Chapter Ten
Angel or not, dead or alive, at one point, Padmé was human with the same emotions that she possessed then that plague her now. Anxiety, fear, worry.
The last feeling is stronger than the rest as she gazes upon the body sprawled upon the small Tatooine hut floor. Thinner, disheveled, dirty hair grown long as well as his beard, slightly more gray. He is hardly recognizable. His natural beauty disguised by grime, hair, and sand. Next to him on the floor lies a leather pouch, a grainy, dark red substance spilled out of it onto the floor.
Shocked at what she thinks she has discovered, Padmé steps over Obi-Wan and kneels down to sample the grains, rubbing them between her fingers. She looks up at Qui-Gon with stunned surprise.
"Spice?"
Unable to acknowledge verbally, his voice constricted with emotion over his padawan's horrific state, the older man merely nods his head.
Padmé gazes back down upon her friend, a determination to help him hardening to steel.
As a diplomatic intern, she has seen the effects of spice addiction. The consuming desire for the next hit taking priority over all else in the user's life, overruling all morality and good judgment. Each use escalating to the need for a larger and stronger dose in order to achieve the same prior high, until finally the user is driven to madness and ultimately, death.
Master Jinn was right to be concerned. If not only for the future of the galaxy, then for Obi-Wan. A life such as this was painful and short.
Standing upright, Padmé glances about the dilapidated home. Rotting food lines the narrow shelving units infested with insects. Broken dishes are strewn about. She has no sense of smell and is thankful for that. The place most likely reeks. There is a lot that needs to be done, but first things first.
"Qui-Gon." She states boldly. "If you would be so kind as to help me. You can uncover that cot, yes?"
Physical interaction with the living for the Jedi apparition is not possible, but mentally, he uses the Force to remove the torn and bug-ridden blankets from the dusty bed and watches as Padmé half lifts and half Force levitates the emaciated form of his apprentice to the cot.
Standing up once again, hands planted firmly on her hips, Padmé spins around and smiles at him.
"I no longer require your assistance Master Jinn." She announces with an air of formal authority and the older man's brow rises as once more the Queen that he once knew emerges. "If you are needed again, I will call for you."
With a touch of humor, the Jedi Master bows slightly, releasing a sigh of relief as he turns to leave.
For the first time in a long, long while, he can lay some of his worries for his padawan aside.
Obi-Wan is now in the hands of an angel.