padmé barked, growing tired of listening to the ranting and raving. "Can you stop acting like this is the end of the world? Unless you know something I don't." She stopped by a streetlamp to throw her hair into a bun and retie her sneakers. It also gave her a few minutes to catch her breath and make her friend shut up before she exploded. "He's just a candidate, is he not?"

Even she didn't believe that. Bail Organa was a lot of things, but rarely was the word 'just' used in conjunction with the mention of him. He was one of the most beloved members of their caucus, a beacon of hope, an outspoken advocate for reform and protections of democracy. Not that Padmé didn't also fall into that camp, but he'd been involved much longer than she had with a far more established track record. Hell, one reason she was so successful in the first place was because of Bail's kindness and patience with her. And now… Well, now she may take on her greatest opponent yet. Somehow that worried her more than facing Palpatine himself. Not because he was worse, but because he was better and the stakes were higher.

"Oh, no," Dormé said, drawing out her words dramatically. "Everything's fine, Padmé. Absolutely perfect. Not like your two closest confidants are both trying to become your competition or anything while you're sitting on the decision and have my hands tied on the matter!"

She groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose hard and trying not to snap back. "What are the odds Mothma is going to run against Bail and I both? That would be ridiculous and Mon is too poised for maneuvering like that. She knows what's at stake if we're all busy with our in-fighting. What I don't understand is what the hell Organa is up to. I thought they'd be focused on Breha's re-election!" Besides him being such a close confidant, he'd become one of her closest friends from her professional life that didn't know her before. She'd spent Christmas with the man, and she knew his wife about as well as she knew her own sister. The two of them couldn't be any more of a power couple if they tried with Breha in their state senate and Bail with Padmé. Why either of them were suddenly aiming even higher was… enough to make her head spin.

"I'm sorry, but… Did you just say run against you and Bail both? Did you just make a decision? Or is that my Sauvignon Blanc talking?"

Padmé suddenly felt nauseous, reality catching up to her. "I— Yeah, yeah, I think I just did…" On complete accident, she might add. This wasn't how she pictured any of this going, right down to the man that had just told her a few weeks ago they needed her back full-force to decide next month. And here he was, deciding on his own. "But no, Dormé, wait. I'm not going to react to his news with my announcement!"

"Right, right. Because that would just be unacceptable after—"

"Hold on, I have another—" She pulled the phone out of her pocket to find the source of the beeping in her ear, seeing Saché's name appear. "Oh, Saché's calling, one second."

"Holy crap, what is Organa doing?!" Saché said, not missing a beat. Her voice was so loud, Padmé frantically hit the down volume on the side of her phone and heard Dormé's muffled groaning in response.

"Yeah, that's… What we were just talking about. Welcome to the shit show. Right, Dormé?"

Her groaning continued turning into something of a scream, sounding like she directed it into a pillow. Padmé imagined her friend, slightly inebriated and flailing about on the covers of her bed. That was how Dormé dealt with conflict in the privacy of her home, as compared to the stone-cold seriousness of dealing with bad news in public. Prim, put-together, absolutely killer at her job, and also over-the-top dramatic as hell when there's not a camera or microphone in sight. If this wasn't such a disaster, she would be inclined to laugh.

"Yes," she said at last. "Yes, it is. As for what in the hell is in the water in Jersey, your guess is as good as mine. Did you know anything about this Saché?"

"Did I? Is the implication that I would've heard and just conveniently left it out on one of our phone calls? Of course, I didn't know anything!"

"Stop, stop. Us fighting is going to change anything, or help. Back to the drawing board, both of you. What do I need to do?" There was a lingering silence, suffocating her slowly. "Any day now…"

"Well, that depends on what you want us to do. Stay silent?"

Padmé paced around the circle drive at the end of the subdivision, counting off pros and cons one by one on her fingers. Did she want them to stay quiet? She'd just impulsively mustered up the courage to declare her run and yet it didn't feel right. And it definitely didn't feel like the right time to send any news to the press. One massive announcement was enough for one day. Never mind that she still had water in her ears, the lingering feel of Anakin's hands on her skin in the pool clouding her judgment further.

"For now," Padmé said. "For now, we keep it formal if we're asked, and neither of you has any new information about my decisions. We're still on track for this next month. That's still where my head is."

"Okay," Saché said hesitantly. "Were we ever not on that track for that?"

Jesus…

"You missed it, Saché. The woman finally decided, blurting out she's ready to take on Organa in the primaries. Now she's back to playing coy."

A squeal interrupted her thoughts while she continued walking, talking things out with herself and twisting a knot in the bottom of her tank top as she fidgeted.

"We're going to do this?" Saché asked, her voice higher than usual. At least there was the enthusiasm to combat her own pessimism. There's no way she was going to make it otherwise.

