CHAPTER 9
Padmé brought herself back to the present with a start and looked out of the tiny viewport to see that they had now entered hyperspace, the stars mere blurs as the freighter zipped past. "So …where next?" she asked of Obi-Wan.
He opened his eyes. "Mandalore," he replied. "From there we'll change onto another freighter and head further out. We should be able to hide well on Mandalore."
Padmé nodded her head. Although Mandalore was nominally part of the Republic, it was notorious for hiding people that didn't want to be found – for a price of course. "When do you think we'll be able to go home?"
"I wish I could say," Obi-Wan replied gravely. "Until this latest danger to you has been eliminated, Coruscant isn't safe for you, as are few of the Core worlds." He eyed her thoughtfully. "We're going to have to find some way of disguising you – your face is too well known."
"And yours isn't?" Padmé asked. He had to be one of the most well-known Jedi in the galaxy.
"Mmm," Obi-Wan agreed. He dug in his sack and produced two boxes of hair dye – one dark and one blonde – along with colored lenses. "Have you ever thought about being a blue-eyed blonde?" he asked with a twinkle in his eyes.
He passed her the hair dye and the blue lenses, keeping the dark dye and brown lenses for himself. "We should disguise ourselves before we reach Mandalore," he added.
Padmé looked at the hair dye and sighed. Bucking the current trends on Coruscant, she'd stuck to her natural color, not believing that she would suit being blonde. It seemed that she was about to find out for certain.
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Obi-Wan sucked in a surprised breath when Padmé emerged from the fresher. He hadn't been certain that she would suit the fair coloring and knew that he would miss her soft brown eyes. Yet the blonde hair and newly blue eyes actually went rather well with her creamy skin, making her look fragile and ethereal.
Then she grinned impishly at him, giving the lie to her ethereal quality. "Now your turn," she ordered, holding the door open to the fresher.
He sighed deeply. "Yes, milady," he teased mournfully and disappeared into the fresher to begin his own transformation.
Forty minutes later, he had changed into the rugged hard-wearing clothes of a farmer – a similar outfit to that which Padmé now sported – and made his way back into the main baggage area. "We'll be arriving on Mandalore in around thirteen or fourteen hours," he said. "I have some contacts there that should be able to hide us for a few days until we can get another flight."
"More pirates?" Padmé asked impishly.
"No," Obi-Wan replied. "Just some family and friends." He grinned at her, forgoing his decision to keep his distance from her. It just wasn't possible when they were in such tight quarters, both literally and figuratively. "Not all my friends are criminals, you know."
Padmé nudged him affectionately and handed him a nutrient bar and gourd of water. "You, Obi-Wan Kenobi, are a complete brat," she said, "and Master Jinn deserves a medal for putting up with you for so long."
"A brat?" Obi-Wan was bemused by her choice of words. "I found my first gray hair this morning, and you're calling me a brat?"
"So you're old," Padmé replied cheekily, a dimpled grin brightening her face. "Doesn't mean you're not a brat."
"Oh, very nice," Obi-Wan said dryly. "I'll remember this conversation when you find your first gray hair, Madame Senator."
"I'm sure you will," Padmé replied. "But isn't holding a grudge against the Jedi ethos?"
"Oh, I'm making an exception in the case of tiny little Senators that are too smart-mouthed for their own good," Obi-Wan deadpanned. Calling Padmé tiny never failed to get a rise out of her.
Padmé put her tongue out at him. "Mean," she said. "You are mean, sneaky and evil." Then she slipped her hand through his arm. "Don't ever change, Obi," she added seriously. "I like this side of you."
"Thank you," Obi-Wan replied. So many people didn't get his sarcastic sense of humor or responded merely with rolling eyes. He loved that this young woman understood him so readily.
And he loved her too, he mused, thinking of their most recent encounter. If they hadn't been interrupted by Shrike's attack on the base, he knew that she would have given herself to him – he wasn't so modest that he couldn't see that. And whilst he would have preferred it to be in a far more romantic setting, he would have accepted.
