She finds him in a garden at the Jedi Temple just before dusk, two days after she commanded the execution of Order 66. She can tell by the look on his face and the set of his shoulders that he's already been inside. All of the bodies have been removed and properly cremated, but there hasn't been time for a full clean-up. She knows the hallways of the Temple are still littered with smears of blood and the scorched rubble left behind by blaster fire.
The area is completely deserted; the only two lifeforms around are herself and the man collapsed on a set of steps like a puppet with its strings cut. He doesn't look up as she approaches, but the subtle way his body twitches as she gets closer indicates his awareness of her presence. She halts a few feet in front of him, skirt swishing against the ground as she stops. They remain like that – she, calmly standing before him, gaze sweeping over his dirty robes and soot-stained auburn hair, and he, slumped on the concrete steps, eyes locked dazedly on the ground – for a few aching moments.
"Obi-Wan," she finally says when it becomes clear that he is not going to be the first one to speak.
"Padmé," he spits out. He at last tears his eyes from the ground to look up at her, avoid her eyes, as he asks, voice harsher than she's ever heard it before, "Or is it Empress Amidala now?"
"Obi-Wan," she sighs out his name, the way a mother would address a child who was being particularly difficult. "Please don't –"
"Stop saying that!" he shouts, cutting her off. "Stop saying my name like we're friends!"
"We are friends," she reminds him, gently.
"You're a Sith, Padmé!" he scoffs and jolts to his feet, lurching toward her. Though she does not step back, knowing better than to show any weakness by giving ground, she cannot stop her hand from twitching toward her waist, where her lightsaber is concealed beneath her cloak.
His eyes do not miss the motion and all the fight seems to drain out of him, abruptly. The brief bout of anger is gone as quickly as it came, leaving behind nothing but weariness and sorrow. He staggers back and falls once again onto the steps.
"How could you?" he whispers, "Padmé, how could you?"
There are a thousand different things she could offer in response, explanations and justifications, lies and appeasements. But the only thing she says is, "Because I had to."
It's not enough. "Why?" Obi-Wan cries. Tears are slipping down his checks now, making twin tracks through the dirt and grime. His despair is palpable in the Force; she can feel it radiating from him. She has her own emotions locked down tightly behind her mental shields. One of them has to remain calm.
Slowly, she moves forward and lowers herself to sit on the steps beside him. While he flinches slightly as she reaches out to cover his hand with her own, he doesn't move away from her. He still won't meet her eyes, but that doesn't surprise her. When the truth had come out between her and Anakin, she had stopped concealing her eyes in front of him. He'd spent the first few days unable to look into them for more than a few moments at a time. She has to admit, even she's still occasionally unsettled by their eerie yellow glow.
They sit quietly for some time, each lost in their own thoughts, both longing for the days when words and affection alike had flown easily between them. Finally, she knows they can prolong this moment of fleeting tranquility no longer.
"I am your friend," she reasserts, squeezing his hand. She counts it as a small victory that he does not outwardly protest it this time, though inside he must still have his doubts.
"I know that you don't understand," she tells Obi-Wan, voice a soothing hum. "I know that you're scared and confused, and you feel betrayed. I could promise you that I'm not evil and I haven't gone insane, that I am still the same woman you have called friend for years now, but I don't know if you would believe me."
He doesn't deny it, and she smiles at him, sad but unsurprised. She had known before she'd come here that pacifying Obi-Wan would be no easy task. That was why she'd left Anakin at home, even though he was anxious to make sure his former Master was safe and unharmed.
She can feel that his anger and fear have abated. He is terribly sad, so very lost and unsure. Sensing his weakness, she allows hope to bubble up inside her, hope that she still has a chance to sway him to her side, that she will not lose yet another of her friends to their own stubborn refusal to yield.
Resolve strengthening, she rises gracefully to her feet and turns to look down at him. "Come home with me, Obi-Wan Kenobi," she implores, holding out her hand. "Let my husband treat your injuries, meet my newborn children. And let me prove to you that our friendship has not been a lie."
He slowly lifts his eyes to meet hers, gazing into the tangible truth of her nature for the first time. After a long moment, he looks down at her deceptively small and gentle hand. It trembles ever so slightly as, heart pounding fiercely in her chest and longing a sickening twist in her stomach, she waits to see if he will take it.