The Moons of Iego: The Padmé Amidala & Anakin Skywalker Website

FAN FICTION : EPISODE II ERA (PRE-AOTC)

-------------------------------------------

A Game of Hearts

-------------------------------------------

With the setting of the sun his confidence rose. The darkness would be his friend, his cover. He could slip, unseen, to her chambers. What he would do once he got there, he had no idea. Better to take things one step at a time.

He waited until he could hear the measured breathing of his master, indicating that he had fallen asleep. Rising cautiously from his cot, he made his way across the room to the door, taking silent, careful steps. Moments later, he was padding noiselessly down the hallway, headed towards the large glass doors that would lead outside.

Back in the guestroom, Obi-Wan sat up in the cot from where he had been watching his apprentice sneak out. He considered, momentarily, going after him. But then he smiled and shook his head. Let him go. This was a lesson he would have to learn for himself.
--
Anakin had reached her chambers. A light from the window turned the surrounding darkness into pale orange, hopefully a sign that she was still awake. He was considerably frustrated to realize that all his nervousness had returned. His heart pounding, his palms sweaty, he looked up at the door that seemed to loom before him. Taking a deep breath, he lifted a tightly clenched fist and prepared to knock.

"Hello?" A musical voice drifted over from the nearby patio. "Is someone there?"

He knew that voice well - it brought back some of his sweetest childhood memories. A kind face, a warm smile, a gentle touch. Unable to keep the excited smile from his face, he turned to see her.

The voice did not match the figure that stood before him. Though she no longer wore the ceremonial makeup of royalty, Padmé was still dressed in the elaborate clothing that seemed to make her more of a statue that a human. Anakin well remembered the nervous awe the queen had inspired in a former slave boy, so different from the ease with which he spoke to her handmaiden counterpart. But he swallowed his fear. Stupid, to be afraid of another person.

"It's me," he replied, his voice only shaking slightly. "Anakin."

She stepped down from the patio, her jewelry jangling, but stopped on the last step, still standing above Anakin. Her face held an expression he could not interpret as he looked up at her. "Of course," she was saying, and her voice seemed to return to the elevated, almost stilted tone he was used to associating with the figure. "You arrived today, did you not?"

"Yes." He was furious to hear his voice squeak, and cleared his throat with a vengeance, looking down at his feet as his face turned red. "My master and I came here, to protect you. There's trouble in the Republic, you know, you could be in danger." What was he babbling about? The political climate? Idle chitchat? Stupid, stupid!

"I thank you for your concern." Cold, distant. They might as well be meeting for the first time. Anakin look up miserably.

Then it caught his eye. There it was, nestled amongst all the golden jewelry, royal necklaces, and gorgeous adornments. The simple talisman, carved from cheap stuff precious only to slaves. It was plain, horribly, plain.

It make his heart soar. He lifted his face to look in her eyes.

"You remembered," he said.

"Of course I did," she replied, a gentle smile twitching at the corners of her mouth, and suddenly she was Padmé again, his old friend. "Do you think I could forget you?"

He took the snippet in his hand, rubbing the surface with his fingers, remembering the feel of it as though it were just yesterday. "Has it brought you good fortune?"

Slowly, almost reluctantly, she pulled the necklace back. "You might say that. But don't take it any farther than that." Instantly his face fell. "Now don't do that, Anakin," she pleaded. "We're not kids anymore. Things have changed."

He looked at her intensely, almost fiercely. "I still think you're an angel."

Her lips parted as though to speak, then closed all at once. Almost regretfully, she shook her head. "Go to bed, Anakin," she said gently. "I'll see you tomorrow."

His face was positively forlorn. "I - I guess so," he mumbled. "Good-night."

If he had turned back to look at her as he walked away, he would her frown, sigh and sit on the patio step, her head resting glumly in her hands. But he did not look back.

************************

"You know you're not supposed to wander around without permission." Obi-Wan decided a little discipline couldn't hurt, before he asked his Padawan what had actually happened the night before.

"Then why didn't you stop me?" Anakin grumbled, rolling over in his cot and pulling the pillow over his head.

His master walked determinedly over to the cot and pulled the pillow away. "Because you wouldn't have listened. It's just a good thing you didn't get caught."

Anakin sat up in his cot and folded his arms across his chest. "Oh, and I'm sure you were just a perfect Padawan, never wandering around the temple without permission or sneaking around at night -"

"You've got to give me more credit than that," Obi-Wan grinned slyly.

His apprentice laughed. "You did fool around then?"

"You'd be surprised."

"Not likely."

Obi-Wan threw the pillow back at him Anakin, who caught it just before it hit him full in the face. "Don't get smart. I was quite the rascal. And I never got caught."

"And here I was thinking you were the straight one," Anakin laughed, tossing the pillow and blanket on the cot as he stood up. "Going around with a severe expression on your face while Qui-Gon broke every rule in the Code!"

Obi-Wan shook his head, his expression growing more serious. "Well...maybe I did become a little obsessed with keeping the rules. Someone had to keep my master in line, and who better than his apprentice?"

"You didn't do a very good job of it," Anakin pointed out smugly. "You broke quite a few rules yourself to carry out his death wish."

"And you'd better be grateful!"

They were both silent, their joking drifting away as they remembered their old friend. "Yes," Anakin said at last. "I am grateful, master."

"So what happened?" Obi-Wan shifted the conversation abruptly back to its original topic.

Anakin felt his face turning red and sat down sheepishly. "Oh...nothing. Nothing at all. She acted like she hardly knew me, and sent me off to bed as if she were my mother."

"I'm sorry," Obi-Wan said sincerely. "But - you should have expected it."

"Oh, come on, Master!" Anakin burst out angrily. "We were good friends once. She could have at least recognized that. She barely recognized me."

"Anakin," Obi-Wan said gently. "It may not be that she didn't recognize you. It may be that she doesn't want to recognize you."

"What do you mean by that?" His apprentice looked at him sharply.

"Padmé has a great many responsibilities," Obi-Wan began slowly. "You might say she carries the weight of an entire planet on her shoulders. And she can't really afford to add further worries or complications to that - any more than you can," he added sternly.

Anakin frowned. "But I don't see why -"

"There's a great many things you don't see," Obi-Wan said dryly. "That doesn't mean they don't exist."

Confused and miffed, Anakin started to protest. But his master stopped him. "We don't have time to discuss this. We'll be meeting with her - officially - in less than an hour. We need to get ready."

Anakin shrugged miserably. "She's already seen me at my worst. I don't see why it should make such a difference."

His master sighed as he watched the boy dress, a forlorn frown on his face. All of the Council's warnings seemed to be coming true. The training had started too late; Anakin had already allowed his emotions to take hold of him and control his actions. Teaching him to control them instead was not an easy task. And he feared it would lead to trouble before the teaching was done.

But now was not the time for regret. The boy would learn eventually, and meanwhile he was proving to be an entertaining companion for Obi-Wan - more of a little brother than an apprentice.

************************************

They would be meeting in one of the palace's many reception rooms, a small but elaborate room, lined with large windows which allowed for the natural light that flooded the room. Sculptures and tapestries filled the shelves and walls, as though Naboo's artisans produced more works of art than the palace could hold. Anakin felt like they were all staring down at him disapprovingly, at the ragged little boy who didn't belong. Swallowing, he tried to adopt the same peaceful stance as his master, who stood calmly at the table that took up most of the room, his hands folded together, his face calm.

Just when he had managed to put a reasonably tranquil expression on his face, Padmé entered through the door at the opposite end of the room. Upon her arrival, his cover fell apart completely and he simply let his mouth fall open, as though he had forgotten how to close it.

She was beautiful, a far cry from the cold statue of last night. She had let her curled hair fall down freely, brushing against the soft fabric of her dress as she walked towards them. She had chosen to wear blue, the color, he well remembered, that he had first seen her in, a color that brought out her eyes and seemed to make her even more radiant than usual.

"Good morning, Master Jedi," she greeted them, a warm, real smile on her face. Suddenly gaining control of himself - probably due to the sharp nudge that his master applied to his arm - Anakin snapped his mouth shut and bowed, as Obi-Wan was doing.

"We thank you for meeting with us," his master was saying, and he bobbed his head in agreement, feeling like an idiot and wondering why he had lost all power of speech. "There are several matters which we must discuss with you."

"And I thank you for coming," she responded, "though I don't know why the Jedi are so concerned for my safety."

Obi-Wan's voice turned rather grave. "That is exactly what I wish to discuss. I'm afraid the situation in the Republic has become rather serious."

"Yes," Padmé replied, glancing at Anakin, "so I've heard." Anakin turned a bright shade of red. "Shall we be seated?" She indicated the table with a sweeping gesture.

"Thank you." Obi-Wan took a seat at the table, urging his apprentice to do the same.

Anakin reluctantly tore his eyes aware from Padmé and sat down beside his master, suddenly very aware of how stupid he must have looked with his mouth hanging open.

Obi-Wan saw no reason to beat about the bush. "Several leaders in the Republic have been the victims of mysterious assassinations, and there will likely be news of more by the time we return to Coruscant. There are suspicions of spies - indeed, the Chancellor himself suspects that a high-ranking official may be responsible."

Padmé had turned slightly pale at the reports, but she merely shrugged. "Yes, I have been aware of some problems - though," she admitted, "I did not know of the assassinations. But Master Jedi, have you any idea why anyone would want to do any with these leaders? And why would I be in any particular danger?"

"Because," Obi-Wan said grimly, "whoever is responsible for these murders seems to pick out the most outspoken, the most active leaders. And you must admit, you have proven to be a major force in the Republic. If someone doesn't like those who refuse to sit passively and do nothing, I'm afraid you are in grave danger indeed."

Padmé swallowed; Anakin noticed that she looked pretty even when she fighting back fear. Then he shook himself; so far, all he had added to conversation was a lot of stupid nodding.

"But you don't need to worry anymore," he piped up, "because we've been sent here, to protect you."

"Have you?" she smiled ever so slightly. "I'm grateful for your help. But," she went on seriously, "there's no reason for you to put yourself in danger on my behalf."

"We don't have a choice," Obi-Wan smiled. "We have our orders from the Jedi Council. It's not wise to go against Master Yoda's orders." Anakin couldn't help sniggering. Obi-Wan looked at him warningly, but he was still smiling.

"All right," Padmé replied, "I guess you're my bodyguards then." She smiled dryly. "Things could be worse."

Obi-Wan nodded. "You're safe on your own planet for the time being; if it becomes clear that you're in danger here, we'll take you someplace else. Until we receive word from the Council, we'll just be like two visitors at the palace."

"Sounds fine," Padmé agreed. Anakin found himself reverting to the stupid nodding.

All three arose from the table. "I'll see you at dinner, then?" Padmé said brightly, as though they hadn't just been talking about how her very life was in danger.

Obi-Wan nodded. "Thank you." He and his apprentice bowed, preparing to leave the room. Anakin was silently cursing himself and his dumb mouth when he heard Padmé call out his name. His heart fluttered; he did his best to ignore it as he turned back.

"Might I have a word with you?" Again, her expression was inscrutable. Obi-Wan's was easier to interpret: simple surprise. His eyebrows raised, he glanced at his apprentice and shrugged, wordlessly communicating his permission.

"I'll be in our chambers," Obi-Wan said briefly, and left his Padawan alone with Padmé, both thrilled and terrified at what she wanted.

She did not address him at first, instead sinking back into a chair and sighing as she rubbed her temples. Cautiously, Anakin approached her, wondering if he should say something or just keep his mouth shut.

At last she looked up. It was different looking down at her rather than up; she didn't seem half so formidable. "I want to apologize, Anakin," she said. "My behavior last night was — very unkind."

A smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. "True enough."

"I just want to make it clear," she went on firmly, "things have changed." A little smile appeared on her own face as she looked up, and up and up. "You've grown."

Anakin grinned. "Hadn't noticed." He took a seat beside her. "Padmé, I —"

"Anakin." She looked at him almost sternly. "We were just children."

"Just children?" he laughed. "Oh, that's right. Just a boy who blew an entire battleship. Just a girl who ruled an entire planet. That's all."

"You know what I mean." Her tone was almost sharp. But was she fighting him or — herself? He could almost see the struggle.

"No, I don't. Come on, Padmé," he said earnestly. "I know you felt something last night. For just a moment. Why are you holding back? What are you afraid of?"

"I really don't know what you're talking about," she said quickly, too quickly, he thought. "I can't imagine why you think I should be afraid of you. Or should I be?" she added, raising her eyebrows.

"I don't know," Anakin shrugged. "I'm usually pretty harmless."

"Liar."

Anakin pretended to be offended. "That's quite a heavy accusation to put to a Jedi."

"And what are you going to do about it?" she countered, playing along.

"Maybe I'll report you to the Council," he decided, adding with a wicked grin, "I'll let you face the wrath of Master Yoda."

She put on an expression of mock horror. "No! Anything but that."

Anakin was serious all at once. "Why were you like that last night, Padmé? Why did you act so different?"

Padmé was instantly on her guard. "Was there something wrong with that?"

"Yes," he replied firmly. "We were good friends once, Padmè, even if it was just for a little while. Don't you remember?"

"Of course I remember," she said in exasperation. "The battle with the Trade Federation isn't something I'm likely to forget."

"I'm glad you can associate me with something like that," he said sarcastically. "Anakin and the Federation. What a nice combination!"

"If you must know," Padmé replied angrily, "you're just about the only pleasant memory I have of that time. You were the only thing that kept me from going crazy, while my people suffered and the Senate ignored my pleas for help. You and your little smile and your 'Is Padmé there?' So completely unaware, you never did figure out who I really was."

Anakin was stunned. This was the most she had opened up to him since last night — and she was furious. He had certainly not expected it to come out that way. "I — I'm sorry," he said feebly.

"For what?"

"I don't know," he replied, flustered. "Didn't I do something wrong? Aw, never mind." Disgusted with himself, Padmé, and the whole galaxy, he rose from his seat and turned to go.

"Wait." She stood up and went after him. "I'm sorry too." He turned back, and suddenly realized how much he had grown. Padmé had to tilt her head upward just to look into his eyes.

She was looking into his eyes. Struggling to find words, Anakin finally managed to murmur, "It's all right." He let out a little laugh. "I guess I just felt stupid. I never did see through that little disguise."

"Don't feel stupid," she smiled. "I worked hard at that disguise. It was my defense, my cover."

"Why were you wearing it last night?" He was astonished at the words that had just come out of his mouth, and worried that she would be angry.

She shook her head. "I — I knew you were coming, Anakin. I knew you would be looking for me."

His brow furrowed. "And you hid from me?"

"Not from you," she said quickly. "Not exactly." For a moment, she looked ready to go on, but then she stopped. "I just wanted to apologize," she finished lamely. "No hard feelings, right?"

Bewildered as well as frustrated, Anakin nodded. "No hard feelings."

She smiled, and then turned to leave. Anakin watched her go with a small frown. As she disappeared through the door, the frown deepened and he slammed a fist into the table. "No hard feelings," he muttered.

********************************

Anakin couldn't decide whether he wanted dinner to come or not. Half of him yearned to see Padmé again; the other half feared what other stupid things he might do or say when he was around her. Either way, the day plodded inevitably onward. He spent most of it in the guest chambers, sitting sullenly on the window seat and watching the sunlight reflected on the waters of the lake. The scene was beautiful — like her, he thought glumly. And he couldn't be more different, more foreign, more removed from that beauty, like a bantha plunked down in the middle of the lake.

It seemed impossible to break through the protective layer she had drawn about herself, a mask like the face-paint she had once worn as queen. Yet there had been moments when he seemed to catch a glimpse, however brief, of what hid beneath.

And then it would all close up again, and he would be left clutching at thin air.

"Anakin?" His master's voice came from behind him.

He jumped. Obi-Wan was standing behind him with a grave expression on his face. "Is it time already?" he asked with a panicked squeak. "No, Master, I'm not ready — I can't go yet —"

"Anakin." Instead of the look of amusement Anakin was accustomed to see his master wear when he acted like a fool, Obi-Wan continued to look grim. "I've just received a communication from the Council."

His apprentice turned a sickly shade of white. "Is Padmé in danger?"

"More than ever. There's been another assassination."

Anakin relaxed slightly. "That's nothing new. I mean, it's a bad thing," he added hastily, "but —"

Obi-Wan shook his head. "There's more. This leader was murdered on his home planet, Ithora. Not on Coruscant."

Anakin's mind began working rapidly. "Not on Coruscant - Ithora — that's not too far from here!"

"Exactly." They both looked at each other for a moment. Then, without having to say a single word, they both headed for the door, hands on their weapons.

"Where are her chambers?" Obi-Wan asked as they hurried down the hallway. "I'm sure you know the way well."

Anakin rolled his eyes, wondering why his master always chose the most desperate situations to crack jokes. "It's this way. Come on!" He motioned Obi-Wan to follow him outside, where they took the well-worn path to Padmé's cottage. Anakin dreaded what they would find there. In his panicked mind, he had already imagined Padmé's delicate form sprawled on the floor, a blast wound on her chest. He tried to block the awful vision, but it would not be banished.

Obi-Wan began knocking on the door, calling Padmé's name urgently. Anakin, shaken out of his imaginings, joined in. There was no answer. Anakin's heart, which had just a few minutes earlier seemed to stop entirely, now began pounding, throbbing like a pulsing reactor. Obi-Wan gave him a grim look.

Taking a breath, Anakin opened the door and entered, followed closely by his master. The sight that met his eyes was not a pleasant one. Padmé's chambers looked like they had been ransacked. Objects were strewn all over the floor; vases had been broken and their shattered pieces crunched under Anakin's boots as he stepped forward. Padmé was nowhere to be seen.

"Master —" Anakin whispered.

"Shhh!" Obi-Wan held up a finger and cocked his head to one side. "Do you hear that?"

Anakin listened. At last he heard it — a quiet rustling noise, coming from the back room. Trying to keep from making too much noise as he made his way through the mess, he walked towards the noise, his hand on his saber. Obi-Wan followed, pulling his own weapon from his belt.

The location of the noise quickly became clear — a small closet located in the bedroom. Anakin approached the door and slowly reached for the controls to open it.

"Careful," Obi-Wan murmured, lifting his saber and preparing to activate it.

He pressed the button, and the door opened. Seconds later, Anakin found a blaster pointed at his chest, held by small, white hands.

Anakin followed the hands to their owner. It was Padmé. Her face tense, her eyes wild, she stared at the Jedi for a few moments, gasping. Anakin stared back.

Padmé finally seemed to regain control of her voice. "They searched the house!" she burst out, dropping the blaster to the ground as though she had forgotten all about it. "I hid just in time; they didn't think to look in the closet...they'll be back, I know they will."

Anakin grabbed her by the shoulders, roughly, fiercely. "And you won't be here," he replied with an unexpected intensity. "You'll be with me. You'll be safe."

Obi-Wan sighed, the only way he knew how to express his relief. "Clearly, you are in great danger here," he said briskly. "We need to leave as quickly as possible."

"Of course." Padmé was still shaking, but she forced herself to go on. "I can be ready in less than an hour."

"I need to contact the Council," Obi-Wan said, returning his own weapon to his belt. "Anakin, you stay here. I'll be back momentarily." He knew, of course, the risks of leaving those two alone together, especially in her state, but he could not concern himself with the problems of love-sick Padawans right now. More important things were at stake.

Anakin was still holding her, his hands around her shoulders. Padmé shuddered visibly.

"Are you all right?" Anakin looked down at her pale face and was suddenly seized with the wild desire to kiss her. He held it back.

"Yes." Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"I was worried. When I heard about the danger you were in, I —"

"Let go." Her voice was louder now, though still shaking. Anakin stopped in surprise. "Let go," she repeated. "Please." She looked up at him with another inscrutable face. Vulnerable, yet determined...Frightened, but, at the same time, brave.

Anakin felt a smile creep onto his face. "What's the matter? I thought you weren't afraid of me."

Padmé did not smile back. "Please, Ani."

Taken aback, he let his hands fall. "I'm sorry."

She looked down, her face a peculiar shade. "It's all right. Listen, Anakin," she went on, her voice returning to its normal tone, "I need to get ready."

"Oh, right." He backed away from the closet, wondering what had just happened. "Er — I'll just wait out there, okay? Keep an eye out for assassins," he added with a little grin.

She managed a smile.

***********************************

Anakin paced the outer room, ignoring the crunching under his feet. What had he been thinking? Padmé had very nearly been killed, and all he could do was tease her? It was downright heartless. And yet — he had seen an opening in her covering, and he couldn't help but go for it. She had seemed so weak and helpless in his arms, ready to open up to him. And then she had completely clammed up again.

He tried not to think about it. There were too many important things to worry about right now, too much, to be worrying about something as trivial as what she thought of him, or how he could make her care for him. The most important thing right now was getting her away to safety.

Obi-Wan had returned. "Is she ready?" he asked, stopping his apprentice in the middle of another round of pacing.

He shrugged. "I don't know."

His master suppressed his exasperation. "Why don't you go ask her?"

"Oh." Anakin started towards the bedroom.

The door opened as he approached it. He peeked in rather nervously. Padmé was bent over her bed, placing various items of clothing in a container. Her hair was falling recklessly in her face, and she tossed it back with annoyance. Her face was flushed, adding a hint of red to her cheeks.

"Er — may I come in?"

She looked up in surprise. "What? Oh...yes, of course. I'm almost ready."

Wondering why the stupidest questions always seemed to come out of his mouth, Anakin entered. "Obi-Wan's back. We'll need to be leaving soon."

"Right." She finished packing and began closing her suitcases and fastening them tightly. Anakin stepped forward.

"Here, let me help." He reached out to take a suitcase, brushing her hand in the process. She snatched back her hand as though it had been burned. Anakin did not comment, though he couldn't keep from frowning. "Are you all ready then?"

She nodded. He began picking up the suitcases. "I can carry those," she protested, starting to grab them back. But he pulled them away.

"You've had enough worries for one day. I'll take care of them."

He thought he could actually see a smile growing on her face. "You just want to show off all your spectacular Jedi strength, don't you?"

"Of course," Anakin replied, flashing her what he hoped was a roguish grin. "It works for all the other ladies."

Padmé began to look rather sly. "All right. Go ahead and carry them. See how long you last."

Anakin began to see what she meant as they met Obi-Wan in the outer room and made their way outside. Padmé seemed to have packed her entire wardrobe into those suitcases, and even his "Jedi" arms were beginning to tire from the strain. He kept his complaints to himself, however, if only because Padmé was smiling again.

Obi-Wan glanced at his Padawan and shook his head. That boy was going to wear himself to the ground — and all for the sake of a woman. Well, that was nothing new to the galaxy.

***************************************

Their ship had been moved to the main hanger, its highly mechanical shape rather out of place amongst the sleek, stream-lined ships characteristic of Naboo technology. Anakin frowned. It almost didn't seem right, taking Padmé onto this ship. She didn't belong. Her own gentleness and gracefulness made everything else seem so much drearier.

Obi-Wan was less concerned with the shabby look of the ship than with its flying abilities. "Let's hope this thing can get us out of here fast enough," he said, glancing apprehensively behind him. "I can't imagine the assassins are too happy about leaving the job unfinished." Padmé nodded and allowed him to usher her up the ramp onto the ship. Anakin tottered behind, still clutching the suitcases. The door to the ship's entrance closed behind him as soon as he was inside, and he set his burden down with relief, hurrying after the others in the direction of the cockpit.

Obi-Wan had already seated himself at the controls. Padmé took the passenger's seat behind him, fumbling with the safety restraints. She glanced back at Anakin as he entered, then looked down again, silent. Anakin strapped himself into the copilot's seat and tried to ignore her, though he was dying to know whether she was still laughing at him for insisting on carrying her baggage.

"Ready?" His master had turned on the engines, causing a dull roar to vibrate throughout the ship. Anakin nodded. Obi-Wan pressed several buttons and pulled a lever, and the ship began to lift off.

The ship had barely left the main hanger when a warning light began to flash on the control panel, accompanied by an insistent beeping. Anakin glanced down in alarm, then looked at his master. "We're being followed." Before he had finished speaking, the cockpit rocked violently, doubtless the result of blaster shots hitting the ship.

Obi-Wan, his face grim, did not look surprised. "Get weapons ready," he ordered briskly. "But don't fire right away. As long as our shields hold, there's no need to fight back." A look of intense concentration formed on his face as he urged the ship out of Naboo's atmosphere into space.

"Can we get away in time?" Padmé's voice came from behind them, surprisingly calm. Anakin glanced back at her and saw that she was clutching the sides of her seat with whitening hands, the only sign of her nervousness.

"We can do it," Anakin declared, as the ship rocked from more blows. He looked at his master almost hesitantly, wondering if he dare ask.

He did not need to. "If we're going to outmaneuver them," Obi-Wan said with the slightest hint of a smile, his eyes still focused on the viewscreen before them, "we might as well use the best pilot in the galaxy." Anakin grinned.

"Thanks, master." He accepted the pilot's seat Obi-Wan offered him, taking the controls and beginning, almost instinctively, to pilot the ship through intricate twists and turns, drawing on every bit of his skill and experience to escape their attacker. Obi-Wan stationed himself at the weapons, ready to fire as soon as it was needed. But it seemed weapons would be unnecessary. For a time, Anakin was successful. The blaster shots flew harmlessly past them, failing to reach their intended targets. Eventually the scopes no longer even picked up the enemy ships on their target. Anakin let out a hoot of triumph. "That takes care of that!"

"Look out!" Padmé cried, pointing a finger to the viewscreen, where at that moment a ship was flying past, letting out a heavy barrage of fire on their own craft.

"It was hiding in a blind spot," Obi-Wan realized, involuntarily wincing as a shot struck its target and sent the entire ship shuddering. Several warning signals went off all at once. A quick glance downward confirmed all of Obi-Wan's worst suspicions. "We've lost our front and side shields," he announced darkly. "Anakin, we've got to get out of here before he can get another clean shot. Can you evade any more attacks until I can punch in the coordinates for hyperspace?"

Anakin smiled grimly. "Just watch." Pulling a lever, he sent the ship plummeting downward, well out of reach of enemy. As their attacker's ship followed them, he quickly snatched at another control and directed the ship in a sharp left turn. Before the enemy could react, he had already pushed the ship to the right, then down, then up. Dizziness was not a concern. There was only the feel of cold metal in his hands, the surge of pulsing blood in his veins, the wild exhilaration of racing. He allowed himself a wide grin. "Take that, you ugly Dug," he muttered, taking the ship through a wide loop.

"It's all set," Obi-Wan declared. "Get us out of here, Anakin."

Shaken out of his excitement, Anakin nodded and reached for the lever that would activate the hyperdrive. He yanked it downward, commenting with a smug face, "Easy as wrestling a dewback," as the ship shot forward. Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. Padmé sank back in her chair, letting out a shaky sigh. Anakin, she had to admit, was an admirable pilot. He was also an unbearable braggart.

*********************************

Padmé walked silently through the corridors of the ship. They had been in hyperspace for several hours, and during all that time she had not seen either Jedi since leaving the cockpit. She wasn't quite she whether she was consciously avoiding Anakin or not, but either way she had managed to keep away from him and his intense blue eyes.

Except for the fact that those eyes seemed to be staring through her still, even when alone.

Who was she fooling? She wanted to see him. And why not? It was absurd to be afraid of him. Afraid of him...was that even the reason why she didn't want to be around him? She gritted her teeth in frustration. Everything had been so simple before he came. A shadow from her past, a memory from her childhood. It had been so easy to keep him a little boy in her mind. He had not stayed a little boy in reality. It was absurd, she told herself, completely absurd. And then she found him.

He was sprawled on a bed in one of the ship's sleeping compartments; she had spotted him as she passed by the open door and glanced through the doorway. Not quite sure what she was doing, she slipped inside.

He was asleep. Padmé was glad. It was safer. Softly, silently, she walked across the cold compartment to the place where he lay.

He was peaceful now, but he had clearly not been so calm before he asleep. His blankets were strewn all over the bed; the sheets were rumpled. Padmé found herself smiling. He looked like a little boy. His breathing was measured and even; his chest rose and fell gently. His lips were turned in a crooked smile.

She took a seat next to the bed and watched him, wondering. Wondering what it was about this boy that made her smile. And what, at the same time, made her absolutely crazy. There were two sides of him, really. She had seen both. One was an eager, sweet, utterly lovesick boy. The other was a teasing, arrogant, sharp-mouthed man. And that, she supposed, was how he could make her both smile and go crazy. She tried to decide which was worse. She wasn't sure.

It wasn't so bad now, though. Watching him sleep — she could almost imagine he was just a little boy again, the innocent slave who had, quite earnestly, believed she was an angel. The little Jedi-in-training who had left her planet with tears that he fiercely refused to cry, promising that he would come back again.