He was pleased to see that she wasn't pulling away from him this time – unlike after their previous kisses. Although he was deeply in love with her and regretted that she didn't feel the same way, he treasured their friendship. That was why he would never let her know how he felt.
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Padmé yawned, her eyes fluttering closed, as the ship made its way to Mandalore. She pulled some clothing out of her bag and rolled it up to form a pillow then lay down with a small wince for the hardness of the decking. It had been many years since she'd roughed it – she was getting soft.
Obi-Wan lay down next to her and flung his cloak over them both. "This is a freighter," he said. "Heating isn't exactly a priority and I don't want you getting too cold overnight."
Padmé smiled helplessly at him, touched by the old-world gallantry that so many young men of her acquaintance were missing nowadays. "Thank you," she murmured, cuddling into him with another yawn. The day's events had finally caught up with her, and she felt just about ready to drop from exhaustion.
He slipped his arm around her shoulders and dropped a kiss onto her forehead. "Try to get some rest, Padmé," he said gently.
"All right," Padmé replied, "but only if you sleep too. I know Jedi can go for long periods without sleep, but you may as well sleep while you can."
Obi-Wan pressed another kiss to her forehead and she could feel his lips curve against her skin. "You're going to keep on at me until I sleep, I suppose," he said in a resigned tone.
Padmé chuckled. "You know me too well, Obi," she replied. "I know you probably won't sleep, but at least shut your eyes. Meditate or something."
"Yes, milady," Obi-Wan teased.
Padmé chuckled again – he really was an incredible brat – then tilted her head up and brushed an affectionate kiss to his cheek. "Good night, Obi," she said.
"Good night, Padmé."
She dropped her head back onto her makeshift pillow and closed her eyes, waiting for the sounds of the ship's engines and Obi-Wan's breathing to transform into a sort of white noise. He really was sweet and so comforting, despite his moments of impishness, and he was very attractive. So why wasn't she in love with him? It would make so much sense to be one with him, yet she couldn't bring herself to profess an emotion she didn't feel. She did love him, of course – but as a dear friend, not a lover.
Do you even really know what love is, Padmé?, that annoying part of her mind – the one that sounded like Sola – asked. You can't go by those absurd holofilms you used to watch as an adolescent.
Yet another part of her – the young woman whose childhood had been cut short by the demands of her world – simpered and longed for a tall, dark and handsome someone to sweep her off her feet with grand declarations from burning lips. And that part of Padmé was far stronger and more vociferous than the part that had truly fallen in love with the man with whom she currently lay.
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Back on Coruscant:
Qui-Gon hurried along the Temple walkways, intent on presenting his findings as soon as possible to the Masters on the Jedi Council. He was in such a hurry that he failed to look up as a door near him opened, and someone collided with him.
"Kriff; watch out!" the young woman said sharply.
"I'm sorry, Miss," Qui-Gon apologized courteously, picking up one of the boxes that had fallen from the woman's arms. "You aren't hurt, are you?"
"If I'm not, it's no thanks to you," the woman grumbled. "Try employing that obviously over-rated Force sense of yours, and look where you're going!" she snipped, dragging her hands through her long curling hair.
"It was an accident, for which I apologized," Qui-Gon pointed out sharply. "Rudeness won't get you anywhere."
The woman's eyes narrowed and she muttered something highly uncomplimentary in Huttese before grabbing her boxes and flouncing away.
Qui-Gon frowned after her – her words and tone had been aggressive and unpleasant, yet he'd gotten the sense that she'd been afraid of him. He didn't want people to be afraid of him, yet it happened fairly frequently – due to his sheer size.
As he reached the walkway that would take him to the Council chamber, he put aside the unpleasant encounter for consideration at another time. He made his way onto the walkway, nodding at a Council member that joined him. "Good morning, Adi," he said.
