"How. How! Why? And, once again, how?" Padmé said, kneading her temples with her fingers as she plopped back down in her chair behind the desk. "What happen to all of his other aspirations? All those delusions of grandeur I had to endure."
Saché twirled her hair around her finger, glancing nervously at Dormé as she paced between the door and the bookshelves on the back wall of the office. "There might still be an upside here…"
Dormé raised an eyebrow, stopping in the center of the room. "How are you this hopelessly optimistic still? How have the halls of this building not beat it out of you? Or this town in general?"
"Hey! I'm just trying to help."
"How's that going?"
"Be going better if you weren't always countering me."
Padmé's head was spinning and her bickering confidants weren't helping in the slightest. "Stop it. Both of you."
They both looked in her direction, their lips sealing shut.
"Does anyone in this room truly think there's an upside to that blasted news alert?"
The latest one not being Sheev Palpatine's oh-so-proud declaration that he was running for president. Oh, no. That would be far too simple. A giant headshot of her former boyfriend in the announcement that Sheev had officially chosen 'known political operative Rush Clovis' to manage his campaign accompanied this one. And the damn thing made her sick. It was one thing to think he was going to be working on the campaign, and another to have him confirmed as the man running the show.
Saché raised a hesitant finger. "I do, actually. Optimistically sure, but also genuinely," she said, further punctuating her earlier comment.
"Great!" Padmé clapped her hands together. "Let me hear it. Because I really need to see how this does anything good for us."
She still hadn't processed her own field of candidates, which was unfortunately continuing to grow while her team sat on their announcement. Every extra minute she took mulling it over, a new face and name seemed to get added to the ballot for those early primaries, not to mention the debates. It was already rumored the major networks were planning multiple debate nights to get full coverage. At the moment, her prospective competition included everyone from no-name mayors to outspoken members on the fringes of the party lines and one massive blow to her plans of winning this thing - Bail Organa. And now, to make matters worse, her political rival had just employed one of her personal enemies, and someone with way too much intimate knowledge of her. Her first two weeks back in DC were really off to a winning start…
Each new revelation sent her spiraling over what she was taking on all over again. Was it too much? Did she have what it took to rise to the top of her field? Did she want to? If there wasn't a reasonable expectation that she could really make a difference, she was afraid she may regret the entire decision and all she had sacrificed to do so. However, if even one person had a shot at a better life because of her… That was the reason sought election in the first place. That tiny shred of hope was what she clung to in her moments of self-doubt.
Thankfully, she seemed to be the only one that had regressed back to that place, as the rest of her team and family continued pressing her every day about just when she was going to make her statement.
"Well, I know you're worried about exposure. About… you know. Details—" Padmé groaned, turning away in her office chair at the delicate way Saché was trying to dance around the matter. "—but you know just as much about him, don't you?"
"She probably knows more," Dormé said, perching herself on the corner of the desk. "Clovis is too arrogant for secret keeping. I could probably find out the CVV to his credit card if I put a little effort into it. "
"First, no, Dormé. Don't even think it," Padmé said quickly, ignoring the disgusted lip smack coming from her chief of staff as she turned back around. "But more importantly, I suppose you're right. I don't see how that makes this a good thing, though. I'm still missing the silver lining?"
"Think of it this way," Saché said, leaning forward to press a finger against the top of the desk. "You don't want him using personal information about you, and he probably doesn't want you to use any about him. If you did, then it takes all attention off of his candidate."
Dormé snapped her fingers. "And Palpatine is one of the few people I'd consider even more self-absorbed."
"Exactly. Which sounds like a good way to find yourself without a job."
Padmé drew her mouth to one side, thinking it over. "I see what you're saying… Guess I just can't help but think that's too upstanding for Rush if he really thought he could get one over on me. This is a guy who told me I was good for his public image. The one he didn't even have."
"Well, right now you're not even in the damn race. Are you sure you're not just looking for a reason to get out of it?"
"Yes, I'm sure, thank you." She swatted at Dormé's hip before folding her arms against her chest. "I'm just saying, in what world can I counter him without being the bitter ex if I bring up some detail from years ago?"
"The world where two wrongs do make a right?"
"Which is definitely not this one." Saché threw her pen at Dormé, now laughing at her own sorry jokes. "You don't do the counterattacks, anyway. That's our terrain. And I'm sure—"
"Oh, please, let this man give me a reason to say something. Please, Padmé? Please taunt him," Dormé pleaded, looking like she may drop to the ground at any moment. "I'd do anything for an opportunity to tell him where to shove it backstage at an event. I beg you. You're right. There is an upside."