And here he was. He always did keep his promises. Padmé allowed herself another smile.
----
Anakin awoke from deep sleep; he had been dreaming something, but he couldn't seem to remember any of it. Giving up, he opened his eyes, slowly, his head still resting on the pillow. He yawned and rolled over. And there was an angel sitting by his bed.

"Padmé!" He sat up all at once to look at the girl in the seat next to him. Her head was drooping over her chest; she was drowsing quietly. Upon hearing her name, however, she began to awaken. Her eyes widened, and she shook her head, trying to regain her bearings.

"Oh, hello, Anakin," she mumbled. "I — I'm sorry, I must have drifted off." Still somewhat bleary-eyed, she rose from the chair and stretched her stiff muscles. Anakin stared.

Padmé gradually became conscious of his attention. "What is it?" she asked, her brow furrowed. She glanced down and turned red. "Oh." She had changed from the airy blue dress into a skintight white jumpsuit. "I thought it might be more appropriate," she fumbled. "Since we're kind of on the run. I wanted to be able to move quickly..."

Anakin nodded dumbly, still unable to take his eyes off her.

She walked briskly to the door. "I'm sorry I disturbed you," she said, avoiding his gaze, and left the room.

Finally coming to his senses, Anakin groaned and began banging his head repeatedly against the wall. "Great," he muttered. "That's the way to impress her. Right."

*********************************

Anakin stumbled into the cockpit sometime later, where his master was comfortably settled in the pilot's seat, monitoring the controls. Obi-Wan glanced up briefly as he entered. Looking down again, he commented, "You've been sleeping."

His apprentice frowned. "How'd you know that?" He almost felt like his master was accusing him. Was there anything wrong with trying to get a little sleep?

Obi-Wan allowed a smile to grow on his face. "Well, other than the fact that you're walking around like a dead person, it would have to be the imprint of the blanket on your cheek."

Anakin's hand flew up to his face instinctively; though he could not feel anything, he sensed that there was indeed a mark on his cheek where his head had been pressed against the bedclothes. He glowered. "Sorry," he muttered. "I didn't realize there was a problem with taking a nap."

"I didn't say there was," Obi-Wan replied smoothly. "You needn't be so defensive."

"I'm not being defensive!" Anakin started to protest, then realized how weak his argument was, and fell silent. He flopped into the co-pilot's seat and slumped down, glaring at the ground.

His master shook his head. For someone who was, supposedly, the Chosen One, Anakin could certainly be a baby. Obi-Wan sensed it was about something other than just a bad nap. "You were talking with Padmé, weren't you?"

Anakin had long since stopped being surprised at his master's ability to discern his thoughts, but this was, at the least, disconcerting. "What does that have to do with anything?" he demanded, looking sharply at Obi-Wan.

"You know perfectly well what I mean," he replied as he leaned forward to check their ship's position on the charts. "After just a few minutes in the same room with her, you're a nervous wreck."

Anakin let out a heavy sigh. "Don't remind me. Master Obi-Wan," he groaned, "I'm sure she thinks I'm a complete idiot."

"And I'm sure she doesn't," Obi-Wan said firmly. He shook his head and wondered if he dare tell his apprentice about the looks he had noticed, from Padmé to Anakin, the surreptitious little glances that she tried her best to conceal. Anakin hadn't noticed them. Obi-Wan wasn't so blind. That Padmé was attracted to his apprentice was, for him, as plain as day. However, that didn't make things any less complicated. If anything, it made the whole situation much, much worse.

"Anakin," he began, somewhat apprehensive of how the boy would react to what he was about to say, "I know how you feel about her. And I appreciate the fact that, like any ordinary young man, you hold an interest in pretty girls."

"Not just any pretty girl," Anakin corrected.

Obi-Wan ignored his outburst. "But, as I must so often remind you, you are not an ordinary young man. You are training to be a Jedi. You cannot allow yourself to be distracted. In addition to that, if you are to serve as Padmé's bodyguard, any serious attachments you might form would only cause problems. I think you already know that."

Anakin knew exactly what his master was saying. He would not admit that, of course. "That's all very easy for you to say," he said rather bitterly. "But it's not so easy for me to remember, when I see her, when I talk with her, when she smiles..." He drifted off, a dreamy look coming onto his face. Obi-Wan suppressed his exasperation.

"If you ever want to be a Jedi, Anakin," he said with intentional sternness, "you must learn control - particularly in your emotions."

Anakin scowled. "Yes, master. Whatever you say."
---
Near the end of the ship's journey through hyperspace, Padmé reentered the cockpit, joining the two Jedi. As if to show his master that the lecture had not gone in one ear and out the other, Anakin purposefully did not turn to see her as she entered, and seemed intent on ignoring her. Padmé did not seem to notice. Obi-Wan knew she did.

Out loud he announced, "We'll be coming out in a few minutes. Once we've landed on the planet, I'll contact the Council, and the Senate. They should be informed of your arrival."

Anakin started. "What - do you mean we're going to Coruscant?"

His master turned to him, eyebrows raised. "Where did you think we were going?"

Falling back against the seat, Anakin stuttered. "Well - I don't know - I guess I just thought -"

"Thought what?" Padmé looked at him curiously.

He shrugged uncomfortably. So much for ignoring her. "I just thought that we'd go someplace safer. I mean, Coruscant's probably just as dangerous as Naboo right now, if not worse. Why would we save you only to put your life in danger again?"

"You didn't quite save my life," Padmé pointed out, a touch of amusement in her voice.

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. "I fail to see the importance of this argument. Anakin, we need to go to Coruscant to report the situation on Naboo, and get to the bottom of this. We always planned to take Padmé there. Where else could we take her? Do you have any suggestions?"

"No," Anakin muttered.

"I do." Obi-Wan and his apprentice turned to Padmé with surprise.

"You do?" Anakin repeated.

Padmé frowned slightly as she spoke. "I never really wanted it to come to this, but - my parents live on the other side of Naboo, far from the capital. It's a farm out in the middle of the countryside - if I went there without being spotted, it would take them weeks, maybe months to find me."

Anakin stared at her, trying to grasp the idea that this beautiful, delicate girl who had once ruled an entire planet could have come from simple country farmfolk. Obi-Wan's mind was on more practical thoughts. "Are you sure it would be safe? What sets it apart from any other place, other than the fact that it's out of the way?"

She looked rather reluctant to explain, but went on at last. "When I became queen, I made sure that my parents would be protected from any danger that my enemies might want to inflict on my family. I removed all information about them from my own files and kept their location, even their existence, a secret." Her frown deepened. "I never thought I would have to use that for my own protection, but -"

"We don't know the complete situation yet," Obi-Wan broke in. "You may be relatively safe on Coruscant. If the situation is that desperate, then we will consider this possibility. Otherwise -"

"Otherwise," Anakin finished, "we'll make sure your parents are safe." He looked hopefully at Padmé, and she smiled back gratefully. Anakin decided that one smile almost made up for everything else. Almost.

****************************************

Obi-Wan leaned forward, peering one of the ship's instruments that had started flashing. "We're almost there," he announced.

Anakin straightened and focused on the viewscreen, which was now filled with the swirling patterns of hyperspace. He was oddly conscious of the girl sitting close behind him, even more than he had been before. Perhaps it had something to do with the smile she had just given him. Perhaps it was her change in clothing. Whatever the reason, he was determined not to show that consciousness.

The distorted images filling the viewscreen were whisked away abruptly as the ship returned to normal speed. In place of the patterns, an orb appeared before their view, sparkling like a thousand stars. Anakin exhaled, not having realized he was even holding his breath. What's the matter? he chided himself. Afraid it had been blown to pieces while you were gone? Afraid that Padmé -?

"We'll land near the temple," his master was saying. "Anakin, why don't you take over? I'm going to contact the Council and tell them we've arrived." Anakin obligingly accepted the controls, moving to the pilot's seat, and Obi-Wan seated himself at the communications panel.

Padmé sneaked a glance at Anakin as the older Jedi began speaking through the ship's commlink. He was staring intently at screen as he set the ship into orbit around Coruscant, his hands moving almost instinctively over the controls. She found herself admiring his deft movements, the way his fingers touched levers and buttons with something like gracefulness. So what? she asked herself with disgust. So he's a good pilot. Not to mention a good-looking one...

"Master?" She was shaken out of her conflicting thoughts by Anakin's voice, calling to Obi-Wan in a voice that seemed, oddly, rather panicked.

"...yes, I understand that things have become dangerous here." Obi-Wan was still speaking into the commlink, his brow furrowed. "But she was in as much, if not more danger, on her own planet...yes, well, I was hoping we could get to the bottom of things - what did you say?"

"Master," Anakin repeated, more urgent. This time, Padmé was certain there was panic in his voice. Obi-Wan glanced at his apprentice with a frown, silently telling him to wait. Anakin, however, shook his head. There was no time to wait, he replied, by silently pointing a finger at the viewscreen.

Obi-Wan followed Anakin's finger to the screen. His eyes widened; he otherwise showed no emotion at the sight before him. Padmé, meanwhile, was struggling not to gasp out loud.

They had broken through the planet's atmosphere into utter chaos. Ships swarmed through the air, in even greater numbers than normal on the city-planet, and the majority of them seemed to be leaving Coruscant as fast as possible. Landing platforms were filled with people of all races, jostling and fighting to board ships. As Anakin piloted their ship closer to some of the planets, seeming unaware that he was even doing it, Padmé caught the expressions on their faces: fear, suspicion, utter panic. It did not take long to find the source of their panic. One landing platform stood out in its uniqueness, relatively empty in comparison to the others. A figure could be seen standing next to a small transport on the platform, standing over another which was sprawled in a decidedly unpleasant position. Padmé did not have to see the red stains on the clothing to recognize death. The look on the face of the other person on the platform was explanation enough - complete, despairing grief. She could feel her own heart sinking with the horror of what she saw, a sorrow coupled with confusion and terror.

Obi-Wan was talking on the commlink again. "There's been another assassination," he announced to the two of them, as though they couldn't see that with their own eyes. "A sniper took a Senator down, right as he was about to board his ship. It's the fourth one this week," he added. Anakin knew that his hollow tone was not an indication of his emotions. The slight wrinkle in his master's forehead was enough to show how troubled he was.

Padmé sat back in her chair, her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide and glistening. She tried to speak, but nothing came out. Anakin's eyes narrowed as he continued to stare at the fallen Senator. "Dirty murderers," he muttered.

Obi-Wan put a firm hand on his apprentice's shoulder. "We need to get to the temple, Anakin."

Anakin closed his eyes, blocking out the awful image. He reopened them just as quickly. Behind his eyelids, he could see another figure sprawled on a landing platform, blood staining her clothes, her face frozen in an expression of terror and pain...

"Anakin." Obi-Wan's tone, compared to his usual calm voice, could be considered sharp.

He shook himself. "Sorry, Master." Focusing on the viewscreen, he began to direct the ship towards the crystal-like spire that jabbed the skyline of Coruscant. Once we get to the temple, he told himself, everything will be all right. They'll take care of everything. The words seemed to echo and ring like jarring, discordant music, reminding him that they were false.

***********************************

Padmé was shaken, to say the least. But she had not become the Queen of Naboo by cowering in a corner. It's all right, she repeated over and over. Pull yourself together. Don't let this get the better of you.

She glanced idly at the decor of the temple as she followed the two Jedi down the hallways. It was simple, but beautiful in its way - like home, she thought suddenly. This is where Anakin grew up.

Where did that thought come from?

She was falling behind the Jedi. Scolding herself for letting her mind wander, Padmé hurried to catch up. They had arrived. The doors to the Jedi Council Chamber were standing before them. Padmé swallowed hard as they entered.

The Council was not fully assembled. Many of its members had been sent to various sections of the city to calm the riots breaking out over the latest assassination. Obi-Wan glanced at each of the empty seats and wondered at the peculiar uneasy sensation produced at the thought of each absence. Master Yaddle. Master Yarael. Master Adi. Master Evan.

"Master Obi-Wan?" He started as he heard his name.

"Master Yoda." He and his apprentice bowed, and Padmé decided, almost too late, that she had better do so as well. She had been distracted by Obi-Wan's addressing of the little green Jedi. So this was the infamous Master Yoda! She fought back the urge to laugh, knowing how ill-timed it would have been. On the other hand, she really could have used a good laugh right then.

Obi-Wan was relating the events that had transpired on Naboo, but she was having trouble paying attention. Instead she found herself concentrating on Anakin's back. He seemed to wear his cloak uncomfortably, trying to maintain the same calm pose as his master but failing. He simply had too much energy burning inside of him.

All at once she realized, somewhat guiltily, that Master Yoda had been calling her name rather irritably.

"Er, yes, Master Yoda?" she said, awkwardly stepping forward.

"Listening, you were not," the Jedi accused her sternly. "Answer me now, you will. Any other threats on your life, have you known?"

Padmé tried to think back to the days preceding the Jedi's arrival on her planet. They seemed years ago. "No," she said at last. "None that I can recall, before the attack on my house."

The Jedi Obi-Wan had called Master Windu spoke up. "Coruscant is no longer safe for any leader of your prominence. We have been sending most Senators and officials to their home planets, but you, I fear, must find a safer place."

"I already have," Padmé announced quietly. She caught Anakin staring at her in shock, a frown plainly present on his face. She responded with raised eyebrows. I thought you wanted me to be safe, she accused silently. He turned away with a slight headshake.

"Found a place, you have?" Yoda was watching her shrewdly.

She let out a small sigh. "Yes. My home."

Now it was Master Windu who raised his eyebrows. "If the first attack came in your home, I fail to see how you would be safe there. "

Padmé shook her head. "Not my house in Theed. My home. Where I came from." She took a deep breath and continued. "I had kept the place a secret for my parents' sake. Now it will have to serve as my protection as well." And perhaps destroy all the safety I've carefully laid out for my parents, all these years...

Obi-Wan stepped forward. "We have discussed this possibility, Master Windu. I believe she will be safe there, for a time, at least."

The heads of the Council exchanged significant looks, a silent discussion passing between their eyes. At last Master Yoda nodded and faced the trio again. "Take her to Naboo, you will," he declared. "Her bodyguard, Anakin will be."

Padmé turned hastily to face Obi-Wan's apprentice; she had to see Anakin's face as he took in the information. But the only change that came across it was a deepening of the already present frown. He and Obi-Wan bowed once more, Padmé hastily following suit, and all three turned to leave. Obi-Wan stopped, however, as he heard Master Yoda call out his name.

"A word with you, Master Obi-Wan?" the Jedi Master inquired. Obi-Wan, his face impassive, nodded.

"Go ahead," he told his apprentice. "I'll be out in moment."

Padmé followed Anakin as he hurried out of the chambers, not even looking back to see if she was behind him. She could scarcely keep up with his long, loping strides. "Anakin, wait!" she called out, as soon as the Chamber doors closed behind her. He stopped abruptly, halfway down the hallway, and turned around.

"What?" His face was inscrutable.

She reached his side at last. "What's going on, Anakin?" Her eyes narrowed at the dark expression on his face. "Do you have a problem with the Council's arrangements?"

"You mean, do I have a problem that they're making you put you parents in danger, and hurting you in the process?" He glowered. "What do you think?"

Padmé shook her head. "Is that it? You're angry at them for a decision I made? It hardly makes sense, Anakin."

His face softened. "It's not that, exactly. No, I'm not mad at the Council. I'm just - frustrated." He looked at her intently. "I saw how you looked when you talked about your parents, Padmé. I hate it when you frown. I'd do anything to stop it."

She wasn't sure why she shivered; most likely it was the chilly air in the hallways. "We had no choice, Anakin."

"I know," he grumbled. "And that's the worst part of it."

******************************

They continued to walk down the hallway in silence, awkwardly looking anywhere but at each other. They were both relieved when the sound of Obi-Wan's voice calling from behind them broke the stiff silence. Anakin stopped mid-stride and turned to face his master, Padmé unconsciously echoing his movements. Obi-Wan quickly caught up with them, his face wearing a peculiar expression. "What is it, Master?" Anakin asked instantly. "What did the council have to say to you?"

Padmé was surprised to see a shadow cross the Jedi's face, hinting at some unspeakable sorrow. Then it was gone, and his face resumed the placid Jedi expression. "I'll not be going with you to Naboo," he said calmly. "The Council is sending me elsewhere, to investigate some rumors involving an outlying planet."

"Master!" Anakin's troubled face was the exact inverse of Obi-Wan's calmness. "You can't mean you're not going with us!"

Obi-Wan smiled wryly. "I believe that is exactly what I just said, Anakin."

Panic flitted across his padawan's features. "But - they can't separate us! There must be some rule in the Code, or something..."

His master's voice contained just a touch of amusement. "I've never known you to be so concerned with following the Code. At any rate," he continued, "there's no particular rule that forbids the Master to be separated from the Padawan for a brief period of time."

Padmé tactfully walked some distance away from the pair. She could see they needed to talk alone. Leaning against the wall of the Temple, she let out a small sigh. Anakin was doing it again, letting his emotions control him, fiercely determined and devoted no matter what the cost. How could he be so offhanded one moment and so serious the next?

And which one was worse?

"Master, I don't want you to go." Anakin's tone held a note of true pleading. "I don't - I don't want to lose you."

Obi-Wan's mind flew back, for an instant, to another Padawan, pleading his master not to go, clutching at him desperately as if he could hold him back by sheer willpower. "I'm sorry, Anakin," he said softly, returning to the present. "I understand your concern. But there's little either of us can do. You have your duties, and I have mine. After these problems have been taken care of, everything will return to normal, I promise you." He did his best to ignore the nagging in the back of his mind that seemed to speak of change, inevitable and irreversible. "I promise."

Slowly, Anakin conceded. "All right. But I can't say I like it." He glanced briefly at Padmé, still resting against the wall, and started to go to her.

Obi-Wan remembered something all at once. "Wait, Anakin. There was something else I wanted to talk to you about." His apprentice turned back, slightly apprehensive.

"It's about Padmé, isn't it?" His voice was low, though she was most likely too far away to hear.

"You're her bodyguard," Obi-Wan said firmly. "Just remember that."

"I'm not likely to forget," Anakin said fiercely. "I'd do anything to keep her from danger. Anything."

"That's what worries me." His master shook his head. "Anakin, you can't afford to get attached. Neither of you can. You both have your own separate lives. I fear that if an attachment were to be formed -"

"There's not much danger of that," Anakin interrupted. He looked at Padmé and frowned. "Not on her side, anyway."

I wouldn't be too sure of that, Obi-Wan thought silently. "Anakin." His tone was stern. "Promise me you won't get her involved any more than she has to." When his apprentice looked reluctant to answer, he repeated it even more firmly. "Promise me."

"I can't," Anakin burst out at last. He looked at his master in desperation. "Don't make me promise something like that. Please."

Obi-Wan frowned. Why did the boy have to make things so difficult? Finally, briskly, he shook his head and said, "We haven't much time. We'll need to get Padmé away as quickly as possible." His apprentice nodded, relieved that the matter seemed to have been dropped, and motioned for Padmé to rejoin them. Obi-Wan led both of them down the hallways, determined to speak to Anakin once more about this before they went their separate ways.
--
Padmé had already gotten on the ship, sensing that Master and apprentice still wanted to talk alone before they separated. She had quietly wished Obi-Wan safety on his journey, nodded slightly at Anakin, and boarded. Anakin turned instantly to his master.

"Why?" Anakin had been asking himself the same question the whole time they had walked through the temple back to the ship, never getting an answer, almost dreading what his master would say if he asked him. But there was no time left; he would have to ask now. Or never. "Why are they separating us?"

Obi-Wan let out a long sigh, the only evidence of his frustration. "I don't know, Anakin. If you expect an answer for every question, you're going to be very disappointed."

"I'm always losing people," Anakin burst out suddenly. "Anyone who was ever close to me. First my mother, then Qui-Gon, and now you." He looked at Obi-Wan with something like desperation. "Are they going take everyone away from me?"

"Perhaps you're right, Anakin. I don't know." Obi-Wan knew it was unfair to bring up the matter again, but he had to get it through Anakin's head. "But that's the very thing I've been warning you about. If you get too close to Padmé, I fear you'll come to regret it."

Anakin looked as though he had been shot, his face pale and panicked. "I - no, Master, don't say that."

Obi-Wan shrugged, hiding the painful frown that his apprentice's face drew out. "I'm saying it for your own good. Think about it, Anakin."

Anakin was silent. He stared at the floor of the hanger, clutching the sides of his robes as though restraining himself from shouting out loud. Obi-Wan could see the terrible energy inside of him. It was almost - frightening. He shook his head.

"Take care of yourself," he said softly. "And Padmé." Anakin looked up in surprise, his face strained from his struggling.

"You too," he said at last.

"I'm counting on you, Anakin." Obi-Wan straightened. "Don't forget who you are."

His apprentice nodded, and a smile appeared on his face at last. "Well, what are we standing around here for? We better get going." Obi-Wan could tell he was struggling to be cheerful.

"All right." Obi-Wan smiled back, and put his hand firmly on Anakin's shoulder. "May the Force be with you." Then they parted.

But Obi-Wan stood for a few moments near the ship, watching his apprentice get on board. He did not walk away until Anakin could no longer be seen.

********************************

Padmé had already settled herself in the co-pilot's chair when Anakin entered the cockpit. He stood in the doorway for a moment, watching her strap herself in, and spoke suddenly. "What are you doing?"

She turned her head swiftly at the sound of his voice, flustered. "What do you mean? I'm getting ready to go."

His brow furrowed, Anakin shook his head. "You can't sit there."

Padmé's eyes narrowed, and something seemed to snap within her. Maybe it was from being on the run, pursued by assassins for the past few days, maybe it was being stuck on a little ship with the same person, maybe it was just a lack of sleep. Whatever the cause, Anakin could see the rage beginning to boil within her. "Oh, I can't, can I?" she snapped. "You think I can't be a good enough co-pilot? I've flown quite a few ships myself, you know. Maybe I'm not the best pilot in the galaxy -"

The way she repeated his master's words was stingingly sarcastic, biting. He glowered and broke in just as angrily. "Look, it's not that. I just don't want you to sit there, that's all." Making his way to the pilot's seat, he dropped into it and began powering up the ship for takeoff. He could feel Padmé's eyes on him, as though daring him to make her sit in the passenger's chair. He muttered something under his breath.

"What did you say?" she demanded.

He turned to her with blazing eyes. "I said, 'she's sitting where Obi-Wan always sits when I'm piloting.' All right? That's it. It's just a stupid little problem, I know."

Silently, Padmé unbuckled herself and moved from the co-pilot's chair to the passenger's. Anakin was too surprised to say anything. When he finally regained control of his voice, he realized a "thank you" would sound rather lame. Instead, he turned back to the controls, starting the engines absentmindedly and staring out into the hanger. I don't understand. I just don't understand.

There's a great many things you don't see. That doesn't mean they don't exist... All at once, Anakin had the uneasy feeling that he really knew nothing at all.

Padmé was ashamed. She had let her anger control her - she, who had been silently condemning Anakin for allowing his emotions to get the better of him. And here she was, snapping at him and behaving, altogether, like a spoiled, selfish girl. And all for what? Her pride? Her ego? That didn't seem to be the reason; she didn't care what Anakin thought of her piloting skills. He was good, maybe even the best, and she had no wish to compete with that. No, it was simply the very essence of arguing with him - a need to never let him get the better of her. Why? Because she feared that if she let her guard down for one minute, she'd lose every ounce of self-control she had been building up, all these years? Perhaps. But why Anakin? Why was he such a threat to her self-control?

And why was that a problem?

They had gone through the process of taking-off in silence, the throbbing engines providing the only sounds in the otherwise quiet cockpit. Padmé watched the city-planet slip away through the screen, glancing now and then at Anakin as he stoically piloted the ship through the upper atmosphere. She considered apologizing, commenting on the weather, anything to break the awful silence. But words refused to come out. She somehow felt that whatever she said would fall on unhearing ears. Not because she thought that Anakin was unreceptive to her; he had certainly proven otherwise over the last few days. But his mind seemed to be somewhere else entirely as he sent the ship soaring into space, sitting unnaturally straight and stiff in the pilot's chair, most of his body remaining still as his hands spread over the controls. She could not see his face from where she sat. She wasn't even sure she wanted to.

He spoke up all at once. "Can you fly? Really?"

For a moment she thought he was mocking her, taunting her to defend her previous words. Then she realized he was serious. Deadly serious.

"Why?" She glanced uneasily out the viewscreen, where countless ships orbited the planet they had just left.

"We're being followed again."

Padmé could not restrain the gasp that escaped her. "Already? How could they have found us? How could they know?"

"Does it matter?" he asked grimly, his intent gaze switching from the ship's instruments to the viewscreen. "Look, it's the same ship as before, that's how our scanners can recognize it. As soon as we can get into hyperspace, we should be all right. But we're too close to Coruscant right now to make the jump to light speed. And as soon as we're far enough away - it'll start firing on us, I guarantee it."

Padmé found herself muttering something about how they never got a moment's peace, but the words instantly seemed whiny and inconsequential. Extricating herself from the passenger's seat, she took the pilot's chair that Anakin had just vacated and settled herself at the controls. "And what are you going to do while I fly?" she wondered, allowing just the slightest note of sarcasm to enter her voice.

"I'll make sure this ship won't be following us anymore." He seated himself at the co-pilot's seat with determination and grabbed a stick with one strong hand. A quick glance at it was enough for Padmé to recognize it as the weapon's control. She involuntarily shuddered, but quickly repressed it and tried to focus on her piloting.

The controls were slightly different from those of the elegant Naboo ships she was accustomed to, but she would adjust. She would have to. So the pitch levers didn't fit comfortably in her hands like the Nubian's did. And maybe the port and starboard switches were a little stiff. She could handle it. Coruscant and its thousand ships began to slide far behind them.

And then the enemy attacked.

The first blow only shook the ship slightly, but both she and Anakin felt it, glancing at each other grimly. "Try to keep the ship moving about," Anakin said, and though he gave the command in the form of a suggestion, it lost none of its power. "Out-maneuver him, if you can." Padmé nodded, hoping he hadn't noticed how badly her hands were shaking. Anakin, meanwhile, had turned on the targeting computer and was grasping the weapon's controls tightly, his face hard and set in a mask of cold determination. "Just you try and get us," he murmured. "Come on, where are you?"

As long as our shields hold there's no need to fight back.

Padmé turned the ship through a loop, like an animal turning round and round, searching for its tail. At the same instant that she spotted the ship and pointed it out with a shout, Anakin had clenched the weapons stick, staring at the targeting screen, and fired. She could see the whole scene before her eyes, as the blast hit the enemy's small, oddly shaped craft and set up a miniature explosion. Anakin's exultant cry rang hollow in her ears. There was something terribly wrong, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

"Get ready for hyperspace." Anakin's voice was practically in her ear; he had leaned over and took the controls from her while she sat, dazed. "I damaged his weapons, but he may yet try to attack if we don't hurry." Shaking herself, Padmé nodded and began punching in the coordinates for the far side of Naboo into the navicomputer. Anakin's hands had brushed hers as he re-took the piloting of the ship. The feel of them still lingered. They were burning hot.

Anakin was right. Their enemy was not going to give up so easily. The precious seconds seemed to tick by like hours as Padmé frantically prepared for the jump to light speed, knowing that the attacking ship's occupants, whoever they were, must be repairing their weapon's systems and preparing for another assault. Then, just moments before she finished setting the coordinates, the ship shuddered from a heavy blow. Anakin gripped the weapon's stick again and shouted something at Padmé, the words coming at her, in her dazed state, like a foreign language. Without even understanding him, however, she knew enough from his urgent tone that he was telling to hurry. Her fingers shook as she punched in the last coordinate, distracted by the expression on Anakin's face. "We're ready," she said, her voice quavering.

"Go!" She did not need to be told twice. Yanking the lever with more energy than necessary, she sent the ship spiraling into hyperspace.

"We did it again," Padmé said with relief. She never would have said it out loud, but she had been somewhat nervous about being Anakin's sole help during the attack, when he was used to relying on Obi-Wan. None of that mattered now as they left their attacker far behind them. It was with great surprise, then, that she noticed Anakin was not smiling.

"What is it?" she asked him, curiously looking at his scowl. "We got away, didn't we?"

"Yes," he said with a strange, heated tone. "But so did he."

Padmé shrugged uneasily. "That's true...I guess he'll probably come back and try again. But we didn't have much of a choice, did we, Anakin?" she reminded him. "Sticking around to finish him off would only put us in more danger."

"I know," he sighed, some of the ferocity dropping away at last. "But I just hate thinking that he's still out there, waiting..." Without seeming to realize it, his fists tightened and his jaw clenched.

