Day 3 of the Midterm Marathon! Today, more about the background between Obi-Wan and Anali. . .


Chapter Six

~ Anali Yané ~
"Do you remember," Obi-Wan began, "how we met?"

"Yes."

I could never have forgotten how we had met. It had been the first time, really, that I had seen a Jedi break down and lose their calm; and I had been young then, young and impressionable. I had seen the feats Master Jinn and Obi-Wan had accomplished when they had rescued us from the Trade Federation and then when they had escorted us when they returned to Naboo with Padmé and then finally, the beginnings of the duel between them and the Sith Lord. I had thought them near invincible.

Then, of course, Master Jinn had died.

And it was then that I had realized the one, overwhelming truth – Jedi, just like us, were . . . human, in every single way. They were people too; they lived and died and felt emotions and attachments to others.

I had not gone with Padmé, Sabé, Eirtaé, and Rabé to Coruscant with the Jedi, and so I had not the time to get to know them. Therefore, all of my impressions beforehand had been that Obi-Wan was distant, silent, and somewhat cold. That hadn't been true, but I hadn't known that.

And then I had walked into the funeral at the end to find him crying silently on the floor.

Yes, I could never forget that scene – ever.

Obi-Wan nodded. "I had a feeling you would," he said quietly. He smiled slightly. "You had thought I was a cold, distant person – and then you saw me showing emotion for the first time. . . I imagine you were surprised by it. . ."

"I was," I admitted. I saw no point in concealing it; he had known or would guess anyways. And it was so far in the past.

"And yet . . ." he said slowly, "And yet you came over and tried to comfort me."

"I tried to talk to you," I corrected.

He crossed his arms and leaned back. "I seem to remember you coming over and letting me cry on your shoulder. Then you took me to the terrace and then we talked. But I also remember you doing most of the talking."

I blushed and looked down. I hadn't expected him to remember that much of what had transpired. . .

"Why are you ashamed or scared of it?" he asked softly.

I shifted. "I'm usually not that . . . emotional, I suppose," I said slowly. "I just . . . Helping crying people is not my forte."

"And yet you helped me," he stated.

"You caught me off guard," I argued, feeling my cheeks heat up.

Obi-Wan merely looked at me, not even bothering to reply to my words. Well, he raised one eyebrow, but other than that he did nothing.

Finally, he said quietly, "Why are you so afraid to show emotion to others?"

I started in surprise. "What?"

"You heard me."

"I . . . don't . . . I don't understand," I muttered.

Obi-Wan sighed and leaned forward. Moments later, gentle fingers were sliding over my cheek and a gentle hand was taking mine in it. For a moment, I stared, too stunned to do anything else. He had never initiated such physical contact before, even though we had met but once. Then my brain kicked in and I yanked my hand back.

He gestured. "See? You avoid showing emotion – you avoid doing anything that leads to a show of emotion."

I moved backwards, out of his reach. "Why'd you do that?" I asked warily.

"To prove something. And to demand an answer."

I sighed and dropped my eyes. "Emotion is not . . . You can't wear your heart on your sleeve in the street and expect to live through your first day. The galaxy is not that forgiving." I lifted my eyes again. "You of all people should know that."

He locked eyes with me for a moment, and for a second I nearly lost myself in the swirling depths of blue-green eyes. If I hadn't guessed at it before when I had met him, I certainly knew for real now – Obi-Wan Kenobi was a great deal more than he seemed to be. More than a person, more than a general, more than a Jedi. More than most people ever were. More than I certainly was or ever would be.

Then Obi-Wan nodded suddenly, and the contact was broken.

"I see," he said softly. "You have certainly – adapted to the life of the streets. It is not a life . . . I would have . . . wished for you."

I narrowed my eyes. "I had no choice – and what is more, it is my choice to deal with my life however I wish. Not however someone else dictates, Master Kenobi."

He smiled reluctantly. Then he reached out and put his hand on my shoulder.

I stiffened, but all he did was speak.

"If you need me – or someone to talk to – you know how to find me," he said simply and quietly.

Tears started filling my eyes. They were the same words I had spoken to him, oh-so long ago. The exact same words. The only differences were that this time he had spoken them, not me – and that no one was dead this time.

Well . . . No one was on their funeral this time.

And suddenly tears spilled from my eyes – and I was crying.

~ Obi-Wan Kenobi ~
Without thinking, I reached forward and pulled her to my chest. I didn't know what exactly she was crying over, but I did have a very good guess as to why she was crying.

The words I had spoken had been the exact same ones she had spoken to me.

To me, they were reassurance and the start – and, at the same time, the end – of a friendship with someone I'd never expected to befriend. To her, I knew she would see it more as permission, that she didn't need to keep up her appearance – cool, impassive, emotionless – with me around, that she could just . . . let go.

And thankfully she had.

Her body trembled with sobs as I held her close, but they were quiet, personal sobs – her attempt to maintain some semblance of control.

I didn't press her. It was enough that she had even lowered her barriers this much.

The situation was startling familiar, actually; except now, the positions were reversed. She was the one being comforted, and I was now the comforter. And while I was more comfortable than ever in who I was, she seemed to have become ever more fragile and filled with sorrow and weariness.

I wasn't too surprised, though. Life hadn't been kind to Anali; and especially not if some of the rumors I had heard were true. . .

But I wasn't surprised when Anali didn't pull away, even when she'd stopped crying. I had expected her – to try and regain her dignity, her image, her self-control. It would be a natural reaction for just about anyone.

And yet she didn't. She stayed where she was, pressed against me, silent in my arms.

After a long moment, she finally spoke. "Sorry for that." Her voice was shaky, but only just; already she was regaining control.

"It was time for me to pay back the favor," I replied simply.