It was just the bit of relief Padmé needed while she pretended she didn't know Dormé was deadly serious. Padmé could still recall how she seethed with rage the first time post-breakup Rush had the audacity to speak publicly about what happened. He spun a tale as tall as he was, causing one too many phone calls to fill up their queue, asking for a response, one which they never gave. She almost had to physically restrain Dormé from hunting him down that night. Maybe he would remember that before he pressed his luck this time around. Though she doubted it.
A knock at the door startled all of them before she could tell Dormé to stand down.
"Come in," Padmé called as the three of them turned their attention.
The door slowly opened just wide enough for a head to poke in. Padmé felt terribly unprepared that she could barely recognize the fresh faces. It was uncharacteristic of her office's reputation, and her personal commitments, but she'd approved a beefed up staff over break and Dormé had seen to it. Nearly doubling in size, it did cause some calls for speculation for why her office, specifically, needed that many people, but it was nothing she couldn't brush by for a few more weeks. The only problem was that no one had made her aware before she touched back down, and she was now learning names as she went. Including at least a dozen people directly in her office.
"Ma'am," a round-faced, dark-haired young woman called, causing Padmé to cringe internally at the idea she was probably almost old enough to be her mother. "You have a phone call waiting on—"
"Tell them she's out of office," Saché cut in. "On lunch. In a meeting. On another call. Whatever is easiest."
"I know that's..." The woman nodded slowly, chewing on her lip. "I actually tried that. He insisted he knows she isn't."
He? Knows I'm not? What…
"Did he say… Surely, you have a name?" Padmé asked.
"Well, he said it was Annie, but I'm not sure if I actually have that right because—" Her words faded away as she, and everyone else in her office, turned to see her flushed face. She should have never given that man access to her google calendar. "Or maybe I do?"
"Ah, yeah. She knows who Ani is. It's A-N-I, by the way. If you ever have to write it. Not with an I-E like the red-headed orphan," Dormé said, standing and grabbing her notebook from the chair. "It may come up again."
"Oh, okay. Should I do that now? I'm sorry for the intrusion, Senator. He just wasn't accepting my explanation."
Of course he wasn't, Padmé thought. That was her second mistake - giving him the office number and extension to reach her personally.
"Yes, you should make a note of it. No, you shouldn't ask questions. Yes, you'll figure it out in time," Saché said with a laugh as she scooted back in her chair to rise and follow Dormé. "And it will definitely come up again."
The next thing going in her calendar was a scheduled time to scold both Dormé and Saché, but for now she settled on a huff.
"Can I at least ask your name? While you're here? I'm so sorry. I'm normally much more on top of things," Padmé said, rubbing a hand over her face. "And yes, I'll take his call. What line?"
While her intentions were the best they'd ever been in promising Anakin that there was a place for him in her schedule, no one actually bothered to look at her schedule. And by no one, she meant she only had herself to blame for the oversight. Instead, she found herself stealing moments in the car, walking to lunch, in the fifteen minutes before she crashed in bed at night while she was brushing her teeth, to talk to him. So while it may have been a touch embarrassing to be blushing like a teenaged fool in front of a brand new employee, she didn't really blame him for trying to wedge himself into her day. Nor did she mind.
"Line two, ma'am. And it's Elleen. But Elle is fine."
"Elle. Thank you. And please don't call me ma'am if we're in this office."
"Of course. Senator."
She smiled. "Elle."
With that, she disappeared from the doorway and left Saché and Dormé staring at Padmé, eyebrows raised and hands on hips.
"What? Haven't you ever seen a woman get a phone call before?" Padmé said, squeaking out the most nonchalant of tones.
"Oh, nothing. Nothing at all. I'd ask if you want to join us for lunch, but I know you'll now be otherwise occupied," Dormé said with a sly grin. "Meanwhile, I'll be at Z-Burger plotting Clovis's demise if he says a single word to me."
"And I'll be finding loopholes in her plans to keep us above the mudslinging and away from the tabloids."
"You should definitely take notes." She laughed. "And bring me back fries, seasoned!"
"Got it, boss. Tell your boyfriend we said hello," Saché said, waggling her eyebrows as she followed Dormé out of her office door.
"He's not my—" she started, before waving a hand as she heard their laughter on the other side, probably echoing into the greater hallway. "Oh, whatever."
Let the record show Anakin Skywalker was not her boyfriend. They were not there… yet. Even if they were far beyond the point of starting over, instead falling head first into being settled like some old married couple. She could not be less prepared for that while her mind, body, and soul were being pulled in fifty different directions at any given second. And Anakin had promised, repeatedly by this point, that he didn't care in the slightest where she was at. His only condition was that she not judge him for being in a different place. And who was she to argue with sound logic like that?