"Good morning, Qui-Gon," Adi Gallia replied. The exotic looking Corellian female indicated the fast disappearing form of the young woman Qui-Gon had just encountered. "Is everything all right?"
"Fine," Qui-Gon said then sighed. He wasn't usually so terse and quick to anger, but his recent discovery had unsettled him more than he'd realized. "Well, I'm not fine, but I will be."
"Hmm." Master Gallia looked thoughtfully at Qui-Gon. "Your news truly must be unsettling if you're snapping at females rather than charming them."
Qui-Gon went pink at the sly allusion to his success with the female populace. He was always honest about his intentions, but sometimes he needed the purely sexual gratification. Yet part of him wanted … more. What he'd had for that short wonderful time with Shmi and Anakin Skywalker all those years ago on Tatooine. He'd realized about six months ago that he was lonely but he'd kept himself aloof from love for so long that it had become habit – a prison where he was his own jailer.
Maybe it was time to start making an effort once more; to start pursuing true friendships with women rather than merely looking for physical gratification. He'd not set a very good example for Obi-Wan he realized now, glad that the younger man had not followed Qui-Gon's habits. Obi-Wan was far more open to the idea of love than Qui-Gon had been in the last ten years, although Qui-Gon wished he could have fallen for someone else.
He didn't dislike the Senator at all, but it seemed that she didn't return Obi-Wan's feelings yet was quite happy to cuddle into and flirt with him. It was cruel and Qui-Gon had thought Padmé better than that.
He's no longer your Padawan, Qui-Gon reminded himself. He doesn't need your protection anymore. Indeed, Obi-Wan was strong – not just physically but emotionally also. Physically he wasn't quite as strong as Qui-Gon but emotionally he was much stronger and braver.
He entered the Council chamber and nodded to his fellow Jedi, turning his mind back to the issue of Dooku. This was not something he looked forward to sharing, knowing that they would be just as dismayed and shocked as he had been by Dooku's turn to the Dark Side.
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Padmé shifted once more on the hard decking and winced, knowing that she was going to be incredibly sore tomorrow. But better to be stiff and sore than to have fallen into Shrike's hands.
She opened her eyes and stared around the dark baggage hold then squeaked when Obi-Wan wrapped his arms around her. He shifted onto his back and lifted her onto him so that she lay sprawled along his warm firm body. "Sleep," he mumbled, tightening his hold when she tried to wriggle off.
"I'm too heavy," Padmé protested.
Obi-Wan chuckled, the rumble sending a pleasant vibration from his chest to Padmé's. "Well, it's possible that someone has made a more ridiculous statement than that, but I don't know of any," he replied. "I prefer a very firm mattress or the floor and you weigh next to nothing – believe me, it's no trouble."
"Well … all right then," Padmé said, dragging her cloak back over her and tucking her head into the crook of Obi-Wan's neck and shoulder. She blushed for how intimately they were plastered together.
Obi-Wan brushed aside her hair and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Now, please sleep – we'll be landing on Mandalore in around ten hours and you're exhausted."
"Mmmm," Padmé mumbled into his neck, feeling the roughness of the emerging whiskers. "You need to shave again," she said. "You feel scruffy. And your light brown beard would look pretty strange with that dark hair."
"I'll shave in a few hours," Obi-Wan said. "Now stop talking, woman, and let us sleep," he added.
Padmé resisted the urge to put her tongue out at him – it was so dark in this baggage hold that the gesture would be lost on him – and sighed heavily. "I feel sorry for your Padawan – you're so kriffing bossy," she muttered, feeling her eyes grow suddenly heavy. Obi had evidently used the Force on her, but she couldn't be bothered to fight it this time. She really did want to sleep but was having trouble shutting down her brain. So any help was welcome.
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Fifteen hours later:
Padmé watched as the very pretty – very young – woman flung her arms around Obi-Wan in an exuberant greeting. "Gods, I've missed you, Obi!" she declared.
