Missing Images

 Anakin and Amidala between Episode I and II
By: ami-padme

During The Phantom Menace.

Anakin jumped out of his pod racer's seat and scurried around to the back. He saw Padmé jump at his action, but then she smiled. She had a really great smile...but he got the feeling she hadn't used it much lately. That was too bad.

Well, she'll be smiling tomorrow, he promised himself. He hadn't talked about the race with her, but Anakin had sensed that he would win. It was one of those strange feelings he could never explain. But he trusted it. His...lackluster...performances in his other races wouldn't have much bearing on this one. Racing to avoid punishment from Watto was one thing. Racing for his new friends, and for her, was quite another.

"Wait until you see the crowds tomorrow, Padmé. The last time, there were people standing in the stairwells. I don't think they'll let people do that this time though."

"Why not?" she asked.

"No one pays much to stand. The Hutts thought it was a waste of money. And they're more stingy than Watto." She laughed a little.

Boy, was he lucky that he was with them when the storm started. He would never have seen her again otherwise, or found out that Qui-Gon was a Jedi. This was the most exciting thing to ever happen to him, and he had almost missed it.

Of course, this was likely torture for Padmé. Qui-Gon was all right – he was a Jedi, he could handle anything. But it was easy to tell that she wasn't used to it, and had no idea what to do with herself.

He snickered. Tatooine was an ordeal for people who had lived there all their lives. Important girls who traveled the galaxy with Jedi shouldn't even fly past it, much less be forced to stay...with slaves no less.

"What's so funny, Ani?" She had heard him snickering and stopped working to look at him.

He shrugged. "I was just thinking about how much you must hate being here."

Padmé shook her head. "No, it was very kind of you to offer your home to us –"

"Oh, I didn't mean here. I meant on this planet. It isn't the best place to get stuck."

She seemed to be worried about offending him, but finally said, "No, it's not. But we're here, and for now, there's not much to be done about it. It's not so much that I don't like it here, as it is wishing that I could be somewhere else."

"Home?" Anakin asked. Not that he knew where that was. He figured that Qui-Gon had told Padmé and Jar-Jar not to tell him too much about their mission.

"Yes," she said, and her eyes seemed to drift away.

I shouldn't have said anything. He had upset her by reminding her of whatever was going on. Anakin experienced her discomfort, and he really wanted to get rid of it. It was the same way with his mother...and a few other people under certain circumstances. Sometimes it was like reading their minds; other times, like now, the emotions felt like they were his own. Often, when he knew there was nothing he could do to help the person, he frantically wished he could turn it off.

But this wasn't one of those times. He had helped them when Jar-Jar got into trouble, and he had helped them when the storm started. And he had helped Padmé keep her mind off things, at least for a little while. "Did I show you what I did with the steering?" Before she could answer, he had grabbed her hand and pulled her to the other side of the racer, chatting about the importance of handling and control.

He wasn't sure she understood everything that he was saying, but she seemed interested in his attempts to engage her, and was amused by his enthusiasm (or what his mother often referred to as his "constant fidgeting"). And she listened avidly to him; he wondered if she knew how much he appreciated that.

He should do something for her. Not the pod race, but something...nice. Something that might make her smile a little from time...He'd have to give it some thought.

**********

Amidala sighed, looking at the rows of screws and bolts and gadgets. Anakin had just told her to undo one of them, and she realized that she had no idea which one. And he just pointed it out to her.

She had been out here helping him for the better part of an hour...if you could even call it helping. Amidala knew some basic mechanics, but nothing this specific or complicated. She had broken more things than she fixed, and simply hadn't been able to do some of the other things he had asked.

Of course, he had acted oblivious to her bumbling: happily correcting her mistakes, explaining things to her numerous times, and not hesitating to trust her with a new responsibility. He was a sweet kid.

Amidala looked at the rows again, resolutely chose one gadget, and began undoing it. She had no real way of knowing if it was the right one, but she was suddenly possessed with the need to do something.

She leaned into the wrench, almost violently jerking it around. Her movement slightly shook the pod, and she could hear Anakin lean around to see what she was doing. She kept going until the part loosened up.

"Uh...Padmé?"

She barely heard him...and then the part finally gave way, and she stumbled, falling back to the ground.

The rest of the panel also fell to the ground with a loud crash, along with several other parts.

Amidala didn't bother getting up. She stared at the parts for awhile. "I guess that wasn't the one you asked me to remove."

"Nope. But that's okay. I can put it back." He walked over to the parts on the ground, and turned to her with a smile. "None of them are broken." Anakin noticed that she still hadn't picked herself up. "Are you okay?"

Amidala shrugged, and heaved a sigh. "I'm sorry, Anakin. I'm not really helping."

"Sure you are."

"No, I'm not. If anything, I'm slowing you down." She tried to hand him the wrench, but he didn't take it. Instead, he sat down next to her in the sand.

Amidala shook her head ruefully. It was a nice gesture, and she was surprisingly touched, but it also had the effect of making her feel like a bit of a spoiled brat, pouting and sitting in the dirt.

"I'm sorry, Anakin."

"Padmé, stop saying that. What are you sorry for?"

Good question. A better one would be, what wasn't she sorry for? But for now, she narrowed her focus. "I'm sorry that you have to fix our mess, Ani."

"But I wanted to help, really."

"I know, but how dangerous are these races?" He didn't answer right away. "Anakin, I don't want you to get hurt on our account. Please."

"I won't." He grinned mischievously. "The winners usually don't have to worry about injuries."

He certainly was confident. Yet, she still felt badly for putting this pressure on him. That's why she had asked Qui-Gon and Jar-Jar not to tell him too much about what was going on. He didn't need to feel the weight of a planet on his shoulders. That was her job.

And what was she doing about it? Nothing. Sure, you could argue that there wasn't anything to do until they got to Coruscant, but that didn't make her feel much better. She had to rely on the Jedi to get off Naboo, now she had to rely on a nine-year-old to get off Tatooine. And once she got to Coruscant, she would have to rely on the Senate. She was tired of it. This was all her responsibility – she was absolutely itching to DO something about it, instead of waiting for everyone else.

"Padmé?"

"Yes, Anakin?"

"You'll...figure it out..."

Amidala gave a bit of a start. She had half a mind to ask him what he meant – how he knew – but she changed her mind. It made more sense just to say, "Thanks."

"You're welcome." He hopped to his feet and held out his hand. "Do you want to keep working?"

"Sure." She took his hand and got up. He was right. She would do what she could to help today. She would figure the rest out later.

The end of TPM.

It was the day after Qui-Gon’s funeral and the mood from that event could still be felt throughout Theed. The memories of the Jedi Master, as well as others lost in the battle, were almost palpable to the Naboo people. Mourning and loss draped the palace.

But, today was a new day. There was a resoluteness to work through those feelings – to move on, but not forget. Preparations for the morning’s parade and celebration began, and the somber silence of the previous night slowly gave way…

…except in the quarters assigned to Anakin and Obi-Wan. The two had been up for hours, with few words exchanged between them. Both were overwhelmed by the grief and confusion that had accompanied Qui-Gon’s death; neither wished to broach the subject with the other. Obi-Wan decided to focus on the duties he had to attend to this morning.

“Anakin, we must prepare for the parade. I need to give you your Padawan haircut.”

“Okay…I mean, yes, Master.”

Anakin sat uncertainly in a chair in the middle of the room, while Obi-Wan looked for the clippers. He was going to have to adjust to calling Obi-Wan by that title. It still felt strange. Anakin glanced over his shoulder at his bed. A new set of Jedi robes lay there.

