Author's Notes
AU. Set ten years after TPM, but assuming Padmé has kept in contact with the Jedi. No ban on attachments. Much silliness. Written for the Obidala Fan Forum "Anniversary" fanfic challenge, which explains why it's probably shorter than I would have naturally made it. I've edited a couple of things from the forum version.
Spot the references to Love Actually, and Moulin Rouge...
Somewhere, Beyond the Sea
Her face was warm. A gentle breeze caressed her skin. She must be lying on the beach at Varykino, and any minute her mother would call her in for dinner. But something wasn't right. Her throat was dry. Her head hurt. And she couldn't remember why she was here…
"Welcome to the paradise of Rangali," an automated voice said.
Padmé opened her eyes.
"Please, follow me."
She sat up slowly. A small silver droid stood beside her.
"Please, follow me," the droid repeated, turning and beginning to trundle away.
Padmé shielded her eyes against the sun and took in her surroundings. She was lying on sand, but not the coarse, yellow sand of the lakeside at home. This sand was fine and white. To her right, sunlight glinted off the little droid as it made its way along a narrow strip of beach between turquoise ocean and verdant green vegetation. Padmé got slowly to her feet.
She followed the twin tracks the droid's wheels had made in the sand. What was she doing here? Her white travel suit was torn at the knee. Her skin felt dry and salty, and her hair was matted. Had she been in the sea? Good gracious, had she crash-landed?
After about twenty minutes of walking, she spotted the thatched roof of a small hut ahead. The droid disappeared inside.
As she got closer, she heard a familiar voice from within.
"…I can assure you that you are mistaken," the voice said. "How many times do you need me to tell you? I am a Jedi Knight. My ship got into trouble and somehow we ended up here. Now will you please let me use your com facility so I can contact the Jedi Temple. And then you will help me find Senator Amidala."
Padmé's memory was triggered before she reached the door. Her ship suffering power failure on Metellos. Obi-Wan's grudging offer of a lift back to Coruscant. A problem with the hyperdrive. Alarms shrieking. An impact to her head. Blackness. Then waking up here.
"I'm quite capable of looking after myself, Master Kenobi," she said, stepping inside.
Obi-Wan's expression was a mixture of relief and fear. He strode over to her. "Are you all right? Your head…" He lifted a hand to the side of her head, but didn't quite touch her.
"I'm fine," she said, her voice low, her lips trembling at his sudden proximity.
His eyes met hers and he practically leapt back across the room.
It was only then that Padmé noticed the man behind the counter.
Closer to her height than Obi-Wan's, he was dressed head to toe in a formal black suit. His plump face was flushed pink, rather like boiled swine meat, and his bald head was beaded with perspiration.
He bowed towards her and spoke in an accent she didn't recognise. "Good afternoon, Madame. Thank you for joining us. My name is Gaston and I have the pleasure of wishing you a very warm welcome to Rangali, the Galactic Core's first and only artificially engineered paradise. And what occasion are we celebrating today? Let me guess. You are newly-weds, no?"
Padmé smiled politely. "I'm afraid I don't follow." She looked from Gaston to Obi-Wan. "Can someone tell me what's going on?"
"I wish I knew," Obi-Wan muttered.
Gaston dipped below the counter and reappeared holding a small basket. He pushed it across to Obi-Wan. "Your keys, sir. Also I have here a small com unit you may use to request room service."
"Thank the Force for that," Obi-Wan said, snatched up the device and activating it.
"Ah, I'm afraid it only works on Rangali," Gaston said, with a polite smile. "Now, let me see…" He studied a piece of flimsy, retrieving a white handkerchief from his pocket and dabbing at his forehead. "You are booked in with us for fourteen days on the deluxe package. There will be no other clients on the island. The villa is fully stocked with everything you should need."