"What do you want to do about it?" Padmé decided to try to speak reasonably. When he saw that they had no other options, he would have to calm down. "We're doing all we can. It's better to go someplace safe than to stay in danger and try to get rid of all our enemies - it's not likely we could succeed."

"Right." He nodded firmly. Padmé did not see the look in his eyes that betrayed the nod as she turned away from him to check the controls.

"We'll be traveling for some time still. I suggest we both get some sleep." Anakin did not answer. When she turned back to where he had been sitting, he was gone.

*********************************

Padmé stretched her arms luxuriously and sat up in the bed that was built into the wall of the ship's compartment; a most uncomfortable place to sleep. She had been so exhausted, however, that she scarcely noticed the terrible hardness of the sleeping surface. It was only now that she realized how much her back ached, as she rubbed her shoulder with a groan.

She had no idea how long she had been sleeping, although, judging by the smooth motion of the ship, they were still in hyperspace. She had not seen Anakin since they had entered it, and she frowned momentarily upon recalling that strange moment, when he had seemed ready to go back and tear the enemy's ship to pieces if he had to. Padmé shook her head. It was flattering, really, to think that someone cared so passionately about her safety. It was also quite disconcerting.

Trying not to think too much about it, she pulled one of her suitcases from the shelf next to the bed and opened it, staring at its contents. She was surprised she had had enough presence of mind to pack anything at all; after nearly being assassinated, she felt more like hiding in a corner than putting together a few belongings and flying halfway across the galaxy as fast as she could. But somehow, she had managed to bring a sufficient wardrobe to suit her needs. She laughed out loud. Perhaps her motivations had been somewhat more devious - Anakin, so determined to help her, needed to learn that he wasn't invincible. The thought of him struggling to carry all her suitcases was enough to make her forget other, less amusing sides of him. For the moment.

She wanted to look her best when she arrived. Her parents would gladly welcome her if she came home in a ragged burlap sack, but she wanted to make the proper impression. She was their daughter; she had also been their queen. One of her more regal dresses, she decided, would not be out of line. A simple headdress would complete the outfit.

And maybe dressed as a queen, Anakin would not be so tempted to goggle at her.
---
Clad in the long skirts that chastely flowed down past her ankles, Padmé walked through the corridors of the small ship to the cockpit, secretly hoping she would find Anakin there. The room was empty, however, and she let out a small sigh as she settled down in the pilot's seat and began checking their status. They would be coming out of hyperspace in less than an hour. She would need to find Anakin and tell him, she decided, ignoring the fact that it was a lame excuse to go looking for him.

She thought he might be in the same compartment where she had found him before. The only trouble was, she couldn't remember which one it was: all the little rooms looked the same. Fortunately, it was not a large ship. She would find him eventually.

She discovered him, at last, in the room farthest from the cockpit. Why was it, she wondered, that when she wanted to find him, he seemed to intentionally make himself scarce - but then, when she did her best to avoid him, he would inevitably appear?

The bed was just inside the doorway, concealed from her immediate view by a large shelf at its head. She peered around the shelf and pulled back hastily, instinctively, as she spotted Anakin, lounging on the bed with his head resting lazily on an arm. He was not sleeping, instead staring off into the distance with a rather odd smile playing on his face. He did not seem to notice her presence.

"Anakin." She stepped forward and gave his shoulder a nudge. He literally jumped and turned to face her, his eyes wide with surprise.

"You!"

She allowed herself a smile of her own. "Who did you think?" Anakin shook his head, and Padmé went on more seriously. "We'll be coming out of lightspeed soon. I thought you might want to know that."

"Thanks."

Padmé glanced down at him curiously. "What were you doing?"

"Dreaming."

She shook her head. "No you weren't. You were wide awake."

"I don't have to sleep to dream," he replied cryptically, and began to stretch. He glanced at Padmé briefly and commented, "You changed again."

"You're not complaining, are you?" Her eyes sparkled. "After all, you wouldn't want to have carried all those heavy suitcases for nothing, now would you?"

He put on a fake grimace. "Now that's something I'll not soon forget." Laughing, they both left the compartment and headed for the cockpit. The memories of his behavior on Coruscant and fighting the enemy ship were still fresh in Padmé's mind, but she was not going to let them ruin the first good laugh they had both had in a long time.

*******************************

Having seated herself deliberately in the passenger's chair, Padmé watched Anakin prepare to take the ship out of hyperspace. He had thrown a sort of poncho on over his Jedi garb, as though wearing a disguise were part of his role as bodyguard. She noticed that he fingered the controls somewhat nervously, and she asked as casually as possibly, "You don't think that ship has traced us all the way here, do you?"

Anakin shook his head rapidly, as much confirming it to himself as to her. "Going back to where you first got attacked is the last thing they'd expect you to do," he declared as he turned to face her. "No, I'm sure we'll be safe. We will," he finished firmly, and continued to frown as he turned back to the controls. Padmé shook her head, knowing better than to press the issue.

A light on the console began to flash. Anakin silenced it with the flick of a button and then pushed back the lever to bring them out of lightspeed. A glowing green planet replaced the swirls of hyperspace in the viewscreen, and a tiny sigh escaped Padmé as she viewed her home. She had traveled to a great many planets in her relatively short lifetime, but none of them, in her opinion, could ever compare to her own. This particular view of Naboo was one she had not seen in a long time. They had come at the planet from the other side, far from the majestic waterfalls and carefully crafted structures of Theed. There was a different beauty to this part of Naboo, but no less dear to her heart.

She spoke up hesitantly. "I - I know the way well, Anakin. Would you mind if I -?"

He stood up from pilot's chair without a word and motioned her into it with a smile, settling back into the co-pilot's seat to admire the gorgeous view before them. Padmé had to grin. She took the controls in her hand and began directing the ship towards home.
----
She decided to land in a small town near her parents' farm. Like any settlement on her planet, its architecture was grand and elaborate, with stone streets and plazas that required dozens of artisans to design it and dozens more caretakers to keep it continually clean and beautiful. She knew the perfect landing space in a quiet - well, even quieter than the rest - corner of town. Their ship would be fairly safe and undisturbed there, and she would not have to attempt to land it on the hilly landscape surrounding the farm.

Anakin had turned back from the viewscreen as they broke through the atmosphere and was watching her instead, a wry look on his face. Padmé wondered if he was aching to criticize her flying techniques, desperately wanting to give her a few tips. Well, she thought with a smirk, we can't all be the best pilot in the universe, now can we?

The ship hit ground with a bump; not the smoothest landing she had ever made, but then, it was hard with someone like Anakin looking over her shoulder. It didn't occur to her that it wasn't her flying skills he was watching.

"So." She unstrapped herself from the pilot's seat and turned back to face Anakin. "Here we are."

He nodded. "So...you want to get off?"

"That was our plan, I believe." Neither one moved, their faces fixed in position. Padmé wondered why now, of all times, her heart should be pounding. It must be the excitement over seeing her family again, she decided. With an abrupt nod of her head, she destroyed the moment and Anakin turned away. "Let's go, then."

He insisted on carrying her suitcases once more as they left the ship, struggling to keep his balance as they walked down the entrance ramp. Padmé laughed out loud. "We still have to walk to my family's farm, you know," she commented as they walked across the plaza. "I'm afraid your arms are going to get very tired."

"'You have to take a little pain if you want to get strong,'" Anakin replied, still managing to take his usual long strides despite the extra weight. "At least," he added with a laugh, "that's what Master Obi-Wan always tells me." Padmé noticed his face fall a little as he thought of his master and tried to think of a way to cheer him up. Before she could speak, however, they were attacked by several fierce assailants. Several very tiny assailants, and all quite fiercely determined to hug Padmé all at once. Little children, to be precise, who surrounded her, jumped up and down, and cried her name excitedly.

Anakin stared in wonder at the children as he set down the suitcases. They were like none he had ever seen before. There were the slave children on Tatooine, cheerful and hardy enough, but still lacking something - it was the feeling of freedom, of course. And then there were the little Jedi-in-training - all things considered, they were no freer than the slaves - though, of course, he acknowledged hastily, they were far better treated.

But these children were another matter entirely. The way they danced about and capered through the plaza, it seemed they hadn't a care in the galaxy. And they probably didn't.

"Padmé, Padmé," a little girl in a pink dress and ribbons gasped breathlessly. "Is it true that you almost got dead-ed?"

A shadow of something crossed Padmé's face before she answered brightly, "Well, what do you think, Anea? I'm standing here before you, aren't I?" She held out her arm teasingly. "Here, touch me. See if I'm dead-ed or not."

Anea laughed as she daringly squeezed Padmé's arm, then darted back to the rear of the group. The other children began to follow her example, clutching at a finger, an arm, even the nose, of the not-so-dead Padmé.

"We were very, very worried," announced a boy clad in a little blue tunic, his voice solemn. "'Cause we remembered when you used to come here and visit us, and you were so nice, and pretty -"

The other boys sniggered a little, and the brave speaker turned a bright shade of red. "Well, she was," he muttered, retreating to join the girl in pink.

"I'm grateful for your concern," Padmé replied seriously, her eyes sparkling. "And don't worry, Jahri," she told the embarrassed boy confidentially, "I don't mind if you think I'm pretty."

Anakin was back on Tatooine, a little slave boy in a dirty, greasy shop, cleaning parts absentmindedly and staring at the angel who had just walked into the room. He was terrified to speak to such a beautiful creature, of course, but he just had to. And she looked nice, too - surely she wouldn't be angry if he just asked her one simple question...

A tiny girl was tugging at his arm, her sticky fingers leaving marks on his sleeve. He looked down in surprise. "Er - yes?"

"Are you a queen too?" she asked, her eyes wide and shining with excitement.

His mouth fell open. How to answer such a question was beyond him.

Padmé knelt down patiently before the girl. "No, he's not," she said earnestly, "but he's training to be a Jedi Knight. You know who the Jedi are, don't you, Dasiana?"

The girl, perhaps no more than three years old, nodded soberly. "They're the good guys that fight the bad guys."

"Good enough." Anakin grinned and ruffled her hair, his confidence restored. The girl stared back up at him with a look of sheer worship.

Padmé turned back to the rest of the children with a definite look of regret on her face. "We have to go now," she said, and the children's voices joined in a chorus of protesting.

"But you just got here!"

"We never get to see you!"

"What if you get dead-ed next time?" Anea added in a quavering voice.

"Now, now," Padmé replied soothingly, "I have not intention of doing so. Now Anakin and I are going to my house. I'm going to see my family," she went on with an excitement that was not at all feigned. "I'm going home."

**********************************

Grumbling but obedient, the children slowly began to drift off again, looking longingly at Padmé over their shoulders. Anakin watched them go with almost as much regret, sensing something about them that he had somehow missed in his own life. Padmé touched his shoulder and whispered in his ear. "Let's go."

He took up the suitcases once more and nodded, still feeling the tingling sensation of her voice. "Is it really that far?" he asked curiously.

Glancing at him with a sheepish smile as she recalled her shameless teasing, Padmé replied, "Well...I think you'll be able to make it. But you really don't have to carry those all the way; let me take one of them at least."

Anakin snatched them out of her reach. "Nope. I'm not going to let you. You can't show up exhausted and over-worked on your own parents' doorstep."

"You shouldn't either. Don't you want to make a good impression?" Padmé wondered where those words had come from and looked down at the ground, baffled. A good impression for what?

He raised his eyebrows. "The best impression I can make is as someone who cares about you, enough not to let you wear yourself out."

Padmé flushed briefly, but then she looked up again. "Fine. I don't want to hear you complain, though!" She elbowed him teasingly in the arm, and they began to make their way through the town's outskirts, laughing if only to break the tension.

Before them lay miles of the green, grassy plains of the far side of Naboo. Nestled somewhere in those hills was a little farmhouse that she had not seen in years. Her heart quickening, Padmé stepped forward. Anakin was close behind.
----
The journey seemed longer than she remembered, probably because she was so anxious to be home. She had finally convinced Anakin to let her take one of the suitcases, and she was already beginning to regret her choice. The handle seemed to burn right through the palm of her hand, pulling her down and making every step a chore. Anakin watched her carefully through the corner of his eye, outwardly casual but prepared to carry her himself if she grew too tired. He only hoped she remembered where they were going.

"We'll be reaching it soon," she said wearily, not the first time she had said those words without their being fulfilled. Anakin merely nodded and absentmindedly rubbed the back of his neck, which was covered with perspiration. Naboo's weather was mild compared to his home planet, but lately he had grown accustomed to the controlled climate of Coruscant, and he had not endured heat like this for some time. He did not complain, however. Padmé would tease him mercilessly about it.

"There." The weariness lifted all at once from her voice as she began staring intently ahead of them. "There it is!" Her pace quickened, and Anakin easily adjusted his stride to catch up. He followed her gaze and spotted what caught her notice. They were coming to the top of a hill, looking down on a little grassy valley. Just a stone's throw from the foot of the hill, there was a farmhouse that fit it so well with its environment it looked as though it had grown there just like the trees and flowers surrounding it. Anakin could feel a sense of home about it, something he had not felt since leaving his own little hovel on Tatooine. Headless of her weariness and the weight of her suitcase, Padmé began to run down the hill. Anakin gladly followed.

As they approached the house, a figure appeared at the doorway. It was a woman in her middle-age, positively comfortable in her familiarity. Anakin felt a sharp pang in his chest as the woman stopped suddenly and stared, her hand on her heart. A smile spread slowly over her features, and she began to run towards them just as quickly as they came to her. "Padmé!" she cried joyously, and mother and daughter came together in a warm embrace. Even before they pulled apart, the woman was calling for her husband, telling him to get out there before their daughter ran off to another side of the galaxy again. Padmé's father, a larger, broad-shouldered man, was outside just moments later, his face brightening with the unexpected arrival and gathering his daughter into his arms as though he planned to suffocate her. Padmé and her parents were laughing and crying all at once, trying to outdo one another in telling each other everything, thus getting very little talking done at all.

Anakin was tempted to cry too, setting down the suitcases and nodding politely at Padmé's parents as she introduced him to them, but his reasons were not quite the same as the others'. Something about this was all too familiar - yet all too absent. He seemed to feel his mother's absence, as well as his master's, weighing a thousand times more heavily upon him. It was too much. He fled.

*********************************

Anakin seemed to have disappeared somehow in the excitement and flurry of homecoming. Padmé had put her suitcases in her old bedroom and started settling in before realizing he was gone. Frowning, she left her things to take care of them later and began searching the house for Anakin.

Her mother was in the kitchen preparing lunch. She smiled happily at her daughter as she peeked in the doorway. Padmé smiled back and asked her if she had seen her bodyguard anywhere, vexed to find herself blushing.

Her mother shook her head. "I'm sorry, I haven't." She hid a smile at her daughter's face.

Padmé hesitated, tempted to stay and talk to her mother about the furious confusion of feelings this bodyguard of hers had started. But somehow, it all seemed too silly to discuss it seriously. Nodding her thanks, she started down the hallway again, wondering if she shouldn't just let Anakin be by himself, wherever he was. If he wasn't showing himself, he probably didn't want to be found. And there, all of a sudden, she found him.

Through the open front door she could see him, sitting on the front step, resting his head on his hands and staring at the ground. Clearly, he did not wish to be disturbed. But it was too late. He had already heard her footsteps through the open doorway, and he turned around even as she started to slip away.

"Hello," he said. His voice was hollow, echoing, as though he had run out of emotions.

"Hello." She stood, hesitating, then squared her jaw and continued walking towards him. A breeze drifted across her face as she stepped outside; her skirts swayed slightly. What are you so nervous about? Just sit down. Sit down! She obeyed her silent, firm command, settling down next to Anakin. He did not seem to react. They both sat silently.

"This is a - really nice place here," he said at last, and the sincerity in his voice made up for his lame words. She smiled. "I mean," he went on awkwardly, "your parents are great. They really are."

"You miss your mother, don't you?" She wasn't sure if she had intended to say that aloud or not. But there, it was out, and there was nothing she could do about it.

He looked positively shaken. "How do you do that?" he demanded, and Padmé could not hold back the grin that forced its way onto her face as emotion, wild and fierce, reappeared in his tone at last.

"Do what?"

He shook his head, as though it were too obvious to miss. "Read my thoughts. Tell me exactly what I'm thinking."

Her eyes sparkled. "With you, it's not that hard. You don't exactly bother to conceal what you're thinking. Besides," she continued more gently, "it's only natural for you to be thinking of your mother, here in a home, seeing a family all together like this..." She sighed. "I felt the same way when I was at your home on Tatooine, as far from home as I'd ever been."

Anakin looked at her with sudden intensity. "I haven't seen her in years, Padmé. I don't know what's happened to her in all this time, I don't know if she even misses me -"

"Anakin." Padmé looked him straight in the face. "How could she possibly not miss you?"

He allowed himself a small smile. "Sorry. I was just panicking, I guess."

Padmé shook her head and smiled back. "Being apart from your Master and your mother..." she mused softly. "I can only imagine how hard it is." She looked down at her hands quickly, wondering why her cheeks were burning again. "I appreciate the fact that you would - do all this to protect me. It's a lot of sacrifice for you to go through."

She would have preferred it if he had laughed it off and said he was only following the Council's orders. Instead, he gazed at her with a seriousness that was almost too much to bear. "You're just as important to me as Obi-Wan or my mother, Padmé. I'd do anything to make sure you were safe."

She wanted to cry out: Why? What did I do to make you care so much? But instead she found herself caught by his gaze, speechless and blushing. Every conversational skill she had learned as queen seemed to fly right out of her head. "S - stop it, Anakin," she murmured.

"What?" he whispered, drawing his face close to hers.

She felt a shiver run up her spine and closed her eyes. Then, abruptly, she drew away. Anakin looked down, disappointment evident on his face.

"You say I can read your thoughts," Padmé said, hurriedly standing up and trying to shake the cobwebs from her brain. "I don't know if I can or not, but whatever you do is much worse."

He stood up as well, his eyes narrowed. "What? What is it that I can do?"

"I don't know," she snapped, troubled that she was allowing herself to get angry, but even more troubled at the cause of it. "Just - just let me go, all right?"

Anakin frowned. "I was never making you stay, Padmé."

She flushed, knowing she had hurt him. But an apology simply wouldn't come out. Turning away, she hurried inside and ran down the hallway out of sight.

Anakin was still standing on the doorstep when Padmé's mother came to the door and invited him in for lunch. He silently nodded his thanks and followed her indoors, idly rubbing the back of his neck as the door closed behind them. They walked side by side down the hall, Anakin keeping his eyes carefully trained on the floor and his thoughts carefully trained on anything but Padmé. He was suddenly curious, however, about this woman who had raised Padmé, who had surely had a great deal of influence on who Padmé had become. He was also, to his great annoyance, suddenly shy.

"So you're here to protect my daughter," Padmé's mother said abruptly, looking up at him as they continued down the hallway. Anakin's head snapped up and he turned to face her with a look of bafflement, wondering where the question was leading.

"Yes," he said slowly. "I was assigned to be her bodyguard; it's my duty to keep her from danger at all costs."

She studied his face shrewdly. "It's a duty, then? Not a choice."

He realized, somehow, that she knew it was not so. She could see right through him, just like her daughter could. "No," he replied at last, "I was assigned to do it, but I would have done it anyway."

An odd smile drifted across the mother's face. "I'm sure you would have," she murmured. Anakin glanced at her and tried to decide what she was implying with those words, but her face remained a mystery.
-----
Anakin decided he could definitely get used to Naboo cuisine. Perhaps it was because he had been living off of the ship's tasteless rations for the last few days, but it seemed he had never tasted anything so delicious as the food Padmé's mother served them. He was glad for that; it gave him an excuse to keep his eyes on his plate rather than continually glancing at Padmé, who had ended up directly across from him at the table. It was still difficult not to be distracted by her, however, as she explained to her parents the various dangers and escapes that had brought them there - though reluctant to recall the frightful experiences of the last few days, she knew her parents deserved to hear the whole story. She had just finished telling them how they escaped from the enemy ship a second time after leaving Coruscant, and Anakin found himself reliving the moment as he stared at a piece of lettuce on his plate, feeling the fury surge through his veins, the pounding determination throbbing in his brain as he fired at the dark enemy's ship. He barely concealed a shudder.

"And so we came here," Padmé finished, glancing uneasily at first her father, then her mother. "I - feel terrible about putting both of you in danger by coming here, but -"

Both her parents interrupted at once, insisting that she not apologize. "You can always come here," her mother said firmly. "You're our daughter!"

The girl who had become the Queen of Naboo looked as though she were about to cry. "I know," she said unhappily, "but it's not fair for me to take advantage of you like this."

Padmé's mother touched her daughter's arm comfortingly, giving her husband a sad look. "Queen first, then daughter," she murmured. "We always knew it would be that way."

Anakin would have done anything to make Padmé smile again, but he felt decidedly out of place in this family scene. He and his mother had only ever argued about podracing; for an nine-year-old boy there was little else on which he would disagree with his mother. For Padmé, however, there was a world of distance between her and her parents. And he could see how she suffered, how she was torn between the two roles she wanted to play, both leader and daughter. But there was nothing he could do about it.

Dinner ended abruptly with Padmé excusing herself and leaving the kitchen as fast as possible. Her mother sighed as she watched her go and began to clean up the table, quickly joined by her husband. Anakin stood up from his chair and stared at the doorway through which Padmé had left the room. He knew he had wanted to do or say something before she had left, but now he couldn't remember what it was.

****************************

Coming home had not been quite as comfortable as Padmé had hoped, she realized as she finished unpacking her clothes after lunch. First of all, her parents undoubtedly sensed something between her and Anakin, but they seemed to refuse to say anything about it. And while she was wonderfully happy to be with her family again, there was a definite distance between them, if only because of the enormously different directions their lives had taken. They were quiet farmfolk; she was a galactic leader. It was simply awkward. She couldn't decide who she was - Padmé: daughter and friend, or Amidala, queen and sovereign. If there were anywhere where she could be just Padmé, it should be here, but Amidala kept creeping in again.

Padmé straightened from where she had been bending over her suitcases. She knew, all at once, what she needed to do. As a little child, crying or lonely, she had often slipped across the fields behind her house to a small hill, a grass-covered refuge where she could sit and watch the sky. The warm breezes and wide blue sky had always calmed and comforted her like nothing else could. And she needed that comfort more than anything right now.

Removing her headdress and letting her hair fall down freely across her back, Padmé left her old bedroom and walked through the halls of the small house until she came to the back door. She could smell the fresh air already. Breathing in deeply, she felt a satisfied smile come onto her face as she walked outdoors. She glanced down at her feet. It had been a long time since she had known the feel of grass between her toes. Her smile widened as she took off her shoes and walked barefoot across the fields. The blades of grass tickled the soles of her feet, and she laughed merely to hear the sound of laughter.

Upon reaching the hill, she lifted her skirts and began to climb the tiny height. The sun beat down warmly on the summit, and she settled down contentedly. Already this place had begun to work its magic on her.

Some time passed by in blissful solitude and silence. Then a shadow came over Padmé. A familiar shadow.

"Mind if I join you?" Anakin had climbed the hill and towered above her, nearly blocking out the sunlight. "Your parents said I might find you here." She squinted up at him, then shrugged.

"Go ahead."

He dropped to the grass and folded his long legs under him. Sneaking a glance at him, she realized he was sneaking one back. They both grinned, and with that, ended the argument. It was nice not to be fighting anymore.

They sat in companionable silence for quite some time, watching the sun sink lower in the sky. A gentle wind stirred the grass around them, touching their cheeks and pulling at strands of hair. Anakin let out a contended sigh. Padmé glanced at the boy beside her. He was still a boy, and he would always be a boy. It was easier that way.

She was lying to herself. He was not a boy. Boys didn't make her heart pound every time she saw them. Boys didn't make her skin tingle in anticipation. Boys didn't look at her that way.

She was attracted to him, there was no doubt about that. What girl wouldn't be? Tall, strong, with intense blue eyes that seemed to swallow her, and an adorable crooked smile...

But that would not be enough. It would take more than a physical attraction to make her lower her guard, break down the walls she had spent years building up. It would take something much more. But perhaps that something was already there. Perhaps she had already begun to remove the mask. And perhaps she didn't want to fight anymore.

"It's so beautiful here," he murmured, plucking a single blade of grass and twisting it between his fingers. "So peaceful." Of course he would love her home. Of course he would think it beautiful. And she adored him for it. "It almost makes you forget the rest of the galaxy, just sitting here and watching the sky."

"Almost." She smiled ironically. "It was here, you know, that I first realized I could never stay."

He turned to her in surprise. "What do you mean?"

She sighed lightly. "I mean that it was while sitting here, watching the birds soar, the grass waving in the breeze, that I realized my first love."

Anakin nodded. "Your planet. Naboo."

He understood. Padmé could have laughed out loud from the sheer joy of it. "Yes. It was then I realized how much I loved my home, how I would do anything to make sure it was always the same beautiful place. I promised, then and there, to devote my life to my planet and my people." She laughed wryly. "I had no idea, then, how much that promise would involve."

Anakin lounged back on his elbows, his face turned to hers. "It was very - self-sacrificing of you." He blinked. "Did you ever -"

"Regret it?" Somehow she could sense his question before it was fully spoken. "No. I never have. Though - it's times like these that it's hardest - when I remember what I gave up, being here with my family - yes, it's hard to leave after that." With a flash of insight, she touched his hand and added, "But you've have your share of self-sacrifice."

He started at her touch, then shrugged. "I guess so." Slowly their hands wrapped around each other. "But I can't say I wasn't warned." He laughed quietly. "I knew from the start that it would be a hard life. Still," he went on, drawing nearer to her, "there are occasional moments of happiness."

Padmé sighed. "Sometimes happiness seems to be nothing more than a lucky coincidence."

"That doesn't mean you have to fight it when it comes." Anakin held her gaze intently, his eyes pulling her in.

"I'm not - fighting," she managed to say, her voice below a whisper.

"Good." He was going to kiss her, she knew it. And from somewhere in the corner of her heart, she heard a cry of joy, like a bird released from its cage, free to soar. She did not fight it. Then she kissed him first. He was surprised at first and almost pulled back by instinct. But she held him tighter, and he did not resist.

It was not a long kiss. Anakin did not want to push his luck. A look of genuine bashfulness was on his face as they pulled apart, but Padmé returned it with a quiet smile. Their hands remained entwined together.

"I told you I wasn't afraid of you." Her face took on a decidedly sly look.

Anakin laughed. "Could have fooled me. Avoiding me, hiding around in your queen's costume -"

"I wasn't hiding." The hint of sharpness in her tone was a warning for him to stop. But Anakin pressed on, determined to face the truth.

"It's all right, Padmé. I understand why you were doing it at first. But all that's changed now; you've broken down -"

"Broken down?" she repeated coldly. Her hand began to slip away from his. "Is that how you see it, Anakin? As though I've lost control, fallen under your spell?"

"No!" Both confused and exasperated, Anakin attempted to move closer, but Padmé drew away. "That's not what I meant at all." He gave up trying to close the distance between them and flopped back on the grass, letting out a sigh. What had happened? Everything had been going so well, and now he could see it falling to pieces again.

Padmé sighed as well and drew her legs up, wrapping her arms around them and resting her chin on her knees. She wasn't sure why she had wrenched herself away, just when things finally started to get together. She also wasn't sure why Anakin's words had troubled her so much. It was a silly thing, really. Terribly silly.

"Padmé." He continued to stare at the sky, his arms under his head, as he spoke. "Why do you change so suddenly? It's like there's two parts of you - one is warm, kind, open. The other is cold, pushes me away. Just when I think I've found the first one, the cold comes and smothers the warmth all over again."

Padmé was determined not to get angry again. She considered Anakin's question seriously. "You know, the same could be said of you, Anakin. At times you're sarcastic, cynical, a wisecrack. And then you grow serious all at once - intense, driven, passionate."

"And which one annoys you more?" Anakin was half-joking; he already knew what the answer would be. But she surprised him.

"The second one," she said quietly. "It's - it's almost too intense. Too much, too powerful. Like something's burning within you..." She shuddered and shook her head.

Anakin couldn't understand why her words should make him so uneasy, why he should feel a chill inexplicably running through him as she spoke. He changed the subject abruptly.

"But what about you, Padmé?" he asked. "What about your two sides?"

She looked at him sideways, as though some hidden intent lay buried in his question. Then her expression turned casual again, and she shrugged. "The colder side - it seems to tell me to hold back. Don't throw your heart away; it says. But then the other side comes along and -"

"And what?" His face was inches from hers again. How did that happen? She found herself staring into his eyes as she tried to finish.

"And it tells me - it tells me -" Her eyes closed. So, she was sure, did Anakin's. "It says -"

"Padmé! Anakin! Dinnertime!" The voice of her mother rang out across the field.

