Title: Dearly Departed
Summary: In the midst of his grief, while delivering the body of Senator Amidala to Naboo for her funeral, Obi-Wan makes a wish and the Force grants it. He should be more careful what he wishes for…. This is a post-ROTS AU Obidala.
Rating: T
Genre: Dark Comedy/Drama
Author's Notes: Was listening to "Kiss from a Rose" by Seal and got the idea for this fic. Don't ask. I don't think the two are related whatsoever! :P
Disclaimer: They're not mine, they're not even George's any longer! I think belong to some huge corporation called Disney. I don't make money from this, and it's a good thing, because if I did, I don't think I'd have as much fun!
Chapter One/Prologue
He could hardly believe it, but how could he deny something he had seen with his own eyes?
Senator Amidala was dead. Padmé, his beautiful Padmé was gone.
No. He couldn't say that. She didn't belong to him. She had belonged to another; one whose name he could no longer bear to say; not even in his own mind.
He lived still, this man he had considered a brother; at least before the betrayal. Obi-Wan could feel him in the Force still; a dark, shadowy existence beyond his reach. No longer, however, could he feel his emotions or track his whereabouts. Their training bond had been eliminated long ago, when his Apprentice had become a Knight; A Knight who had taken a path Obi-Wan had never wanted him to take.
He would've tried to stop him had he known about it in time. Hindsight did him very little good now. His Padawan was no longer under his influence; his destiny was out of Obi-Wan's hands. And as in all cases when a choice of evil is made over good, there is always collateral damage and the innocent are the ones who suffer.
In this particular case, it was Padmé.
When he had followed her to Mustafar to confront his apprentice, it had never occurred to Obi-Wan that her life would be in danger. She was pregnant with the man's children, and he was supposed to love her! How could you do that type of harm to someone you supposedly loved?
Obi-Wan didn't understand it. Only a mind twisted by the Dark could do such a thing. He would never.
If she had been his.
If she had been his, her life would've been much different. He would've made sure she was happy, safe, and loved.
Not lying stone-cold in Bail Organa's ship.
Somewhere else on board the Sundered Heart were two infants who needed their mother, and she needed them. He refused to believe she would give up so easily, as the med droids had reported. She wouldn't have done that. There had to be something else! Something had to have happened to her. Perhaps her husband's attempt at choking the life out of her had done it. Or perhaps there were undiagnosed complications during delivery.
She hadn't just given up. She couldn't have. He had seen her face, saw the way she looked at her children, at him. She had hope. He refused to believe otherwise.
He should've done something. But it was too late.
"Padmé," Obi-Wan spoke to the lifeless body which lay before him. "I'm sorry I didn't help you sooner. I'm sorry I didn't see what he was capable of. I wish I could've. If I had known, I could've warned you. Would you have listened to me?"
Obi-Wan leaned his head onto the side of her deathbed, his faced pressed into the white sheet which covered her body. He couldn't see her, and he was glad. The sight of her lying there silent and still would only add to his grief and guilt. He chose to remember her as she was. Long before him; When she was brave, strong, and so full of life.
"That day when we met again in your apartment," he continued speaking softly into the silence of the ship's med galley, "and you took my hand, I should've held onto it and not let you go. I was a fool. I didn't see what was right in front of me and now I've lost you forever. I would give anything to have one more chance, Padmé. Anything…"
The strength of his voice had faded as Obi-Wan gave in to the exhaustion which was relentlessly pursuing him. He fell asleep on his knees, leaning against the bed, unaware of the bright light which filled the small space. The illumination lasted but a moment, and shone down upon the two bodies in the room, one of which was no longer dead.
At first, he thought he was dreaming. He used to dream of Padmé when he was troubled, and it was no surprise those dreams were recurring. In them, she would often card her fingers through his hair and say his name.
But something told Obi-Wan this was no dream, and he forced himself to awareness, only to discover that indeed, there were fingers upon his scalp, and a voice sounding just like Padmé's was calling to him.
It had finally happened. All those years of refusing to see the Healers were coming back to haunt him. He had gone insane.
The next time the hand touched his scalp, he grabbed it and came off the floor, dropping it as if it were molten steel when he discovered what it was attached to. Not what exactly, but who.
Her eyes were a bit more sunken than normal, and she looked a little pale, but that was to be expected considering she was dead.
"Obi-Wan," she said again. It was definitely her voice. "What are you gawking at?"
"You…" he mumbled incoherently, backing up a step or two until he hit the wall. "You died."
"What? Don't be ridiculous," a very much alive Padmé told him as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed. "And why am I in this silly med gown? What happened? Where are we?"
He thought he knew. But now, he wasn't so sure.
"You died," Obi-Wan repeated flatly.
"Stop saying that," she demanded. "I'm obviously not dead."
He couldn't believe he was about to say this, but: "Are you sure?"
"Obi-Wan."
He really wished she would stop speaking his name like that. It was usually quite enjoyable to hear, although not at the present moment.
"Come here."
"No," he told her, unsure of what he was witnessing. If this were a dream, then he was the one in control and he needed to wake up. If he were mad, then there was no telling what he was capable of. It would be best if he just stayed where he was.
"Fine," she said, hopping off the mattress. "Then I'll come to you."
He was frozen solid: A chunk of ice floating in the deepest, coldest reaches of space.
But then her hand landed on his chest, and it was warm, and it was solid, and it was real.
"See? I'm fine and I'm here."
He wasn't so sure about that, and decided this situation required a second opinion. Just in case.
"Stay put," he told her. "Master Yoda needs to see this. You," he corrected himself quickly. "He needs to see you."
"All right," Padmé replied, confusion knitting her brow as Obi-Wan slid himself sideways down the wall toward the door. "And perhaps, you can ask him where my clothes are?"
A/N: I know, I know. I said I was leaving town for a few days, and I am, but I COULD NOT resist starting this story! I am weak that way. :P I'll pick up where I left off as soon as I get back!