"Listen," Obi-Wan said, leaning over the counter. "As I explained. There's been a mistake. We are not booked to stay here for any length of time. I am a Jedi Knight. My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi. This is Senator Amidala, the former queen of Naboo. Our ship is lying wrecked there, somewhere, in your ocean, and we need to get back to Coruscant as soon as possible. Now," he waved a hand in front of the man's face, "you will do everything you can to help us."
"Of course, sir." Gaston leant forward and lowered his voice. "In fact, the shipwreck fantasy is becoming one of our most popular experiences." He winked at Padmé. "But may I say that taking on the roles of celebrities is a unique idea. Quite unique. And your costumes too. So authentic!
"Good Gods man!"
Obi-Wan was turning almost as pink as Gaston. Padmé bit back a laugh.
"Now," Gaston interrupted, undeterred. "There is one final, crucial detail I must show you. Please give me a moment, I'll be back with you in the blink of an eye." With a flourish of his arm, he disappeared out of a doorway at the back of the room.
Obi-Wan groaned, leaning against the counter with his head in his hands.
Padmé had often thought Anakin was Obi-Wan's primary source of frustration, but he seemed no better alone.
In fact Padmé had been relieved to find Anakin was not accompanying his Master to the energy conference on Metellos. She had always valued her friendship with Anakin, but recently his attitude had started to become problematic. He had even written her poetry, for Force's sake. Actually the poetry had been rather lovely, but it so just happened that she did not return the feelings he had developed for her.
Her feelings for Obi-Wan were a completely different matter. Sadly, though, Obi-Wan seemed to find her, at best, barely tolerable.
"Is the prospect of spending a little time here really so bad?" she said.
"I don't intend to find out."
"Under the circumstances, I don't see that we have much choice."
"Perhaps you can use your legendary debating skills to persuade our friend otherwise."
"Perhaps you'll have to use your legendary aggressive negotiations if you're so desperate to leave."
"I'm not sure even my lightsaber would convince him."
"Only one way to find out." Padmé followed Obi-Wan's gaze to the doorway at the back of the room.
"In the blink of an eye, eh?" Obi-Wan murmured.
Together, they crossed the room and stepped outside.
In the sand, a track of footprints led round to the front of the hut, down the beach to the water's edge and disappeared.
"Why that little…" Obi-Wan muttered a curse in Huttese, probably assuming Padmé didn't know what it meant .
But before she could embarrass him with her knowledge, something beeped behind them.
"Please follow," the little droid said, setting off along the beach.
"I vote we do as we're told," Padmé said, not waiting to hear Obi-Wan's opinion.
The villa had only one bed.
Not only that; it only had one proper room.
At one side a door led to a spacious refresher. Another door opened on to the terrace, supported on stilts over the sea. Inside, an enormous, circular bed was covered by a canopy of fine netting. The only other furniture was a small table and two chairs, a kitchen area with a fully-stocked refrigerator, and a large closet containing male and female clothes.
Padmé smoothed down the simple nightdress she'd chosen after taking a long, relaxing shower. It was a perfect fit. Who knew if the male clothes would fit Obi-Wan though; he was outside somewhere, still wearing the torn tunic and leggings he'd arrived in.
She found him on the terrace. The sun had just sunk into the sea, and the horizon was tinged gold and pink, silhouetting a few wisps of dark cloud. Overhead, where the sky was darker, a band of stars was beginning to emerge. The water beneath the terrace washed back and forth in a gentle, soothing rhythm, and in the distance, the insects of the forest sang their own night-time serenade.
"It's beautiful," she said, crossing to his side, the wood warm under her bare feet.
"Yes." He looked down at her for a moment and smiled, star light reflecting in his eyes. Then his face became that Jedi mask of solemnity again, and he looked away.
"Do you realise it's ten years today since we first met?" she said.
"It is?" Obi-Wan's gaze was fixed on the horizon. "I don't remember."
"I'm hardly likely to forget when the peace of Naboo was breached for the first time in nearly a hundred years."
Obi-Wan said nothing.
