The bright full moon shone peacefully above Naboo, reflecting across the gently slumbering lake and calling to all manners of nocturnal birds and critters as their songs and scuttling filled the cool night with delicate music. Padme drifted through her parent's house like a ghost, silent, creeping carefully to avoid waking Jobal and Ruwee up. She envied them their rest, sleep, like a multitude of other things it seemed, were beyond her reach tonight.

Her mind couldn't shut off, regardless of the position she curled herself into, how many blankets she wrapped around her body or how many stars she counted through the open veranda doorway… It was all too much and the Senator had given up with an impatient huff just moments ago.

Making her way through the familiar house, Padme entered the kitchen without thinking about where her feet were carrying her. She'd avoided eating dinner with her parents much to her mother's disappointment. Jobal had made very strong, rational points in her argument, she hadn't come here just to sulk alone in her bedroom after all, but she couldn't sit across from her father as he avoided her eye all night.

She sensed Ruwee's utter disappointment in her even if he refused to admit it out loud. It wasn't something she was used to. Padme had always been a good child, studious, dutiful and overly passionate about following rules from time to time. She'd never really entered a rebellious phase, there just hadn't been time in her life for it between school and programs and volunteer work she'd taken on in the summer months.

As it happened, letting one's parents down wasn't a very pleasant feeling. Letting anyone down made her feel positively unwell. But the sadness in her father's eyes the few times his unwilling gaze had forced itself to meet hers was as painful as a physical blow. Maybe even more so…

Sighing, Padme flicked the kitchen lights and squinted as the brightness illuminated the room. She'd lied about not being hungry before, ignoring the growling pangs of her stomach long enough for her parents to retire for the evening. She would face them tomorrow regardless of her father's brutal avoidance. Tomorrow… one way or another, she was going to begin the labour of piecing her life back together. She couldn't hide here forever, as tempting as it seemed. Her work was waiting for her and it would be a distraction until everything else settled.

Her job, as stressful and time-consuming as it could be, was her peace. She could bury her face in datapads and distract her active mind with bills and legislations until sunrise became sundown and she hardly felt the time passing at all. A fragment of normalcy and routine to feel like herself again. She could count the people who knew what happened on one hand and thanks to Dorme's hard work

on her behalf in the Senate, even less realised she was gone at all. It wouldn't be difficult at all to take her place and restart her life.

In the silence of the kitchen, the bitter laugh that tumbled free of her lips felt startlingly loud. Was going back to work really supposed to make her feel any better? Pretending none of this ever happened didn't feel like an option, her mind and heart, often foes, allied to roar in protest. It was as if a shadow, thick and heavy, cast itself across her world, creating an endless black void where all the light had once been. Padme didn't know how to get it back. How to heal.

There were still baby clothes in her apartment. Soft little toys and blankets her premature excitement had convinced her to buy were still waiting for a little boy who wasn't coming.

Her mouth wobbled so the Senator clasped a hand over it as tears began sliding down her face. She knew Rabe, Dorme and the others would discreetly remove all those precious things if she asked them to and see to it that they were given to good and charitable causes, but she wanted to look at them. Piece by piece, item by item. She *wanted* to. She tried so hard not to be selfish in almost every aspect of her life but this once... Padme couldn't help what her bleeding

heart demanded.

Anakin might want to keep something for himself too. The thought skewered through her, as agonising as a sharp blade thrust through her chest. No. Of course he wouldn't, she was letting herself be delusional again. That's what caused all this misery to begin with. He never wanted a family of his own, never envisioned himself as a father or desired it. It was long past time she accepted it. She had been unfair to try and change him, Padme saw that now. If only she had opened her eyes earlier, they could have walked away from each other and themselves the pain of all this.

Gods help her, she wanted to be angry, furious even, with Anakin, with herself, with Vader for throwing himself into her life and confusing everything... but she was just so tired. Utterly drained and empty. And she missed Anakin terribly. He was her closest friend and partner for over a year, they never spent a night apart unless absolutely necessary. Falling asleep without him beside her these past few nights had been unsettling. Their beautiful connection was... silent.