I once had a dream that I was a Jedi…the words he said to Qui-Gon ran through his mind repeatedly. Would he look like the man he saw in that dream once Obi-Wan was finished?

Anakin was suddenly possessed with an urge to run to the mirror for a last look at himself. But it was too late. Obi-Wan had found the clippers, and was headed over to him. What does it matter anyway? he wondered to himself. It’s just my hair…and my clothes…

Obi-Wan began to work on his Padawan’s hair. For a time, snipping noises were the only sounds in the room.

Although he seemed distant to Anakin, Obi-Wan’s thoughts were completely focused on the boy. He was unwavering in his commitment to make Anakin a Jedi – to prove the doubters on the Council wrong and Qui-Gon right. The skepticism he had felt earlier was forgotten. Anakin’s “lucky” actions in the space battle had solidified Obi-Wan’s belief in the boy’s innate connection to the Force. He now held the responsibility for molding and directing that power.

After 16 years of being Qui-Gon’s Padawan, he now had to rededicate his life to Anakin.

Anakin squirmed in the chair. Obi-Wan realized he had been so deep in thought that he had stopped cutting. He quickly resumed, hoping that his pensiveness wasn’t making Anakin too uncomfortable.

Anakin relaxed a little once Obi-Wan started working again. He didn’t want to break the silence in the room…maybe Obi-Wan just needed the time to think.

Anakin was realizing that he didn’t know Obi-Wan at all. Well, except for the fact that Obi-Wan didn’t seem to like him much. That scared him. Anakin was beginning to wonder if he had made the right choice in leaving home.

Will I ever see you again? Anakin wasn’t sure that even Qui-Gon understood how difficult it was to walk away from his mother. But the Jedi had tried to make things easier on him – taking time to talk and explain things to him, despite everything else he had to worry about. Anakin had felt that Qui-Gon would take care of him no matter what.

But now, Qui-Gon was gone. As unthinkable as it was, attending the Jedi’s funeral had been almost as hard as leaving his mother. The only bright spot was the news that the Obi-Wan would train him. Anakin couldn’t remember being so relieved about anything. Where would he have gone if they hadn’t changed their minds?

But Obi-Wan wasn’t Qui-Gon. And as much as he had wanted to leave Tatooine, as much as he had hated being a slave, the question, Should I have stayed home? refused to go away.

“Anakin?”

“What? I mean…yes, Master?” Anakin hoped that Obi-Wan hadn’t said his name more than once.

“I need you to hold this lock of hair. I’m almost finished with the rest of your cut.”

Anakin grabbed the strand obediently. He assumed that it would become his Padawan braid.

As he completed his work, Obi-Wan felt he should make some conversation with his Padawan. He wasn’t exactly sure where to begin.

After a deep breath, Obi-Wan asked, “Why do you want to be a Jedi, Anakin?”

Anakin blinked, unable to think of a “good” reason. Finally, he settled on the truth. “I’ve dreamt about it.”

Obi-Wan had expected a longer answer, but supposed that Anakin was only giving him the truth. He didn’t think there was much knowledge of the Jedi on the Outer Rim.

Anakin, however, misinterpreted Obi-Wan’s silence. Did I say the wrong thing?

“It must have been difficult to leave your mother…” Obi-Wan cut the statement off when he felt Anakin stiffen in the chair. Maybe this was the wrong approach. Maybe Anakin didn’t want to be pushed right now.

“Yeah, it was hard…but she…and Qui-Gon thought it was the right thing to do…”

A pause. Then Obi-Wan, with not a little flair, announced, “It’s finished. I dare say that you look like a Jedi already.”

Anakin let go of the lock of hair he had been holding and dashed over to the mirror. It looked…better than he expected. His hair had never been so short, and the spikes were a little funny. But he liked it.

He fingered the long strand and looked at Obi-Wan through the mirror. His Master gave him a slight smile and crouched beside him to start the braid.

But now that he was in front of the mirror, Obi-Wan took notice of his own Padawan braid…a braid that was no longer necessary or appropriate. Obi-Wan went to get the scissors again. He came in front of the mirror and took hold of his braid. He hesitated.

Anakin watched Obi-Wan struggle, and felt pangs of sympathy for him. He had known Qui-Gon for much longer. This time, Anakin decided to break the silence.

“Obi-Wan, sir…I mean, Master.” Anakin paused. Obi-Wan looked at him expectantly. “Maybe you should keep the braid. It will remind you of Qui-Gon.”

Obi-Wan smiled sadly. “It isn’t that simple, Anakin. I can no longer wear the braid because I am no longer a student. I must look like a Knight now.” Obi-Wan placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I do understand your thinking, though – I appreciate it. There will be many other things to remind us of Qui-Gon.”

Anakin wasn’t so sure about that. He hadn’t known Qui-Gon long enough.

But he wanted to ask a different question. “Are you nervous about becoming a Knight?” Obi-Wan looked surprised at the question, and Anakin tried to take it back. “Never mind. Why would you be nervous? This is what you’ve wanted your whole life!”

Obi-Wan stared at Anakin, seeing him for the first time on his own terms instead of in reference to Qui-Gon. He knew that last question from his Padawan had been self-referential – Anakin had dreamed of being a Jedi, and Obi-Wan couldn’t imagine how nervous the boy was now. He had lost an enormous amount in an extraordinarily short period of time. To his credit, Anakin had handled it very well. But that didn’t mean that worrisome emotions weren’t under the surface.

Much danger I fear in his training. Obi-Wan knew that those emotions were why the Council had initially refused Anakin as a Padawan. Loss and abandonment were a perilous foundation to begin the training on. As his Master, Obi-Wan had to start dealing with that immediately. Anakin needed someone he could count on…someone whom he wouldn’t be separated from.

“Anakin, I think we’re both nervous.” Obi-Wan rested his hand on the boy’s shoulder again. “This isn’t the situation either of us had counted on. But as Jedi, we must be able to adapt to each situation, and make it work. The Force has brought us together, and we have to trust that – and each other.” Obi-Wan gave Anakin his first genuine smile since Qui-Gon’s death.

Anakin didn’t say anything. Obi-Wan continued.

“I apologize for my recent behavior, Anakin. I’ve allowed myself to be distracted. The fact is, we’re family now. You can depend on me always, for anything.” With a wink, Obi-Wan added, “And don’t hesitate to let me know if I’m ever…distracted again.”

Anakin found himself returning his Master’s smile. He was grateful for the reassurances. “Yes, Master. I’m glad we can be friends.”

Obi-Wan did Anakin’s braid. After a moment’s thought, Obi-Wan gave Anakin the scissors. “Would you please do the honors, Padawan?”

Anakin held the braid and cut it as close to Obi-Wan’s scalp as he could get. He held the hair out to Obi-Wan.

“Hold on to that for me, Anakin.”

Anakin nodded happily. He had thought the braid would be a reminder of Qui-Gon. Now it was a symbol of his new relationship with his Master – of his new life as a Jedi.

Half an hour later…

Stand straight.

Shoulders back.

Arms crossed.

Eyes narrowed.

Hmmm…it still doesn’t look right. Anakin was alone in his room while Obi-Wan talked to the Council. He stood in front of the mirror, in his full Jedi regalia, mimicking the serious look Obi-Wan so often wore. He and Obi-Wan would be among the leaders in the parade, marching just behind the Queen and the handmaidens. Anakin wanted the crowds to see a Jedi – a warrior. Not the slave boy who had accidentally saved the day.

