Satine should have expected him to be there. After all, this had been a major victory for the Republic, one that he had been a part of. Originally, she had made the trip to Coruscant to discuss her neutral position with the Chancellor, who was displeased by the idea, but the negotiations had been interrupted by the news. It hadn't been long before the news had been filled with the news that the war would soon be over, and Palpatine had taken pride in the fact that there had been no need for Mandalore to be neutral, as the threat had been quickly and effectively neutralized, just as they'd promised.

Pompous, arrogant man. She hadn't even bothered to point out that Mandalore's neutrality hadn't hurt anything either, despite the fact that the Republic had all but begged for their 'assistance'.

Far be it from her to let a system she didn't even care for drain them of all their resources.

But now, she was actually wondering if this lull wasn't just that. A bit of a break before they would have to go back into it again. For, despite all of Palpatine and the media's reassurances, the promised negotiations with the Separatists had yet to be brought forward. And until they did, she couldn't rest easy.

Unlike some other people.

She couldn't help but watched him as he navigated the huge ballroom with ease, dressed in formal Jedi robes and with the Senator Amidala on his arm. It had caused quite a stir when they'd arrived together, only serving to add fuel to the rumours that they were having an affair. Rumours that would doubtless multiply rapidly by the time the night was over.

Despite wanting to, she couldn't be angry at him because of it. They hadn't seen each other in over fifteen years, and it was hardly as if he owed her anything.

She'd let him go.

She could have asked him to stay, but she hadn't.

So now, here he was, hailed as a hero by one and all, glass of champagne in one hand and the prettiest woman in the galaxy on the other.

Amidala was young, petite, curvy… everything Satine was painfully aware that she wasn't. The Senator of Naboo was known galaxy-wide for her beauty, her kindness, her innocence. She'd been elected queen by an overwhelming majority when she'd been only fourteen, and had navigated her system through a miniature war with all the calm and grace of a woman twice her age.

Something Satine had failed to do. Even now, Death Watch loomed like a storm cloud on the horizon, threatening to split her beloved system again.

And this time, she didn't have a Qui-Gon or Obi-Wan to back her up.

Obi-Wan listened absently to the endless chatter of Senator Tej Wa, almost painfully aware that she was here.

He hadn't expected her. Hadn't even known she was on Coruscant. Wouldn't have thought she would come, if he had. Generally, she had as little to do with the Republic as possible.

Not that he knew what she'd been doing these past fifteen years.

But here she was, mingling with Senators and monarchs, looking more elegant and refined than any of them.

"What is it, Obi-Wan? Do you see someone?"

He'd almost forgotten about Padmé until then. Originally, Anakin had planned to escort her to the gala, but Palpatine had asked him to come to his office only a few hours before. When he'd not made it back in time, he'd asked Obi-Wan to escort the senator until he made it. The council had supported the idea, insisting that he attend for the entire evening.

Meddlesome creatures. It was the first break he'd had since the battle of Geonosis, and he'd planned to spend it drinking cheap liquor with his friends and reminiscing about their times as padawans. Dressing up in formal robes and mooching up to the elites was far from his wishes, though the alcohol was certainly better.

He glanced around for Satine again, only to find that she'd disappeared into the crowds. "I thought I saw someone I once knew, but it appears that I must have been mistaken."

She smiled, looking around her with her large, brown eyes. There was no doubt that the Senator was beautiful-if too short and brunette for his tastes. The former queen was also besotted with Anakin, despite her protestations. But he'd already talked with her about the impossibilities of the match, and there was little more that he could do. If the pair wanted to carry on, there was nothing he could do. After all, it wasn't as if he'd never had a flagrant affair despite his master's warning.

He supposed it was part of the process of growing up. You fell in love, made mistakes, and then you moved on.

Obi-Wan just hadn't mastered the moving on part yet.

A flash of blonde in the crowd caught his eye again, but this time, she wasn't alone.

He'd never seen the man who accompanied her, but even from a distance, he could tell that he was Mandalorian. Tall, blond, he reminded Obi-Wan of one of the arrogant clan leaders that they'd encountered on Mandalore. And the way he stood over her, one hand on her back possessively and offering her a sip from his champagne rankled.

But why should he be offended? He'd given up any claim to her years ago, when he'd left. Sure, he'd been willing to stay-had wanted her to ask him. But she hadn't, and he'd left. It had seemed like the right thing to do at the time, and he usually didn't doubt his decision.

He usually didn't see her.

He sensed Anakin's presence only a few moments before Padmé perked up. Belatedly, she tried to dampen her apparent change of attitude, but he didn't miss the alteration of her tone as she handed him her mostly full champagne flute. "Will you excuse me, Obi-Wan? I need to run to the fresher real quick."

He let her go without any protest. He would let them enjoy this brief reprieve, if only because he remembered a day when he'd done the same.