She'd been tempted to wait for his return before leaving to come home, to talk about things one last time if he was willing, but her heart had felt too shattered. The chasm between them seemed irreparable. If she didn't get away, she was going to fall to pieces.

Just as she boarded her starskiff, little Artoo had caught her eye, lingering at the bottom of her boarding ramp, beeping so sadly, the crash of guilt she felt was overwhelming. Suddenly, the weight of her engagement ring on her finger felt unbearable. Padme couldn't stand it a moment longer. Anakin probably wanted it back anyway. She wouldn't blame him if he'd tossed it out of his ship into the dark abyss of the lower levels. Or melted it into a glittering pile of nothing with his lightsaber.

She had no right to

keep it after what happened.

Was it wrong to want to reach out and talk to him just once more? Her heart longed to hear his voice, pleading that even if he cursed her, it would soothe the pain she felt. Padme had dared to try reaching out a few hours ago on his private comm channel, using the access almost no one else had to him, but it had rung out. Her attempt going unanswered. It was as if he'd coldly cut himself off from her completely, revoking any access she had to him.

She'd hurt him so terribly, hadn't she?

There was a war raging within her, two sides screaming for different things, each desiring something one Skywalker brother offered. Passion and love or lust and power. To follow her heart or claim what she knew was best for her life. She could forever change the galaxy or find fulfilment in a man who loved her beyond anything else.

Padme had plenty of things to apologise for. She had made so many mistakes, acted on urges that had permanent consequences for her life and inflicted brutal wounds onto people she loved… but hadn't she suffered too? Didn't she deserve compassion? A heart-deep, remorseful apology?

Her head was spinning so turbulently, that Padme almost felt nauseous.

Running a hand over her face, the Senator made her way to the large refrigeration unit, squinting at the light it cast as she peeled the heavy door open. Just as she suspected, her mother had plated and wrapped up a portion of tonight's meal large enough to feed three people just for her. Her stomach growled excitedly. When was the last time she'd had a proper meal? Anakin had tried to make sure she ate and drank enough before… everything… but she'd hardly been able to manage a mouthful before feeling ill.

"I was wondering how long it would take you to come down here." A warm, soft voice shattered the silence and startled Padme so much that she almost dropped the plate in her hands. Leaping around, she threw a hand over her frantic heart to find Jobal lingering in the kitchen doorway in her long white nightgown and green robe, smiling fondly.

"Mother!" She gasped, "You almost gave me a heart attack! What are you still doing up?" Her parents had gone to bed over an hour ago, she hadn't expected anyone to disturb her now! Since when had Jobal developed the ability to walk more silently than a bounty hunter sneaking up on their quarry?

"I knew it was only a matter of time before you snuck down here," her mother shook her head though that soft, knowing smile didn't leave her mouth. "I heard you the moment you slipped out of your room."

"You were listening for me?" Padme felt like a teenager caught with her hand in a cookie jar before dinner. Was she really that predictable?

"My dear, I know every single thing that happens in my house," Jobal laughed softly, drifting further into the kitchen. "I'd expect you to know the feeling in your own apartment, but you have all those people to handle everything for you. I'm surprised you actually know where your kitchen is!"

Rolling her eyes, Padme refused to bite at that particular bait. As much as she adored her homeworld with her whole heart, there were many aspects of Naboo's culture which were traditional to the point of being old-fashioned. Most women expected to be homemakers and took great pride in it, as they should, but people like her often stood out as odd when they made their own paths. Her mother wanted nothing more than to see both of her children settle down with families of their own. Padme knew her lack of domestic skills was a point of irritation for her mother, but her days were often too busy to even think about tasks like cleaning and cooking.

"I woke up hungry," she said tactfully, "Thank you for keeping something aside for me."