He squinted at himself. He wasn’t convinced.

A beep at the door interrupted his thoughts.

“Ani, it’s me. Is this a good time?”

Anakin’s face lit up. He and Amidala hadn’t talked much since leaving Coruscant.

Amidala entered the room dressed in the formal white gown she planned to wear to the parade. Her hair was down and her make-up hadn’t been started. Anakin openly stared at her. He didn’t care what she said – if she wasn’t an angel, they didn’t exist.

“Wow,” she said, noting his new appearance. “I leave you for a day, and come back to find a Jedi. Very impressive look, Ani.”

He beamed with pride. “I just got my haircut and clothes this morning. But you haven’t seen my ‘Jedi look’ yet.”

“Your ‘Jedi look’?”

“Yeah, like Obi-Wan.” Anakin ran through the checklist – posture, shoulders, arms, eyes – and gave her the most serious stare he could muster. “I’m going to look like this at the parade.”

Amidala tried, but he looked so amusing in the pose that she couldn’t stop a giggle from escaping. Anakin narrowed his eyes further for that offense. Amidala gave up and burst out laughing. He started laughing too.

“I’m sorry, Ani –”

“No, it’s okay Pad…Your Highness. I don’t know how he does that all the time. It’s hard.” Anakin wasn’t bothered at all. He loved to hear her laugh.

“Please don’t call me that, Ani. Not in private.”

“Which one? Padmé or Your Highness?”

“Both.” Amidala paused thoughtfully. “There are very few people who feel comfortable just calling me Amidala.”

“Don’t you have a nickname?” Anakin asked. “People have called me Ani forever.”

She shook her head no. “What do you think you should call me?”

“Ami,” he said without hesitation. “It goes well with Ani.”

Amidala was laughing again. “Fine. Ami it is.” She walked over to sit in the chair, and he sat on the bed across from her. Her face became more serious. “Have you been all right, Ani? I know Qui-Gon’s death must be dreadful for you.”

Anakin sobered a bit as well. He realized that if she had asked that question just an hour earlier, he would have felt much, much worse.

“Well, I miss him a lot…”

“But?” Amidala prompted.

“But if Obi-Wan and I get along, things won’t be so bad. And we were getting along this morning.” Anakin pointed to Obi-Wan’s braid, which was lying on his nightstand. “He’s nicer than I thought…but I think about Qui-Gon…and my mother a lot.”

Amidala placed her hand over his. “Ani, it’s perfectly fine for you to miss Qui-Gon and your mother. Sometimes…good things come at a high price.”

“What do you mean?”

She sighed. “Well, you’re going to be a Jedi, but you gave up so much for it to happen…We’ve reclaimed our planet, but a heavy toll was paid to do so.” She focused back on him. “We – both of us – can acknowledge the pain, but that shouldn’t stop us from enjoying the good things ahead of us. That’s what today’s celebration is all about, Ani.”

Anakin thought about it. “I guess that makes sense,” he said, wondering how she had gotten so smart.

The comm link buzzed. Anakin pressed it, and heard Rabé’s voice.

“I’m sorry to interrupt Your Highness, but we must begin your preparations soon.”

“I’ll be there in a minute, Rabé.” Anakin shut off the link.

The Queen stood, readying herself to leave. “I’ll see you at the parade, Ani. Maybe we can talk a little more at the reception.”

His face fell in disappointment. “The Council wants us to leave as soon as the parade is over. This may be the last time we see each other…”

The sentence hung between them. Who knew when they would meet again? Amidala knelt down and gave him a long hug. “This isn’t going to be the last time we see each other, Ani. Even if we don’t get many opportunities, we’ll definitely keep in touch, right?”

Anakin nodded numbly. How many goodbyes would he have to say?

“I mean it, Anakin. I want to hear all about your training, and your new friends…” She stared at him until he looked back and managed a smile. “I’ll be thinking of you often, Ani,” she said softly.

“I’ll want to hear about you too…all the royal stuff you have to do,” Anakin replied.

Amidala chuckled and gave him another hug. “It’s a deal. Goodbye, Ani.”

“Goodbye, Ami.”

Amidala left the room.

Anakin watched the closed door for a few seconds. Then he went back over to the mirror. He tried his ‘look’ again. He might not be a Jedi yet, but he didn’t see a slave anymore. That was enough for now.

A year after previous (Ani – 10; Ami – 15)

Amidala stalked through the hallways of the Senate building. Bail Organa watched her uncertainly as he labored to keep up with her. Neither had spoken since leaving the conference room a few minutes ago. Amidala wasn’t in the mood to talk, but they needed to come to a decision about their strategy for tomorrow.

“Amidala?” Bail sounded tentative. She didn’t respond. “We simply have to remain firm on our position. Tomorrow won’t be as difficult as today was. They were purposely being unreasonable; they just wanted to see if they could ring some early concessions from us –”

“– because of course the young, foolish Queen of the Naboo would back down,” she finished. “Or maybe they think I’ll just call another vote of no-confidence and throw the Senate into chaos again…”

“Amidala…”

She stopped walking and turned to face him. “You should be the one representing us. You are not nearly as controversial as I am. Every time someone disagrees with me, they use my age or my ‘instability’ as a smoke screen. We have to get these negotiations back on track.”

Organa didn’t answer right away. Instead, he started walking again at a slower pace. Amidala so rarely got upset – or showed that she was upset – that he couldn’t help being taken aback. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand; they had just gone through a full day of meetings without getting a thing accomplished. And with more than a passing criticism directed towards her.

“There’s nothing more we can do tonight. It’s probably best for us to get some sleep. Maybe we can try to talk to some of the delegates one-on-one before tomorrow’s meetings.”

Amidala’s eyes shut for a moment. When she opened them she replied, “Fine. I could use the extra rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.” With a curt nod, she turned and walked down a different hallway towards her quarters. Her handmaidens, who had been observing from a discreet distance, followed.

She immediately felt guilty for being so short with Bail. She would have to apologize in the morning. In the morning? Amidala fought the urge to groan at the thought of another day like this one.

Amidala had arrived on Coruscant the day before. Chancellor Palpatine had requested a summit between the leaders of several of worlds; he wanted to start a dialogue about the massive militarization of previously pacifist planets like Naboo and Alderaan. The meetings were intended to stave off any needless misunderstandings and to discuss how these moves would affect the balance of power among neighboring planets and systems.

She was surprised at the vehemence with which her neighbors had reacted against the armament. She suspected that Bail was right; that everyone would settle down as the talks went on, but it was still curious. She had wondered from the outset whether Palpatine’s plan to have the meetings this early was wise. It only seemed to make others edgy – to perceive their actions as a threat instead of a defensive move.

Amidala and the handmaidens exited the Senate building and stepped into a pleasant, cool night on Coruscant. She gratefully inhaled the fresh air and felt a little better. Ultimately, this wasn’t anything that she and Bail couldn’t handle. As the head spokespeople for the pacifist planets they had to focus on calming their neighbors’ fears. His suggestion of closed meetings was a wise one.

Amidala reached her quarters and immediately started to remove her makeup and take down her hair. With the maidens help, she was comfortably dressed and flopped facedown on her bed in a matter of minutes.

She wasn’t sure how long she had been lying that way, but she felt a sudden desire to move. Maybe it was because she couldn’t breathe with her face in the pillow. She lifted her head a bit and found herself staring directly at a chrono on the wall.

Now she couldn’t stifle the groan. Did I really promise Ani that we could go to the festival show tonight? Maybe she could talk him out of it. He would probably understand how tired she was. They would do something tomorrow.