Padmé's eyes flew open again, and she and Anakin looked at each other ruefully. "Let's go," Anakin sighed resignedly. The mood was broken.

But as they walked back toward Padmé's home, they held each other's hands tightly, as though hanging on for dear life.

**************************

Padmé knew her parents were bound to notice something different between herself and Anakin at dinner. They couldn't help looking up and grinning at each other every few minutes, as though they shared some special secret. She only wondered whether her mother or father would finally say something about it. She felt reluctant, for some reason, to bring it up herself.

The conversation did not take that direction for some time, however, as her parents discussed the year's harvest and other humdrum matters. Padmé had a great deal of difficulty paying any attention to what they were saying. Anakin, she knew, wasn't even trying. Half the time he even forgot to eat.

A few words drifted into her hearing at last. "And if we have a few extra hands to help out...." Padmé's father trailed off and looked significantly at the two distracted young people. His daughter realized with a jolt that he was referring to herself and Anakin.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "You mean - us? Help out with the farm...?"

Padmé's mother shrugged and added with a wry smile, "A little work never hurt anyone."

Anakin finally joined in the conversation. "I would love to help out," he announced, nudging Padmé's foot with his own under the table. Even the gentle push, on her bare foot, was enough to make her wince visibly.

"Yes," she replied automatically, then gave it more thought. "Of course we would. But - I don't know how much longer we'll be here. I mean -"

"I thought you would stay here until you were out of danger," her mother protested.

"But who know how long that will be?" Padmé's face was torn with frustration as she looked from one parent to the other. "And the longer I stay here, the more I put you in danger."

Anakin found himself in the uncomfortable position of agreeing with both sides. The last thing he wanted was for Padmé to leave a place of safety and risk her life again. Yet at the same time, he could see why she was reluctant to stay here too long. The fact that her parents were in danger as long as she was with them must be a dreadful burden for her to carry. He would have done anything to lift it. Instead, he could do nothing at all.

"Padmé just doesn't want to put you in danger," he said at last, unable to keep silent. "Any more than you want her to be in danger." Padmé's parents were silent, his words slowly sinking in. Padmé herself gave Anakin a desperate, pleading look, as though asking him not to interfere. He answered with raised eyebrows, wordlessly telling her that he could do nothing less than that.

Padmé slumped against the back of her chair with a heavy sigh, listlessly poking at her food.

"I don't think we should be worrying about this right now," Padmé's father said at last, setting both hands on the table firmly. "You've hardly been here a day, Padmé - you'll be safe here for a while, at any rate. And we've missed you," he added wistfully. "We have so much to catch up on."

Padmé managed a smile. "Of course. I'm glad to be home."

Anakin felt the tension in the room lift, like a storm blown away, and he grinned as daughter and parents began talking amicably. He even joined in.
--------
As dusk approached, Padmé realized just how exhausted she was. She could not remember the last time she had had a good long sleep. Her parents could not help but notice her enormous yawns, and insisted that she get to bed. She did not have the energy to protest. Anakin gave her a wry smile. "I think I'll turn in too, if you don't mind," he announced, standing up from the table along with Padmé. "Er - do you have a place where I can stay?"

"There's a bed in the alcove," Padmé's father told him. He glanced at Anakin's long legs and added, "It should be big enough."

"I'm used to being scrunched," Anakin grinned. Padmé laughed out loud. She must be getting very tired, she decided, to laugh at something so silly. Flushing slightly, she excused herself from the kitchen and headed towards her bedroom.

Padmé's mother began cleaning up dinner, smiling quietly to herself. Her husband rose from the table and clapped Anakin on the back. "Why don't I show you the alcove?" he suggested, in a tone that was thankfully quite friendly. Anakin nodded and followed him into the hallway. Once they had gotten out of hearing range of the kitchen, Anakin spoke up.

"I want to apologize for my behavior," he said somewhat awkwardly.

Padmé's father glanced at him with raised eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"Well..." Anakin struggled to find the words to describe what he was feeling. "I - I really care about your daughter."

"I know," he smiled.

Anakin felt his face turning red, but blundered determinedly on. "I guess I just might seem a little - over-protective of her. And maybe you don't approve -"

"Don't approve?" Padmé's father looked slightly amused. "Anyone who wants to protect my daughter has already earned a great deal of respect in my eyes, I assure you."

Anakin found a smile sneaking onto his face. "Really? That is - you don't -"

"I'm not blind, you know," the hardy Naboo farmer interrupted, looking at Anakin shrewdly. "There's something between you two, there's doubt about that." Anakin started to interrupt, but he was cut off once more. "Don't you think I might know a little about young people? I was one of them myself, once." Anakin grinned.

"You aren't angry, then?"

Padmé's father looked at him for a moment, then spoke just two words. "Not yet."
---
Padmé had just pulled on a nightgown - a luxury she had not enjoyed for several nights - when she heard a knock at the door. Jumping instinctively at first, she then chided herself and willed her heart to stop pounding. "Who is it?" she asked aloud.

"Who do you think it is?" The door opened and her mother entered, carrying several freshly washed sheets in her arms. Padmé let out a tiny sigh of relief and wondered why she had been so ridiculously jittery.

"Hi, mom."

"I brought you some clean bedclothes." Her mother bustled over to her bed and began changing the sheets. "Who knows how long it's been since someone slept here?"

"Too long." Padmé walked to her mother's side and began assisting her. They finished the job quickly, then settled down on the bed, somehow both knowing they needed to talk.

"So." Her mother turned to her with a surprisingly serious expression on her face. Tell me about this Anakin."

Padmé's jaw fell open, and she fought back the urge to giggle like a little girl. "Um - what do you what me to tell you?"

"Everything." Her mother's eyes sparkled.

Padmé realized all at once what a relief it would be to finally get her feelings outside of her. If such a thing were possible.

"It didn't begin like this," she started thoughtfully. "He was just a boy when we first met. A little dirty slave boy."

"Oh, so this is the boy who saved the planet?" Padmé detected just a hint of teasing in her mother's tone.

"Right," she laughed. "That's the one." Her smile faded as she continued. "But that was ten years ago. Everything's - changed now."

"Everything?"

Padmé considered the question seriously. "I guess some things haven't. In many ways, he's still like a little boy - eager, idealistic, loyal." She smiled fondly.

"Then what has changed?" Her mother watched her intently.

"Well..." She laughed. "I think all these years of being around Obi-Wan Kenobi has made him develop a very strange sense of humor."

Her mother joined in the laughter, a gentle, comfortable sound. "Maybe that's not such a bad thing."

"It helps to lighten the mood, anyway." Padmé shrugged. "When he gets too serious." Her brow furrowed at the thought, and suddenly she felt her mother's hand on her shoulder.

"What do you think of him, Padmé?"

Taken aback, Padmé stared at her mother. "What do I think of him?" She shook her head. "That's a good question. I'm not sure I know what the answer is." Her mother shrugged.

"If your feelings toward him are confused, I wouldn't worry too much. It's perfectly normal."

Padmé gave a wry smile. "You mean having my feelings turned upside-down every time I see him? Having every reasonable, level-headed resolve I've made fly utterly out of my head?"

Her mother nodded. "Exactly."

******************************

Anakin was standing at the edge of a wasteland. A storm brewed on the horizon, bringing up furious clouds of dust. He could feel the coming tempest in the air, as tangible as the grit that collected in the folds of his clothing. The breeze that stirred his hair was a seemingly innocent harbinger of the disaster to come.

He started forward uneasily, reluctant to walk into the storm, but oddly drawn towards the ominous dust clouds by some inexplicable pull. Resisting the pull resulted in wrenching pain, agony. He had no strength to fight it.

The journey seemed endless. However far he walked, he seemed to be in the same location, the landscape unchanging. It was exhausting to go on, but even more exhausting to stop and fight the pull. He was going to die, he realized, alone in the middle of the desert, with no one to mourn his loss. And he was too tired to even regret his life's end.

He fell into the sand in a painful collapse. The grit and dust flew into his eyes, burning and stinging mercilessly. He could no longer support even the weight of his own body. Closing his watering eyes, his mind drifting from grim reality into unconsciousness, he waited for the inevitable wraith of death to come upon him. Memories of another time, a happy time, waited somewhere at the back of his brain, but they were insubstantial, the stuff of dreams.

"Ani!" He wondered idly how a voice could call his name when he no longer existed. A familiar voice. Death seemed to wait a few moments as he opened his eyes, brushed the sand from his face, and rose slowly, painstakingly, from the ground. Shading his face from the brutal sun, he began to scan the horizon for the source of the voice. But there were only the same ominous dust clouds, coming closer now, threatening, pulling him forever towards them. Strength returned in small part as he began to walk towards the storm once more. Taking a deep breath, he tried to shake off the uneasy feeling of death that had hung over him for those few minutes. And then he recalled the voice again.

"Ani!" It sounded once more, definitely coming from the direction of the storm now. And a figure was beginning to emerge among the clouds of dust. He could not see a face clearly enough to distinguish who it was, and yet he knew, even before he looked. He tried to call out the name, but sand filled his throat as he drew in a breath, and he choked. Stumbling over the ridges of dust, he still seemed unable to get any closer to the storm. Yet it drew closer to him, and he could see the figure more clearly now, reaching out to him, still calling his name. And then a jolt ran through the figure, a shudder, as though something had struck at it. Standing strangely still for a moment, the figure looked directly at him, the face now as clear as crystal. The expression sent a shiver of pain through Anakin's heart. And then the figure crumpled to the ground.

He found his voice at last, and let out a cry that seemed to echo a thousand times. He started to run, faster, heedless of the sand that blinded and choked him. He continued to cry a wordless shout that throbbed in his head. He did not see the rock that was firmly embedded in the ground, alternately covered and uncovered by the streams of sand that constantly blew over it. Whether it was exposed at that moment was unimportant. It lay directly in Anakin's path, and it would be his fall. He hit the ground heavily, his head crashing into the sand and raising a cloud of dust, the jolt of the fall resounding throughout his entire body. Everything went black.

He was still screaming when he awoke.
--
Padmé knew something was wrong when she awoke in the middle of the night. At first she thought it was just a bad dream, but as she lay stock-still in bed, her heart still pounding, she began to hear a distant moaning pierce the silence. It seemed to come from overhead, which confused her until she remembered that there was an alcove just above her bedroom. Anakin.

If she had been fully awake, she might have stayed in bed and carefully considered whether to go to him or not, and what the results of such an action would be. Half asleep, it was not even a choice. She rose immediately, wrapping an airy robe around her nightgown and hurrying out of her room.

She had not climbed the stairs to the alcove since her childhood, having abandoned the refuge of the stuffy room for the more breathable outdoors. She still remembered, however, which steps creaked, and carefully avoided the one with the weak board. The door at the top of the staircase was ajar, and she entered the alcove without a second thought.

The foot of the bed practically touched the doorway, so small was the room where it had been placed. Padmé halted immediately as soon as she passed through the doorway and stared. Anakin was sitting bolt upright among tousled sheets and pillows, his eyes wild, his breathing fast and frantic. He did not seem to notice her standing there, perhaps because she stood in the shadows. His own face was illuminated by a sharp beam of moonlight glowing through a small window in the wall to the left of the bed; the light played about his face eerily and Padmé almost wondered if it were really Anakin at all. Shirtless, he clutched the blankets with whitened hands, his skin drenched with sweat. He looks like he's been dead, Padmé thought oddly.

She shook herself. This was no place for such ridiculous thoughts. Nor was it the time for her to be admiring how he looked without a shirt on, though that was something very difficult to ignore. No, Anakin was troubled, and he clearly needed someone to comfort him. She spoke his name with an intentional forcefulness, hoping to shake him out of his stupor. "Anakin."

He shuddered so intensely that she worried it had only make things worse. But then his eyes seemed to refocus, and he noticed her for the first time. "Padmé! What are you doing here?" He began looking around the room anxiously, as though expecting something to pop out at him at any moment.

"I - I heard you," Padmé said awkwardly. "Downstairs." She frowned and walked around the frame to stand at his bedside. "You were moaning."

Anakin leaned back against the head of his bed with a groan. "I was screaming."

Padmé dropped to her knees and looked up anxiously at his face. "It must have been a dream. Just a dream. It's all right now."

"Just a dream," he murmured. She lifted her hand and began stroking his cheek, quietly speaking words of comfort and assurance. Anakin, his breathing calm once more, took her hand in his and looked intently at her face. Then he gasped.

"What is it?" Padmé stared in dismay as he dropped her hand and held his head with both hands, shaking his head and muttering. "What's the matter, Anakin?"

He looked at her at last, bleak, exhausted. "I remember my dream. Oh, Padmé, it was awful."

"It was a nightmare." She nodded sympathetically. "Sometimes they seem so real."

"No, you don't understand!" Anakin began pulling off his covers and getting out of bed, knocking his head on the low ceiling as he rose. He hardly seemed to notice the pain and continued to move about rapidly, pulling on a shirt, wiping the sweat from his face, still muttering. "Anakin, what is it?" Padmé confronted him as he was about to leave the alcove, forcing him to stop and answer her question at last.

Anakin paused. When he finally spoke, his voice held a tone of quiet desperation. "My mother's in danger, Padmé. I have to go help her."

"Your mother?" She had often been baffled by the things Anakin said, but this had to be the most baffling of all. "How do you know? How could you possibly know?"

Anakin shook his head. "I saw her, Padmé. She was in trouble; she was calling out to me to help her. I have to go!"

"Do you mean she was in your dream?" Padmé frowned. "Anakin, that's crazy! You can't mean that you really believe -"

"It wasn't just a dream." Anakin's face filled with frustration as he saw the doubt in her eyes and wondered how he could explain it to her without seeming completely mad. "It's - it's a Jedi thing, Padmé. Sometimes - we can see things. The future." He looked away from her skeptical face and sighed. "I don't know if you can understand."

But Padmé's expression had softened. "Can you really do that? I didn't realize -"

"Then you understand," Anakin said with relief. "You know why I have to go -"

Now it was Padmé's turn to interrupt. "No, not by any means!" she broke in. "Anakin, maybe your mother is in danger, and maybe she isn't. But you can't just up and abandon your mission like this. You haven't put any consideration into what you're doing."

"I thought I had left behind the lecturing when Obi-Wan separated from us." Anakin was half-joking, wanting Padmé to laugh again. But she only allowed herself a small smile.

"Looks like you can't escape it," she shrugged. "Someone has to stop you from getting yourself killed. You need to think this over, Anakin." She took his hand and led him back into the room, glad that he did not resist. They both sat on the bed and Anakin began rubbing his temples, wishing it was still the afternoon, when everything had been simple and clear. Now the perfect world was destroyed. He supposed it had never really existed, but it had been nice to imagine for a while.

"I know I wasn't thinking," he said at last. "I should have remembered you, of all people." His brow wrinkled. "I can't leave you here, unprotected - that's the last thing I'd ever want to do. But this dream, Padmé - it was so real. I know it was more than just a nightmare. And if I ignore it, if I'm not there when my mother needs me - I'll never forgive myself."

Padmé was silent, staring at their hands intertwined. She could hardly blame Anakin for being impulsive, knowing her own tendency to be impulsive when she wasn't thinking. Like tonight, for instance, running to Anakin without any consideration of the possible consequences. She shook her head.

"I don't want to leave you," Anakin said, trying in vain to catch her gaze. "I hope you know that."

Padmé sighed and leaned her head on his shoulder. "I know. I know, Anakin. But - maybe you should."

Anakin pulled away in surprise. "You mean - you think I should go?"

She looked down and shrugged. "I don't know." Her seemingly casual expression was actually concealing a turmoil of confusion. She realized Anakin could probably sense that, and was half-glad that someone could actually understand what she was feeling. Slowly, she lifted her face to gaze into his eyes. "Do you know what I think?" she whispered. "I think you're crazy."
He grinned. "Oh, I am," he agreed in a low voice, taking her chin in one gentle hand. "There's no doubt about that." Padmé vaguely noticed that his hand was hot again; her face was burning. She should pull away; there was something not right, but she was literally tired of resisting. And now he was kissing her, warm, intense, hardly the timid boy from that afternoon. All conscious thoughts slipped somewhere to the back of her head as they pulled closer to each other.

And then Padmé's eyes flew open, and she drew back. "What?" Anakin's face was decidedly disappointed. "Is something wrong, Padmé?"

"No." She rose hastily from the bed. "I think we should both get some sleep, Anakin. Just - just think about what you should do. I'll see you in the morning, all right?"

"All right," Anakin replied, baffled and let down. "I'll think about it."

Padmé had a very good reason for pulling away, but she wasn't about to tell Anakin yet. She shook her head as she headed downstairs again, wondering how she was going to explain. How she could tell him that, in that single moment when his lips had touched hers, she had seen what she needed to do. And it was so clear, so absolutely clear, that she was certain he wouldn't understand. They both needed to sleep on it. And hopefully in the morning, things would straighten themselves out. Though that was probably wishful thinking.

******************************

Anakin was up before sunrise. Moving carefully about in the dim light of pre-dawn, he dressed quickly and hurried downstairs. The events of the previous night were still fresh in his mind. He had not had anymore nightmares after Padmé left, probably because he had hardly slept at all. He would not soon forget that first dream, however - the pained face of his mother, looking at him pleadingly, falling to the ground in a heap...

The house was quiet. Padmé's parents must still be sleeping, blissfully unaware of what had happened. They would find out soon enough - better not to disturb them now. Padmé, meanwhile - he had no idea what she was doing. If she had managed to fall back into a peaceful sleep after last night, she had been far less shaken than he had been. And that was simply unfair.

He found her in the kitchen. She was sitting quietly at the table, so still and silent he almost passed right by the room without even noticing. And then he stopped, abruptly, and rubbed the back of his neck to quell a peculiar prickling sensation; the sensation, he realized, that he felt whenever Padmé was near. It was then that he glanced through the doorway of the kitchen and saw her.

He entered soundlessly, watching her carefully as he approached the table. She was sitting with her head in her hands, not sleeping, but clearly exhausted. The face she raised as he came closer was one of infinite weariness, of a thousand harried days and a thousand sleepless nights. "Hello, Anakin," she greeted him, her smile clearly forced.

"May I sit down?"

Padmé nodded and motioned to the seat next to her. She was inwardly surprised at his politeness, decidedly uncharacteristic of him, but she made no sign of her surprise. She needed him to be polite, stand-offish even. And never mind what she wanted.

Anakin settled his long frame into the chair and sat with a stiff back, staring awkwardly at his folded hands. "I - I wanted to apologize," he said finally, still not looking up. His brow furrowed. For whatever it was I did. I still don't know, but I must have done something...

Padmé touched his hand, and if the motion wasn't exactly passionate, at least it was comforting. "It's all right, Anakin. It's not your fault."

Considering I don't even know what it was...Anakin frowned and looked at Padmé. "There's something wrong. I know there is. What is it? Please, tell me." He took her hands and held them tightly. "Please."

She found it nearly impossible to resist his pleading tone and warm gestures. This was not what she needed. "Oh, Anakin." She shook her head slowly. "You don't understand, do you?"

Now Anakin was more confused then ever. "Understand - what?"

"You want to go on a heroic quest to save you mother," Padmé said quietly, a slight hint of affection in her tone. "You'd go to the other end of the galaxy for her - or anyone you care about. And that's what I like about you." She smiled wanly.

Anakin moved closer and started to speak up, but Padmé stopped him. "That's what makes it so hard, you see. Because what I like about you - is also what worries me the most. You're not careful, Anakin. You don't think things out enough."

"Are you sure you're not really Obi-Wan in disguise?" Anakin pretended to look suspicious. "Because you're sounding an awful lot like him right now."

Padmé couldn't help but laugh at his furrowed brow and wrinkled nose. "No, Ani. It's me. But Anakin - I think you do need someone like Obi-Wan around. Because if you're going to go off to look for you mother - whether she's in danger or not, you'll be putting yourself in danger."

Now Anakin was really beginning to grow suspicious. "I don't like the sound of this, Padmé," he said warily, looking into her face and trying to read her intentions. "What do you mean about having someone like Obi-Wan around?"

Padmé swallowed. "I mean I'm going with you."

"No!" Anakin's protest was instantaneous, as though he had anticipated her words before they were out of her mouth. "Absolutely not. There's no way I'm letting you put yourself in danger."

"And there's no way I'm letting you go off by yourself," Padmé retorted. "It just feels wrong, Anakin."

"So you've decided to become my guardian?" Anakin demanded. "My chaperone? You really do think I'm still a little boy, don't you?" Disgusted, he rose from his chair and began pacing around the kitchen. "I can't believe this, Padmé. I was assigned to be your bodyguard, to keep you safe at all costs, and now you want to deliberately put yourself in danger?"

"Because you're putting yourself in danger, remember?" Padmé stood up and confronted him, and somehow managed to stare him down despite his obvious advantage in height. "I'd be perfectly happy to stay here if you weren't running off."

Anakin's mouth fell open, and though he was sure there was something wrong with Padmé's logic, he couldn't seem to find a counter attack. Finally he merely said, "You're not going, Padmé. I won't let you."

"And I won't let you go alone." Padmé sank back into her chair, exhausted once more, and closed her eyes. "I've thought about this, believe me. Ever since I left the alcove." Her eyes fluttered open and she glanced up at him. "I haven't slept a wink since then."

"I'm sorry." The words seemed to come automatically, as though he figured he would always have something to apologize about, whether he knew what it was or not. He scratched his neck and finally sat down as well. "I mean it. I'm sorry."

Padmé slowly lifted her face to his. "I don't know how I'm going to tell my parents. It'll break their hearts all over again."

"Then stay here. Don't go." His tone was pleading, no longer argumentative.

She shook her head wearily. "I can't. I've already decided; I can't go back."

Anakin wondered why he wasn't resisting her decision more. By all rights, he should be putting his foot down quite firmly. But perhaps her powers of persuasion were more formidable than he had first believed. And all he felt like doing now was comforting her.

Wordlessly, he drew her near to him and took her in his arms. Almost like a child, she clung to him, her face buried in his tunic, her arms wrapped around him desperately. And he stroked her hair and murmured meaningless, soothing words, wondering who exactly it was that rested in his arms, and why he loved her. He could not find an answer.

***************************

Anakin didn't want to wait a moment longer. He could not banish the awful dream from his head, and every second he spent doing nothing was another second wasted. And now that Padmé wasn't holding him back, there was no reason to wait any longer.

Padmé did not agree. She wondered if insisting on going with him was only going to encourage him to be more reckless. But the possibility of letting him go alone was simply unthinkable. And so she said nothing as Anakin paced about the kitchen again, thinking out loud about their plans.

"We'll tell your parents as soon as they get up," he was saying. "Of course we can't just leave without a word to them."

"Of course," Padmé repeated numbly. It had just occurred to her that if she had not happened to wake up and hear Anakin last night and had not been there to calm him down and make him think things over, he may very well have let without a word to her.

Anakin glanced at Padmé and wondered how she could be so strong-willed and stubborn one moment and then become positively frail the next - so vulnerable he wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and comfort her, protect her.

But he had already done that. Now was the time for action. He nodded and sat down again. "But as soon as we tell them, we'll leave. There's no time to waste."

"You don't know that," Padmé reminded him quietly.

He shrugged. "It doesn't matter." He was about to say more, but at that moment Padmé's parents entered the kitchen, talking and laughing as though they hadn't a care in the world. Padmé watched them unhappily, wishing last night had never happened, wishing her world was still perfect and unbroken.

"Well, you're up early," her mother said lightly as she noticed the two young people sitting at the table. Whether she noted the grim mood that surrounded them was not revealed by her casual tone.

"Yes," Padmé said simply, looking briefly at Anakin. He raised his eyebrows.

"You can help out with breakfast then," Padmé's father declared, smiling brightly. He, too, gave no indication of whether he sensed anything wrong.

Anakin cleared his throat. "Uh, we would really like to," he began cautiously. "But I'm afraid we don't have time for that." Padmé gripped his hand, anxious, tense. Gently he gave it a comforting pat and continued, trying to ignore the confused, even hurt looks on the faces of Padmé's parents. "We have to leave."

"Leave?" Padmé's mother repeated the word as though it tasted foul. "Already? You just got here, and you're leaving already?"

Padmé could feel the tears forming in her eyes and blinked them away fiercely. This was going to be hard enough without crying. "Anakin's right," she managed to say. "We need to leave as soon as possible."

"Are you no longer safe here?" Her father frowned. "We had thought -"

"You had thought I would be safe here," Padmé finished. "And you were right. But - Anakin's mother is in danger." She braced herself for the inevitable questions.

Anakin spoke up first, however. "And if you're wondering how we knew, well - I don't know if you can understand, but I sensed it. I saw her in trouble, and I have to do whatever I can to help her."

Padmé watched her parents' expressions change from bafflement to disbelief to something like resignation. "I see," her mother said at last, frowning. "And you're going with him?" she asked her daughter, and Padmé winced.

"Yes." Her voice was low; her head was bowed.

"Why am I not surprised?" her father murmured almost whimsically. Aloud he said, "Well, then you had better get going."

Padmé's head snapped up in surprise. "What? You mean - you're letting us go?"

"Do we really have any say in the matter?" Her mother shook her head. "It's clear you've already decided this. Trying to change your mind will only make things worse."

Padmé, however, looked intently in the faces of her parents and realized they were far more torn than they would admit. They were holding back for her sake, and she loved them for it. And hated herself for doing this to them.
------
They left the planet late that morning. Having said goodbye to her parents, Padmé had no desire to linger and let their faces remind her of what she was doing to them. She did not ask her parents if they wanted to walk with the two of them to the plaza where the ship rested. She herself would rather have her last memory of them on the farm, standing arm in arm in the doorway, living the peaceful life that she had not known for years, that she would mostly likely never know again.

Last memory? Padmé frowned as she and Anakin started back across the fields to the plaza where their ship rested. That she and Anakin would be in danger, she had no doubt. But she could not comprehend the absolute dread that hung over her, that went far beyond fear or uneasiness. There seemed to be a storm cloud hanging over the horizon, threatening to spread at any moment and engulf the both of them. And she did not know why.

The journey back to the ship seemed much shorter than it had taken them to travel from the ship to her home. The little farmhouse was out of sight all too soon. Padmé had promised herself that she would not look back, not wanting to remind herself of what she was leaving. Finally, however, she could stand it no longer, and allowed herself a glance backwards. By then, however, her home was already hidden somewhere in the rolling hills. She sighed heavily and faced forward again, fighting back the inevitable tears. Anakin, for all his sensitivity and caring, did not seem to notice. She knew he was thinking of his mother.

Their ship, thankfully, was right where they had left it, with no apparent damage other than the fact that it seemed to have rained in the village, and the exterior was patched with rust. Anakin muttered something unintelligible and scraped off a patch vindictively, entering the ship without a word to Padmé. Struggling up the ramp after him with her burden of suitcases, she glared at the rust as though it was to blame for all of their problems.

Anakin was in the cockpit, firing up the engines. "I hope this ship's still in a condition to fly," he muttered as Padmé entered. She swallowed.

"I hope so too." Her voice was barely above a murmur.

The engines were rather reluctant to start, but once they did, they seemed obligingly functional. Anakin let out a slight sigh of relief. His tone appeared to return to normal, though Padmé sensed a note of tension behind his words as she stood anxiously behind the pilot's seat where he was positioned.

"All right," he said briskly, his hands busying themselves over the controls. "Let's get going. Padmé, take the co-pilot's seat. And keep the weapons ready - just in case." Trying with little real success to calm her pounding heart at his words, Padmé nodded and settled down beside him. Anakin sent the ship upward as she strapped herself, resulting in a series of creaking and rattling noises from the rear of the ship.

"Rust must have gotten in the mechanism," Anakin said matter-of-factly. Padmé stared at him.

"Is that going to be a problem?" she asked finally, unconsciously gripping the control panel with tense hands.

"It could." His gaze remained focused on the viewscreen. Padmé swallowed again, with great difficulty.

A loud popping began to issue from just outside the cockpit. Anakin allowed the slightest trace of a frown to fall on his face. "I'd better check it out." He climbed hastily out of the pilot's seat and started to leave the cockpit. "Keep an eye on the ship, all right?"

Padmé stared at the doorway where he had disappeared, then turned back to the viewscreen with a sickly expression on her face. "Keep an eye on the ship," she muttered. "Great."

She managed to send the ship successfully through the atmosphere and into space, all the while hearing a great deal of clanging and rattling from the back of the ship, accompanied by some suspicious sounding shouts. She couldn't help but smile at the thought of Anakin, covered with sweat and grime, making desperate repairs to the ship. After several minutes of continual banging, the noises finally ceased and Anakin emerged triumphant, his face nearly black with oil and grease. "That should do it," he said brightly, wiping his filthy hands on a rag that was almost as filthy.