"I'm not playing coy. I'm running strategy in my head, thank you." Padmé pressed her fingers into her forehead as her house came back into view, walking up the steep hill on her street. Going inside only meant she would deal with an entirely different strategy meeting, courtesy of her mom's good intentions. Maybe she'd turn back for another lap.

"We're all running strategy. But if you're going to run, then why do we have to be quiet? Why aren't we hitting back? We'd get some good polling data on the media if we threw it out there now."

"She won't do it, Saché. Might as well just stop now."

"But what are we waiting—"

"Because of Anakin," Padmé cut in as her eyes fell on his house instead of her own, noticing all the lights were out aside from one brightly lit room on the upper level, the curtains still wide open. "I need more time… because of Anakin."

"Anakin? What's going on with you two?" Dormé asked, suddenly invested in the conversation again. "What changed since the whole 'you-and-him-can-totally-just-be-friends' thing?"

"Nothing, nothing's changed." And everything had. What a stupid conundrum she didn't dare try to unpack while she found herself drifting toward his doorstep.

"Really? Because your nothing sounds like a lot of things instead right now. Do we want to talk about it?"

"There's nothing to talk about, so no we don't. It was stupid of me to say. Just give me some time, that's all I need. If asked, our office stands firm on enjoying the rest of our break and getting back to business very soon. And you can send my personal well wishes to Bail, unprompted. Email me and I'll sign off. Do you need me for anything else, Dormé?" She walked carefully up the winding decorative pathway to Anakin's porch before she stopped. Rocking on her toes, she picked her foot up before setting it back on the ground three separate times. Go home, you don't need to be here, she thought in the back of her mind. But she couldn't seem to pull herself away.

"Well, I guess not if you're done talking about it which apparently you are."

"I—" She sighed, rubbing her hand over her face. What was she doing? Aside from spiraling out of control yet again. Where was the calm and collected political genius everyone had referred to her as? Where was that woman? Because she certainly wished she could be her right about now. Instead, she stood steps away from this man's front door planning who even knows what, admitting she wanted to run for president but forbidding her staff from saying it, and giving an order to send an almost passive-aggressive nicety note to her good friend. "No. God, no. I'm caught up in my own shit again. Send them to me, I will handle it. I need back in the game because I think I'm losing my mind."

"That's fair. Padmé, I swear I didn't hear anything about Bail. If he was considering it, it must've been really tight-lipped, or he just decided out of the blue," Saché said.

Not a chance he did this out of the blue, but there also wasn't a chance one of the best staffers she'd ever met had missed something like this, even by accident. "I believe you, Saché. I really—"

"Padmé?" a deep voice called from behind her. "What are you doing here?"

"Um, I think I have to go…" she murmured, hesitating to turn around. Busted. In the middle of the clamoring over her sudden departure, she hung up on them anyway. Once she pulled her head out of her ass and she was wheels down in DC, working on being a better boss and friend was the top priority on her list. Her every muscle tensed as she squeezed her eyes tight, hoping this was a dream until the summer breeze blew strands of loose hair into her face, proving it wasn't. And that meant Anakin was standing steps away from her, waiting for her to speak up. She took a deep breath before she spun around and gave an awkward wave. "Hi…"

Anakin was leaning out the door, shirtless, in loose pajama pants and rubbing his eye with a fist. His curls lay tousled on his head and either he'd been sleeping or he was about to be, prior to finding her at his doorstep. He didn't move or respond at all to her aside from the deep frown and crease in his brow that had formed. Lucky for him, and not so much for her, he wasn't the only one confused about why she was standing there. Once she actually looked at him, she could hardly tear her eyes away. Earlier she'd scolded herself for shamelessly admiring his form through the privacy of her sunglasses and now what she was doing was definitely in the ogling territory. And it didn't help that he seemed to stare back at her just as hard, his eyes casually panning down to her feet and back up. There was just something effortless about him. She envied that a little, but she appreciated it when it meant he was standing in front of her looking like this.

He yawned, rolling his head from side to side. "What is it? Or do you just see something you like?" He teased, running his hand over his chest and scratching lightly.

"I-I might…" The words came out of her mouth with zero thought and no restraint, only accompanied by a burning feeling spreading across her cheeks. Instantly, she felt like falling face-first onto the concrete porch in front of her, or just shriveling up to die of embarrassment. Either would be better than twisting and tilting around like she'd started to do, looking in every direction except at him.

"Then maybe you should come closer?" That got her attention. She glanced up to see his outstretched hand and his eyebrow raised.

Maybe she should. Maybe… Possibly… She should just go with it and stop questioning her every instinct and desire. Before she lost her nerve.