Moving nothing but her arm, she reached from the bed to activate the holo link. She had barely started to pull herself into a sitting position when Anakin answered.

She took one look at his hopelessly enthusiastic face and knew she was going to the show.

**********

Amidala let Anakin lead her by the hand through a maze of streets. Saché and Rabé followed, trying not to infringe on her off-duty time. The cacophony of sights and sounds that surrounded her barely registered. She was still trying to figure out why she had decided to come. But Anakin was determined to make her have some fun, and they were headed to the public park for the show.

The public park was one of the few strips of greenery on the entire planet. The locals often came to admire its “beauty.” It wasn’t much compared to Naboo, but provided a nice change of pace from the endless horizon of buildings. Tonight it was packed with people wanting the best spot to see the annual laser show light up the Coruscant sky.

She had to be careful not to step on someone as they kept walking. Anakin was still leading her by the arm, but she didn’t see anywhere for them to sit.

“Ani, where are we headed?”

“Over there,” he said, pointing to a spot near the back of the park. It seemed just as crowded as anywhere else.

Finally, Anakin came to a stop. They were standing directly in front of a large tree. She turned to give him a blank look, but he was no longer standing next to her. He was already climbing.

“Anakin, what do you think you’re doing?” She had to strain to see him; he was getting up that tree pretty fast.

“Come on! There are branches to sit on. We can see so much better from up here!”

Amidala knew her handmaidens were trying not to laugh. “I thought you weren’t allowed to do that.”

“No one will care tonight – there are too many people out here for them to even notice.” Anakin was now entirely out of sight and had to yell in order to be heard. Some people nearby were starting to stare at her.

She shook her head, wondering what those delegates would think to see the Queen of Naboo tree-climbing in the park with some young boy. With a rueful look at Saché and Rabé, she began climbing. She wasn’t as fast as Anakin, but didn’t have any trouble. She found him comfortably perched on an over-sized branch. Amidala took a seat next to him and waited for the show to start.

A few moments later, the dark backdrop of the sky exploded into a rainbow of colors. Dancing streaks raced across each other, creating a dazzling array of patterns and designs. Amidala absorbed the sight; it seemed the show would live up to expectations. They didn’t stop traffic in the airways of Coruscant for nothing.

Anakin was enthralled; his eyes sparkled and he laughed merrily. Every new trick bought a gasp from him – “Look at that!” “How did they do that?” “Wow!” – followed by a burst of applause. She smiled, wondering if he had seen anything like this on Tatooine.

Amidala, on the other hand, found her mind wandering after the first few minutes. She couldn’t help thinking about everything that had to be done the next day. There isn’t enough time to finish all of this…She wondered guiltily if Bail was in his quarters, retooling their presentations. Maybe I should talk things over with him before we get started –

“Ami?”

Anakin’s voice jolted her from her thoughts. She looked at him a bit sheepishly.

“Are you bored?” he asked.

“No, Ani, I’m sorry. I just have a lot of things on my mind tonight.”

Anakin nodded. “We can leave early if you want. I don’t mind.”

She shook her head. “Let’s stay.” Amidala wished she hadn’t been so obvious. She knew he would leave right now without complaining if she asked him to. “There isn’t much more I can do tonight anyway. At least nothing helpful.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes…I just keep thinking myself into circles,” she sighed. “The important stuff has to wait until tomorrow.”

“Well in that case, you should really have fun tonight,” he said sincerely.

The sky suddenly glowed bright purple. The two looked up to see streams of color appear to rain down on them. The effect was breathtaking.

Anakin, of course, had already joined in the applause. “Come on, Ami!” He gave her a slight nudge.

Amidala stared at him for a moment. Then she started clapping.

All day she had been irritated with people for treating her like a naïve and spoiled child. Yet here was Anakin, telling her to toss her cares aside, climb up a tree, and act like a kid for a while. Well, why not? What’s wrong with that? She had been overly sensitive of criticisms today, and that wasn’t a helpful trait.

Amidala smiled to herself. Anakin was still so young in many ways. She envied that, and hoped he’d be able to hold onto it for a long time. She had become a politician so early that she could scarcely remember a time she felt innocent or carefree.

After a tentative start, Amidala was oohing and aahing over every display, laughing and clapping freely with her friend. She had to admit she was sorry when the show ended.

**********

Amidala awoke the next morning and realized she hadn’t thought about the negotiations once since early the evening before. Her hand went to the japor snippet she hung about her neck. That was definitely a good thing.

Two years later (Ani – 12; Ami – 17)

Anakin fidgeted in his chair, his impatience increasing. Obi-Wan was in the next room waiting. Anakin knew that the two of them would have to leave on their mission soon, and it looked like Amidala was going to miss their scheduled holo-chat. Even if she initiated a transmission now, they would only have a few minutes to talk.

They had missed each other before, of course. Plenty of times. They were both so busy that it had to be expected.

Yet he was disappointed every time. Letters were okay, but still a poor substitute for being able to talk to her. That never failed to brighten his days or lift his spirits.

He had already missed his mother earlier this week. He had been upset…but not that upset. And that bothered him. A lot.

He had never stopped missing her. Or thinking about her. But he felt as though he was becoming accustomed to life without her. The torrent of emotions that had accompanied every thought of his mother had greatly subsided. The guilt of leaving her behind; the fear that something would happen to her – they seemed like distant dreams, echoes of something that no longer existed.

I shouldn’t feel that way. Should I? Anakin couldn’t be certain. I’m supposed to feel bad about this, aren’t I? He and Obi-Wan had talked about it many times. His Master was always sympathetic, telling him not to hide from his emotions, that they could deal with them together. After each conversation, Anakin felt much better.

Other times, though, he felt the nagging doubts. Like now. Anakin stared at the blank holoviewer. Why did he still feel so strongly about Amidala? He didn’t have to worry about her at all. She had no problem taking care of herself. She was surrounded by her handmaidens, advisors, and countless others on a daily basis.

Who does Mom have? He had left her completely alone, a slave to Watto.

He had Obi-Wan. And Amidala. And a few other friends. She had…C-3PO? He remembered the last time he had spoken to his mother. She kept up a brave face, but it was evident that she missed him terribly. It was depressing.

Anakin knew he shouldn’t dwell on these thoughts. His fear, sadness, and hopelessness were to be brought under control as a part of his training. Mace Windu and Yoda even mentioned his mother specifically when he meditated with them. He had to be fully at peace; his destructive emotions could only do more harm than good.

Nevertheless, it seemed callous to let the Jedi simply train those feelings out of him. He wished he could go see her, but was certain that the Council would take any such request as a sign of weakness. Obi-Wan understood better than they did, but Anakin didn’t want to put him in a difficult position.

At least they left him alone about Amidala. He guessed they weren’t worried about her because he didn’t have so many “negative” emotions regarding their relationship. He was eternally grateful for that – at least she was completely separate from his life as a Jedi. He needed someone like that.

Anakin glanced at the holo in resignation. Obi-Wan came into the room, his bag packed for the journey. “It’s time to leave, Anakin.”

“Yes, Master.” Anakin shut the holo off, grabbed his own bag, and followed Obi-Wan out of the room.

Two years later. (Ani – 14; Ami – 19)

Amidala stared blankly at the pad in front of her. She was writing Anakin a letter, but her mind kept wandering. His behavior was concerning her of late; she was trying to decide how to proceed.

Why is this such a problem now? She wasn’t blind. Even if she were blind, she still could have seen Anakin’s crush on her from the moment they met. She had always found it sweet and flattering. After all, how much of a real crush could a nine year old have anyway?