Padmé merely nodded and silently relinquished the pilot's seat. She could see that Anakin's cheerfulness was merely a cover for his impatience and concern to get to his mother. He had not forgotten the purpose of this trip. And he had not forgotten her place in it.

He glanced at her briefly, then looked back at the viewscreen and spoke softly. "I still wish you hadn't insisted on coming. I hate to think I might be putting you in danger."

He fully expected her to protest and make excuses. Instead, she looked down and replied simply. "I know."

******************************

Confused, Anakin stared at the controls, wondering why his hands were stubbornly refusing to respond to his commands. What was it about Padmé that make gloriously happy and abysmally depressed all at once?

"What is that?" Padmé's voice had a note of panic to it that immediately wrenched him out of his thoughts.

"What?" He looked at her, alarmed, to see fear spreading over her face. He followed her gaze to the viewscreen, and his mouth fell open at the sight that appeared before him. The other side of Naboo, coming into view as their ship orbited the planet, was surrounded by enormous ships of all shapes and types. They all had one common characteristic, however - they were well-equipped for battle.

"Warships." Padmé was stating a fact more than asking a question. Anakin nodded somberly.

"I had no idea things had gotten this bad," he murmured, his brow furrowed with concern.

Padmé clenched the arms of her seat. "What should we do?"

"Do?" Anakin laughed humorlessly. "We can't do anything. We don't even know whose side they're on; for all we know, they could be protecting the planet."

"Then someone's attacking." Padmé, Anakin noted with some irritation, seemed determined to state the obvious. "Can't we warn them?"

"Who?" Anakin shook his head. "We don't know what's going on; they'd probably only fire on us."

"Isn't this a Jedi consular ship?" Padmé wondered. "They wouldn't fire on us, would they?"

Anakin shrugged, carefully steering the ship well away from the mass of battle preparations. "I'm not going to take that chance."

"So what are you going to do?" Padmé insisted on asking once more, unable to tear her eyes from the ominous sight.

"I'm going to Tatooine to save my mother," he responded, rapidly punching coordinates into the navicomputer. "Just like I planned to all along." Padmé watched numbly as he silently finished putting in the coordinates and pulled back to the lever to send the ship into hyperspace. The battleships promptly disappeared in a swirl of white.

Padmé resisted the urge to sigh as she settled back in her seat, not wanting to know how Anakin would react to the sign of disapproval. She was frustrated with his choice, but what was worse, she realized that she probably would have made the same choice herself, had she been in his place. He was right. What could they have done? What good would a single diplomatic ship have done against an entire fleet of war vessels?

But the image the monstrous ships continued to burn in her memory. What were they doing there? Other than the obvious answer that they were invading her planet. Her planet. Her people. She shuddered. The feeling was all too familiar - complete and utter helplessness, while people suffered and died. It was too horrible.

She felt an unexpected warmth on her hand, and realized Anakin had taken hers in a gentle hold. Relief, unanticipated but gladly welcomed, spread through her. He was not unaware of what she was feeling. He simply could do no more than she could. Both helpless. Alone. Padmé held his hand tighter, and they exchanged nervous, anxious smiles.

They remained together in the cockpit during most of the trip through hyperspace. Conversation was rare; Padmé drifted off to sleep several times and Anakin busied himself with minor repairs at the controls. He found that merely being in her presence was enough to elate him. And frustrate him beyond measure.

Things had been simpler, he realized all at once, when he was just a little boy. He knew where his place had been with her - a friend, a baby brother even. And if, as an man, he did not want her to see him in that way, at least the response was familiar. Unwanted, but familiar. A stiff, regal attitude, condescending, distant. No indecision or confusion.

Now her cover had been shattered. The tokens of royalty no longer protected her, and underneath was a very vulnerable, frightened girl. He had caught more and more glimpses of that girl over the past few days, and he wasn't sure how he felt about her. That he cared very deeply about her, he had no doubt. But it was so strange to be the protector, to be on the other side. He still remembered the gentle touch of her hands as she draped a blanket around a shivering boy. Would he be just as gentle when comforting her? He was honestly afraid of breaking her, like a fragile glass figurine that was better admired than touched. And the more he cared for her, the more afraid he was, of his own unknown powers.

...any serious attachments you might form would only cause problems....

Padmé woke up suddenly, drawing her breath as though gasping at the end of an already forgotten dream. Momentarily disoriented, she glanced around the cockpit and murmured something Anakin did not catch.

"What was that?" he asked, stretching slowly in his seat and meeting her gaze. She blinked, opened her mouth, shook her head and remained silent.

Deciding she was still half asleep, Anakin turned back to the controls. "We'll be reaching Tatooine shortly," he announced, knowing those words would bring with them a reminder of all their journey involved. He could not shake the twinge of guilt that flashed through him every time he thought of what he was doing to her. And then again the memory of the dream reappeared, and renewed the irresistible drive to find and protect his mother. He let out an involuntary sigh.

"It's freezing in this cockpit," Padmé said suddenly. Anakin glanced at her and noticed that she was, in fact, shivering. Concerned, he reached over to a nearby shelf where he had discarded his poncho and turned back to Padmé. Smiling wryly as he offered her the makeshift blanket, he softly told her, "Space is cold."

She could not help but recognize the reference. Drawing the poncho tightly around her, she returned the smile and gave with it a look of infinite gratitude. And once again Anakin's emotions were sent into a whirlwind, teetering between a desire to take her in his arms and never let go, or a need to run away as fast as possible, before he drew her into something he would never forgive himself for.

...if you get too close to Padmé, I fear you'll come to regret it....

He had little idea what to say, but knew he must say something. "Padmé," he began slowly, looking intently into her eyes. "I -"

As though possessed by some perverse need to annoy him, the warning light on the control panel chose that moment to start flashing. He sighed heavily and began flicking switches. "We're coming out of hyperspace," he announced blandly, wondering what he would have said had he had the chance. Probably nothing. Or maybe something infinitely important. He would never know.

********************************

The ship had already been shuddering for several minutes as he prepared to pull it out of lightspeed. By the time they came out of hyperspace, it had grown to a bone-rattling shaking. Padmé had to grip the arms of her seat just to keep from falling. Anakin had stopped trying to sit down, making his way through the jolting cockpit to the engines. "I'll try and stop it," he called back to Padmé, "but we may have to make an emergency landing."

"Emergency landing?" Padmé repeated with something of a shriek, but her voice did not carry over the sound of the damaged ship. She wasn't quite sure it if was fright or the motion of the ship - or a combination of the two - that made her shake violently as she turned back to the controls. Either way, she was hardly in a condition to pilot it.

Tatooine was fast appearing in the viewscreen, growing larger and larger with every moment. Trying to clear her cluttered mind, Padmé began punching buttons to slow the ship down into orbit around the planet. However, it did not seem to respond to her commands, and continued plummeting at a deadly speed toward Tatooine. She stared for a moment at the golden-gray surface filling the sights before her, uncomprehending. And then it occurred to her that the ship was going to crash. Oddly, she felt no fear as she viewed what might be her last sight before death, no panic, no driving need to fight for survival. Instead, she felt only a distant regret, and an endless weariness that swept over her, a numbness that she could not resist. Dimly, she heard Anakin calling her name, his voice wild and desperate, but she could only continue staring dumbly at the viewscreen.

The ship's shuddering halted suddenly, and she came to with a jolt. Anakin had come back into the cockpit and was shouting something, pushing her from the pilot's chair which she hadn't even realized she was sitting in and seizing the controls.

"What were you doing?" he demanded, frantically slowing the ship down as it approached the atmosphere. A rattling started once more, but this time it was the familiar jolts and bumps of pushing through a planet's atmosphere. Padmé let out a shuddering sigh, sitting back in the co-pilot's chair, her eyes wide and troubled.

"I don't know," she said in a whisper. "I don't know."

He was hardly listening, concentrating instead on slowing their ship before it came crashing to the planet's surface. The rattling increased, and Padmé felt a swirl of nausea rise in her stomach. It finally hit her that she - and Anakin - had almost died. They would have been gone, dead in the middle of nowhere with no one to find them. And she hadn't even cared.

Of course she had cared, she told herself firmly. It just hadn't occurred to her until now. But she could not shake off the nagging feeling that life was no longer precious to her. It had become cheap, expendable. Her own life meant nothing.

And what of Anakin's?

Anakin grunted in exertion as he wrenched the ship backwards. The sandy, windswept surface of Tatooine spread out before them, at a thankfully safe speed. He was able to set the ship down with little more than a heavy bump, and Padmé let out a breath that she only just realized she had been holding. Which would explain the feeling of light-headedness that had been ruthlessly clutching at her.

They sat there in the cockpit, silent, stunned. Padmé was still staring at the viewscreen, wondering what fates had allowed them to survive something that surely should have killed them.

Or perhaps Anakin had taken Fate in his own hands.

"Let's go," Anakin said at last, with no further ado. He rose from his seat and started out of the cockpit. When Padmé did not respond, however, he turned back and asked with some confusion, "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she replied, her voice hollow.

"No, you're not."

"I keep forgetting that you can't lie to a Jedi," Padmé sighed, half-joking. Anakin was relieved to see at least a ghost of a smile on her face.

"Will you be all right, then?" he inquired hesitantly.

She shrugged, and finally stood up to face him. "I guess I'll have to," she said cryptically. "Let's go."

They left the cockpit together, and as they passed through the doorway, Padmé found herself instinctively clinging to his arm, as though she need the support to remain upright. Yet she wondered if he would be strong enough to hold her up. There may come a time when she would have to hold him.

****************************

Padmé barely had time to change into clothing more fitting for the desert environment; Anakin did little more that re-don his poncho and waited impatiently for her at the doorway to the ship's compartment where she was changing. She had the sneaking suspicion that he viewed her insistence on changing as some silly, girlish whim. Perhaps he was right. But she was not going out into the dust and sand wearing an ornate gown that would not only be ruined in the process, but would be heavy and uncomfortable, and thus completely impractical. She had no time to explain any of that to Anakin, of course.

She emerged from the compartment hurriedly, adjusting the rather low collar of the blue dress she had chosen and throwing her tousled hair over her shoulder, having had no time to put it up. Feeling decidedly disheveled and rumpled, she was rather surprised to look up and discover Anakin staring at her with unabashed admiration.

"You - you look beautiful," he burst out, and seemed to slide once more into the role of a worshiping little boy. Padmé, at first intending to question his sanity at such a misplaced remark, realized it would be far better to graciously accept it and be grateful that she had managed - momentarily, at least - to sweep away the haunted look in his eyes.

"Thank you," she murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face and looking down with a half-smile. For all of Anakin's phenomenal abilities, he wasn't very articulate, nor were his compliments sparkling or eloquent. Yet she knew she would prefer the simple innocence of his "Are you an angel" above any skillfully-crafted praise from another man.

They emerged from the ship hand in hand, Padmé determined to keep up with Anakin's long stride, made even longer and quicker by his feeling of urgency. She was forced to halt almost immediately upon leaving the ship, however, completely blinded by the merciless sunlight reflecting off the sand. Her eyes watering, she stumbled forward until Anakin noticed her difficulty and stopped, touching her hand with concern. Gradually, painfully forcing her eyelids to open, she regained a portion of her vision and glared up at him almost accusingly. He shrugged, as though that were apology enough.

"I guess it just doesn't bother me," he said shortly. "Will you be all right?"

"I'm fine," she muttered, seizing his hand with far more annoyance than affection. They continued on their way in silence.
---
Mos Espa was smaller than she remembered it. Perhaps coming there before under the extreme circumstances of the siege of her planet had made everything seem just a little larger, a little more overwhelming. Perhaps it seemed strange that a place where so much had happened could be so little. Whatever the reason, she realized her memories of that place and time were more than a little blurred.

The atmosphere had changed little, however. There was the same feeling of bustling and jostling, combined with a bit of ill will and a great deal of mistrust. The odors that drifted through the air and assailed her nose were all too familiar - filth and grime and decay; dusty, weary, old. Everyone did their best to keep to themselves, and interactions were mostly limited to gruff exchanges and growls of warning. Padmé instinctively clung tighter to Anakin's hand, and was glad that she again managed to have a Jedi by her side while traveling through this city.

spaceports like these are havens for those who don't wish to be found

"How are you going to find your mother?" she asked abruptly, as they passed a crowd of seedy-looking humanoids who were whistling and cheering as they watched one of their companions attempt to wrestle a dug.

Anakin's face seemed to tense at her question, and he did not answer it directly. "Watto should still be keeping the old shop; he's been selling ship parts there since before I was born, as far as I know. He should - he should know," he finished weakly.

Padmé did not know what to say, how to comfort him. Knowing Watto's penchant for losing money, it wasn't that likely that he still owned Anakin's mother after all these years. If she had been sold, however, it may prove difficult to find her. She may not even be on the same planet. And if that were the case, things looked very bleak.

"I'll find her," Anakin said out loud, fiercely, as much to reassure himself as her. "Watto will know."

Seeing Watto's shop again was like stepping back ten years in time. Except for being, if possible, even more ramshackle and dilapidated, the place looked the same as it had so long ago, when she had stepped inside and first met the boy who was now the man walking determinedly beside her. Time, indeed, seemed to have stood still here, though nowhere else.

Watto was busy with a customer when they entered; perhaps not a customer so much as a creditor, Padmé began to think as snatches of their conversation drifted towards the doorway where she and Anakin stood. Watto's tone, despite its inherent gruffness, was pleading, placating, fawning, while the human who spoke with him was threatening, furious. Anakin rolled his eyes ever so slightly, clearly disgusted by his former master's behavior, which had apparently not changed a bit in all this time.

The conversation ended abruptly with the human growling something in Huttese and storming out of the shop, shoving past Padmé with a snarl. Watto fluttered around the counter, muttering angrily to himself, his back facing the two still waiting at the door. Anakin cleared his throat, hoping to catch the Toydarian's attention.

"Eh?" Watto whirled about at the sound and noticed them for the first time. "Ah! Customers! I did not see you," he apologized, flying over to address Anakin with a formal nod. "What can I do for you?" His face was more worn and wrinkled, Padmé noted; other than that it was the same, holding that combination of dry humor and suspicion developed over years of shady business deals.

Anakin smirked slightly upon realizing that Watto did not recognize him. He considered, momentarily, using that to get a little revenge on his master, but quickly brushed the thought from his mind, well imagining what Obi-Wan would have to say about that.

I've gone straight from one master to another...

He spoke in Huttese, the language sticking slightly in his throat, but coming out smoothly enough. "Where's my mother?"

Watto practically jumped with surprise. "Eh? Your mother?" he repeated in the same language. "How should I know -" He stopped and began to squint curiously at Anakin's face. "Is it really - is that you, boy?" A crooked grin spread across his wrinkled face, as though he somehow imagined he had once been fond of Anakin.

"Brilliant observation," Anakin replied dryly, surprised at how well he still remembered Huttese.

Padmé was quick enough to get an idea what was going on, even without a knowledge of the language. She stepped in front of Anakin - not that that blocked the Toydarian's view of him - figuring Watto would recognize her well enough to make the connection. "Yes, it's Anakin," she told him, fixing him with a hard look as if to remind him of how he had really treated "the boy."

A memory flashed across the Toydarian's face, and his eyes blinked rapidly as he tried to think of the safest thing to say. "Ah, the girl too!" he exclaimed in Basic. He was opening his mouth to say some obsequious comment, Anakin was sure, and he quickly broke in, continuing in Huttese for the effect of its harsh tones.

"Where's my mother?" he repeated. "I came here to find her, not talk to you."

Watto gulped visibly, taken aback by the threat in his former slave's voice. He suddenly seemed to realize that Anakin was a great deal larger than he had been when he owned him. "Er - your mother?" he asked slowly. "I - I -"

Anakin stepped forward menacingly, casually placing his hand on his saber so Watto could see it from under his poncho. "You do know where she is, don't you?"

Padmé started to feel slightly uneasy. Was it really necessary for Anakin to threaten him? Watto would probably tell him where his mother was soon enough - if he did, in fact, know. If he didn't, threatening would be of no help at all. She pulled gently on Anakin's arm and murmured his name anxiously, but he didn't seem to notice.

"Where is she?"

"Sold her," Watto finally burst out with a gasp, backing instinctively away from Anakin as he spoke. "Several years back. Farmer bought her, took her out near the Jundland Wastes, I think. Not far from Mos Eisley."

Anakin let out an audible sigh of relief, but continued to eye Watto threateningly. "If you're lying," he said grimly, "you'll regret it." With that, he turned around and started out of the shop, his hand still on his saber. Padmé hurried to follow.

***************************

She wasn't sure what to say to him as they hurried through the streets once more. Should she question his behavior towards Watto, or just let that be and ask him how he intended to find his mother? Or should she not say anything at all? What she most wanted to do, of course, was something she knew she could never do. She wanted to ask him what had happened to the bright-faced boy on the ship; what had happened to turn him into a menacing, angry threat. Someone she was almost frightened of. Or frightened for.

As it turned out, she had no time to speak to him. He was heading determinedly through the city at a pace near running, and it was all she could do to keep up, clutching his hand and gasping for breath, her legs aching more and more with every pounding step.

Then they halted abruptly on the other side of town in front of a row of shops that differed greatly in appearance from Watto's - namely, they looked almost respectable. Padmé, still exhausted from the near-run, had not yet caught her breath enough to form a question when Anakin answered it.

"We'll need to buy a speeder," he said as if the thought had only just occurred to him. He squinted at the shops as though a brief look at them was enough to appraise their worth. As decisively had Qui-Gon chosen Watto's shop, she remembered, with a simple, "Let's try one of the smaller dealers." Now Anakin nodded and wordlessly stepped forward, pulling her along into the nearest shop.

Even the wealthiest of shopkeepers in Mos Espa could not completely banish the ever-present dust and grime that was the very substance of Tatooine, but this shop came remarkably close. Padmé nearly felt that she could breathe deeply without choking, as she had been ever since they had arrived on the planet. She stood at the doorway, inhaling cautiously, while Anakin addressed the owner of the shop, a squat female humanoid whose smile could almost be considered sincere. They were speaking in Huttese again, and Padmé found it hard to concentrate on something she could not understand. Her mind drifted off aimlessly, dwelling alternately on the events that had transpired on Naboo, on the deadly ships surrounding her beloved planet, and the flash of anger in Anakin's eyes that had become so common lately. None of it seemed to fit together; she felt as though she were living in several worlds all at once, all pulling at her relentlessly and ever tightening their grip, tightening, tightening...

All at once she became aware of an angry voice rising out of the quiet tones Anakin and the shopkeeper had been using. It took her a few moments to realize it was his and not the shopkeeper's; though she could not understand the language, she could guess well enough what turn the conversation was taking. The shopkeeper had said something that might prevent Anakin from getting to his mother as soon as he would have liked, and he was taking it personally. She held back a sigh. This wasn't going to help things; in fact, it would most likely only delay their progress. Now why couldn't Anakin realize that, and calm down? Wondering if it would do any good, she stepped forward and nudged him rather forcibly in the ribs. "What are you doing?" she muttered. "Just buy the speeder and let's get out of here."

He turned to her with eyes blazing. "You think it's that simple, do you?" he demanded in a forced whisper. "They won't take Republic credits, and that's all I've got."

Padmé held back a groan. Of course she should have expected that. It was going to complicate things, no doubt, but that was no reason for Anakin to get so angry so fast. True, his mother's life could be at stake, but...

"We'll figure something out," she told him. "Just calm down and think."

Anakin did not look like he was in any mood to think, but he grudgingly relented, turning back to the somewhat impatient shopkeeper and speaking in more reasonable tones. She only shook her head, however, and gave a definite negative reply. Anakin glanced back at Padmé with something near despair.

The absurd thought crossed Padmé's mind to ask if Anakin knew any slave boys that could race pods for them, but she brushed it back, wondering why the past refused to stop haunting her. "Well..." she murmured, "you're a Jedi. Negotiate."

Oddly, this seemed to give Anakin an idea. A vague smile on his face, he looked the shopkeeper in the eye - a rather difficult maneuver, considering her diminutive stature - and said something in clear, confident cadences. Padmé had no way of knowing what he said, but for reason it seemed that the shopkeeper repeated the very same thing afterwards. Anakin's face brightened considerably, and he indicated for Padmé to follow him as the shopkeeper nodded and led him outside. Padmé stood still for a moment, frowning, troubled by some unspoken uneasiness, but eventually she brushed that thought back as well and hurried after them.

The lot in back offered quite a choice in landspeeders, but neither Anakin nor Padmé felt like rummaging through each and every one for the best of them. Anakin, with his keen eye for machinery, quickly chose one that he felt would suffice, purchased it with the once-rejected credits, and bade the shopkeeper farewell with a brief wave of his hand. Padmé climbed in the passenger's seat of the speeder, but not without first staring back at the little humanoid as she re-entered her shop, and wondering what had changed her mind. Anakin was strangely silent on the subject, and she decided not to ask him. He had other matters on his mind, after all. It was not long before he would finally see his mother again. Unless -

No, Padmé told herself, there is no place for unless. She would not allow it.

******************************

Anakin knew the way to Mos Eisley well enough, though he had never been there himself, having kept mostly to the outskirts of Mos Espa as a slave. He had a veritable map of the planet drawn out in his mind, sketched out over the years of listening to customers and passers-by describing their travels. He scarcely forgot anything he heard, something that had proved to be both a blessing and a curse. He could still remember, for example, everything the Jedi Council had said to him and of him upon their first meeting, and the words still stung as though just spoken yesterday.

Afraid are you?...I sense much fear in you...He is too old...The boy is dangerous....

That last one was the worst. He wished, more than anything, that he could banish from his memory those words he had unintentionally overheard from the man who was, unbeknownst to anyone at that time, about to become his master. It didn't matter that Qui-Gon's death changed everything; it didn't matter that Obi-Wan had become his friend as well as his teacher. Anakin still allowed the thought to plague him, every day, that he had not yet earned his master's approval. Worse, he could speak to it of no one; certainly not to Obi-Wan himself, and who else was there to confide in?

Anakin glanced at Padmé as she rode silently in the speeder, her eyes closed to block out the dust that flew in their faces in the wind. Talking to her about his problems was something he had certainly considered. She would understand, he had no doubt. But...but...

What?

Anakin frowned. He had always loved Padmé, more dearly now than ever before. Boyish adoration was very different from what he felt for her now, of course. And he cared for her so deeply it almost hurt. Was that it, then? He was afraid to get to close? He had been so baffled by Padmé's constant need to distance herself, and now he was experiencing the very same thing himself.

No, that wasn't it exactly. He couldn't pinpoint what the problem was. He wanted to be close to Padmé, of course - that was probably the reason why he had eventually allowed her to come along, despite all of his protests against it. Yet just when they were getting close, and Padmé seemed less and less reluctant - he turned into something that pushed her away entirely. Yes, that was it. He didn't want to get away from Padmé. He wanted to get away from himself. And since that was impossible, he was taking it out on her. He clenched his teeth. Wrong, wrong, it was all wrong, and there was so little he could do about it. With his mother possibly in danger of her life, and the two of them in the middle of the desert on a desperate search to find her, they were hardly in a situation to talk about it. He would probably only make it worse.

He looked at her again, wondering what thoughts were churning behind her beautiful face. They probably weren't very favorable towards him, not after the way he had been acting. Instantly, there rose in his own mind excuses and defensive explanations for his behavior. But my mother's in danger - what does she expect from me? I can't risk losing Mom. Can she blame me for what I've done? The defense was almost reflexive, indignant, proud. What right did she have to accuse him?

And what right do I have to put her through any of this?

Padmé knew him all too well, he realized glumly. He was plagued by two separate halves of himself, perhaps more, and they fought and struggled within him constantly. He could never seem to focus on just one thing. If he tried to concentrate on his mother, Padmé's safety would come to mind. If he attempted to keep his thoughts on her, the promises he had made to Obi-Wan would flash into view. And then the vows he made as a Jedi. And the expectations everyone had of him. And the -

"Anakin."

He turned in surprise at the sound of Padmé's voice, which he had not heard for the entire last hour of traveling. "What?"

"Are you all right?" She was watching him intently, her brow furrowed.

He shook himself. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" There was a touch of humor in her tone. "You haven't really been watching where you're going."

He looked forward with a start and realized she was right. He had been driving the speeder rather aimlessly through the desert for the past few minutes. Letting out a grunt of annoyance, he checked the coordinates on the speeder's instruments and re-directed the craft towards Mos Eisley. He had been driving in silence for some time when he realize he had never thanked Padmé for pointing out his distracted state. It seemed to late for thanks, but at least he could apologize.

"Padmé?" he began hesitantly. "I - I'm sorry."

She turned to him curiously. "For what?"

He let out a heavy sigh. "For everything." He shook his head. "I don't know. I've dragged you into all this; I've put you in danger; I've - I haven't been -" he struggled to find the right words. "I haven't been what I want to be."

"No?" Padmé shrugged. "Maybe not. You've been who you are. And I - I can't hate you for that, Anakin."

Anakin faced forward again and tried to concentrate on piloting the speeder, but Padmé's words had pretty much shattered any remaining sense he may have had. He sensed a compliment lurking somewhere in her words, even a confession of caring - but it was far too buried for him to fully enjoy it, smothered by a reluctance to say too much too soon.

It would not be much farther to Mos Eisley. Anakin willed himself to keep his mind on driving, reminded himself forcefully of the awful dream that had brought him here in the first place, and the utter urgency of the situation. I'm coming, Mom, he reached out desperately. I'm on my way.

****************************

It was twilight by the time they finally reached the city. Padmé had drifted off, her head resting lightly on his shoulder. It was the most physical contact they had had since starting off for Mos Eisley, and Anakin did not discourage it, even if she was unconscious to any of it. Now, reluctantly, as he stopped the speeder on the outskirts, he nudged her awake.

"Padmé," he whispered. "We're here."

She awoke slowly, staring up into his face seemingly without recognition. When she noticed, at last, that she had been leaning on him, she did not instantly pull away as he had worried. She clung to him for a moment, and he certainly did not push her off, enjoying the feel of her warm body against his and the rhythm of her measured breathing. Eventually, however, he would have to disturb the perfect moment. Stroking her hair, he murmured some incomprehensible word, and she gave an equally inarticulate reply and finally drew away. Holding his gaze, she whispered, "What are we doing here, Anakin?"

He knew she was not asking about their purpose in coming to Mos Eisley. There was something of far more portent in her question, and it made him downright uneasy.

"We're doing - we're doing what we have to do," he said at last.

She seemed oddly satisfied by the answer and began climbing out of the speeder. Anakin, staring after her for a moment, shook his head and followed her out.

Anakin wasn't exactly sure what they were going to do once they entered the city. He only had a vague memory of where the Jundland Wastes lay, and he had no idea how to get there from Mos Eisley. And where, in that desolate place, he would find his mother, he simply didn't know. It all seemed so terribly hopeless, and for a brief instant Padmé's question seemed to attack him with its literal meaning. What were they doing?

He narrowed his eyes fiercely. Was he actually allowing regret to enter his mind? There was no room for it.

Checking instinctively for the saber at his belt, Anakin looked before him at the city they were about to enter. The setting of the suns had spread shadows over the buildings, creating an uncomfortably foreboding atmosphere, where anything could be lurking in the darkness. Anakin restrained a shudder, heaved a deep breath, and offered his hand to Padmé's. She seemed similarly uneasy as she accepted it, staring at the dark cityscape with wide eyes as they started forward. Neither one said a word.

Anakin was determined to ask the first person he met if they knew of the farmer who owned Shmi Skywalker, and he would continue asking people until someone knew the answer.

He would not consider the possibility that no one knew.

Things seemed pretty discouraging at first. Anyone who was out on the streets at that time of day - or rather, night - did not seem particularly trustworthy. That included anyone he addressed, and for them it included him. They eyed him with suspicion and seldom gave any response at all to his inquiries. Others looked him over carefully, but lost interest when they saw he had nothing worth stealing. A few others noticed Padmé and seemed more interested, but Anakin quickly discouraged them of any ideas they might be having, tightening his protective grip on her hand. He could feel her trembling, however she tried to control it. He wondered, though, if she were more worried about the fury burning in his mind then her own safety. For someone with no apparent Jedi abilities, she could read his thoughts rather well. He wasn't sure how much he liked that fact that she could enter his brain.

"Are you sure Watto was telling the truth?" Padmé's cautious tone in asking the question indicated that she had been wanting to speak her worries for some time, but feared how Anakin might react.

He shook his head violently, failing to acknowledge the fact that the same thought had been running through his head. "What reason would he have to do that? Why would he be hiding my mother from me?"

Padmé did not answer. She was beginning to get the feeling someone was watching them, a paranoia probably brought on by several sleepless nights and far too many brushes with death over the last few days.