The motherly knowingness in Jobal's eyes softened and Padme turned away as it became too much like sympathy to bear. "Sit down, dearest, I'll heat it for you. I've not seen you eat or drink a single thing since you arrived." Her hands reached for the plate still cold in her grasp. "You need your strength, now more than ever. You shouldn't be depriving yourself."

"Oh, no, mother, it's alright. You should go back to bed, I didn't mean to disturb you…" Padme protested weakly.

"Sit. Now."

Those two sharp words had the Senator relinquishing the plate to her mother and doing as she was told at once. How did mothers learn the ability to bark orders so affectionately? Was it something time and experience taught? Whatever the answer, Padme's body acted on instinct, lowering into the nearest dining table chair as if she were ten years old all over again. When Jobal stroked an affectionate hand through her hair, she suddenly found she didn't mind this at all.

It truly was as if she were a little girl again, unwell and enjoying her mother's tender care. It felt so good to be looked after properly, no matter how small an effort re-heating a meal was. Anakin had been so distant with her, doing everything correctly on a technicality, but his heart wasn't truly in it nor was his mind with her. Padme wished she hadn't asked if he was relieved that Luis was gone… it had been cruel. Neither needed the words to be said out loud when they both knew the answer.

"My darling…" Jobal's hesitating voice pulled her free of her thoughts to find her mother watching her carefully, "I… I haven't had the chance to… to tell you since you arrived, how – how truly sorry I am. Your father too. We grieve for your loss with you. And we're here for whatever you might need."

Her heart fractured. She didn't know if it was better or worse to speak about her baby or not to mention him at all. She felt so weary, so saddened and heavy. Would it ever get better? "I… Thank you, Mom…" her throat closed up and Jobal merely nodded, understanding silently.

Her mother unleashed a long sigh before reaching for two long-stemmed wine glasses and setting them down on the table in front of Padme. "Oh don't look at me like that, dear, I think we could both use a drink regardless of the time." As she busied herself plucking a bottle from the collection her father prized, Padme felt too stunned to even blink. Was this real life?

Jobal Naberrie was a saintly woman, possessing an uncanny ability to sense exactly what a person needed and doing everything in her power to ensure that they received it. She wouldn't stand to see anybody hungry or uncomfortable in her presence. She had always been the person their neighbours came to for help or advice. Padme had always greatly admired that about her and wished she had similar abilities.

She was beginning to wish that she hadn't spent today hiding in her childhood bedroom all alone. It was easy to forget how healing being around family, the people who loved her endlessly, could be. Maybe she could manage to stay an extra few days? Surely if Dorme was struggling in the Senate her decoy and friend would have reached out about it? A few meetings and Senate sessions were well within the handmaiden's skillset, what would a little more time be?

"I know this has been a very difficult time," Jobal uncorked the wine with a resounding pop she prayed wouldn't wake up her father. "I cannot even imagine the turbulence your emotions must be experiencing right now, but I want you to know, Padme, that I love you very much and nothing can ever change that. You're safe here and you can tell me anything."

How had her mother known she desperately needed to hear that tonight? Tears stung at her eyes all over again and this time there was no blinking them away. It was all she could do to nod for a moment, overcome. She had been so very lonely these past few weeks, so sad and hollow… She should have come home sooner.

Jobal poured her a cup of Naboo's famous blossom wine and then one for herself before sliding into the seat opposite Padme's. They were quiet for a long period as she sipped delicately at the wine. Her mother's company was enough, she almost didn't need words to find healing in this moment. But as she looked up into Jobal's understanding gaze, she felt the high walls holding back her pain begin to tumble.

"I wanted my baby so much…" Padme whispered, "I wanted him enough for both of us… and I thought, I really thought Anakin was coming around, that things had changed…But he was only ever prepared to be a father to make me happy." Her chest tightened with pure anguish. "I love him, Mother, I truly love him… but we can't be together if what we want is so fundamentally different." Her voice thickened as her lips trembled. "And even if we could, I've ruined everything…"

She'd broken Anakin's heart just as surely as he'd broken hers. They'd both reacted negatively and immaturely and cast light on many flaws she'd been ignoring in their relationship. Her actions with Vader had scorched any possible path they might have taken to find each other again to ashes. It was too much. Wouldn't it be easier and healthier to set each other free to live the lives they truly desire?