Of course, he wasn’t nine anymore. He was fourteen – the same age she had been when they met. His feelings weren’t quite mature, but she knew they ran so much deeper now. Amidala was shocked that Anakin had maintained this level of interest in her. She had been certain he would have forgotten his crush long before now. But he hadn’t, and Amidala wanted to make sure he didn’t mistake their closeness for something it wasn’t. Obviously, he was far too young for her to think of him as anything more than a friend.

Amidala dropped the pad with a sigh, remembering their last holochat several months ago.

Ami, there are rumors about you everywhere.

I’ll bet. This is about Bail, isn’t it?

She had laughed when she said it. She was constantly amused that anybody cared enough to put the story in the news.

So…it’s true? He’s asked you to marry him?

Well, he was courting me.

He had looked so utterly crestfallen…Amidala wished she could have taken it back and started the conversation over. She hadn’t thought he’d be thrilled, but had assumed he knew it was possible she would date, or might even get engaged.

Ani? Ani, say something.

Silence.

Ani…I’m not going to marry him.

He picked up a little then. Another pause.

Why not?

I don’t feel that way about him…I wouldn’t marry someone I didn’t feel strongly for.

She had told him that because it was the truth – and she always told Anakin the truth. She and Bail had just recently come to that very understanding.

Anakin was thoroughly relieved; he was back to his normal chatterbox self instantly. He apparently thought that as long as she didn’t marry Bail, he would still have a chance with her someday.

Amidala didn’t want him to harbor false hopes, to be hurt every time someone new came into her life. She didn’t want to jeopardize their friendship.

She frowned to herself. Maybe I’m overreacting. Maybe I don’t need to make a big deal out of this. In any event, telling Anakin, “You’re too young for me, so too bad – but I still care for you,” wasn’t going to help anything.

She wondered if she treated him too much like one of her peers. The age difference didn’t matter as the friendship went, but he might be led to think that it didn’t matter at all. It couldn’t be difficult to misinterpret their unusual closeness as what he wanted to see. She could do a better job of delineating the boundaries of their relationship – that might be best for both of them.

Amidala finally set to writing the letter. She hoped she had made the right decision.

A year later. (Ani – 15; Ami – 20)

It looks fine. Leave it alone.

I should wrap it anyway. It will look even nicer.

Anakin stared intently at the gift lying on the table in front of him. He had been staring at it for ten minutes now, and he couldn’t make up his mind.

How should he wrap it? Should he wrap it at all? Will she care either way?

He had already wrapped and unwrapped it twice. He wasn’t convinced the box looked ornate enough to give as it was.

Amidala was back on Coruscant for another conference. The timing was fortunate, as her birthday was in another two weeks. He would be able to give her the gift in person before she left for Naboo. He really wanted – needed – to see her reaction when she opened it.

A familiar, nervous knot twisted in the pit of his stomach as he thought about giving her the present. He had spent weeks trying to find the right thing.

No…that wasn’t exactly true. He had known, almost instantly, what he wanted to give her. He had agonized over whether he should give it to her. He had flip-flopped on that more times than he could count, even after he knew he couldn’t return or exchange it.

But he had chosen to stick with it. Every time. Nothing else seemed right compared to it.

Anakin heaved a sigh and took the gift out of its box. A Trodian crystal prism. A labyrinth of curves and twists that stood about ten inches high. It was beautiful, intricate, delicate – that’s what attracted him in the first place. Every time he looked at it from a different angle, it changed appearance. First completely clear, then deep purple, a rainbow flash, then translucent pink. It was extremely sensitive to changes in how light hit it; he was sure he hadn’t seen all the possible patterns. Amidala could keep it on her desk at the Palace and watch it change as she worked.

But it wasn’t merely a paperweight or decoration. According to the dealer, it was a Trodian symbol for love – a gift given to show someone the beauty and depth of your feelings for him or her. A sign that the relationship could last through all kinds of change.

Anakin ran a hand through his hair in agitation. What the hell am I thinking? This is crazy. She would never accept it; he was only setting himself up.

He had always been convinced that he would marry Amidala someday. He had told her as much in Watto’s shop. Six years had done nothing to change his conviction on the subject. From that standpoint, the gift seemed perfect.

It was also why he was terrified to give it to her. He didn’t want to scare her off…her attempts to keep a respectful distance between them hadn’t been subtle. He knew she was only trying to spare his feelings.

What she didn’t understand was that she couldn’t spare his feelings. They would always be tied to her. He knew that she might never return those feelings – it didn’t matter. He knew he would always love her.

Anakin put the crystal back in the box. Maybe she wouldn’t know the true meaning of the gift. The Trodians were a small cluster of people; the particulars of their culture were not widely known.

Sure, Anakin snickered to himself. He had never been able to fool Amidala. She would most likely see through him in five seconds flat.

But is that such a bad thing? The thought was tentative, he wasn’t sure he if believed it or not. It might be best to lay his feelings out on the table. I at least want her to know for sure how I feel, don’t I?

He knew nothing could happen between them now. He knew he couldn’t expect her to wait until he was older…he knew he couldn’t stop her from seeing – or marrying – whomever she chose. Which meant the only point of any of this was…to let her know. To be honest with her, to have no regrets later…to let her know he hadn’t given up.

Anakin took the box – without rewrapping it – and headed for her quarters.

**********

“So, Ami, tell me what’s going on at this conference.”

Amidala didn’t answer. She smiled mischievously, pretending to read a report. Anakin sighed, and she glanced at him next to her on the couch. She tried not to laugh.

Anakin had changed his mind. Again. The resolve he left his room with disappeared the moment she had opened her door. He didn’t really need to see her face when she opened it. He could just hand it to her on his way out.

Of course, it had been too late to make that decision, since he couldn’t very well hide the box. Amidala didn’t think he was serious about waiting to give it to her. He had tried to brush her questions off; she retaliated by deciding to ignore him until she was allowed to open her present. She had been gleefully unresponsive since then.

Anakin knew when he was beaten. He handed her the box, hoping he appeared appropriately stoic.

She was grinning from ear to ear. “Well, this is a lovely box. I hope the gift inside is half as nice.”

Okay, that’s one down, Anakin thought.

She lifted the cover and pulled the crystal out carefully. “Anakin, it’s beautiful. I –” she paused as the crystal suddenly reflected a dark red hue. “Wow,” she whispered. She kept moving the crystal and holding it to the light, observing the changes.

Two down? She obviously approved, and didn’t seem to recognize its significance. “I’m glad you like it. I thought of you as soon as I saw it.”

Amidala looked up at him. She was still smiling, but placed the crystal back in the box.

“Ani, do you know what this crystal represents?” She asked the question lightly, with no accusation in her voice.

Anakin swallowed hard. “Umm… I think so…I…the dealer tried to explain it…” He wasn’t making much sense, but couldn’t think of anything intelligent he wanted to say.

“Ani,” she started tenderly, “perhaps this gift isn’t entirely appropriate.”

Anakin winced slightly. I knew this was coming.

She continued, “It’s not that I don’t appreciate it, Ani –”

“I know,” he muttered. “I kind of figured that I shouldn’t give it to you. I’m sorry. I’ll take it back and we can forget it.”

She shook her head and moved closer to him on the couch. “I really do love the gift, Anakin. It’s probably the nicest thing I’ll get from anyone.” She touched his arm. “And I’m truly touched by what you’re trying to say.” She waited for a sign that he believed her. He nodded. “I just don’t want to unintentionally hurt you.”