As her heels unceremoniously fell from her feet to the side of her desk, she leaned back in the chair. She picked up the phone and clicked on the appropriate line.
"Senator Amidala's office, please hold…"
"Good afternoon, Senator Amidala," he said, his words overly formal, but the subtle husk of his voice had her looking around to assure herself she was alone in case she needed to fan herself.
"Oh. Mr. Skywalker, how can I help you? The people of Boston behaving badly again?"
"Yeah, actually, I have a crime against humanity to report."
"Really?" She turned around in her chair, propping her feet up on the credenza and crossing her ankles. "And what might that be?"
"Glad you asked." Padmé could practically hear him smiling from the other end of their call. "It's not a victimless crime when I have to see pictures of you in some fitted red dress on the news rather than on my cell phone screen. Hundreds of miles away from being able to see you in it myself to add insult to injury."
She stayed silent for a beat too long before he started his ramble of the plethora of other outfits he'd had similar experience with, including a fitted dark gray blazer he said only looked good on her. The last of his nonsense made her roll her eyes before he dived into a separate section of her wardrobe not appropriate for the press.
"Enough, Ani," she said, giggling like a schoolgirl. The only time she laughed like that was with him. "I get the picture."
"Do you? Because I sure didn't…"
"That was a poor choice of words, I admit. I'll take your reported crime under advisement and see what my office can do for you. Would you like me to have my chief of staff type this up in a formal letter? I'll even sign it if you'd like."
"Trying to kill me off already? Dormé would chew off her own hand before she wrote me a letter," he said with a hearty laugh before transforming into something much more sincere. "How are you, Padmé?"
Much better hearing his voice, she thought, unsure whether she should say the words aloud. Then she decided there weren't any alternate ways of telling him. "Better now. I miss you…"
"Miss you more."
"Impossible," she said, smoothing a hand over the front of her skirt, picking at the hemline.
Go back two months ago and tell her she'd be telling this man she missed him at all and she would've laughed. Cackled, in fact. Probably until there were tears in her eyes. And now the only ones that threatened to make her eyes burn were over how badly she wanted to see him again.
"Lies and slander."
"I'm sorry. Are you becoming a politician now, too?"
"That's disgusting," he muttered before she'd even finished talking.
She laid her head back and grinned. "I may agree with you today. Someone once informed me I've been surrounded by politicians too long already."
"You should listen to them," he said.
"Oh, pshh. He makes one good observation and I'm supposed to listen to everything he says now?"
"You? Never. I know you better than that. Hold on one second, getting out of the truck..."
The wind in the background of their call subsided, being replaced by faint laughter and glass clinking while his voice quieted.
Padmé swung her legs back around to open her laptop and check the time. "Are you busy right now? I can call you—"
"Later? No way. Besides—" He paused to say hello to someone, though all she heard was a scratching muffle that made her pull the phone away from her ear. "—your calendar says you'll be out of office the rest of the day in like fifteen minutes and we both know you crash as soon as your knees hit the comforter. I don't call to listen to you snore, you know."
She falls asleep on him one time and now she's never going to stop being reminded. It shouldn't even count, either, because the sound of the phone call going dead woke her up instantly, and she called him back! Only for him to fall asleep on her shortly after.
"I do not! Nor do I snore. And I don't take your calls just to be insulted, thank you."
"My apologies, Senator."
She propped her chin on her fist, suppressing her desire to rant at him once again over his annoyingly favorite way to address her. "Are you ever going to stop saying that?"
"Are you ever going to see how hilarious it is that you want me to stop? Isn't that what everyone calls you?"
"Yes, it is, and that's exactly why I don't like it when you do. I thought you'd jump at the opportunity to be my sole exception?" She said, lowering her voice and drawing out her words. "Don't you want to be the one and only?"
Whatever the distance between them had done to her, she wasn't certain she'd have the same level of self-control when they were reunited. She thought whatever had sparked over summer would've fizzled out gradually when she didn't find him waiting on her doorstep in DC the moment she returned. Not because she would've known what to do if he did, but because that seemed absolutely on par with Anakin's theatrics. Instead, they were falling into that age-old cliche. Something about the heart, and growing fonder.
He made some strained sound in the back of his throat while she stifled another laugh. "You almost made me say something way too inappropriate for the restaurant I'm in."