Jobal's hand found hers across the table and gave a loving squeeze. The small pressure grounded Padme and calmed the rising upset and panic she felt to a controllable level. "My darling girl," her mother smiled gently, "You've always worked so hard to be the best version of yourself to share with the galaxy. Always held yourself to such high standards… but let me tell you something as someone older and perhaps just a little wiser, perfection… it simply does not exist. Not in any person or creature or work of art in the galaxy. Nothing can be perfect, for in someone's eyes there will always be a flaw to be found, thus, it is unachievable."

Padme frowned into her wine, but her mother wasn't finished yet.

"But what can be achieved… if you desire it enough to work for it, is forgiveness," Jobal nodded, "The ability to accept the hurt someone has dealt onto you, or that you have dealt onto them, and choose to open your heart and forgive, well, that is the most powerful and beautiful gift we have in this galaxy. I believe that there is nothing that cannot be mended. Perhaps it will be forever altered, never quite as it once was, but so is life, my dear. Nothing remains the same for long regardless of how badly we may wish that it would."

Padme was silent for a long time. She sipped at her wine, hardly noticing its sweet taste. Could it really be that simple? It didn't feel possible. Her mother may be older and have more life experiences than her, but Jobal hadn't gone through something like this before. She and Ruwee had been happily together since they were fourteen years old, there had never been anybody else.

"I don't think forgiveness is that easy," she whispered.

"The first step one must take toward forgiveness, Padme, is understanding that it is something we must also grant ourselves. We can sit at this table and drink every bottle in your father's collection, we can talk and talk until the lakes rise and reclaim this planet, but if you don't turn all the love and understanding I know exists within you onto yourself first, if you don't want to stop feeling this way… Then nothing will change. You will lose yourself to your grief forever."

Something in her chest cracked as tears spilled down her face. Padme felt as if she was being torn apart and lovingly sewn back together again. There were so many thoughts and feelings racing through her mind and body at once, she couldn't make any sense of them. "I don't believe I'm the only one at fault… but I never wanted to hurt him."

Jobal nodded understandingly. "And I'm sure his actions, however, it may have seemed at the time, were never meant to hurt you either, darling." Her mother finished her glass just as the timer on the cooker dinged signalling its completion. "I think some time will do you some good. It's all been very much very quickly, hasn't it? Take whatever time you need to sort through your thoughts and feelings and properly understand what it is that you want." She stood to open the cooker and carefully withdrew Padme's meal. "But when you make your choice… be sure it is the right one. Now," the steaming plate slid itself before her, "Eat. You're going to feel a thousand times better afterwards."

The last dregs of lonely darkness were slowly swallowed by magnificent beams of pink and oranges spreading across the sky. Enormous, soft clouds lazily painted the horizon, their beautiful, nearly gilded edges glimmering with bright golden light as the sun rose to begin a brand new day. It was everything Coruscant's technology-controlled weather systems lacked, a stunning natural beauty that could never be replicated.

Padme stood on the small, private patch of beach that belonged to her parent's property, warm, steaming caff in hand, and breathed Naboo's clean, fresh air deeply. It had been so long since she visited home, that she almost forgot how fragrant and refreshing it was here. She truly loved it here. This was her home. How many hours had she spent out here with Sola as children? Playing in the water, swimming and splashing? Chasing each other around with an energy that had once felt so endless and boundless… Gods, where did the time go? She wished she still had half of that energy now!

The mountainous horizon was too stunning to truly perceive, even after growing up here all her life. Padme could never get used to Naboo's beauty while she was here and longed for it wherever else she went in the galaxy. She always wanted to purchase a house of her own here one day when she was a little more settled and happily committed to someone she loved. Maybe somewhere a little deeper in the lake country? Somewhere private, overlooking the lake, with a large garden. She'd wanted that all her life.