“You mean, if you get married.”

“Well, what if that did happen?” She bit her lip a little. “You know that we can’t be together, not in that way, not now. Any new person in my life could be a threat to our friendship.”

He vehemently shook his head. “Ami, I would never stop being your friend. I don’t think I could do that. You don’t have to worry about it.”

She looked at him closely. “Do you honestly believe that?”

“Yes,” he replied.

“Ani...”

“You know, someday, our ages won’t matter so much.” He didn’t know what made him bold enough to say that aloud, but he continued. “I wish they didn’t matter so much now. But I can accept how things are – I have accepted it. I like the way things are now. I wouldn’t give that up.” He paused for a second, then added, “I would never try to give you an ultimatum – this isn’t an either-or proposition for me.”

Amidala smiled at him. “I’m glad to hear you say that. Sometimes it’s hard for me to tell what you’re thinking...especially when you give me a gift like this...”

“That’s...the way I feel, Ami.” He cleared his throat. “There’s not much you can do to change that. But you don’t have to see it...as a threat. It’s not.”

She considered that. Finally, she said, “You’re handling this…very maturely. I’m impressed, Ani.”

He blushed. “Maybe you can cut me a little slack, when my crush becomes a bit...too obvious for comfort?”

Her smile widened. “I might be able to do that.” She gave his hand a squeeze and said, “I’m glad we talked. I needed to know where we stand.”

“Well, I want you to be happy more than anything else. And I want us to stay friends.” Anakin felt a rush of relief. She knew how he felt, and they would still be close. Things had worked out as well as he had dared hope.

Amidala took the crystal out of the box again and placed it on the table in front of them. He still thought it was the perfect gift.

Three years later. (Ani – 18; Ami – 23)

Ami…

She was in a void, surrounded by emptiness.

Amidala...

She couldn’t see or feel anything.

Ami...

There was nothing.

Amidala...

Except for his voice.

A distant, weak, pleading whisper. A caress against her mind.

Ami…

Where was he? Where was she? Why couldn’t she answer him?

Amidala…

She had to help him. Why was she always so far away from him?

Ami...

She wanted to answer, to let him know she was there. No sound came out.

And there was something else she wanted to say, something she needed to tell him. But she pushed it aside. It would have to wait.

No…tell me…

What? What had he said? He couldn’t have heard what she –

Amidala…Your Highness?

Your Highness? He never called her that. And his voice sounded different, higher.

“Your Highness? Wake up. It’s Rabé. Your Highness?”

Amidala opened her eyes and found her handmaiden shaking her awake. “I apologize for the intrusion, Your Highness, but I have news –”

“Anakin?” Amidala whispered.

“Yes,” Rabé answered in surprise.

**********

Amidala raced from the hanger as soon as her ship landed. They were only a short distance from the medic center. Her apprehension was rising – she worried about what she would find when she got there.

Obi-Wan sent a message hours ago informing her that Anakin had been severely injured in a speeder accident. He wasted no time on the details; he had to keep his Padawan stable until a Healer arrived. Right before slipping into a coma, Anakin had mentally called out for her. They were on Syard, a planet in Naboo’s system, and he thought she might be able to come.

Amidala had left immediately. She doubted she could help, but didn’t need Obi-Wan to tell her that Anakin needed her.

She entered the center and found Obi-Wan looking haggard and fatigued. Amidala hugged him and asked, “How is he?”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “I’ve done all I can. I’m not trained to heal others, and his injuries are quite severe. The Healer should be here shortly.”

“You must be exhausted.” She glanced over her shoulder, “Eritaé, bring him something to eat and drink.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Amidala, I don’t need anything. I’m fine –” he started to protest.

“Obi-Wan, you’ve been here for hours, and I’m sure you haven’t had any sleep.” She led him over to a row of chairs and they both sat. “Just relax for a minute and tell me what happened.”

Obi-Wan reluctantly launched into the story. Their mission had been quite routine, even a little boring. They were here to guide an important trade negotiation at Palpatine’s request, but the parties seemed to have no serious disagreements. They had planned to leave the evening before.

During their stay, Anakin befriended the Minister’s son, a young man about his age. They found that they both shared a love for racing, and spent most of the day in the plains, engaged in friendly competition.

Although Anakin had been piloting constantly the past few years, he hadn’t done much land racing since leaving Tatooine. Being on that speeder seemed to spark memories and feelings in him that he wasn’t prepared to handle.

Hours later, Obi-Wan spotted Anakin headed for the hills near the Minister’s residence. He had tried to warn Anakin – the tiny speeder he was using couldn’t possibly handle the twists and turns necessary to navigate the area, no matter who the pilot was. Anakin pretended not to hear him and continued. Obi-Wan decided to head out after him. He felt the crash just before he could reach his Padawan.

It was miraculous that Anakin hadn’t been hurt worse than he was. He had bailed from the speeder at the last second; his injuries came from the fall, not the crash, which would have undoubtedly killed him. He was now suffering a coma from the blow to his head and internal bleeding in other areas.

Obi-Wan ran his hand over his face wearily and gratefully accepted the water Eritaé handed him before he continued. Over the past years, Anakin had gotten much better about controlling his impulses. This was the most out-of-control Obi-Wan had seen him in a long time. Anakin’s tendency to run where his heart led him didn’t usually get him into trouble. But he would have to accept even the occasional slip could lead a Jedi into a serious predicament.

Obi-Wan had started to heal Anakin almost immediately. Anakin tried to help, but quickly slipped into a coma. The last thoughts he had heard from Anakin were for his mother – and for her.

Amidala had listened to the entire story without interrupting. She was trying to remain calm. Obi-Wan had faith that the Healer would be able to handle Anakin’s injuries – but he almost looked…frightened. Compared to how stoic he normally was, Amidala had to take it as a sign that Anakin really was in dreadful shape.

He’ll pull through this. He has to.

Obi-Wan suggested that she go in to see him. With an absent-minded nod, she headed for his room.

**********

Amidala opened the door slowly, still anxious of what she might find. It had been over a year since she had last seen Anakin. She hadn’t imagined their next visit would be under such circumstances.

She took a few steps into the room, allowing the door to swing shut behind her. A small smile of relief touched her lips. He didn’t look nearly as bad as she had feared. There were bruises and he was pale, but he looked more like he was sleeping than dying. She hoped his appearance wasn’t deceiving.

Amidala sat next to him and took his hand into hers. She kissed it softly. A blush crept across her face as she recalled his reaction the last time she made that gesture. During his last visit to Naboo.

For once, he had visited when she wasn’t overwhelmed with work. For once, he had come without Obi-Wan and without a mission hanging over his head. Neither said so outright, but they almost didn’t know what to do with one another without a million things competing for their time.

Anakin adjusted faster than she did, deciding to focus his undivided attention on her, to take care of her as much as possible. He drove the handmaidens a little crazy, taking over tasks here and there. She wasn’t sure why she let him do it; he soon arranged things so that they were spending every waking moment together. She had to admit that she enjoyed his efforts -- he stopped her from over-working herself, shielded her from the press, and gave her a shoulder to lean on...she could share anything with him, and feel totally at ease and relaxed.

One night, they talked until just before the sunrise. Anakin suggested that they simply stay up to watch it. They sat on her terrace together and waited quietly.

She didn’t know when she had fallen asleep, but when she awoke, the sun was already halfway above the horizon. Her head was resting on his chest; his arm was around her shoulders. She looked up at him guiltily for missing the dawn. He looked back as if he expected her to move out of his embrace.