To Padmé's surprise, the sometimes-reserved Obi-Wan returned the hug with interest. "I'm sorry I was away so long this time, Melarina," he said. "And how is Javen?"
Melarina – friend or family? – grinned then grimaced. "I was so proud when he said his first word," she said. "Now I wish he'd be quiet. His favorite words are 'No' and 'Why'."
Obi-Wan laughed. "Three is such a wonderful age," he said sarcastically then blushed. "Goodness; where are my manners?" He reached out and tugged Padmé over to join them. "Padmé; this is Melarina Rin. Melarina; this is Padmé."
"It's nice to meet you," Melarina said, her gray eyes examining Padmé from head to toe. "I've heard so much about you over the last couple of years."
I wish I could say the same, Padmé mused, wondering if she was jealous. Maybe Obi-Wan's feelings for her weren't as strong as she'd assumed. "It's good to meet you too," she replied neutrally.
Melarina regarded Padmé again then sighed. "Obi; you didn't tell her, did you?"
Obi-Wan blushed. "It never came up."
"You never told one of your best friends that you have a sister?" Melarina rolled her eyes. "You're shocking."
"Sister?" Padmé gaped at Obi-Wan. "You have a sister?"
"Half blood," Melarina said. "Same father, different mothers. Obi's mother died just after he was born, and his father married my mother about thirteen years later." She smiled beautifully and Padmé suddenly saw the resemblance between the half siblings – they had very similar coloring and the same open smile. "I knew about Obi when I was growing up but we didn't meet till after the Jedi got rid of that stupid no attachments rule."
Obi-Wan chuckled. "Just say what you feel, Melarina – don't be shy," he offered dryly.
"Mean old man," Melarina shot back, sticking her tongue out at him then tucking her hand into his. "Well … come in. I've got a light meal I can prepare quickly for you, and Javen's dying to see his Uncle Obi again."
"Where's Corran?" Obi-Wan asked as they entered the small house.
Melarina sighed. "I asked him to leave about three weeks ago," she said. "I got tired of him coming home smelling of sex and cheap perfume. I deserve better."
"You do," Obi-Wan said, frowning. "I'm sorry you've been hurt, but it's good that it's over."
"Mmm," Melarina agreed. "I just wish he made more of an effort with Javen, though – you divorce spouses, you shouldn't divorce your children."
"I can pay him a visit if you'd like," Obi-Wan offered.
"No, but thank you," Melarina replied. "If he doesn't want to be a father, I'm not going to force him. It's his choice … and his loss."
"Unka Obi! Unka Obi!" came a high pitched shriek at that point, and a little boy came running into the living area as nude as the day he was born, and flung himself at Obi-Wan.
Padmé watched the redheaded little boy – who looked very much like Obi-Wan – as he threw his arms around Obi-Wan's neck, chattering happily in a mix of Basic and Mandalorian. The little boy had Obi's – and Melarina's – gray eyes and fair skin, making them look almost like father and son.
And she found herself wondering what any children she might have in the future would look like. Would they look like her or Obi … What was she doing? She had no intention of having children with Obi-Wan – why couldn't the hormone-driven mush that passed for her brain realize that?
"Who dat?" Little Javen pointed at Padmé with a grimy forefinger.
"This is Padmé, a very good friend of mine," Obi-Wan replied easily, comfortably – and Padmé realized suddenly how he'd developed his ease with children.
"Oh." The finger went back in his mouth and Obi-Wan tugged it free. "Pretty lady," Javen pronounced.
"Yes," Obi-Wan agreed with a twinkling smile to Padmé.
"Looks like … p'incess in my story book," Javen added with a yawn. It was early evening on Mandalore, that planet being many hours ahead of Naboo time, and it was evidently coming close to Javen's bedtime.
She smiled at the youngling, whose legs were now clamped around Obi-Wan's waist. "Thank you," she said. She smiled when he yawned again, knowing that she would be going to bed herself in a few hours. It was always best to adapt to the diurnal patterns of a planet as quickly as possible to prevent upsetting the body.