Padme wanted to have her baby here. She'd been so excited to find that house and set up the baby's room… She had so many ideas.

If she accepted Vader's offer, would she have the freedom to visit home as often as she did now? Would he want his heirs to be born outside the Imperial Capital? The thought of spending most of her life on Coruscant sent an uncomfortable shudder racing through her body. There would be so many expectations, traditions and laws to follow, more than she could imagine. If Sidious had laws forbidding his sons to marry who they pleased without his express permission, she could only wonder what other restrictions there were on the Skywalker brothers that they hadn't shared with her yet.

Padme valued her freedom, her ability to make choices for herself and her own life. That was important to her and a key proponent of her happiness. Her life was her own and she wanted to share it with someone on her own terms.

She sipped at the warm caff, letting its heat slide down her throat. Her bare feet sunk a little further into the soft sand as her hair lifted and danced in a soft breeze. If Anakin were here, he'd be perched on a towel or hiding on the veranda. His abhorrence of sand was wildly amusing for her who'd grown up rolling around in it nearly daily. Her lips turned up in a small smile as she remembered his near tantrum after she'd thrown a fistful of it at him once. He'd complained about feeling it on his skin for days afterwards. Always so dramatic…

A cold sense of unease began to curl in her stomach.

Padme loathed to be unprepared. She'd only ever experienced one time in the Senate, in the early days of her career and swore to never feel that way ever again. She practised speeches until she knew them word for word without any aid. She researched, examined and learned everything she could about her colleagues and their home systems. Her nights were spent studying laws, legislations and regulations so that she knew them sharply should a cause arise.

But sadly no one offered classes on emotions and relationships. The most important factors of her life were left for her to stumble around and make mistakes blindly until she found her way. Padme hated that. Yes, she'd dated before Anakin and had some experiences, but those were nothing anyone would call serious and her interest had been passing at best. She'd gone into their relationship knowing little about how to conduct herself or what might be expected beyond her absolute feelings for him.

Emotionally, he was her first in so many ways and she knew the same was true of him. His restricted life in the palace and being shipped out on dangerous missions hardly enabled him to have a healthy and well-adjusted dating life. They were both so caught up in their duties and careers that a fulfilling love life had faded into the background. Anakin liked to claim he was too in love with her to even consider anyone else, but she knew he was pouring poetry in her ears, trying to be so very romantic.

What she failed to consider was that mistakes were going to be made on both sides. Inexperience meant it was inevitable that they would either exhaust or disappoint each other at some point. Padme let her eyes fall shut tightly as she thought of the beautiful crown laying in her bedroom, how much she'd enjoyed wearing it even for a few moments.

When had she become such a horribly selfish person? She wanted everything. Wanted the passionate love Anakin gave her so freely, wanted the hunger and stability Vader offered. She craved it all. She only had one life to live and the wrong choice – if she really had any choice at all – could leave it in ruins.

Her eyes opened to the looming, glorious clouds and growing sunlight above. Suddenly, the portraits of the late Empress Shmi appeared in her mind, the raven-haired, dark-eyed woman who brought Anakin and Vader into the universe looked down upon her expressionlessly. She had seen holo-net footage of the former Empress, how beautiful she'd been, how radiant and bright. The galaxy had loved her, endlessly praising her charitable work and kindness, especially in comparison to the Emperor's cold cruelty. She saw a lot of Shmi Skywalker in Vader and Anakin.

"You must hate me for coming in between them…" Padme muttered to the clouds, "I never meant to…"

Her eyes drifted downwards again, taking in the mountains and the gentle ripple of the sprawling lake before her. Her caff was growing cold but she couldn't bring herself to care. She'd thought last night about staying here a few more days to rest and hide from the disaster that was her life, but as the morning stretched on… Padme knew she couldn't. There was no use in pretending none of it was happening.

Something settled in her gut. In her heart and soul.

She knew what she had to do.