"Anyway, you can take a shower now, if you like. I've finished in the refresher. If you don't mind, I'll turn out most of the lights, and go to bed. Where would you like to sleep?" The bed was big enough for a small army to share, but with her there he would probably prefer the floor…
"Out here."
Padmé looked down. The terrace floor was made of hard wooden slats. "Are you sure? It doesn't look very comfortable. Would you not rather be inside?"
"No, thank you. That would not be… appropriate. I'll be fine here."
She was too tired to protest. With a sigh, she wished him a good night, and padded back inside.
In the morning, it became apparent that the netting over the bed had a purpose other than decoration.
Obi-Wan's face was spotted with angry red bite marks.
"Do they hurt?" Padmé fished for ointment in the fresher cupboard.
"No."
"Itch?" She crossed to where Obi-Wan was sitting at the table.
"A little." He reached for the tube.
"Let me do it."
The insect bites must have been uncomfortable because for once he didn't argue.
"Chin up." She dabbed carefully at his face.
His eyes locked with hers, and strange things started to happen to her stomach.
"And I bet you didn't sleep well, either," she said, her hand trembling a little bit.
"Terribly," he admitted.
"Then tonight you must stay inside."
Her finger accidentally brushed his lip. She heard his sharp intake of breath. Then he nearly fell over the chair in his haste to get away.
"Any plans for today?" she said, calmly replacing the lid on the ointment and ignoring what had happened.
"Finding a way to get us out of here." He was already heading for the door.
Padmé sighed. She crossed the room to the closet, and rummaged through the piles of clothes until she found what she was looking for.
Grumpy-Wan could do what he wanted. She was going swimming.
They had been on Rangali for ten days. For ten days Obi-Wan had avoided her. At night he had slept on the 'fresher floor. Then came the incident with the jellyfish.
That morning, Obi-Wan had swum some ridiculous distance out into the ocean, trying to find an escape route. He'd arrived back pale with pain, his right arm and leg swollen with stings from the venomous sea creatures. All Padmé could find to take away the pain was Corellian brandy, and after two large glasses, Obi-Wan was sleepy and cooperative enough to crawl into the bed when she insisted.
And, of course, she wasn't going to sleep on the bathroom floor.
She awoke in the middle of the night to find herself wrapped around a warm, masculine body. Obi-Wan seemed to be equally well wrapped around her.
She couldn't untangle herself without waking him, so she just lay there for a while, her heart racing at the sensation of his breath on her neck. But her arm was trapped under his body. Her shoulder pulsed painfully. If she could just edge it out…
Then her elbow jabbed the sting on his right arm.
She froze. He gave a muffled groan, and then she felt his eyelashes flutter against her neck.
The next second she was flat on her back, and he was across the other side of the room, the bed canopy ripped and strewn across the floor.
Padmé struggled to sit up. "Wait. Where are you going?"
He opened the door. "To the hut."
She scrambled to her feet. "But there's no-one there."
"No, but I can sleep there."
"You can't! What about the insects?"
She followed him outside. He was already heading down the jetty that connected the villa to the beach. "I'll take my chances."
"Please, Obi-Wan!"
His leg must still be painful; he was limping. She hurried to catch up, tired, concerned, frustrated, humiliated… the feelings built with every step, until, when she reached him, she was ready to snap.
She wheeled round in front of him, blocking his path. "Stop."
He sighed. "Please let me pass."
She put her hands on her hips. This was it. She'd had enough. "Not until you tell me what's wrong with me."
"Wrong with you?"
"There's only so much a woman can take. I know you've never liked me, Obi-Wan, but for the life of me I've never been able to work out why. Did I insult you all those years ago on Naboo? I certainly can't remember if I did. Do you blame me for Qui-Gon's death? Do you resent me for spending time with your padawan? Is my personality just so terrible that it irritates you to be around me?
"No!"
"But you can't stand to be with me here, like this."
"No. I can't."
"Why?"
He said nothing, but something in his eyes made her skin flush. He glanced away, then back at her. Then he bit his lip, and looked away again.