Padmé swallowed thickly, taking one last deep breath before she marched straight up to his door, knocking his hand out of the way and taking his face in her hands. His eyes went wide, and he started to speak before she silenced him, crushing her lips against his. Fiery passion ignited between them immediately, like a dam had broken the moment she touched him again, reawakening something inside her. Anakin grabbed her by the waist, fumbling to pull her through the door behind him without letting his lips leave hers. Finally kicking it shut, he knocked the breath out of her as her back collided with the door hard. With only a brief breath of air, his lips were back on hers, desperate and rougher than before, as he pressed himself against her. She was completely surrounded by him, held against his firm, warm chest, the familiar smell of his cologne lingering on his skin, her fists full of his hair. She pulled away when it all started to overwhelm her, chest heaving and staring up at him through dark lashes.

He leaned back, jaw slackened, to look at her. He looked… baffled? Amazed? Somewhere in between. As if, despite his assault on her mouth moments ago, the reality hadn't sunken in that they'd done anything at all. He stood with his feet firmly planted, staring into her eyes so intensely it made her squirm. She had no plan, and absolutely no words in her mind, just a coiling sensation building inside her with every ragged breath he took inches away from her face. She slid her hand from the back of his head, settling it over the center of his chest to feel the fast beat of his heart beneath her palm.

"Ani…" Suddenly she was back in her bedroom on that first day in town, caught up in every single emotion being with him had ever evoked, good and bad. But this time, she wasn't ready for it to end. Wasn't rushing the prospect of him moving away, of the goosebumps that had broken out on her skin dissipating. Instead, she wanted to drown in it, get lost for a moment in everything that existed in this doorway and nothing that was happening outside of his grasp. "What are we doing?"

He shook his head, pressing his forehead against hers. "I don't know anymore, Padmé."

"Is—" She took a deep breath. "Would it be crazy if I said I want to do it again?"

His hand was firm in the small of her back as he held her tighter. He tilted his head up and placed a tender kiss to her forehead, his lips hovering over her skin while he breathed. "Yeah, I think it would be."

Despite his words confirming what she already knew was true, the way his smoldering eyes held hers when she peered up at him told another story. The one where he wanted to make the same poor decision she felt like making right now. The one that had his fingers slowly creeping under the hem of her shirt and hers sliding down over the flat plane his stomach, breathing in each other's air. Just as his bottom lip brushed against hers and he tilted his head, the truth came spilling out in a whisper against his mouth. "Anakin, I have to go back to DC."

"Then stay up with me tonight," he said.

Before she dwelled on any consequences, any regrets, or thoughts, or remembering about how slowly they said they would take things, she found herself pushing him backwards toward the brown leather sofa. Wordlessly agreeing with his suggestion. Tumbling down with him in some love-drunken state akin to real intoxication felt liberating. Alone with him was the most carefree she'd felt in… she didn't even know how long. Years, at least. And that was exactly why she couldn't do this to him. As soon as he let go of her lip from between his teeth and finished untangling his fingers from her hair, she had to stop. Padmé propped herself up against his chest, shaking her head when he leaned up toward her again.

"If I stay here with you, this is only going to hurt us."

"Then let it. Hurt me. Hurt me bad, I don't—" The desperation in his tone was almost more crushing than the words themselves.

She pressed her finger to his lips. "Yes, you do. You do care, and even if you truly didn't, I do."

He took her hand in his, lacing their fingers together while his head fell back against the armrest. "Why do you have to be such a good person all the time…"

She rose to her knees, making sure to not let her hips come in contact with his at all or she knew she'd lose all her restraint. She grinned, huffing out a small laugh. "Believe me, I'm not. But I won't hurt you, not again." She threw her leg over him, climbing off the couch. What a freaking night! After everything, she thought Dormé had the right idea after all, being the one a little too tipsy on that phone call. Instead, all Padmé got was the hazy feeling given by her drug of choice, better known as Anakin Skywalker.

"Padmé, wait." He practically threw himself onto the floor to grab her wrist. She watched him clumsily rise to his feet, accepting his hand in hers again while his arm snaked around her back.

Padmé brushed her thumb over the back of his hand slowly, trying to resist the overwhelming desire to just lean into his warm embrace and let him sweep her off her feet right on the spot to do whatever he wanted with her. She wasn't sure whether reality or her fantasy was the bigger nuisance. "What is it?"

"You're going to run, aren't you? For president?"

Her eyebrows drew together, pursing her lips. "How did you—"

"Tabs. Remember? You… Well, I've heard things. Speculation about you," he said, dragging her back toward the couch. He sat down, patting the place next to him until she accepted. "Back before I ever dreamed I'd see you around here again. Ahsoka, y'know…"

She nodded. Ahsoka. That explained a lot, the missing puzzle piece that was previously escaping her. She crossed one leg over the other, pulling his hand over to her leg and resting hers on top of it. "I think so. I can't just stand by, even if I don't really think I want to be president… Some things are bigger than my wants and desires." There was an edge to her voice that made Anakin grip her thigh tighter.

