(Note: The graphic at the end was one that actually was traveling around during the summer of 2006, when this was written. Unfortunately I don't know who originally was responsible for it.)

Never Settled
By Izzy

The primary results hadn’t exactly been promising. True, Padme had defeated her conservative challenger, but her turn towards the left had cost her. She had the general feeling, if nothing else, that her party's leaders weren't too happy with her making waves.

The most ironic thing was declaring herself pro-choice alone wouldn’t have been too much of a problem, at least if her state’s record was anything to go by. New Mexico wasn’t too bad at all on that record, at least compared with many other parts of the country. Nonetheless, falsehood-laden abstinence-only sex education and lack of access to EC were both present there, and even if Padme could have kept silent on the first issue, the latter was something she just couldn’t let go. Not after it had happened to her. She suspected her being openly in support of same-sex marriage may not have helped matters either.

“We are the future of this party,” she had said privately to Anakin when he had expressed concern. “Those of us who know what has to be done and are willing to do it. Not those who concede to the Republicans at every turn.” But at least some of her voters seemed to disagree. The real question was, how much so?

She’d ended up spending extra time in New Mexico, making as many appearances as her doctor would allow. Earlier this week she’d finally returned back to Washington, where most of her colleagues had commented on her increase in size, many of them derisively. By the time Friday had ended in another defeat, this one related to Iraq, it was all she could do not to start crying on the House floor. She did not want to deal with the possible consequences of that.

Without even trying to eat anything, when she got back to her apartment she limped to the bedroom, took off her shoes and half her clothing, then lay down and fell asleep almost instantly.

She woke up to the smell of scrambled eggs and orange juice. Padme pulled herself up just in time to see a tray with enough food to feed a dozen people in Sudan land in front of her. Anakin shook out his hand and sat down next to her. “Morning.”

“How long was I asleep?” Padme asked, mortified. Then she saw the clock. “Oh no.”

“Not long enough. How much have you slept these past two weeks?”

“I think the pregnancy has been keeping me awake a bit...”

“Then be glad the kids let you sleep last night. Now eat. I’m not letting you have Ella’s latest stack of paper until that tray’s clean.”

“Ella’s here?” She must have cooked that. Padme knew her aide was a much better cook than Anakin.

“Here and gone. She left muttering something about Colbert.”

“Oh no.” She knew Stephen Colbert wanted her on his show for some sort of reoccuring segment about various congresspeople. She was perfect material for him. It might even be a good idea for her PR. But Padme had dealt with too many real verbal barbs lately to even be able to listen to blatant parodies of them.

It wasn’t until she’d taken the first bite that Padme realized how ravenous she was. Suddenly her stomach was roaring and she was wolfing the scrambled eggs down so quickly it was a wonder she didn’t choke.

Anakin watched approvingly for a moment or so, then took out his laptop, probably to check his e-mail. A minute or so later he laughed. “What?” Padme asked between bites.

“Take a look at this. This graphic has been making the rounds apparently.”

Padme looked:

“Inpenetrability!” she commented, and took a swig of orange juice.