"Do you know where I might find Shmi Skywalker?" Padmé shuddered back into reality as Anakin inquired yet another passer-by about his mother's whereabouts. His voice was losing the energy, the urgency, and starting to slip into weary despair.

"Yes, I do."

Anakin and Padmé both looked at him in surprise, a new hope restoring life to their tired faces. Padmé was rather amused to see that the source of their hopes was an ancient human man, bearded and wrinkled, but with an odd twinkle in his eyes. Anakin, filled with a strange wonder, almost did not dare to speak, but he had to confirm the truth. "You do? No one else knew anything about her. I've asked more people than I can count if they knew about a slave owned by a farmer near here -"

"That would explain your problem," the man replied with unusual merriment. "We don't keep slaves around here. A lot of settlements think we're pretty backwards, but at least we're not barbarians."

Anakin's brow furrowed. "Then how -?"

"It's not far from here," the man broke in, seeming to ignore Anakin's question. "An hour's journey from the city." He began to give directions, and Anakin forgot about his question as he tried to take it all in, picturing the location on the map he had in his brain. Padmé did not attempt to follow his words, beginning to grow drowsy again despite her excitement. After Anakin thanked the man profusely, he headed down an alleyway, and they started back for the speeder. A thousand things were running through Anakin's mind, but he couldn't seem to voice anything of them. So he merely looked down at Padmé and gave her a smile. She couldn't help yawning, but eventually returned the smile. She didn't know what they were doing or where they were going, but she was glad they were together.

*****************************

Padmé did not even think to doubt whether the man's directions would lead to the right place. For some reason, it did not even seem a possibility. Instead, she wondered what his cryptic words had meant - we don't keep slaves around here. Then what was Anakin's mother doing? Had she been freed? By this farmer, perhaps? But why?

She had no answers, but she knew Anakin was wondering the same things. He was very quiet, piloting the speeder with a thoughtful look on his shadowed face, only occasionally turning his gaze away from the landscape before them, as though he felt it his duty to show Padmé that he still remembered she was sitting next to him.

It was nice to know that, though.

She wanted to think of something to say, something to fill the silence that hovered beneath the roar of the speeder, but every word she tried to say seemed to get stuck in her throat. Thinking of the ache that had been plaguing her ever since leaving her own parents, she knew talking about his mother would be a very sore issue, something too close to his heart to discuss freely, too intense to put into words. And that was why no words were coming to her either.

The smooth motion and drone of the speeder were beginning to put her to sleep again, despite the inherently uncomfortable nature of the thinly-padded passenger's seat. After several miserable failures, she gave up trying to find a position that didn't stretch her neck or squash her leg and sat up straight again, rapidly blinking her drowsy eyes. She glanced at Anakin and suddenly recalled that he had gotten little, if any, sleep over the last few days. And she was the one falling asleep on his shoulder. Padmé frowned. She wasn't sure why that should bother her so much. If Anakin didn't want to sleep, that was his choice. She wasn't responsible for him.

Was she?

She was tired of asking herself questions that never seemed to have any answers. But she knew one thing for certain. She was connected to Anakin somehow, someway, and breaking that bond would cause more pain that it was worth. That realization, for some reason, gave her a peculiar kind of comfort, something to cling to while everything else slipped away from her. Slipping away....drifting....

She seemed to lose track of her bearings for a moment. Was she on a speeder headed for a farm in the middle of the desert? Or on a ship plummeting at a deadly speed towards the planet's surface? Or speeding away from another planet, pursued by an unknown foe and leaving behind the dreadful portents of war? Leaving a world behind, a life, a hope...

"Padmé."

She blinked and sat up in her seat, her muscles stiff and sore. Anakin was nudging her awake, his face tired, but glowing with expectation. The motion of the speeder, she finally noticed, had ceased. She looked at Anakin questioningly.

"We're here." He gave her a tentative grin, and she could sense the struggle between his hope in seeing his mother, and not wanting to get his hopes up at the chance of again being disappointed. Padmé wanted to comfort him and tell him everything would be all right now, but she was just as worried about being disappointed. There had been too many lost hopes lately, and they were exhausting the both of them. So she merely yawned, stretched, and said, "Let's go."

Anakin had stopped the speeder right beside the farm - if this strange huddle of squat little buildings was, in fact, a farm. It was certainly nothing like the farms Padmé was used to. But then, nothing on Tatooine was like anything she was used to. Anakin seemed fairly confident that it was the right place, though the crease in his brow belied the nervousness he tried to hide. They started toward one of the little hut-like structures, Anakin muttering something about how he hoped it was the front door. There was some kind of door at the front, at any rate, and Anakin, after hesitating a moment, lifted his fist and knocked.

*****************************

For several tense, expectant moments, there was no answer. Anakin, his face somewhat sickly, tightened his fist and raised it to knock again. At that instant, however, the door opened and he found himself face to face with none other than C-3PO, his own unfinished protocol droid.

"Threepio?" he said in disbelief, as though his brain could conjure up such an image in place of reality. In all his search for his mother, he had never even thought of the droid. Now, at the sight of him, all his hopes seemed about to come true. He could have hugged Threepio then and there, though he wasn't sure how the very proper droid would take such a rash action. He settled for shaking his creation's mechanical hand enthusiastically, letting out a stream of meaningless, excited jabberings. Padmé was close behind, all smiles and warmth, and neither one seemed to notice how utterly flustered was the droid.

Threepio didn't know what to make of them. Mistress Padmé he recognized well enough, though what she should be doing there he had no idea. As for the human male beside her, his insistence on being his Maker was simply absurd. The droid was fairly certain his memory circuits were still intact, and they told him Master Anakin was well below optic-sensor level. This human was taller than any he had seen in years. "I beg your pardon," he said at last, reluctant to interrupt humans but realizing the need for such necessary rudeness, "but may I inquire your purpose in coming here?"

The two stopped talking abruptly, and Anakin stared. Threepio really didn't recognize him. Frustration and something almost like indignation began swelling in him, but then he shrugged it off. Of course. He had put nothing in the droid's circuits to explain the aging processes of humans. Clearly, he had some re-programming to do. Meanwhile, it wouldn't take too long to convince him.

"It's me," he said clearly. "Anakin." When he still showed no sign of recognition, Anakin shook his head grimly, reached over to a place on the droid's left shoulder and flicked a switch. Immediately, Threepio went limp; his optical sensors turned dark and his arms slumped at his sides.

"What was that for?" Padmé exclaimed. "You didn't have to deactivate him."

"Calm down," Anakin told her, focused intently on the droid's body. Padmé began to wish her royal duties had left her more time to study mechanics. Though she knew his twisting and pulling on wires had something to do with programming the droid, she really had no idea what he was doing. She hated that feeling.

"That should do it." Anakin stepped back from Threepio with a look of satisfaction on his face. He flicked the switch back on, and Padmé couldn't help but smile as the droid came back to life, uttering several cries of surprise and confusion before getting his bearings. This time, when his sensors landed on Anakin, even his mechanical face managed to wear a look of recognition.

"Master Anakin!" he exclaimed delightedly. "How good to see you. Mistress Shmi will be quite pleased to know you are here -"

"Mom is here then?" Anakin interrupted eagerly. He exchanged an excited look with Padmé, and then turned back to Threepio expectantly. "And she's all right? She's not hurt, or in danger?"

"Certainly not." The droid looked rather baffled at Anakin's question. "Do you wish to see her now?"

Anakin could bear the waiting no longer. "Of course I do, Threepio," he told him, and began to push past him through the doorway, Padmé close behind. The droid stayed at the door for a few moments, his circuits whirring madly as he tried to determine what to do, but Anakin's recent programming had left his memory somewhat altered, and he could not seem to recall the proper etiquette. Finally, he gave up scanning his protocol files and merely followed the two of them before he lost sight of them entirely, as they were just about the enter the kitchen area.

Anakin's heart was pounding madly as he led Padmé through the maze-like hallways of the farmhouse. Without ever having been there, he knew exactly where he was going. He could sense his mother's presence more strongly than he had felt it all through the journey, even in his dream, and it was strong, healthy. Perhaps the dream had only been that, an illusion, a product of his own mind. His mother was alive and well. She was right in this next room -

Then he halted. From where he stood in the doorway of what was apparently the kitchen, he stared at its occupants. His mother was not among them.

Two human males. One older, probably the other's father. Unfamiliar, looking up at him with surprise and shock on their faces. Well, he couldn't really blame them for that, bursting in and disturbing them like this. But who were they?

"It must be the farmer," Padmé murmured, and her words pushed him gently back to logical thoughts. Yes. He had forgotten all about the farmer who didn't keep slaves, in his excitement over finding his mother. Which he still hadn't done.

It occurred to him, finally, that an apology and an explanation was in order. "Er - I'm sorry," he said, clearing his throat, "but I was looking for -"

"Anakin!"

That voice he knew - its soft cadences were the first tones he had ever known. He looked to the other side of the room where the voice had come from, joy spreading over his face faster than he could form a smile. "Mom," he whispered, wondering why his voice was failing him, "Mom, I've come home."

*******************************

Padmé was, for the first time in she had no idea how long, genuinely happy. She was happy for Anakin, who had finally found his mother, and she was happy for his mother, who seemed perfectly well and perfectly overjoyed to see her son. She, unlike Threepio or Watto, had recognized Anakin immediately, and ran across the kitchen to meet him. Padmé was content to stand at the doorway and watch them hug, tears streaming down their joyful faces. She felt a pang, briefly, as she recalled her own tearful farewell to her parents and her home, but she held it back. She would be happy for Anakin.

He seemed to have momentarily forgotten the other men in the room after his mother entered, but as he finally drew away from his mother, his eyes fell on them once more, then turned back to Shmi questioningly. Padmé could already guess the answer. She had had her suspicions ever since the man in Mos Eisley described the slave-less farmer. There weren't many other possibilities. Anakin's mother had gotten married.

He never would have guessed it, however. In his mind, things simply should not have changed. His mother should still be living in Mos Espa, owned by Watto, having the same empty life as always. It wasn't that he liked it better that way, but change, even good change, was unsettling to him. That the world could go on even after he was gone - Anakin couldn't comprehend it. Padmé could see it in his eyes as he was introduced to the stranger he was to call Father - the shock, the confusion and denial, the near-hurt. And then the struggle, as he realized how childish he was being, how little reason he had to be troubled or hurt, but still, unreasonably, illogically, being exactly that. Padmé could see it all in his eyes, as clearly as if he spoke his thoughts aloud, and she literally shivered as she realized how very well she knew him. It was altogether frightening.

But all unexpected relatives aside, Anakin was happy. He drew Padmé into the kitchen and introduced her, with obvious pride and just a bit of nervousness, to his mother. Shmi smiled and acknowledged remembering her, adding a certain secret twist to the smile that Padmé well knew the meaning of. Shmi had that same sixth sense that all mothers had, something that told her just what was going on between her son and this girl. Padmé was rather envious; she herself had no idea what was going on between them.

"You must have been traveling all night," Anakin's mother was saying. "I'm sure you'll want to rest for a while."

"That would be nice," Padmé admitted, at the same moment that Anakin declared, "Oh, I'm not tired at all." They glanced at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing. Shmi smiled.

"We were just eating breakfast," she went on smoothly, "if you'd like to join us."

"Breakfast, already?" Anakin said incredulously. "The suns haven't even risen yet!"

"We get up early here on the farm." It was Shmi's husband speaking up now, standing next to his wife and smiling broadly. Anakin tried his best to smile back, but the expression refused to come onto his face. "Have to get as much done as we can, before it gets too hot, right, Owen?" This was directed towards his son, who looked up from his food and nodded slowly.

"Right."

Padmé could feel the tension, as palpable as stone. She cleared her throat and addressed Anakin's mother once more. "I am rather hungry, if you don't mind."

"Of course not," Shmi responded warmly, and indicated a place at the kitchen table. "Please sit down and help yourself." Padmé nodded her thanks and took a seat. Anakin followed silently, his brow furrowed in thought. And though Padmé focused her gaze on her plate as she began to eat, she could still sense that everyone's eyes were on Anakin, the long-absent son. And on the girl he had brought home.

************************

Padmé flopped onto the bed in the guest bedroom with a sigh. She breathed in deeply, surprised at how fresh the air was in such a dry, dusty place. There must be some sort of filter system, too expensive for slaves to own, but something a farmer could just barely afford.

What do they farm here on Tatooine, anyway? she wondered. They couldn't grow anything out there, not in a thousand seasons. Why does it matter? She rolled over onto her back and stared at the ceiling. These were all idle, useless thoughts. She was trying to keep her mind off of other things. And maybe that wasn't such a bad idea.

What she really, needed, she decided, was a good night's sleep. Or a good day's sleep, anyway. She was tired - well, tired of being tired, and tired of trying to fight it.

There's a lot of things you're trying to fight....

Breakfast had finished rather uneventfully; by the time Anakin and Padmé had gotten their fill, Owen and his father had already gone out to work on the farm. Shmi stayed in the kitchen a little while longer, reluctant to leave her son when it had been so many years since she had seen him. But she had her work to do as well, and long-lost sons were no excuse for shirking. Padmé remembered thinking, briefly, that her husband had married her more for the help she'd be on the farm than for any - no, that such a thought had entered her mind appalled her. This farmer cared quite deeply for Shmi; she could see that clearly enough. Whether Anakin had noticed as well - she could not tell. He showed little sign of even acknowledging his stepfather's presence at all, as though denying his existence would make him go away. Padmé sighed again. Anakin's stubbornness, his one-mindedness - they were enough to drive anyone mad. Or make any girl fall in love with him.

Shmi had directed each of them to a bedroom, ignoring her son's protests that he wasn't tired, that he'd rather help out. Padmé did notice his mother smile, however, as she saw that Anakin hadn't changed in all these years. He still wanted to help. Padmé couldn't decide whether she was as pleased with it as Shmi was. When he was a child, it had been from sheer goodwill, a complete obliviousness to his own needs. Now - it was more out of pride than anything else, that made him so determined to help. Pride in his own abilities, his own goodness even.

Why did she spend so much time thinking about Anakin? Padmé shook her head. She would never fall asleep at this rate. Rising from the bed, she walked the small distant across the little room, from the bed near the doorway to a short wooden stand placed against the opposite wall. A simple basin of water rested on the stand, a strikingly primitive way of washing up in comparison to all the technologically-advanced contraptions she had seen all over the house. But it would suffice. She cupped her hands and filled them with water, pleasantly cooler and cleaner she had expected. Dousing her face in water, she imagined all the worries and troubles of the last few days being washed away with the grime. It almost worked. She managed to lock them away, if not banish them entirely, in a small corner of her mind, and even smiled as she took up a towel and dried her face. Refreshing, but not as salutary as sleep would be. The bed looked wonderfully inviting. Removing her shoes but not bothering to change clothes - she had left her suitcases on the ship anyway - she climbed into bed.
----
Warm sunlight caressed her face like a kiss. She could feel it, see it even through closed eyes. She smiled and murmured contentedly. Sleep still lingered; she was loathe to drive it away. It had been a pleasantly peaceful sleep, dreamless and restful. She could not remember ever having slept so well.

"Padmé." That was her name; she knew it, and yet it seemed but a distant call, not one of warning or urgency, but of recognition. Whoever spoke that name knew her through and through, more unconscious, accidental, than any intentional knowledge. It was easier that way, and more true.

Sleep had to abandon her eventually, and she blinked, the half-dream already slipping away. "Who -?" Padmé knew someone had spoken to her, and perhaps it had been real, but now she could not remember. She opened her eyes resignedly, knowing that would banish the memory for good.

Anakin sat at her bedside. She sat up in bed with a start, her heart pounding. Why? Why does he do that? And how? "I - I'm sorry," she managed to say, her tongue still slurring the words like a sleep-talker. "I didn't expect to wake up to you."

"I hope it wasn't all that unpleasant." His grin was part smugness and part concern, and she could have smacked him and kissed him at once.

"I suppose not." Padmé hesitated, then took his hand. If he's going to be that way, then I will too. "Did you sleep well?"

"No nightmares," he smiled. "How about you?"

"Wonderful. I haven't slept that well in ages."

Silence. Padmé recalled the tension on the ship on the way to Naboo, the timid kiss on the hilltop, the passion after his nightmare - they had all been uncertain moments, all confused - but none so awkward as this. She couldn't understand it. They had disagreements, they had times of anger, but always there had been some assurance of mutual caring, some comfort that they could get through their problems; they had to. But ever since they had arrived on Tatooine, even that had been missing. It was as though it had only been a game up until that point, a game she was not certain of winning, but only a game. Now, however, it was as though her eyes were opened to something - something much more that was at stake, something she could not afford to lose. Elusive....undefined...but something holding her back.

But she had to break the silence. No more holding back, no more awkwardness. No matter what was at stake. Because - she cared about Anakin. She loved him.

"Anakin, I -"

"What?" He seemed lost in his own thoughts, surprised at the sound of her voice.

The words would not come out. She struggled, fought. And failed. "I'm glad your mother's all right," she said finally.

Anakin's face brightened, but fell almost as quickly. "I'm glad too," he said quietly.

"You're still worried about that dream, aren't you?" Padmé frowned. "It doesn't have to be true, you know."

"It's never failed before." Anakin looked grim; Padmé wondered what other dreams he had dreamt.

...I had a dream I was Jedi. I came back here and freed all the slaves...

Padmé shook her head and started climbing out of bed. "What time is it?" she inquired; she could have slept the whole day away, for all she knew.

"Midday." Anakin rose from the chair he had been sitting on beside Padmé's bed and began pacing the room, almost absent-mindedly. "My - my stepfather and his son are eating lunch now; we can join them if you want to."

"I'm not really that hungry." It was impossible for her to have an appetite now; not when Anakin had that haunted look in his eyes. Was his mother really in danger...?

"I don't know." Anakin seemed to have heard her question, as clearly as if she had spoken aloud. "I don't know what the dream meant, or when it's supposed to happen, or how...but I can't risk not believing it, Padmé. There's just too much at stake here."

Too much at stake...there it was again, as though it really were a game, a deadly, all too real game. "I - I know how much you care about your mother, Anakin," she said gently. "But - we can't stay here forever. You know that. It's not really safe, any more than Naboo would have been after a while." The mention of her home planet made her recall the warships; her heart twitched sickeningly and she fell silent.

"We're always on the run, aren't we?" Anakin's face twisted into an ironic smile, as he halted his pacing at last and turned to face her. "Maybe you're right. If we ever have the chance to be happy, it's not much more than a lucky coincidence."

Padmé shook her head. "I don't want to hope for lucky coincidences, Anakin. If we want a chance to be happy, we're going to have to take it for ourselves."

He looked surprised. "For ourselves?" There was a universe of meaning in those words. Slowly, almost frightened, he made his way to where she stood and took her hands in his. "There's nothing I want more."

So used to resisting, Padmé almost pushed him away. But there was too much to push away. His warm touch, for one thing. And his gentle smile. And the way he was brushing her hair back from her face, touching her face with his lips. And the way he cared about her more than she could ever understand, and the way she cared about him. Why? How? It didn't matter. The walls she had built up, that only Anakin could take down...they had been hurting her, not protecting her. Why had she been resisting her own happiness?

That one kiss seemed like an eternity. She wanted it to be an eternity. Because she knew, as soon as it was over, they would have to face reality again, and she much preferred to stay in this perfect dream-world. It was just the two of them; no one else to bother them or -

"Master Anakin! Oh, Master Anakin!" They pulled apart reluctantly to face the droid at the doorway, but Anakin's face quickly turned from annoyance to concern as he noted Threepio's panicked tone.

"What is it?"

Threepio was flailing his arms in dismay. "I'm afraid Mistress Shmi is in considerable danger."

"Mom?" Instantly, Anakin was rushing out of the room, clutching instinctively at the weapon at his side. Padmé, still not quite aware of what had happened, stared after him. Threepio was following him as fast as his mechanical legs could move, his alarmed voice drifting off as they moved out of Padmé's hearing range. And still she stood in the room, alone, confused, and wondering if she hadn't better go back to sleep. Dreams were better than this.

*************************

Mom is in danger.

That was the only thought Anakin had room for in his mind as he left Padmé's room and headed outside, Threepio close behind. Enough of the droid's nervous words had reached his ears for him to learn that his mother was outside somewhere, a good distance from the farm. He did not ask why, or demand specific directions. Silently, grimly, he threw himself into the pilot's seat of his speeder parked at the side of the house and ordered Threepio to get in beside him. "Tell me where to go to find her," he demanded as he started up the speeder, and the droid barely had the chance to begin giving directions before Anakin sent the speeder forward. Every second wasted was agony, a possibly lifetime of regret that he could not afford.

His hands piloted the speeder automatically; his mind seemed apart from the rest of his body. Thousands of possible dangers tore through his mind, each more terrible than the last. He could already see himself weeping over the motionless body of his dead mother, as vividly as a real memory of something that had already happened. He choked back a sob, then jumped as the speeder unexpectedly came to a stop. Blinking, Anakin came back to reality, gradually understanding that he himself had stopped the vehicle, without even being conscious of it. They had arrived. Threepio's worried voice seemed distant; he ignored the droid as he hopped out of the speeder and landed firmly on the ground with a painful thud he did not even feel.

He had never seen such a desolate place, in all his life on Tatooine. There was no sign of human life amidst the rolling dunes, save another speeder parked several meters away, one he recognized as the same vehicle that had been near the house when he and Padmé had arrived early that morning. As he drew nearer to the speeder, he discovered with dismay that it had been wrecked. Dismantled was probably a better word for it. Most of the valuable metal had been removed from the structure, and there was evidence of someone having rooted through every compartment, leaving the inside of the vehicle an appalling mess. Anakin shook his head anxiously and began examining the exterior once more.

The wind that had been a gentle breeze that morning was picking up momentum, whipping sand in his face and obscuring the panicked cries of Threepio. Storm's coming, Anakin thought absentmindedly. Then the memory of his nightmare came back to him like a crashing meteor, and he caught his breath, horrified. Could this be the dream come to life? He turned from the speeder and began to scan the landscape hurriedly, but he saw nothing but blistering white sand as far as his vision extended.

The droid had finally managed to make his way with his stiff metal legs to the place where Anakin stood, beside the wrecked speeder. "I don't understand, Master Anakin," he exclaimed, his voice seeming almost breathless. "They were here; I'm certain of it."

It suddenly occurred to Anakin that, in his haste, he had never bothered to ask Threepio exactly what kind of danger his mother was in, and how he knew of it. Now, though it could be too late, he began questioning the droid. "How did you know where to find them?" he demanded. "Were you with them?"

"Oh, no," Threepio responded, sounding quite surprised. "I never travel beyond the masters' settlement. I was not designed to exist in extreme desert conditions, as you should know better than anyone else -"

"Get on with it," Anakin said impatiently. "How did you find out?"

"Master Lars was carrying a communicator, and he contacted me when they were attacked."

"Attacked?" Anakin's face darkened. "Who attacked them?"

The droid looked slightly uncomfortable. "I'm not exactly sure. I'm afraid the message was rather garbled; I believe the communicator was damaged. I was only able to learn of their location, then the connection was broken. However, it was clear enough that it was Mistress Shmi, and not the others, who was most in danger. For that reason I felt it was important to inform you."

Anakin was beginning to regret designing the protocol circuits in his droid - he used far too many words. And every second his mother might be in greater danger. Silencing any further comments from the droid with a glare, he ran back to his own speeder, knowing that in a matter of days the other speeder would be completely dismantled and removed by desert scavengers. There was nothing to be done about it. "Come on," he yelled back at Threepio, who was having difficulty following. "We're going to find them."

"Master Anakin, I fail to see how we could -" The remainder of the droid's protests was cut off by a fierce blast of wind. Sand and grit flew into Anakin's eyes, and he shouted with annoyance and irritation. Piloting a speeder in this was going to be hard enough, let alone finding anyone. But there was no other choice.
----
Padmé paced her room anxiously. Anakin had left over an hour ago, without another word to her, and still he had not returned. She had run over a thousand possibilities of what could have happened, each one more unpleasant than the last. Each one saw Anakin, his mother, or both in terrible danger. And each one rendered her completely and utterly helpless. She had searched the house for any possible communication devices and finally found some sort of transmitter, but it wasn't receiving any messages. Threepio had gone off with Anakin; she was all alone. And completely helpless.

She thought she had loved Anakin. But now, with the thought of his being in danger with her not being able to do anything about it; the thought of losing him - she knew he was dearer to her than anyone else in the galaxy.
----
The speeder's scanners weren't picking up any signs of life. Of course, the storm could be throwing dust into the mechanism that prevented accurate readings. But Anakin was starting to lose hope. He had searched in an ever widening circle around the location of the wrecked speeder, and still had found nothing. They simply couldn't have traveled that far. They had to be somewhere nearby. They had to be.

The sandstorm was growing worse by the minute. Threepio was letting out a constant stream of worried comments about the damage the flying sand was doing to his circuitry, and Anakin finally turned him off to shut him up. The silence was almost as dreadful as the droid's complaints, however; broken only by the fierce howls of wind. Anakin's eyes narrowed to tiny slits and he set his mouth in a determined frown. Nature itself may be fighting against him, but he would not let it beat him.

He came across the cave entirely by accident. His speeder caught on something hard, causing a loud thunking noise and a sputter. Cursing under his breath, Anakin turned off the engines and climbed out to investigate. The landscape here was rockier, more likely to contain damaging obstacles. He may have to do engine repairs in the middle of a sandstorm.

Something had scraped the rear of the speeder, leaving a large gash in the outer casing. Anakin stared at the damage as though he could make it disappear through sheer willpower. An odd expression came over his face, and his stare deepened. The speeder began to creak and moan, and slowly, almost imperceptibly, the gash began to close. Anakin's eyes had closed, but his hand was extended ever so slightly, and the small smile growing on his face indicated his complete awareness of what was going on.

He opened his eyes with a start. The gash was gone.

"There's something Obi-Wan never taught me," he murmured.

He suddenly seemed to recall the cause of the damage, and began examining the ground around him in search of whatever had scraped the speeder. He soon found a large rock whose shape and size just fit the gash that had formerly slashed across the bottom of his speeder. It had been buried by sand, disguised to look like an harmless dune, but now the wind had changed direction and unburied the offensive rock. Angrily, Anakin swung his foot to kick the thing, but stopped short just before making contact. He had heard something - almost like a human voice. For an instant the wind died down, and he could have sworn there was someone talking nearby.

"Hello?" he called cautiously. There was always the chance the voice belonged to someone decidedly unfriendly, but it had not resembled a sandperson or a Jawa, at any rate.

There was silence for a moment, but then a faint answer. "Is someone there?"

Anakin's heart thumped sickeningly. Definitely a human voice, and definitely someone in trouble. Panicked, anxious. He began to whirl about wildly, trying to determine where the voice was coming from. "Where are you?" he called, but his voice was carried away on the quickening wind. He gave up trying to hear or be heard and dashed about the rock formations, searching for human life. For his mother.

The voice sounded again, this time much closer. "We're over here! In the cave."

Cave? Anakin stood there for a moment, baffled at what they could mean. There was no cave anywhere that he could see. Then he looked to his right and saw a grouping of rocks that he had not really noticed before. From his angle, it looked like nothing more than a few boulders, but as he drew closer, he realized it was, in fact, the entrance to a small cave. The rocks were positioned in a manner that kept out the worst of the wind, which became clear as he ducked his head and entered through the low mouth of the cave, taking in a deep breath of fresh, almost dust-free air.

He blinked. His stepfather and his son were sitting on the floor of the cave, looking up at the new arrival with surprise and relief. But their faces were stained with streaks of dirt and dust, and they looked generally exhausted. Anakin tried to figure out what was wrong, until he realized that the streaks would have been caused by tears.

"Where's Mom?" he demanded suddenly, dread filling his heart. There was no answer. "Where is she?" he repeated, stepping forward almost menacingly, as though anything could be their fault.

The other men, their heads down, finally moved apart to reveal a shape behind them. Anakin felt a quiver in his chest. He knew what he would find even before he fell to his knees beside the figure. He had known all the time, before he had come back home, before he had even first left Tatooine as a little child. He had known. He could fight that knowledge no longer.

"Mom." His voice was below a whisper. It was the only word he spoke for the rest of the storm.

***************************

Owen watched Anakin anxiously. The Jedi had not moved since they showed him the body of his mother; his expression had not changed. He sat there at her side, his eyes hollow, his arms limp. He could not understand it. When they had been attacked and Shmi had been killed, he and his father could not stop crying. They had taken her body to a cave and wept over her for what must have been hours, only stopping just before Anakin had found them. And she had been very dear to them, of course, but surely not as dear she was to her own son. Was this how all Jedi reacted to death? The steady, tight lips, the empty eyes, the stiff silence? Owen didn't like it.