She wordlessly took his other hand, brought it to her lips, and kissed it.

He had been surprised, that was certain. But he didn’t say anything. They were still holding hands. Finally, he tightened his arm around her and kissed her on the top of her head. She shivered at the contact.

Then Saché had entered the room, ready to give her the schedule for the day.

Amidala sighed, and brought her mind back to the present situation.

He’ll be fine. He has to be.

Had she taken him for granted? She thought of all the missed chats…the times it had taken her so long to write him back…the promised visits that had never materialized. She was always unconcerned, telling herself they would make up for it the next time. But what if there isn’t a next time? She had never considered what it might be like not to have him there…not to be able to count on him...or talk to him or…

She shook herself from that thought. She had to stop being so melodramatic.

He’ll be all right. He has to be.

Amidala felt something hit her hand. She looked down and realized in surprise that she was crying. She wiped the tear from her hand and tried to dry her eyes. What is wrong with me? She couldn’t remember the last time she had cried.

But she knew why she was crying, even if she wasn’t quite ready to admit it. It was the same reason she had been so cross with Saché that morning. The same reason she hadn’t even thought of moving out of Anakin’s embrace.

Losing Anakin’s friendship would be terrible enough. But to lose something they hadn’t even been able to experience…something she hadn’t even told him she was feeling…

And why haven’t I told him? Before the question had fully formed in her mind, the answers came. They couldn’t make it work. He was too far away. They were too busy, too committed to their careers. The Jedi didn’t look kindly on this sort of thing. Her people would be shocked that she had turned down royalty and aristocrats for a Padawan and former slave. He was too young.

That last one almost made her laugh. He certainly wasn’t a child anymore. Not at all. How many times had she told him that his age was irrelevant to their relationship?

Obi-Wan burst into the room, a woman following closely behind him. “Amidala, I’m sorry, but –”

“That’s fine, Obi-Wan.” She knew the woman was the Healer. “I’ll leave him to you.” She left the room, wiping the rest of her tears away.

Over a week later.

Amidala entered the room, carrying a bouquet of flowers she had taken (with permission) from the Minister’s garden. A laugh greeted her.

“You brought me flowers?” Anakin was sitting up in his bed, looking fully recovered.

“Why not?” Amidala placed them on the table next to his bed. “This place could use a little livening up.”

“I won’t argue with that.”

The Healer had been successful in reversing most of the damage. She had insisted that Anakin get complete bed-rest before he and Obi-Wan returned to Coruscant. They planned to leave in another day or two.

Amidala sat and took his hand, just as she had done several days earlier. This time he squeezed back tightly.

“How are you feeling, Ani?”

“Never better. I’ll be out of here in a matter of days.” He was clearly in a good mood.

“So, were you out of your mind, or did you have a good reason to be racing like that?” She meant to sound teasing, but there was an edge to her voice.

He didn’t seem to notice. “Well, exiled Queens with no hyper-drive aside, I never needed a good reason to race. I’ll just have to choose my speeder more carefully next time.”

Amidala tried to pull her hand back in annoyance. He didn’t let her. “What? What’s wrong?”

She didn’t answer, so he gave her a pleading look. Damn. She had never successfully ignored that look.

“How can you be so…thoughtless? Insensitive?” She tried to keep the frustration out of her voice, but doubted that she was succeeding. “Some of us were worried sick about you. Some of us couldn’t sleep or eat...or do anything but sit next to your bed and hope that maybe you’d open your eyes. But that’s all right, we shouldn’t worry because the next time you have some suicidal impulse to go racing over a cliff, you’ll be sure to have a better speeder.” Her eyes bore into his, waiting for his response.

Anakin dropped his eyes from her gaze for a moment, and then looked back up. His face and demeanor were now serious. “I’m sorry,” he said in a near whisper. “I didn’t mean to dismiss what happened.” He paused, and seemed to struggle with the next words. “I remember thinking that I wasn’t going to make the turn…I can’t even describe what that was like. I knew Obi-Wan was coming, but I didn’t think he’d get to me in time.” He took a deep breath and added, “I could have died out there...for nothing.” He shrugged. “I joke about it because that’s easier to do.”

Amidala felt the anger from her outburst dissolve. She wanted to say something to comfort him, but he started speaking again.

“You know, I’m still not sure what happened. I wasn’t particularly upset or angry – I was more nostalgic than anything. I felt those memories from Tatooine; it was like I was back there again. And I didn’t want to leave. I don’t know if that makes any sense.”

“It does,” she said simply. “Everybody gets homesick from time to time. But you can’t let it get to you that way. There has to be a better way of dealing with it, Ani.”

His eyes shut for a moment. “Usually, I can handle it. I’ve accepted that I’m always going to miss home…and my mother. I have better control over my emotions than I displayed on that speeder.” His eyes opened. “I’m going to work with Obi-Wan. It won’t happen again.” Anakin lifted his hand from hers and caressed her cheek. “And I am truly sorry that I worried you so much.”

Amidala felt herself blushing slightly at his touch. “I know you are. I didn’t mean to jump all over you.”

“Yes, you did. And you were right to do so.”

There was silence for a moment. Anakin’s hand returned to hers.

Amidala remembered something she needed to ask him about. “Anakin, I…heard you…before I received Obi-Wan’s message.”

“You heard me?” His expression was a bit blank.

“Yes. You were calling out to me…in a dream. I think it was just before you went into the coma.”

Anakin looked so completely surprised that Amidala began to doubt herself. Maybe it wasn’t him…maybe that wasn’t real.

“No, no – it was me you heard. I was thinking of you the whole time. It’s just…highly unusual for someone who doesn’t use the Force to hear a Jedi’s thoughts. And over such a distance, too…” He gave her a curious look. “Of course, the few times it does happen are usually between family members.”

Was she blushing again? This was getting ridiculous. “Well, I’ve long thought of you as family. In some ways, I think we’re closer than family, Ani.” She didn’t quite look at him. That list of objections crept into her mind again, but she continued. “I couldn’t stand the thought that…you might not get better…not without being able to tell you…how much you mean to me…I…Ani, I…”

She gave up, and let the sentence trail off into silence. Anakin stared at her for an interminable period of time without saying anything.

Finally, Anakin lifted his hand and brushed her hair back from her face. He gently pulled her towards him as he leaned forward. Once they were inches apart, he stopped. She stared at him, waiting.

He whispered, “I love you, too, Amidala,” and their lips met tenderly.

Amidala melted into his embrace, letting the kiss radiate through her soul. All the objections and fears were gone. She knew this was right. Nothing else mattered.

One year later. Near the beginning of Episode II. (Ani – 19; Ami – 24)

Amidala stood outside the Senate chamber, dressed in her full regalia, looking royal and aloof. She took in the activity around her while waiting for the signal to enter.

In half an hour, Chancellor Palpatine would be giving his second inauguration speech. The entire Senate would be present, along with the largest assemblage of planetary leaders ever present on Coruscant. It was a stark contrast to the first, low-key event ten years ago. That change was undoubtedly due to the alarming events that were sweeping the Republic.

In the last six months, reports of terrorist violence had spread throughout the galaxy. The culprits were believed to be Mandalorian warriors, although no one group had claimed responsibility. They arrived on worlds without warning – attacking public buildings, sabotaging government services, taking hostages. Their latest raid led to widespread panic, rioting, and looting on Malastere. There had even been rumors of planned assassinations. The terrorists were undoubtedly professionals, evading capture in nearly every case. Palpatine had argued vehemently with the Senate to be given the power to dispatch the army – at his discretion – to any world that did not possess the military capacity to protect itself. He hoped that the move would reduce the time lost through procedures and debates.