"Is that why we can't…"

"Be together? Anakin, I meant what I said. I don't know what I can give you. I won't hurt you again, and you hate politicians. I know you do. Nothing about this is the right time. Look at everything you have going for yourself."

"You won't hurt me? Or you won't let something happen that might hurt you?" He withdrew his hand, shifting his position away from her. "What I have is an empty house and a woman who wants me to pretend I don't feel like I do about her, so it's easier for her to leave."

Padmé immediately turned, brow furrowed. "That's not fair, Anakin. I'm trying—"

"You're trying to find an out and telling yourself it's for me," he said.

"Why are you so insistent on making this so hard?"

"Because I want you to stay. With me. Just once. And you're running away already." She immediately uncrossed and recrossed her legs as Anakin moved to fold his arms across his chest. "I can see you thinking about it, thinking over the millions of combinations, the hundreds of reasons you'll give me next for why you can't and why I'm wrong. I won't stop you if you go and leave, but I also won't come after you. So, just don't sit here and say you're doing it for me."

She was absolutely doing everything he'd just accused her of. As she sat there, her brain was working overtime to think of every reason she could give to get out of this situation as soon as possible. All the sirens sounding off in her mind. And she knew it was true after damn near everyone she was closest to had pointed it out to begin with. But it annoyed her that it was so clear to Anakin, too. When did she become so predictable? Or did he just know her that well? That was impossible. Wasn't it? She then reminded herself just how well she still knew him, making it not so unfathomable after all. She was terrified. Of being involved, of being hurt, of falling way too fast and way too hard. Of crashing and burning when the two of them ruined each other all over again. Except this time they'd be center-stage. Either on the campaign trail or in office, and then the entire country would be against her when she became the one that broke America's Hero with No Fear.

"Stop complicating things. I don't want that."

He grabbed her hands and held them. "Then you tell me what you want instead."

She wanted to pull away and run. More than ever, while he was holding onto her like this. Then the other side of her wanted to pull him down on top of her and not come up for air until daybreak. Neither of them seemed to win. "Anakin… we can't be the way you want us to be. It's not that—"

"If you say simple, I promise you…"

"—simple."

He closed his eyes, letting out a long sigh before refocusing on her. "I asked what do you want, so tell me what you want from me."

"I already told you it's not fair for me to do that."

"Yeah and you also said you were willing to try, but that lasted all of five seconds, so I just wanted to see what else changed."

She groaned, reaching behind her to grab the pillow against her back before she thwacked him hard with it. "I hate you."

"I'm not your biggest fan right now either, so deal with it." He ripped the pillow away and whacked her with it so hard in return that it knocked her backwards against the cushions. And caught her so off-guard she gaped at him afterwards.

"I knew we couldn't be friends…"

"That's because I never wanted to be your friend."

She threw her head back and scoffed. "Of course not. And what did you want? A summer fling? A late night call from your very own girl-next-door? Someone to tease and torture and torment?"

He held the pillow in his lap, picking at the fabric. "A chance," he mumbled.

And there went the oxygen in the room again. Padmé wiggled uncomfortably, the leather beneath her making an awkward noise, only adding to the tension and unease in the room. "A chance?"

"To show you how different things could be. And then…" He waved a hand, his face twisting into a scowl. "You just keep going back and forth because you don't know what you want, do you? You don't want to run for president, but your people think you should. You didn't want to come back home, but you were told you should. And you don't want to be without me because you do shit like storm over to my house and make out with me, but you won't just grow up and say so because you don't think you should!"

"Who the hell even are you anymore? Quit trying to tell me about myself," she said, her tone much softer and passive than she wanted it to be. But his words stung, having a certain icy quality to them.

"If you stopped trying to figure out how to be the person everyone else thinks you should be and started being yourself, no one would have to tell you a damn thing about who you are. I'm sorry I'm not one of these fucks that'll sit by and let you turn into something different than the badass you've been your entire life. You take what's yours, you don't wait for someone to hand it over. And if you want something, then that something becomes reality. Unless you're the one I should be asking who the hell they are anymore. But that's my Padmé, and that's who I think is still underneath all this self-doubt."

She pointed a finger at him, biting back a groan. Oh, how she wanted to snap at him over how wrong he was. How messed up all of his facts were. Every single way he'd misread and misunderstood her. Except she couldn't. Couldn't find a single freaking flaw in anything he'd said. So instead of fighting with him anymore, she shut her eyes and hung her head, letting herself fall into him while the tears stained her cheeks and then his chest. He was her safe place. Even after all these years, he could pull her into his lap and let her get every bit out of her system without saying a word. Just strong, if a bit tense, and steady while she clung to him. Why did he have to be so right about something like this?