"Because when I have to leave you…"
"What?" She stepped closer, placing her hand on his right arm.
He flinched. "It hurts."
"Sorry," she said, remembering his injuries. She snatched her hand away, but he caught it.
"That's not what I meant."
His eyes, full of that something, that intensity she could not quite place, met hers.
She waited.
"It hurts…" His voice was barely a whisper above the sound of the ocean. "To be… apart from you."
She shook her head. "I don't understand."
He took her hand and pressed it against the middle of his chest. "Here. Every hour, every day."
A shiver slid along Padmé's spine. She whispered, "and only when I'm with you, does the pain go away."
Obi-Wan dropped her hand and stepped away, laughing ironically. "Anakin has been going through my notebooks again."
"You wrote that?"
"A long time ago."
"About whom?"
He clasped his hands behind his back, and looked down at his feet. "At this point I would hope it might be obvious."
Padmé's head began to spin. She paused for a moment, silently repeating what he had said to see if she could be mistaken. But no. There was only one conclusion.
"But you don't like me!" She stumbled as she walked towards him, teetering precariously close to the edge.
He turned to catch her, a hand on each of hers.
"You love Anakin."
"He's my friend."
"He's in love with you."
"He's like a brother to me."
"That's not how he speaks about you."
"Then he's deluded! I could never think of him in that way!"
Obi-Wan's eyes scanned her face, as if he was trying to find the truth.
"I couldn't," she said, "because I fell for someone else. Ten years, nine days and, oh, about fourteen hours ago. No-one else has ever come close."
"Who?"
"You."
Obi-Wan's eyes widened, and his hands slackened on her arms. "I…I…"
Padmé nodded, and raised a hand to his cheek. "Yes. You." And just in case he didn't get it, she stretched up on tiptoes, and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips.
When she pulled away, Obi-Wan's expression was shock, crumpling, briefly, to happiness, then to disbelief.
They stood there, in silence, for what felt like very many minutes. Padmé waited, patiently, for the truth to sink in.
Eventually, Obi-Wan raised a hand, and gently ran a thumb over her eyebrow, her cheek, and along her jawline. "My behaviour… I never meant to hurt you."
"I may forgive you, if you can make it up to me."
He leant closer. "I can't believe this is happening."
She tilted her face to his. "If it's a dream I don't want to wake up."
"Me neither."
Then he lowered his mouth to hers, and kissed her. He was cautious at first, but then his arms slipped around her, and she felt in his kiss a tenderness and passion beyond anything she had ever dared dream of.
Stars sparkled in Padmé's vision as she lost herself in him. In her Obi-Wan. After all this time... She felt light-headed, as if she was floating, and… falling?
With an almighty splash, they landed in the warm water of the ocean. Obi-Wan's arms were around her, and she was squealing, then laughing, while he was apologising, and asking if she was okay, only pausing for a second to hear her reply before pressing his now wet but still quite wonderful lips back to hers.
Four days later, Gaston greeted them with a beaming smile and a damp handshake. "I trust your stay has been satisfactory?"
"Yes, thank you," Padmé said, her fingers entwined with Obi-Wan's as they walked down the beach to the waiting boat. "Will you travel with us?"
"Alas no," Gaston replied. "I have to prepare for our next guests. But the yacht here is fully programmed to take you to the departure site. Have a safe journey." He called after them as they boarded, "I hope we will see you again soon here on Rangali, the Galactic Core's first and only artificially engineered paradise!"
"Not until you've artificially engineered away the insects and the sea life," Obi-Wan muttered, turning to wave, and scratching his sore arm through his tunic.
"Oh, and you never told me," Gaston shouted, as the boat set off, "what was the special occasion?"
Padmé silenced Obi-Wan with a hand on his arm. "Our tenth anniversary," she called back. She looked at Obi-Wan and raised an eyebrow.
"Ten wasted years," Obi-Wan said, quietly.
Padmé raised a hand to his cheek. "Then here's to the next ten."
Obi-Wan just smiled, and kissed her.