"The storm's stopped," his father said abruptly, quietly, so as not to disturb Anakin. Owen looked up in surprise to where his father sat at the cave's entrance and noted, all at once, that the howling winds had ceased.

He hesitated. "Should we -"

His father shook his head and silenced his suggestion. "Give him time," he said quietly, nodding towards the Jedi. Owen nodded. But it was Anakin who spoke up next.

"Who did this?" His voice was neither loud nor frantic, yet there was something underneath its calm tones that made Owen shudder.

"Sandpeople," Owen's father said shortly. "Looking for a little excitement, I suppose. I don't think they ever intended to kill anyone, but -" he choked - "it doesn't really matter what they were intending to do, does it?"

"No," Anakin said shortly. Owen wondered what he was going to do, now that he was finally talking and moving again. His hand was on that metal tube at his belt; some sort of weapon, Owen figured.

Rising slowly, Owen's father declared, "We had better get back now that the storm's gone -"

"I'm going to find them." Owen looked at Anakin in surprise. The Jedi had risen as well, much more rapidly, and his eyes burned with a frightening fire.

Owen's father started. "What? The sandpeople, you mean? Anakin -"

Anakin did not even wait to let him finish, already having made his way to the cave's entrance. "Take her body back in my speeder," he told him, in a voice that ignored any possibility of not being obeyed. "I'll find my own way back. When I've finished what I have to do."

Then he was gone, and Owen's father stood with his mouth gaping open as though Anakin's words had not registered. He seemed to realize all at once what was going on, and ran outside after Anakin. "Wait! You don't know what you're doing! Come back, Anakin!" Owen could hear his voice drifting off through the desert, but there was no answer. His father reentered the cave with a look of consternation on his face. "I've never seen anyone so determined," he said, and there was a note of sadness in his astonishment. "I guess we'll just have to go back."

Owen stared. "And leave him out here alone? What if the sandpeople find him?"

"I think that's just what he wants," his father replied darkly. "And somehow - I have the feeling he'll be able to take care of himself. That's not what I'm worried about."

"Then what are you worried about?" Owen wondered.

His father shook his head. "I'm not sure." Still stricken with grief and concern, he and Owen began carrying Shmi's body to the speeder outside the cave.
----
Padmé jumped from the bed at the sound of people entering the house. Relief gradually washed over her to replace the initial shock that any noise would cause after hours of silence. Not complete silence, of course. She shuddered. Listening to the wind howl and mercilessly beat the walls of the house all afternoon had not been exactly comforting.

But no matter. It was all over now. She hurried from the room to greet Anakin.

Only he was not among those who entered the house. It had never occurred to her that it might not be him. Padmé had to restrain herself from crying out in disappointment as she saw, instead, Shmi's husband and his son enter the house, followed by a rather disheveled-looking Threepio. Frustrated and more than little worried, she opened her mouth to demand where Anakin was, and his mother, for that matter, but changed her mind as soon as she saw the expressions on their faces. Grief filled their eyes, grief and loss beyond anything she had ever seen. That, coupled with the exhaustion evident in their every movement, indicated to her that something was seriously wrong.

"What has happened?" Her voice was quiet and almost calm; after all her years as a queen she had learned to keep her panic and concern in a far corner of her mind. She avoided the cold, stiff tone as much as she could, hating the mask it placed over her, but right now she feared any betrayal of emotion would cause her foundations to collapse beneath her.

But no emotional restraint could keep her heart from crashing when she heard what Anakin's stepfather had to say.

*******************************

She cried for two. At once the tears came for Shmi; soon after that, for Anakin. She was uncertain how long the tears lasted. It could have been well into the night for all she knew; at the time there was nothing but the cold stone chair beneath her crumpled body and the hot salty drops running down her face. Whether Owen and his father were still there or not, she had no idea. What did it matter? There was nothing but water and stone, hot and cold, sorrow and numbness.

Eventually self-awareness returned, and with it, a multitude of questions. Her memory was altogether rather foggy. She recalled hearing that Anakin's mother was dead, and that Anakin was still out there somewhere. After that, nothing else seemed to matter. Now, however, she needed to know. What was Anakin doing? Was he in danger? She could only imagine how he must be suffering from the knowledge of his mother's death. He needed someone to comfort him, someone to hold him and provide him the silent comfort that no spoken word could offer. As he was, alone, grief-stricken - Padmé did not want to think of what could happen to him in such a state. She rose painfully from the chair where she had been sprawled and was suddenly almost embarrassed at her lack of self-control. In all her time as queen, she had never -

Never mind. Perhaps Anakin's passionate nature was beginning to wear off on her. At any rate, now was the time to do something about it. Judging from the dark shadows stretching across the front room, it was well past sunset. It would be unwise, perhaps, to search for Anakin now, but the least she could do was find his stepfather and learn exactly what he had intended to do when they had left him in the desert waste.

She found both men outdoors, a small distance from the house, employed in a task they clearly had no wish to do. Their figures illuminated by pale starlight, they worked with large shovels on digging a pit in the shifting sand. Despite the cool air caused by the setting suns, Padmé could see they were both sweating heavily as she approached them. That was no surprise, seeing how every clump of sand they removed was quickly replaced by another drift of dust. They could have been working for hours, and a shallow dip in the ground was all they had to show for it.

It struck Padmé all at once what their purpose was. On Tatooine, bodies could not be left for any amount of time in the hot suns before they started -

She shook herself. Try to show some respect for the dead, she chided herself, though she knew that was not her problem. Clearing her throat, she addressed the older of the two men. "I apologize for interrupting, but -"

He turned to face her with a sad smile. "It's all right," he replied, wiping the perspiration from his weathered brow. "Did you want something?" Padmé realized how awkward their situation was. She really had very little to do with either of them, especially now that Shmi -

"I was wondering about Anakin," she said hurriedly. "Did he - did he tell you where he was going?"

She could not fail to notice the significant glance that passed between the two men. Neither one spoke up for a moment. Finally Owen's father swallowed and told her, "He was looking for the sandpeople."

"The ones who -?" Padmé did not bother finishing. Owen looked at his father, then nodded.

"I've never seen anyone so angry," he declared. "His eyes - they were burning, absolutely burning!"

"Owen," his father said almost sternly, but Padmé paid that no heed. Her mind was whirling.

"Angry?" she repeated. That was not what she had expected at all. Sorrow-filled, completely devastated, of course. But angry? Then she recalled the fierce look on his face when they saw the assassinated Senator, the hot feel of his hands when he wanted to keep chasing their attacker instead of going on to Naboo....yes, she could see it. It shouldn't have been a surprise at all.

"Will - will he be all right?" she asked finally.

Anakin's stepfather raised his eyebrows. "You know that better than I could." With no further explanation, he then apologized for cutting her off again, but explained that he and his son needed to get this work finished before sunrise. Padmé nodded numbly and somehow found her way back to the house, images of Anakin filling her mind until they threatened to drive her mad.

*****************************

Threepio was wandering forlornly about the house when she returned, a confused and disoriented droid. Apparently Anakin had deactivated him at some point, and he had not been turned back on until just before arriving at the house one more. He had greeted Padmé as she entered through the front doorway with an anxious, "Oh, dear! What has happened? I simply can't get anyone to tell me what is going on," and after he explained the reason for his lack of knowledge, Padmé realized she was going to have to tell him herself.

She fiercely swallowed her grief. No use breaking it gently; he was only a droid, after all. "Shmi has been killed, Threepio."

She was surprised at the genuine tone of horror in his response. "Killed! Oh, no!" He began pacing the room in a remarkable imitation of a distraught human. "But that is simply too dreadful! And what of Master Anakin? Poor Master Anakin."

"Yes," Padmé agreed quietly. "Poor Anakin."

After a few moments of silence, Threepio addressed her rather nervously. "Perhaps it is too much to ask, but could you perhaps assist me in removing the sand that has lodged itself in my circuitry?"

"What?" Padmé was rather shaken by the abrupt change of subject. She was certainly not in a mood for droid maintenance.

"I apologize for the forward nature of my question," Threepio went on hastily, "but you see, the dust is interfering with my mechanics." He added sadly, "Master Anakin fully intended to finish me at last today, as he promised this morning, but I'm afraid that will never occur."

Padmé did not like the chill that went up her spine at the droid's words. "What do you mean by that?" she demanded sharply, and instantly regretted her tone as Threepio managed to look hurt. "Sorry; I suppose I'm a little jumpy. But don't you worry about never being finished - I can even do it myself if you want." She decided she could use the distraction while waiting for Anakin to return.

"You, Mistress Padmé? Are you sure your skills are sufficient?" She was slightly offended by his incredulous tone.

"Well, I may not be able to fix a ship in mid-flight," she replied somewhat sarcastically, recalling how Anakin had saved them from a crash-landing on Tatooine with no help at all from her. "But that doesn't mean I can't put coverings on a droid."

Threepio's tone changed to one of delight. "Wonderful! I can't tell you the humiliation I've suffered all these years, being incomplete as I am."

Padmé noted dryly that the droid had developed quite a personality since she had last seen him. She could not remember him being anything but polite and reserved when she had first been introduced to him. Now he seemed to have picked up a terrible penchant for complaining and generally talking too much. Shmi had probably been overindulgent with him.

She winced. Threepio had managed to distract her momentarily from her overwhelming grief, but it couldn't last long. And meanwhile, she continued to worry about Anakin. If he still hadn't returned by the time she was finished with the droid, she decided, she was going out to look for him.
----
Padmé awoke suddenly just before dawn. Disoriented at first, she blinked and looked around the dimly-lit room where she lay and tried to recall where she was - and what had happened before she had fallen asleep.

As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she began to pick out shapes and identify them. There was a clutter of old engine parts in the corner, several rusted tools, and sheets of battered metal long out of use. Gradually it all came back to her - she had taken Threepio to the garage at the back of the house to find something she could use for coverings. In the garage, she had discovered, were a multitude of discarded parts and pieces, most likely left behind by Anakin when he was freed, and kept by Shmi and taken to her new home when she married. Apparently, Anakin had been there just that morning and had started sifting through the parts for possible coverings for an unfinished droid. It had made her job much easier.

Threepio was nowhere to be seen, but she remembered, now, placing the metal coverings over his inner workings. She had almost been tempted to turn him off during the procedure, so annoying were his excited expressions of gratitude and relief. Any voice that had some part of pleasure in it grated painfully on her own raw emotions. Had he already forgotten the awful events of that day?

In some ways, she very much envied him. Completing the droid had seemed an easy task, but upon finishing it she had been surprised at how exhausted she was. Dimly she remembered setting the tools down, stretching out on the cold floor of the garage just to rest for a moment. Now it was nearly sunrise.

Rising slowly, Padmé stretched her sore muscles and started across the ramp connecting the garage with the rest of the house. Very prominent in her mind was the possibility that Anakin might be back again, but she pushed it back. If he were not there, she would feel guilty for falling asleep instead of looking for him, but if he were there, it may be just as bad. She did not know what his condition would be. She dreaded the answer.

The house was quiet. Owen and his father had probably gone to bed, laboring all night and trying now to sleep off some of their grief. Padmé walked quietly through the halls, wondering why this place should be so familiar to her. She had no connection to it. The strangeness of it should weigh down on her; the awkwardness should make her want to leave. Yet, of all the places she had been, only her mother and father's farm felt more like home than this. She shook her head and gave up trying to understand.

The front room was dark, the early sunlight having not yet reached the narrow windows. Padmé sat down with a sigh on one of the chairs and tried to decide whether she was relieved or troubled that Anakin was not back yet. She thought perhaps it was a little of both. Eventually, however, she would have to go out looking for him. In a way, she had made herself responsible for him, by insisting on coming along, by practically putting herself in Obi-Wan's place. For the first time, she began to wonder if that had been a mistake. Had she really kept Anakin from danger? He was supposed to be her bodyguard, after all. She supposed that nothing had really turned out like anyone had expected.

There was a sound at the door. Padmé sat upright, her heart pounding. She could not seem to move; nor would she know what to do if she could. Breathless, filled with a dread she could not explain, she waited. Slowly, a motion lasting an eternity, the door opened, and a figure entered, shrouded in shadow. The tall frame, however, was instantly recognizable. It was Anakin.

He stood there, motionless, and Padmé stared, her mouth dry. "A - Anakin?" she said at last, her voice catching in her throat. He turned to face her, a motion that seemed painful in its preciseness, and it was the look of utter anguish he gave her that finally spurred her to rise and run to his side. She halted abruptly, however, at the sight of his eyes. From her place on the seat, they were too shadowed to discern their expression. At this closer distance, the sight of them sent a tremor of shock through her spine. They were completely and utterly hollow, as though drained of every passion, every strength they had once held.

"Oh, Anakin," she murmured.

"I killed them," he said suddenly, his voice as empty as his eyes. And then it took on a tone of surprise, as if he could not believe his own words. "I - I can hardly remember." Padmé hesitated, then touched his hand.

Human contact, then, did the thing that anger and pain, and even the sight of his mother's body could not do. It allowed him to grieve.

Knowing of nothing else that she could do for him, Padmé held him like a baby as he broke down and wept. She asked no questions, though her mind was reeling from the portents of the few words he had spoken, demanding to know more. The truth would all come out in its time. At the present time, Anakin was in no condition to speak.

After a few minutes of wordless tears, Anakin began to stumble out an explanation. Padmé only caught a few words here and there between his sobs. "Had to - something - Mom - lying there - had to - couldn't - sandpeople - had to - can't remember."

"It's all right," she murmured, a lie so obvious she wondered how it came out without choking her. "It's all right," she repeated, and held him tighter.

******************************

Threepio paced the front room anxiously, his arms thrown up in the now-familiar position of dismay. Mistress Padmé and Master Anakin had come to the garage behind the house to examine the damage the storm had done on the speeder. Upon finding him resting there, they had reactivated him and sent him back to the house to inform the others of their location when they at last woke up. If they woke up too late, he was to deliver them a message: they had left.

"Oh dear, oh dear," he murmured, his circuits whirring frantically. "How shall I ever explain all this?"

"Explain what?" Threepio turned his head at the sound of the voice he recognized as Master Owen's. Sure enough, the young man was standing at the end of the corridor, still rubbing sleep from his eyes as he stared blearily at the droid. "What do you have to explain?" he demanded, stepping forward somewhat unsteadily.

Threepio did not know how to stall; it was not it in his circuitry. "That Master Anakin and Mistress Padmé are leaving."

"Leaving?" Master Owen repeated the word as though hoping he had heard wrong.

"I'm afraid so. Indeed, they may already have left." Threepio was about to resume his pacing, but Master Owen stopped him with a firm grip on his arm.

"Do you mean to say he's going, just like that?" Master Owen wondered incredulously. "Without a word to us, without an explanation for what happened in the cave?"

"I fear I was deactivated during that time; I can offer no explanation," Threepio apologized, but Master Owen was not listening.

"And he can't even stay to mourn his mother," he murmured bitterly. "What is wrong with him? Doesn't he even care?"

"Perhaps, if you are lucky," Threepio ventured, "you might still obtain an explanation from Master Anakin. If he is not already gone, that is."

"Where is he?" Master Owen asked quickly, looking as though he would like to do just that.

Threepio hesitated. For the oddest reason, following no logic that his circuits could explain, he felt a need to hide Master Anakin's whereabouts from this other angry young man. But that was absurd; there was simply no reason for it at all. "They are in the garage, repairing their speeder, I believe."

Nodding his curt thanks, Master Owen started for the back of the house without another word to Threepio, and the droid was left alone once more to his pacing.
---
Padmé was fairly certain that Anakin was not fully recovered from the shock, but he seemed to have regained, at least, some of his control and composure. If his present behavior could be called composed. He had announced, suddenly, his desire to leave Tatooine as quickly as possible, and Padmé found she could not discourage it. She realized she herself was almost as eager to go. She did not agree, however, with sending Threepio as a messenger to Anakin's stepfather and stepbrother. It would have been far better to tell them in person. There was something almost cruel in leaving so suddenly, without an explanation or an apology. She was almost afraid to bring the matter up. Anakin was curiously distant, examining the battered, sand-encrusted speeder that was resting in the corner of the garage with a determined grimness that left no room for conversation. After his initial breakdown in the front room, he had immediately closed up again. Padmé almost missed the wrenching sobs, the desperate reaching out for her, the tight fists opening into her hands. At least that was something she could understand.

Anakin's repairs were fast and impressive, as always, and he allowed himself the ghost of a smile as he arose after several minutes and announced that it was ready for travel.

"That's a relief, anyway," Padmé said lightly. "It's a long way to our ship." She paused. "Before we leave, I think we should - I think I'll tell the others. So they know -"

"No need for that," came a sarcastic voice from outside the garage. "Your droid delivered your message quite effectively." Padmé turned guiltily to face the figure in the doorway, an apology on her lips. Anakin, however, his eyes flashing, responded first.

"We didn't have time to wait for you to wake up," he declared. "We're losing time as it is."

Didn't have time? Padmé wondered. What is he talking about?

"Where are you going?" Owen demanded, his voice on edge. "What's the big hurry, that you have to go without even seeing your mother's grave?"

Anakin stepped forward furiously, his hand automatically reaching for his saber, but he checked himself. Through clenched teeth he addressed Owen. "I loved my mother more than you could ever imagine." He relaxed slightly, still clutching his weapon. "That's why I have to go. I can't stay here."

Owen eye's had widened at Anakin's near-attack, and he took a few cautious steps backward. "I don't doubt that you cared for you mother," he muttered, and then his tone softened. "We all did. My father -" He shook his head.

"And there's other matters to consider," Anakin went on, glancing at Padmé. "She - I'm supposed to be her bodyguard. I haven't been doing a very good job of it." Padmé touched his arm and shook her head ever so slightly, but he shook his head right back. "I shouldn't have taken her here - put in her in danger all over again."

"Yes," Owen acknowledged slowly, "this is a dangerous place." A strange light took hold in his eyes. "But I love it. I always have." And Padmé wondered if perhaps part of his condemnation toward Anakin stemmed from his stepbrother's failure to share this passion for the desert. That's absurd. Who could love this place? Who could expect anyone else to?

Anakin did not seem to notice, or at least care about, Owen's words. "We haven't much more time. We want to leave before it gets too hot."

If we're taking the speeder, Padmé wondered, why should that be a problem? Anakin was just making excuses, and she could see right through them. He wanted to leave - perhaps to get away from his step-family as much as the pain-ridden memories. And she hardly blamed him.

"All right." Owen's voice was cold, dismissive. "It's your choice."

A stiff silence fell over the trio, and Padmé swallowed. "Anakin -" she started to say, but was interrupted by yet another arrival at the garage.

"Oh, Master Owen!" Threepio approached the doorway and addressed one of the angry young men. "You father wishes to speak with you."

"Does he know -?" Owen trailed off and glanced at the two others.

"I gave him the same message as I gave you." Threepio seemed somewhat baffled. "His reaction was far less excited than yours; indeed, it seemed as though he suspected it."

Evidently Anakin's stepfather could predict Anakin's behavior better than his son could. Padmé sensed that the older man possessed a great deal of understanding, a wisdom born of years of experience. Briefly, she could catch a glimpse at why he had won Shmi's heart. But that was all in the past. "Go ahead and talk with your father, Owen," she said quietly. "We need to go."

Owen, looking confused for a moment, then nodded decisively and started off across the ramp to the house. He stopped for a moment, however, and turned to face them again. Indicating Threepio, he declared, "Take him," he said. "He really is yours; I don't think we'll find any use for him."

Anakin was startled. "What? Take Threepio? But I -" He paused, considered. "Maybe that's not such a bad idea."

Threepio, meanwhile, was horrified. "But Master Anakin! I assure you, I am quite comfortable here; I have no wish to travel in a starship. Indeed, I find the very thought most dreadful -"

"You'll get used to it," Anakin told him, in a tone that was hardly reassuring, but left little room for further protesting.

Owen disappeared into the house. Padmé watched him go regretfully, feeling something had been left unexplained, some breach that needed to be closed. Yet she could not reverse what had already happened, and the future was even less certain. Sighing, she turned back to Anakin, who had directed the distraught droid into their speeder. "Let's get going," he said heavily. "We've been here too long already."

Padmé chose her words carefully. "Don't you think - maybe you should pay your mother your respects? She -"

Anakin cut her off. "My mother is dead," he said sharply. "I'm getting out of here."

Swallowing, Padmé nodded and climbed into the speeder beside Threepio, whose complaints had finally been silenced by a threat from Anakin of being deactivated if he didn't shut up. She hesitated when Anakin got into the pilot's seat, then decided it was better to err on the side of kindness rather than caution. She took Anakin's hand and squeezed gently.

Tears pricked his eyes, and he stared down at the speeder's controls. "Thank you," he murmured. "And - and I'm sorry."

"So am I," Padmé replied.

Anakin started up the speeder's engine.

******************************

Anakin had never been so glad at the sight of the battered old consular ship, resting on the sand just past the outskirts of Mos Espa, covered with three days' worth of dust. Busying himself with the preparations for take-off would give him an excuse for not talking, an excuse which he had not had up until this point. He knew the utter silence as they traveled in the speeder was beginning to grate on Padmé; it was beginning to grate on him too. But he would not break the silence, could not. Words came to his lips but instantly choked him. What could he say? There was no explanation, no rationale. What bothered him more than anything was that Padmé did not question him, did not demand an explanation. That she could accept any of his actions, when he could barely accept them himself, was unbearable. Anakin felt a dreadful guilt at the thought, but he would be glad to get away from Padmé, if only for a few minutes. What he really wanted, of course, was to get away from himself.

Padmé climbed out of the speeder without a word, her eyes focused away from Anakin. She paused momentarily to assist C-3PO out of the vehicle, and then both of them started towards the ship. Threepio seemed fairly well cowed into silence as well, and Anakin mentally cringed as he recalled his harsh behavior towards the droid. What? a harsh voice in him demanded. He's only a droid.

Yes, a softer voice responded, but using him as something to vent your anger against is as futile as venting against any inanimate object. Futile. Useless. Anakin felt a miserable heaviness come over him as he followed the others on board.

Padmé spoke for the first time since they had left the farm. "We're lucky the ship didn't get taken to pieces by scavengers while we were gone."

"Scavengers!" Threepio repeated nervously, at the same time that Anakin responded shortly, "Couldn't. Too close to the city." he explained. "They would have worried the owner'd come out after them."

Padmé nodded and fell back into silence as they headed towards the cockpit. Anakin grimaced. Was that what their conversation was limited to? Practical questions and answers? It had seemed so easy, once, to pour out his soul to her, and she seemed just as willing. He did not wonder what had brought about the change. He only wished he could change it back somehow.

Anakin tried to focus on the preparations for take-off as he took the pilot's seat, starting up the engines and checking the instruments to make sure the desert winds hadn't done too much damage to the rickety ship's structure. Fortunately, there were no signs of heavy battering, which meant the storm had not come as far as Mos Espa. On the other hand, the engines were producing a ear-splitting whine of protest.

"You'd think the Republic would give the Jedi decent ships, considering they protect the entire galaxy," Padmé commented. Anakin, wondering if he had only imagined the note of whimsicality in her tone, sneaked a glance at her face. Though sitting in the co-pilot's chair stiffly, as though she'd much rather be someplace else, she was actually smiling. A shaky, anxious smile, but a genuine smile. And Anakin let out a sigh. Of relief? Yes, he decided, relief.

"Guess they give all the good ships to the Jedi Masters," he replied with offhanded shrug, and risked a small grin. Padmé's smile widened, and she settled back in her chair as her tension drifted away.

"She'll hold together," Anakin said suddenly, realizing the sounds from the back of the ship weren't very reassuring. Threepio, certainly, had been consistently spouting off nervous complaints from the passenger's seat where he had firmly strapped himself in. "It's all right!" he told the anxious droid. "Space travel could be much worse than this."

"I dread to think of the possibilities," Threepio moaned as Anakin set the ship upward. He caught Padmé chuckling silently, and rolled his eyes with a smile at his droid. The breach between them was still there; he could feel it, as tangible as a gash in metal casing. But it was a little narrower.
----
Breaking from the planet's orbit and jumping into lightspeed went thankfully smoothly, despite the screeches of protest from the engines. As soon as the swirls of hyperspace filled the viewscreen, Anakin unstrapped himself from the pilot's chair and headed to the rear of the cockpit. "I'm going to try a few repairs," he told Padmé. Threepio wasn't listening, still too traumatized by his first experience in a starship, which, Anakin could have told him, wasn't so bad at all. Padmé looked up from the controls and held Anakin's gaze for a moment.

"All right," she said at last, and Anakin began to head to the ship's rear. He had just reached the engine compartment when a clatter of footsteps from behind made him look back. Padmé was calling his name.

"Anakin," she said quietly. Her voice was somewhat breathless from running from the cockpit, and her hair seemed to fly in all directions. Anakin blinked. How had he forgotten how beautiful she was?

"I want to help," she was saying.

"Help?" It took a moment for her words to register. "Oh, right." He glanced at the engines, at the tools he held in his hands. "I - I guess so." He handed her one of the tools, not quite sure of what he was doing or saying. "See - see if you can tighten some of the steamer bolts." He indicated a section of pipes located in the coolant section of the compartment. Padmé nodded, stepped into the tiny corner of the compartment, and got to work. Anakin looked back at what he had been doing and tried to remember exactly what he had been doing. Everything had seemed to just fly out of his head. And he laughed.

Padmé stuck her head around the corner curiously. "What is it?"

"You still do it, Padmé." Anakin looked at her incredulously. "You still manage to turn me into a babbling idiot. It's - some kind of magic you work on me, and it hasn't worn off yet."

She smiled quietly. "Yours hasn't either."

Anakin stared at the engines, trying to decided if he dared further the conversation. There was so much he wanted to say; needed to say - so much he was afraid to say.

"Anakin." Padmé's looked around the corner again. "I didn't just come here to help out. You know that."

"I was beginning to guess it."

She squeezed her frame around the tubes and pipes and emerged next to him, her face just inches from resting on his shoulder. Looking up earnestly into his face, she began to speak. And the musical sound of her voice was enough to let Anakin relax his muscles, breathe calmly, allow the working of the magic he had so long denied.

"I know things have happened, Anakin, that tear you to pieces. I know you've done things - been someone - that you don't want. I know all that, but what I don't know -" She paused. "There's so much I don't know. I don't know why we happened to walk into Watto's shop and meet you instead of some other slave boy, I don't know why this slave boy stayed in my head all those years, I don't know why I let him become my bodyguard. Or why I thought coming along with him on some crazy quest would be any better than letting him go alone." She looked down. "But that doesn't matter. I just wanted to know - I want to know that, in spite of all that, or maybe even because of it, we can still -"

"What?" Anakin breathed, taking her hands in his. He could feel her trembling. "Still what?"

Padmé looked him in the eyes. "I love you, Anakin." Her face tensed, as though surprised at her own words. "Make of that what you will. I don't know what else to say."

Anakin held her hands tighter. "You don't need to say anything else."

"I should," Padmé murmured, almost afraid that Anakin was not holding back any more. She had grown used to the distance. "I should - explain something." She laughed dryly. "Maybe you should explain some things."

"I know," Anakin sighed. "I was never very good at explaining things, though." He cupped her chin in his hand. "Couldn't I just tell you the same and let that be enough? I love you." He kissed her, as frightened and tender as he had been fierce and terrifying the day before. And he wondered if the breach had been closed, or merely widened.

***************************

Padmé drew away slightly and looked Anakin in the face. "Where are we going?" she murmured.

Anakin sensed a deep portent in her question and tried to find the right answer, worrying what effect that answer would have on her. On them. "Well - we're trying to make things right again," he said awkwardly. "Together."

To his surprise, Padmé laughed. He flushed, somewhat mortified. She had never been cruel; what was she doing now?

Padmé noticed his embarrassment and instantly cried, "Oh, Ani - that's not what I meant! I mean," she went on hastily, "where is the ship headed?"

Anakin felt even more embarrassed for a moment; then, seeing the warm smile on Padmé's face, he smiled back, and even laughed. "I guess I just try to find too much meaning in things," he grinned. "We're heading for Coruscant." Before she could protest, which he knew she would do, he explained. "I would go back to Naboo, of course, but there's the matter of those warships. We don't know if it's safe any more. Coruscant may be dangerous too, but at least I can protect you from assassins. I can't say the same about those warships. Besides, I need to tell the Council -" He couldn't continue. Padmé squeezed his hand tightly and kissed his cheek.

"I'll be with you, Anakin." She began to slip out of the compartment. "I'm going to check on Threepio. Poor droid's probably wondering where we are."