This random, inexplicable violence hung over Palpatine’s new term like a pall. The day’s ostentatious display was mostly an effort to restore an air of unity and celebration to the government.

Amidala was a bit amused by it all. Here she was, at an event of great political importance, surrounded by her allies, her peers, the press…and there was still just one person who captivated her thoughts.

She was careful not to allow herself to appear too distracted. But she was mostly searching the crowds for Anakin. He would be attending the speech with Obi-Wan.

They had only seen each other two times since his accident. It was becoming more and more unbearable. They wrote to each other almost daily now, and couldn’t go more than a week with out talking to each other. And it wasn’t nearly enough.

She ached to see him and hold him again…She wondered sometimes how they went without seeing each other for so long. The depth of her feelings for him continually surprised Amidala. She had always been a woman who felt strongly about things, but this was far more intimate than anything she had known before.

The irrational part of her wished that one of them could leave their responsibilities behind and let them be together all the time. Her heart sang the thought, but her head knew it was impossible. She could never ask him to give up his training – his dedication to becoming a Knight was one of the things she admired and loved about him most. They would have to make it work with the little time they did have together.

“Your Highness?”

Amidala turned to see a Senate aide gesturing towards the entrance. She and the handmaidens entered the chamber.

The Senate was always an impressive sight, but today it was mind-boggling. Temporary renovations had been completed to allow nearly three times as many platforms; it was remarkable that they had managed to fit them in any kind of order. And then there were the decorations – banners, lights, and streamers of every description hanging from every direction. The effect was almost dizzying.

How am I ever going to find him in the middle of this?

**********

“And as we gather here, at the dawn of a new era, we must resolve to face down those who would threaten us, to protect ourselves from those who would harm us, to fortify ourselves against those who would weaken the very foundation our Republic rests on. I ask all of you, whether Senator or diplomat, royalty or bureaucrat, to join me…”

Palpatine continued with his speech. He hadn’t said anything of particular surprise or import, but these speeches were not expected to be policy expositions. Amidala kept one ear on the Chancellor while she tried to spot Anakin. Every Jedi on a non-essential assignment had been recalled to Coruscant, so large groups of Jedi were present throughout the Chamber. This is impossible, she sighed to herself. I’ll just have to wait –

Ami, is that the best you can do? I’m disappointed. Anakin’s voice whispered in her mind, teasing and gentle.

Amidala jumped a little, and hoped that no one noticed. Their mental bond had grown stronger over time, but she hadn’t quite grown accustomed to the feeling. They were only able to use it when they were near each other, so in many ways it was still a new experience. She didn’t mind it though. She rather liked the idea that they could read each other’s thoughts. She began scanning the room again.

No, I’m much farther than that.

Really? Are you even in the building?

I can see you perfectly.

I think I’m a little easier to spot in a crowd.

Finally, she found him. He was quite far from her, almost on the opposite side of the chamber, and a few rows above her. He was seated next to Obi-Wan and surrounded by scores of Jedi. He winked at her.

Nicely done, Ami. I think we’re getting better at this.

Obi-Wan turned to his Padawan, eyebrow arched. Amidala tried not to smile. She had better go back to the speech.

A few hours later…

Anakin stood outside the door to Amidala’s private chambers. He could hear her and Sabé talking and laughing inside. Oh, how he had hoped she would be alone. But it didn’t sound like they were discussing anything too important. Sabé was usually good about giving them privacy when it was possible. He buzzed the door.

It opened immediately without either of them asking who it was. He wondered if Amidala could sense that it was him.

Anakin walked into the room; Amidala stood as he entered.

Silence.

Sabé looked back and forth between the two mischievously. “Your Highness, do you want to discuss your meeting tomorrow with…”

Amidala shot her a withering look. Sabé snickered and quickly got up to leave. Anakin barely noticed the door shut (and lock) behind him.

Without really being conscious of it, he moved towards her, not stopping until she was in his arms and their lips were locked. He could feel what she was feeling, and the sensation nearly overwhelmed him. He didn’t want to let her go. He wondered he ever did that at all. Someday, it will be like this all the time, he vowed to himself. I’ll find a way for us to be together.

Eventually, they pulled back to catch their breath. Anakin placed tiny kisses on her chin, nose, and forehead, then rested his chin on the top of her head.

“I’ve missed you so much, Ami.”

“You don’t know how much I’ve missed you,” she replied, tightening their embrace.

“Please tell me that you don’t have a million functions to attend this week,” Anakin begged, burying his face in her hair. “I can’t stand having you so nearby and still not see you.”

“I don’t have too much to do this week. We should actually have a good bit of time to ourselves.”

Anakin backed up a little and gave her a suggestive smile. “Starting now?”

She returned the smile and whispered, “Starting now.”

The door buzzed.

They both groaned. She managed a small laugh.

“This is pathetic,” he muttered under his breath. “I have this fantasy where we’re someplace with no comm links, no holoviewers, no communications of any kind – so we can just be left alone.”

“That is pretty pathetic, Ani. My fantasies are…far more interesting.” Before Anakin could think of a response to that, she had pulled out from his embrace to answer the door.

To Anakin’s surprise, it was Obi-Wan. He and Amidala hugged in greeting, and she motioned for him to come in. Obi-Wan smiled at his Padawan. Anakin hadn’t been able to resist one or two “I-told-you-so’s” to make up for all of his Master’s warnings that he was too young, that he couldn’t expect her to wait…Anakin knew Obi-Wan was very happy for him now.

“I’ve come to inform my Padawan of our new assignment,” Obi-Wan began.

Anakin could feel Amidala’s heart sink. Would he have to leave so soon?

“We are to accompany you back to Naboo at the end of the week, Your Highness.”

“What?” Anakin wasn’t sure if he should be thrilled or worried. “Has something happened on Naboo?”

“The military has been tracking the movements of the terrorists over the last few months. Chancellor Palpatine has reason to believe Naboo might be one of the next targets,” Obi-Wan explained.

“What are those reasons?” asked Amidala, who suddenly looked tense.

“I was not given any of the details. The Chancellor said that he wished to speak with you directly before you leave. He knows that Naboo is better prepared than most worlds, but he’s still requesting that the Jedi assign bodyguards to you for the time being.”

“An assassination threat,” she said flatly.

Anakin sensed…determination and resolve from her. Not fear. He reached out to take her hand. He wasn’t afraid either. No one would get close to her as long as he had something to say about it.

“I will be honored to have you accompany me back to Naboo, Obi-Wan. Thank you.”

Obi-Wan bowed his head slightly towards the Queen. “I shall take my leave then.” He winked at Anakin and left the room.

Anakin felt Amidala lean back into his arms. “You know that I would never let anything happen to you,” he whispered in her ear.

“I know. I wouldn’t want to have anyone else…guarding my body, as it were.”

Anakin stepped back to look at her. Her eyes were absolutely dancing. This was going to be an interesting mission.

He hadn’t told her (or Obi-Wan) yet, but he felt something was happening – a ripple in the Force that was most certainly going to affect them. He didn’t know what it was, whether it was good or bad…but things were going to change. Maybe this was the opportunity he had been waiting for – a chance to figure out a way that they could be together.

Anakin’s hand covered the japor snippet Amidala always wore. Yes, that’s what this is, he decided. It isn’t impossible. No matter what is about to happen, we’ll be together at the end. He could sense it. He was sure of it.

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