"I didn't know you could restrain yourself. You should text it to me anyway when we hang up…" Padmé double-tapped the space bar of her computer, watching the fresh batch of emails rolling in from everything she'd missed that morning and a few details she'd need for the afternoon.
"I don't know who you are anymore," he said with a fake gasp. "Was already going to text you, though. I don't have that kind of self-control when it comes to you."
"Well, I'll be waiting, Mr. Skywalker."
A series of five knocks in a familiar pattern tapped against her door before Dormé came in with a brown paper sack in hand, not sparing her a side eye over the phone still pressed to her ear. "One order of fries, at your service. Hello, Anakin!" she shouted before pointing a finger at Padmé. "I need you on the move in the next five minutes."
Padmé wondered if her face was as red as it was warm, holding the phone out toward her as he yelled back. She mouthed a 'thank you' while Dormé held up five fingers and gave her a thumbs up, leaving again.
"Alright, I'll let you get back to saving the world. Or burning it down. Whichever comes first."
"I hope to all the Gods I'm saving it. There's enough people going around for the opposite cause," Padmé said, digging into the bag and shoving fries in her mouth. "Thank you for calling me."
"Thanks for answering. And remember what I said about those crimes against humanity. Save a little something for your one and only."
"I'll consider your proposal. It'd be better to have it in writing. Where you can describe in great detail what your plan would involve…"
"I'm getting off this phone call before you make me do something stupid like buy a plane ticket. Dirty text messages coming through in 3… 2… Bye, angel."
She snorted, looking up at the ceiling. "Bye Ani. Enjoy your lunch."
Seconds after setting the receiver back down, her purse was vibrating at her feet. What he'd done to her, what they were doing to each other, she concluded it was completely self-indulgent, and damn if it wasn't worth it. She didn't bother picking her phone up yet, knowing there was no way she'd regain her composure in the last few minutes before the rest of session. It would just have to wait until tonight, the prospect living rent free in her head until then.
She quickly grabbed her blazer from the rack in the corner of her office, stepping back into her heels and walking out into the front office with her bag of fries in hand, right on time as Dormé stood in the hallway scrolling through messages on her watch.
"I'm hurrying, but I'm eating these on the way."
Dormé laughed, motioning for her to go first down the hall. "You could've had time to finish those. If you weren't so busy flirting with your boyfriend."
"Not my boyfriend."
"Then what do you suppose I should start calling him? Your consort?"
She scoffed, biting into another handful of fries as delicately as possible while they walked. "Absolutely not."
"Boy toy?"
"Dormé!"
"Future baby daddy? Husband? Both?"
She elbowed her friend, her jaw tightening at the smirk on the security guard's face as they walked by, too close for him to have not overheard. "Say it a little louder next time. I don't think any of my colleagues caught that."
"Oh, c'mon. Your afternoon is full of boring nominations and roll call votes. This is surely the highlight of your day."
"I've only been seeing him, if you can call it that, for like three weeks! Z-Burger must've done a number on you since you're not still plotting a coverup."
"Yeah, and I've been hearing about it for almost a month and a half!" Dormé snatched the bag of fries away, stuffing a few of the remaining ones into her own mouth. "Oh, and Saché told me I couldn't talk about it around you for plausible deniability."
Padmé choked out a laugh, resting a hand on Dormé's shoulder. "How the hell were you ever going to be a lawyer?"
"Um, excuse me. I passed the bar."
"That did not answer my question," Padmé said, taking the bag back and tossing it in the trash can near the door.
"I could've managed!" She said, digging her sunglasses out of her purse as the blinding sun hit their faces, heels clicking loudly against the pavement on their way to the Capitol. "Anyway! Back to this reference thing. What about Romeo? Lover boy? Dream boat?"
"These are getting worse by the minute…"
"We can always go back to talking about Rush."
She stopped in her tracks, catching her friend with a stiff arm across her chest. "We are not even going to speak his name. If we say it too often, I'm afraid he's going to show up. Like Beetlejuice."
"Well, then pick a name! McDreamy? No, that's not right," Dormé said as she shoved her arm away, stepping in front to pull her along. "I'd say King, or Sir, but I'm afraid he might be into that."
"Oh. My. God."
The steps of the Capitol had never looked so appealing to get away from this conversation. The relentless teasing over her simple, innocent kiss she should've never shared with Dormé would never end. She didn't dare think of what the two of them were going to be like together again, when she could say these things in front of him. It terrified her to think of what he'd say back.
"God seems too intense. Maybe Lord?" She cackled, beyond amused with herself. "It would pair well with his last name. Or your pseudo last name, if that's what you're going with."
"I absolutely hate you."