Anakin watched her go with a half smile on his face. He had completely forgotten about Threepio, but Padmé remembered things like that. Perhaps that was why he needed her so much.
---
Threepio was still in the cockpit, strapped in the passenger's seat as though the ship was still just taking off. He seemed to have deactivated himself - the droid equivalent, Padmé supposed, to fainting from sheer fright. Perhaps it would be more humane - was she really using that word in dealing with a droid? - to leave him off until they landed. Of course, when they got to Coruscant things were only going to get worse. Padmé winced as she recalled the havoc and tragedy they had witnessed briefly, before leaving it all behind. And now they were returning. It seemed, however, that even if they had continued to run away from it, to hide away and find a safe haven, somehow tragedy and despair would always find them. It enveloped her beloved planet in the form of warships, it struck Anakin's mother like a vicious bolt of lightening, and she had no doubt it would spring upon them here. It was no wonder she and Anakin clung to each other so tightly. They had little left but each other.

There was bright spot in all of this, however. Padmé recalled the odd feeling of joy she had felt when Anakin explained his reasons for returning to Coruscant. He had remembered the warships. He had not dismissed them from his memory in light of his worries about his mother. Of course she had known that, but that hadn't stopped her from wondering. She needed to know that he cared - not just for her, but for everything that was dear to her.

But what if he cared too much? Padmé recalled the fire in Anakin's eyes when he had stepped forward to accept the call to be her bodyguard. She shivered. And tried not to think about it.
----
Anakin reentered the cockpit several hours later, covered nearly from head to toe with grease and soot. He was beaming, however, and Padmé surmised that his repairs had been successful. Sure enough, he settled into the pilot's seat and announced, "Ship's fixed. We ought to fly smoothly now right to Coruscant."

"Good." Padmé hesitated. She had no desire to ask what she said next, but she knew it had to be done. "Anakin - once we get there, what do you plan on doing?" She watched his face anxiously as he took in the question. To her relief, however, he did not appear angry.

"I don't know. Go to the Council, I guess." His response revealed the countless times over the years that he had fallen back on that solution. Go to the Council. They'll know what to do. They'll make everything right again.

Padmé feared what might happen when they couldn't.

"Besides," Anakin went on, his voice losing some of its steadiness, "I have to - inform them - about - my mother."

Padmé instinctively gripped his hand, and was not surprised to feel him grip back so tightly she barely restrained a cry of pain. She looked in his grief-stricken eyes, and suddenly drew him close in a desperate embrace. His face buried on her shoulder, Anakin struggled to continue. "And -" Now his voice was scarcely above a whisper. "And I - have to tell them - what I did."

The words took a few moments to register in Padmé's mind, then suddenly shot through her spine like a thunderbolt. I'm holding a murderer. Right here, in my arms. A killer. And what troubled her most was the fact that she did not shudder, did not pull away, but only held him tighter. And Anakin sobbed.

An insistent beeping announced the ship's approach to Coruscant, and Padmé sat, shaken, while Anakin, wiping his face, began preparing to leave hyperspace. Threepio's voice abruptly broke the silence.

"Oh, my! A starship! I assure you, I intend to leave long before this craft leaves the ground."

"I'm afraid you're a little late," Padmé told the disoriented droid, actually relieved for the distraction as she turned around in her seat and gave Threepio a sympathetic look. "We've left Tatooine far behind."

Horror filled the droid's tone. "Left? But - but that is impossible!"

"Hardly," Anakin commented dryly as he drew the ship out of lightspeed. "You've just been turned off for a while, Threepio. You'll get your bearings soon enough." He added with a mutter, "At least, I hope so." At Padmé's questioning look, he explained quietly, "Still have a few bugs to work out with him. Don't know how he reactivated himself. I'm glad he did," he finished strangely, and turned back to stare at the glittering planet growing larger in the viewscreen. Padmé understood what he meant.

She watched anxiously as they broke through Coruscant's atmosphere, but to her relief, there was none of the pandemonium that they had left there before. Of course, this also troubled her, to see ships flying peacefully through the atmosphere of this planet. Other planets were not so lucky.

"I think I ought to go to the Senate," Padmé said abruptly. "To tell them what I saw when we left Naboo."

Actual fear flitted across Anakin's face, and his hands tightened at the ships's controls. "But -" He seemed to be searching for an excuse, and finally found one. "Don't you think they already know? Someone must have seen them and sent a message -"

"Or maybe they just ran away and jumped into hyperspace," Padmé muttered. And she was glad that Anakin did not seem to have heard her words. She instantly regretted saying them. "I don't doubt that they're already informed," she said more loudly. "But as my planet's representative, I ought to be there anyway."

Anakin slumped in his seat. "I don't want you to go," he said quietly.

"That doesn't surprise me." Padmé grasped his tense hand gently. "I can't always be with you, Anakin."

"I know that," he mumbled, "but that doesn't mean I like it."

He landed the ship at a platform leading to the Temple, almost without thinking. Glancing at the sight in the viewscreen and finally letting it sink in, he turned to Padmé and said reluctantly, "I guess you can take a transport from here to the Senate building." She nodded.

"And I'll come back here as soon as I'm finished," she said firmly, and watched relief sweep over Anakin's features. There it was again. And if he cared too much? No. No, enough worries for now. No need to add more to the list.

******************************

Padmé did make it to the Senate, eventually, but under circumstances far removed from what she had planned. The instant she and Anakin stepped down the ship's ramp, followed by a very reluctant and nervous Threepio, they were greeted by Obi-Wan. His robes flapped madly in the wind as he strode across the platform, a grim look on his face.

"Master?" Anakin spoke the word weakly. Padmé expected him to go dashing forward to meet Obi-Wan, but instead he approached his master slowly, head drooping slightly, eyes turned downward. She could not understand what was making his feet drag so, until she realized what he would have to tell Obi-Wan, when asked about the events of the past few days. It would not be a pleasant account.

Obi-Wan did not immediately demand a recounting, however. More important things seemed to be on his mind. And if something was more important that the welfare of his padawan, it must be very grave indeed.

"I came to meet you as soon as the ship was spotted," he told Anakin, his words breathless as though he could not speak fast enough. "I've been trying to contact you for days, but you must have been out of normal range -"

"Outer Rim," Anakin said shortly, but his master hurried on, the words unheard.

"It's war, Anakin," he announced darkly.

"War?" Anakin looked at the peaceful skies of Coruscant, baffled. "What -"

"It hasn't broken out here yet," Obi-Wan explained hastily, "but it's an uneasy peace, at best. And there's war enough in the Senate debates, let me tell you. Meanwhile, all through the galaxy, warships have been gathering, for several days now." Padmé started and listened ever more intently. "Two days ago, the fighting began."

Anakin shuddered. He had been fighting his own war yesterday, and it was not one of honor.

Padmé spoke up, since Anakin seemed speechless. "We saw the warships, Master Obi-Wan," she said, her voice betraying her long-repressed anguish. "Surrounding - my planet -"

"Naboo was one of the first to be attacked," Obi-Wan said grimly. "When I couldn't contact you, I feared -"

"We're all right," Anakin said, though his shaky tone was anything but all right. "Though there was nothing we could do at Naboo."

For the first time since meeting them, Obi-Wan seemed to sense something hidden in his apprentice's face. But he shook his head. "There's no time for explanations now," he said briskly. "I wanted to contact you, but it wasn't to bring you to safety. I'm afraid no planet is safe now. The Council sent for you, specifically, Anakin. They need to speak with you."

"Me?" Anakin looked more nervous than surprised, and gave Padmé an anxious look. She took his hand, the only comfort she could give, since she was feeling just as nervous herself.

All further conversation was cut off by the arrival of more Jedi, several brown-robed humanoids Padmé did not recognize. They greeted the three of them with bows, then wordlessly indicated for the group to follow them. Without questioning, Obi-Wan followed. Anakin, biting his lip, started after his master, and Padmé, intent on keeping at his side, never allowed the thought of leaving him to enter her mind. All thoughts of the Senate flew from her head.

Threepio brought up the rear, voicing questions and complaints no one bothered to respond to.
----
It could hardly be called a Council, Anakin decided. More like a bunch of worried-looking old people. Four or five members remained, seeming to sit uneasily beside the empty chairs of missing Jedi. That was what the group in the Temple's spire had been reduced to, after more than half its numbers had been sent throughout the galaxy to do what little they could in the wars. For the first time in their history, the Jedi's numbers seemed to be wearing thin. Of course there were always enough to send here and there, to settle these little disputes. But all-out war? Galaxy-wide? No. For the first time in his life on Coruscant, Anakin wondered if they really could solve his problems.

Master Yoda looked exceptionally weary as he began speaking. "Time for explanations, there is not. Move quickly we must."

"War has engulfed the republic," Master Ki-Adi declared, even his soft-spoken tones somewhat more excited than usual. "And the skill of the Jedi is needed more desperately than ever."

Obi-Wan gave the Council a low bow and spoke quietly. "We are prepared to serve the Republic at all costs. Forgive us for not arriving sooner."

Forgive us? Anakin's brow furrowed. It's my fault, not Obi-Wan's. Why is he taking some of the blame? His master, however, was looking at him significantly, and he realized a show of respect was expected from him as well.

"Uh, yes," he muttered, bowing. "I'm ready to do what I have to." He glanced rapidly at Padmé, and anguish began to swiftly, suddenly seize him. Where was her place - their place - in this whirlwind?

"Difficult to say, where best to send you," Yoda was musing. "So unexpectedly and quickly, the conflict spreads."

Wherever they send me, please let her go with me. Anakin was tempted to beg out loud, but what good would it do? And was that really what he wanted anyway? Hadn't he already put her in enough danger? There must be some other way...

The answer came suddenly, a desperate resolution. And he caught his breath, wondering if he dared. There wasn't much time left. Any moment now, they'd be sending him and his Master off to some war-torn planet, and Padmé would be gone -

"Master Yoda." His voice came out slightly louder than he had expected, and he flushed slightly as all the faces in the room turned to him. "I - I need to say something."

Yoda did not look particularly pleased about being interrupted. "Need to, you say? Then speak, you will, and -" his tone became grave - "take care that you speak not that which you would regret."

Anakin swallowed the fear that threatened to engulf him and stole a glance at Padmé. She suspected, perhaps even knew - her face was pale, her eyes wide. And Master Obi-Wan - but he could not look at him master's face. Not now. "I have - formed an attachment to - a woman - and I wish for us to be wed."

If the members of the Jedi Council showed emotion, which Anakin had never seen, in all his experience with them, there would perhaps have been a murmur of surprise. As it was, he noted the raised eyebrows and slightly down-turned lips that indicated concealed feelings. He had expected that. Of Padmé's reaction, however, he did not know what to expect. He hated the clumsy words coming out of his mouth, hated the necessity of formally and distantly expressing something so precious, it seemed obscene to speak of it.

Her face had changed rapidly from white to crimson, and she cast her gaze on the floor. What have I done? something within Anakin howled, but he pressed on.

"I know this is - sudden and - not the best time to discuss it," he faltered, "but there may never be another time."

He waited for the inevitable reprimands and stern reminders of the Jedi Code. The first voice that sounded in his ringing ears, however, was his own master's. "Considering the urgent situation of the Republic," Obi-Wan said, his voice almost calm, "it may be best to take care of this matter quickly. There is no time for debate."

"What do you suggest?" Ki-Adi asked dryly. "This is no small matter. May I remind you that the future of your own Padawan is at stake?"

"At stake?" Anakin turned to Obi-Wan in confusion. "I don't think it's that -"

Obi-Wan did not seem to acknowledge his apprentice's outburst. "Perhaps it is unusual, even looked down upon, but I believe making an exception here is in our best interest."

Anakin's mouth fell open. Was this his master talking? His master, who had warned him not to form attachments, not to grow to close to Padmé? Something was very, very odd about all of this.

He was suddenly aware of a shaking hand touching his; Padmé coming from behind him and holding on to him in near-desperation. He did not dare look at her, afraid of what her face might do to him. After holding her hand, however, he felt the shaking cease.

"Decided, we have," Yoda announced suddenly, as though just returning from conferring with the rest of Council; indeed, considering their small numbers, it would not have taken long, and Anakin may have missed it in his own private struggle. "This marriage we will allow."

Anakin's head was down, as he struggled between joy and fear, relief and uneasiness. Obi-Wan was the only one of the three who remembered to bow as they received the Council's permission to leave. Anakin, for one, was not even sure of where he was. His mind was in a whirlwind.

He was going to marry Padmé. And he hadn't even asked her. He didn't even know what her answer would be.

************************

Immediately outside of the Council chamber, Obi-Wan turned to the two silent young people and scanned their faces. Their emotions were easily readable. Anakin was somewhat appalled at what he had done, but relieved that it had not ended in disaster. Padmé was relieved too, that Anakin's words had not caused a catastrophe, but any other reactions to the Council's decision were clouded in confusion. It would take a great deal to repair this damage. And there was so little time.

"Anakin," he told his apprentice, "I need to have a word with you."

"Yes, Master," Anakin muttered automatically.

"But first," Obi-Wan went on firmly, "I believe there are other matters you need to take care of." And he nodded at Padmé.

Anakin glanced at her and looked back at Obi-Wan just as quickly, grateful and terrified all at once. "Thank you, Master," he whispered somewhat frantically, and Obi-Wan nodded and began walking down the hallway. He stopped a good distance away and leaned against the wall, allowing his self-restraint to slide for just a few moments. It was growing increasingly difficult to keep it up.

They walked side by side down the hallway, in the opposite direction from where Obi-Wan waited. Anakin tried to find the right words to say, but he feared that nothing he could say now would make up for what he failed to say before.

Padmé stared at her feet, her expression inscrutable. She fingered the folds of her dress with nervous hands, glancing now and then out of the large windows that lined the walls of the Temple hallways. Anakin looked at her and wondered how he could have done this to her. And what else he possibly could have done.

"I'm sorry," he said at last. "That - that really must have come as a surprise, I guess."

Padmé looked up finally, and her eyes actually twinkled. "No," she replied, "it was no surprise at all. I know you too well."

Anakin's heart quavered. "Yes," he said softly, "yes, you do." He swallowed. "Padmé, I heard about the war, I learned they were going to send me away - and I just couldn't bear to leave you without - without knowing that even if we lost each other, we could still -"

"Anakin." Padmé halted and looked straight in his face, her lips turned slightly downward. "Why didn't you ask me first?"

"I should have, of course," he mumbled. "I just didn't think of it, until it was too late to ask you, almost too late to get permission from the Council - and then they would have sent me off without being to say anything to you."

"I see."

"If you don't want to," Anakin said haltingly, hating every word he spoke, "there's no reason for us to go through with it." He blinked back the ridiculous tears that insisted on filling his eyes. "But I just want to know one thing."

Padmé looked at him curiously. "What?"

"Do you want to marry me?"

She hesitated.

Anakin bit his lip. "Don't worry about hurting me. Just tell me."

Now her eyes were wet. "Yes." And she actually smiled.

He almost laughed out loud. "Really? You do?" A sober note entered his tone. "Even after all I've done -"

Padmé stopped him. "I don't want to bring back old ghosts, Ani. I love you. Let's leave it at that."

"I don't understand how," Anakin said suddenly.

She seemed tired all at once. "Anakin, things are never that simple."

"What do you mean -?"

She interrupted gently. "Listen. I don't understand some things either. How can you expect everything and everyone to be simple and straightforward, when you yourself are so complicated?"

He couldn't find an answer.

"How can you expect anyone to be one-minded," she pressed on, "when your own mind is divided by a thousand voices?"

"Fine." Anakin's face hardened, more out of anger toward himself than toward Padmé. "If that's what you want, I'll stop being so complicated. I'll be completely straight-forward; I'll take the simple path."

Padmé shook her head. "Maybe that's not what you need to do. Maybe you - maybe we - need that complexity. If you could just accept that -"

He turned away abruptly, his face furrowed in thought. At last he spoke up. "I'm willing to try." He faced her again, nervous hope on his face. "How about you?"

She took his hand and held it tightly. "It's definitely worth trying."
----
Padmé left on a transport several hours later to finally confer with the Senate about what role she was expected to play in the crisis now enveloping the galaxy. She was also to deliver news of the unusual marriage of a Jedi Padawan, something that would require the proper legal permission. That same marriage was to take place the next day. And after that - Anakin hated to think of it, so he didn't.

Except that his master wanted to talk with him about it, and there was no avoiding it. Of course, Anakin had quite a few questions of his own.

"Why are they going to let me marry her?" he demanded, pacing the same hallway before the Council chamber. "It's not like I'm complaining," he added hastily, "I just don't understand. And you, Master!" he exclaimed. "Marrying Padmé was the last thing you wanted me to do!"

Obi-Wan sighed heavily. "If they could have, Anakin, the Council would have forbidden you, not merely from marrying her, but from falling in love with her in the first place. Since it is clearly too late for that, and probably impossible anyway, preventing you from marrying would - I'm afraid the repercussions would be dangerous."

Anakin frowned and asked with a low voice, "You mean - I would be dangerous?"

Obi-Wan looked at his apprentice sharply. "What do you mean by that?"

"I didn't tell you what happened on Tatooine." Anakin's face was sickly. "Master - my mother was killed. And I - I did something awful, Master."

"I'm terribly sorry about your mother, Anakin." Obi-Wan put a comforting hand on his Padawan's shoulder. His concern was sincere, but he somehow did not seem at all surprised. "And then you were very angry?"

"That doesn't make it all right!" Anakin was beginning to panic; why was Obi-Wan so calm?

"Certainly not. And you realize that. That knowledge, at least, you do have. Don't ever forget it, Anakin."

"And you'll still let me marry her, after this?"

His master stood at a window and gazed at the sparkling skyline of Coruscant. "Perhaps, with time," he began slowly, "you might learn to cut off your caring for Padmé. Even the strongest attachments can be broken. But we haven't time. The galaxy is already in a turmoil, and I fear it will grow worse before it grows better. There is no way of knowing what the future holds." He turned to face his apprentice once more. "In such a time of uncertainty, the only thing we can be certain of is our caring for those most dear to us. And that is why, Anakin, I will allow this marriage, why all the Council will allow it." He noted his Padawan's expression and told him sternly, "I hope you realize that this special exception places a great deal of responsibility on you."

"That sounds more like the Obi-Wan I know," Anakin said ruefully. "Always talking about responsibility." He paused, then added, "I missed that."

Obi-Wan smiled. "It is good to see you again, Anakin. I was worried when I couldn't find you. I hope you will forgive me for being harsh with you when you first arrived here."

"Forgive you!" Anakin exclaimed. "I think if there's anyone who needs to be forgiven -"

Obi-Wan silenced him with a raised hand and spoke calmly, though not without feeling. "After tomorrow, the world we have known will change greatly. But we will, at least, have our friendship. Let us be grateful for that." And he gave Anakin a warm smile.

Anakin smiled back.

********************************

The wedding would be a quiet event, a brief ceremony in one of the Temple's smaller rooms. There was no time for grand preparations, nor did a gala celebration seem appropriate, considering the impending war. Guests were out of the question, as the deepening conflicts made space travel too perilous from any distance. Yet Anakin found, as he readied himself for the event that morning, that in spite of all his doubts and guilt, a deep happiness was welling up within him, a happiness he had not felt in years - perhaps never known. No matter what this war may take from him, he would still have Padmé. Nothing meant more to him than that.

He made the final adjustments to his uniform and stepped before the small window on the far wall of his chambers. Coruscant's skies seemed so peaceful, so calm. Only the calm before the storm, he reminded himself. And then he wondered what storm he was thinking about. There was the war, of course, and all that would bring. But war could not tear him from Padmé; physically, perhaps, but that would not destroy the bond between them. The war could not shake his happiness. No outside force could shatter his peace. There was only one person capable of that, the one person he feared more than any other. Himself.

Why ruin the perfection of this day? he demanded of himself, shaking his head fiercely. Why think of such things?

Well, he wouldn't, then. Today, things would be right.

He only wished his mother could have been there for the wedding. But perhaps, from somewhere, she was watching.
----
Padmé was glad she had gone through all the trouble of packing more than one set of clothes. She had fortunately included one of her more formal dresses, perhaps an impractical choice at the time, but now very appropriate indeed. She pulled the shimmering gown from her suitcase and admired it for a moment. It wasn't too different than what she had imagined her wedding dress would look like.

Of course, the actual wedding would be far from her girlish dreams of marriage. Certainly, she had never pictured herself getting married on this world, its harsh, angular city a sad contrast to her lush emerald home. She used to dream of grand processions through the streets of Theed, leading to a traditional ceremony in the open air of the verdant plains nearby. There would be streamers and flowers and crowds of giggling, cheering children...

But none of that is very important, she told herself; it was all a bunch of childhood dreams and you've long since grown up. Who you're marrying is much more important.

Yes. She was marrying Anakin. The little slave boy from a dust world. The dreamer trying to be a Jedi. A man full of contradictions, who flew from introspection to impulsiveness in an instant, who proposed marriage almost by accident, right in front of the Jedi Council. That was who she was marrying.

In the hours she had spent alone, in the small chamber of the Temple that had been provided for her temporarily, she had thought and thought over again about her decision. She knew the Council's decision did not bind her; Anakin had their permission, not their order, to marry her. One word from her; that was all it would have taken, and she could have been free.

Free. Free to watch Anakin while his heart was breaking. Free to watch him leave for war, possibly die in battle, having no more connection to him than the fragile bond they had just begun to form. Some freedom. But would marrying him make things any better? It was all so hasty, and she wished for the impossible gift of time to think it over. Instead, knowing the fruitlessness of impossible wishes, she agreed.

She had never loved anyone as she loved Anakin, that she knew. She had never allowed herself to. Anakin, meanwhile, had broken down her barriers in a matter of days. And he was tender, and caring, and devoted to her almost to excess. And there was that fire that burned at times in his eyes....

Padmé took a deep breath and began to dress. The soft fabric slipped over her skin like a drift of air and, at least somewhat, helped to soothe her nerves as she released her hair from its bindings and let it fall down in lush waves. No, she did not regret her choice. She wanted to marry Anakin, there was no doubt about it. She hated the circumstances, she would have given anything to change them, but she did not regret her choice.

******************************

Sunlight streamed through the tall windows lining the Temple's chamber, dancing with the motes of dust and casting an almost blinding glow upon the room's occupants. Anakin, standing beside Obi-Wan and several members of the Council, squinted and craned his neck to see if Padmé was entering through the door at the other end. No sign of her yet. He shuffled his feet. He did not imagine that Padmé would go back on her word, of course, but he couldn't help but be a little nervous. He was, after all, living out one of his lifelong dreams - finally winning Padmé's heart. He wondered, if he pinched himself, he would awaken and discover it was just another dream.

Obi-Wan was nudging him. Anakin started and looked at the doorway again. And then he saw her.

She was a vision, a picture of perfection, her hair let down and framing her face in all its dark glory, her shimmering gown fitting her as though it was made for her - which it probably was. She was an angel; he had never really doubted that. And he was, without a doubt, the luckiest man in the galaxy. Certainly he didn't deserve her - who could ever deserve her? And she had chosen him! How could he ever be worthy of her choice? He never would, he supposed, but at least he could try. And meanwhile, he couldn't keep his eyes off her.

Padmé pushed a stray thread of hair from her face and peered at the faces at the front of the chamber, remaining in the doorway rather nervously. Why was Anakin staring at her like that? Was there something on her nose? Did she have a tear in her dress? She could find nothing wrong, but still Anakin continued to stare.

As self-awareness flooded her, it occurred to her at last that she ought to enter the room, whatever the reason for Anakin's piercing gaze. And so she started forward. Oddly, she found that she was nervous. Was it concern over her appearance, wondering why Anakin was staring so? No, it wasn't that important to her. Was it the jitters all girls were supposed to have when getting married? No - she certainly wasn't worried she would make some mistake in the ceremony; it was too simple. No, it was the sudden realization of what she was doing. Not regret, not fear - just a brief glimpse, as it were, into the future, into the implications, the far-reaching effects, of this one day. She did not know what the future would bring, exactly, but she knew that from this moment on her life would be changed forever. It was a daunting thought.

And then she arrived at Anakin's side, and he gave her a lopsided grin, hesitantly took her hand. She realized he was just as nervous as he was. For some reason, this comforted her, and she let out the breath she had been holding and smiled back at Anakin. They both turned to face the officiator, and the ceremony began.

It was all something of a blur for Anakin. A few words from the officiator, a brief exchange of vows, and they were husband and wife. One instant they were separate, two people struggling alone; the next, they were one. Whatever they faced, they would face it together. And if none of the details of the ceremony were exactly vivid in his mind, this knowledge was very clear to him. He knew Padmé felt it too, as they turned to each other again and sealed their vows in a kiss. Her eyes laughed with sheer joy, and he grinned.

Padmé remembered the strangest things about that day - the benevolent smile of the officiator; the way Anakin's voice shook a little when he said his vows. The way Obi-Wan's smile seemed a little strained - perhaps he knew more of the war's seriousness than he revealed. Then, the little flutter of wonder that pricked her heart when she realized she was Anakin's wife. How the sunlight had disappeared for a few instants, then burst forth suddenly as the sun emerged from behind a cloud, just in time for their kiss. And how she felt they were floating above the ground as they left the chamber, hand in hand.

Those memories were gifts, and she would hold them close when everything else slipped through her fingers.

***************************

A strong wind was tearing across the landing platform, lifting Padmé's skirt and dropping it as quickly, whipping her hair in all directions. She had long since given up trying to keep it out of her face. In spite of the composure she had worked to develop during her years as queen, she found herself growing extremely impatient. Not even an hour after the wedding, some messenger of the Senate had contacted the Temple and asked, not for Padmé, but for Obi-Wan and his apprentice. She supposed they had decided upon some place to send them, where they would best defend the Republic against whoever this enemy was. They had promised to let Anakin come back and spend some time with his new wife before - before whatever was about to happen. One hour, they had said, and he would be back.

Padmé shifted her weight from one foot to the other and tried to ignore the gritty wind in her eyes as she scanned the sky for what must have been the hundredth time. Still no sign of the transport. It was already nearing sunset. She clenched her fists in an effort to forestall the annoyance rising in her. Her annoyance, of course, was merely covering what she was really feeling, the dread that lurked somewhere in a corner of her brain and continually threatened to rear its ugly head. Was this how it would always be? Would they never have more than a moment to themselves, without something coming to snatch one of them away, without some catastrophe crashing down on them? She wasn't sure she wanted the answer to those questions.

Shivering, Padmé drew her cloak more tightly around her and wished for Anakin's warm embrace. He had looked, if possible, even more appalled and disappointed than she had when the Senate contacted them. She almost worried about how he would respond to his orders - but there was little doubt that he would accept them, however grudgingly. And of course, Obi-Wan would be there to encourage him. Padmé recalled with some chagrin how she had actually taken it upon herself to watch over Anakin while he and Obi-Wan were separated. As though she would be any replacement for his master! No, she took up a far different place in Anakin's life. And watching over him had very little to do with it.

Who would watch over him, then, when his master was not with him?

A low rumbling grew in intensity, finally taking shape in an approaching Senate transport. Padmé allowed herself a relieved smile as the small craft arrived at the platform and its passengers emerged. Anakin, grinning widely, hurried toward her, followed by a much more somber looking Obi-Wan.

"I was beginning to wonder if you had gotten lost," Padmé murmured in Anakin's ear as he pulled her into his arms. She could feel him shaking with silent laughter, holding her tighter. And she hated what she had to do next, but better to get it over with now. "What did they want, Anakin?" She swallowed. "When are you going?"

Anakin pulled away to look in her face, still holding her hand tighter, his own face losing its smile. "Tomorrow." His voice struggled between anger and gloom. "Tomorrow morning. Master Obi-Wan and I are being sent somewhere in the Core systems. They said there's not a moment to lose."

Padmé clutched at what was left of her resolve and denied despair the chance to tear at her. "Then let's be thankful they've given us the rest of the day, Anakin."

He looked surprised, as though the thought had never occurred to him. "You're right," he said finally. "We should be."

Obi-Wan kept a short distance behind the newlyweds as they started towards the Council's transport at the other end of the platform. He felt exceptionally tired. The events of the past few weeks had been very - difficult. And every time he felt that he had had more than he could possibly endure, something else came along to prove him otherwise.

Might as well get used to it, he thought grimly. Things aren't getting any better. Yet as he watched the two ahead of him, arm in arm, he wondered if perhaps there was some small chance for hope. He recalled his own words to Anakin. The only thing we can be certain of is our caring for those most dear to us. Yes, he decided, and is that not what we are fighting for? And if we have that, perhaps we needn't worry so much about the other things. He smiled and stepped forward to join the two in the transport, glancing up at the darkening sky as he climbed in.

Night was coming.

End.

<<back to episode ii era p/a fanfiction
<<back to p/a fanfiction