Silence reigned for another long moment, but it was a comfortable one. I didn't want to let her go, and I secretly suspected that she didn't want to leave. It was just so . . . comfortable . . . peaceful . . . perfect when it was like this between us – calm and quiet and alone. And I valued it all the more considering that it was the first time it had happened in so long. . .

Then – finally – Anali pulled away. "Sorry," she said again.

I brushed my fingers under her eyes, sweeping away what remained of the tears she had shed. "It's okay. . . Everyone needs a chance to let go . . . once in a while," I murmured.

She looked at me and shook her head. "Letting go is something I don't have the luxury to do."

"I know."

She sighed and slipped completely out of my embrace, and it took a great deal of my self-control not to lock my arms around her and refuse to let her go.

"Well, I've got to get some sleep before I go do more hunting," she said. She turned to me. "And I think you should be returning to the Temple to make your report to the Jedi Council, Obi-Wan."

I smiled – with effort – and stood. "Is that supposed to be a veiled hint that it's time for me to leave?" I teased.

Anali smiled back. "Subtlety was never my strong point, remember?"

I looked at her, and this time the smile came without effort. It wasn't hard to smile when I saw her like this – in private, personal settings of friends, not in public. "I remember."

She laughed and shoved at my shoulder. "Well, then – take the hint, Jedi Master, and get your butt out," she said. "Shoo, come out – get out!"

I whirled in time with her push, catching her as she stumbled and fell at the unexpected loss of resistance. "You're not being very nice – or seeing the guest out," I teased pointedly. "Where have your manners gone?"

"You're not a guest – you're an intruder."

I blinked and pretended to be wounded, but in truth I wasn't sure which I should be – started or actually wounded.

"I was kidding, you know," she said after a moment.

I relaxed. "Good."

Then Anali seemed to realize how close we were, but for some reason she didn't seem too bothered by the fact – something that comforted me somewhat. At least she still looked upon me as a friend for real, and not just by what she said.

Of course, that didn't mean that I just looked upon her as a friend anymore. . .

With a flourish and a bow, I kissed her on the cheek – as one would for a friend – and departed. I did need to get back to the Temple, after all.

It's just I didn't think I'd be getting blank dreams anymore. Not with Anali back in my life.

Not a chance.

~ Padmé Amidala ~
I plopped down on the bed, sipping at the mug of warm hot chocolate and grinning at Anali over the rim. "So – spill!" I demanded.

She sat down, a little less theatrically than I had, but her expression – one of pure (and most likely faked) confusion – totally made up for that. Anali was hiding something. I was sure of it.

"About what?" she asked.

"You and Obi-Wan!" I exclaimed, impatient.

"What about us?" she murmured absently, apparently buried in whatever research she was doing.

I leaned forward and snatched the datapad from her, earning an indignant "Hey!" and a wide slap that didn't land.

"Come on, answer! I'm dying to know – "

"If you want something, just ask already!" Anali interrupted, her voice tinged with a measure of her own impatience as she tried to get the datapad back from me. "Now give that back to me, will you?"

"Not until you answer."

"Answer what?"

"How are things between you and Obi-Wan?" I repeated.

Anali's expression suddenly cooled and drained of emotion; yep, she was definitely hiding something. This was her "cool" expression – the one she used when she was either lying or pretending to lie.

"What's it to you, Padmé?" she returned.

"Well . . . I'm just curious . . . You two seemed to get along really well that one time. . ."

Her eyes narrowed. "If you're trying to match us together, forget it. Have you forgotten that Jedi are forbidden to form attachments?"

I barely kept my hand from straying to my stomach. No. I definitely haven't forgotten that. But I couldn't say that. I didn't know yet if I could trust Anali with that big of a secret. Moteé and Ellé knew, but they had been serving as my handmaidens for a long time now; Anali was relatively new, and I hadn't been too close to her when she was my handmaiden as the Queen. She had been the youngest then too, and she had remained on Naboo when I went to Coruscant. Sure, we had bonded over handmaiden training, but still. . .

Anali shook her head sharply, and the movement jolted me back to reality. "Look, Padmé, you're my friend and all, but I have more important things to do than dance around Obi-Wan Kenobi for your amusement. So please stop." So saying, she snatched the datapad back and stood.

When the door shut behind her, Moteé and Ellé emerged from the bedroom. Moteé was smiling silently and Ellé was shaking her head in amusement.

"She's fallen," Moteé said.

"Or as close to it as possible," Ellé added.

I nodded. "They're even closer than I thought," I commented thoughtfully. Then I raised my eyes to them. "Do you think she can be trusted?"

Both took a while to deliberate, which I appreciated. It meant they were weighing every possibility while putting my safety and secrecy at the top, a rare gift nowadays in the backstabbing and corrupted Senate.

Finally, Moteé nodded. "She can be trusted."

"Are you sure? There, her friendship with Master Kenobi might turn against us." It was one of my only doubts against Anali, but it was a big one. One slip, and everything would be out in the open. And Obi-Wan was on the Council, as Anakin frequently reminded me, and therefore would feel honor-bound to report it.

Ellé pointed out, "You already trust her as an infallible bodyguard. Why not, then, to trust her with your secret as well?"

"You need two handmaidens to appear, Senator; having one makes people think something's amiss," Moteé added. "You can't constantly say that we are taken ill or busy."

I sighed. "I understand. It's just . . ."

They shared another glance. "We understand," Moteé murmured. "A secret shared is not quite a secret anymore."

"But you think she can hold it?"

"And hold it well," Ellé added. "Her backing will help if Master Kenobi questions her. It would be best if she is informed before he tries."

"Good point." I thought over it for a moment more and then decided. "I'll tell her tomorrow."

And then, I thought to myself, And then we'll see the true nature of Anali Yané's loyalty – to me or to the Jedi.