Thankfully, the poor night's sleep she'd gotten on the freighter meant that she was more than ready for a quiet night lying in a warm soft bed as opposed to lying on a warm firm body. Although both locations had their merits, she reflected with a small grin.
"Padmé; how do you like your caf?" Melarina asked now.
Padmé went over to the younger woman. "Strong and black," she said, watching as Melarina bustled around the kitchen, putting together a light meal. "I hope we're not putting you to too much trouble," she said guiltily, realizing that this young woman – barely out of her teens – wasn't very well off. She could hardly afford two extra mouths to feed, but at least Padmé now had a use for the money Obi-Wan had won at sabacc.
"Obi's family and you're his best friend," Melarina said simply as if that's all there was to be said. "We do for family." She handed Padmé her mug and then waved her hand at the food. "If you want to help, though, you're more than welcome."
Padmé cringed slightly – she'd always been what Sola described as 'domestically retarded'. "Unless you want to die of food poisoning, I shouldn't cook," she admitted.
Melarina chuckled, showing dimples much like Obi-Wan's. Evidently their father's genes ran strongly in this family. She handed Padmé a knife and indicated some raw vegetables. "Well, you chop and I'll cook."
"That I can do," Padmé said, rolling her eyes when Obi-Wan snorted back a laugh.
"Instead of laughing, you mean old man, make yourself useful," Melarina scolded her much older brother. "I need you to supervise Javen's bath."
"My pleasure," Obi-Wan said, turning and heading out of the living room.
Melarina giggled when Obi-Wan's form had disappeared and Padmé raised her eyebrows in question. "Javen is a water baby – anyone in the same room generally finds themselves on the receiving end of an unwanted soaking."
Sure enough, a yell from the bathroom ten minutes later indicated that Obi-Wan had been caught unaware, and Padmé smirked when he popped his soaked head out to call for a towel. "Here," Melarina said, throwing a fluffy white towel at the head.
"Thanks so much for warning me by the way, sister dear," he said dryly, scrubbing at his head before disappearing once more.
Melarina laughed. "Any time!" she called back, handing a long sharp knife to Padmé and waving at the vegetables. "Ohh, he's going to get a spectacular, horrible revenge," she added. "He's making up for years of not knowing me – I wonder who he tormented before he met me."
"Qui-Gon, I suppose," Padmé replied. "He'd need someone to torment, and his Master would have been the most obvious target."
Melarina sprinkled herbs into the large pot on the old fashioned stove. "And now he's a Master himself, with an apprentice. Does his apprentice torture him?"
"I don't know her very well," Padmé said, "but I torment him enough – I love watching him blush."
Melarina giggled. "I knew I was going to like you!" she said then handed Padmé a spoon. "Here; stir the remaki while I make the shil bean sauce."
"Uh … all right," Padmé said, stirring the heavenly-smelling concoction on the stove. "It smells wonderful," she added. "I hadn't realized I was hungry until just now."
"Well, you've been traveling a while – I've heard it can do strange things to the body."
"You've heard?"
Melarina shrugged her shoulders. "I've never been able to get off world," she said. "I was very young when Javen was born. But I wouldn't give him up for anything."
"I'd like to repay you for your hospitality," Padmé said. "If you'd like a vacation, come to Coruscant. You'll be able to see Obi and you can stay with me – I have more room than he does."
"Oh! Well … I think I'd like that," Melarina sad. "You're very kind."
"You're Obi-Wan's sister and he's my best friend," Padmé said. "It'll be good for you two to spend more time together."
Melarina surprised Padmé by reaching over and hugging her. "Thank you," she said. "When I heard that Obi was bringing a Senator, I was worried you'd be some sort of manipulative political type. I'm glad I was wrong."
Padmé chuckled. "Obi-Wan has just about as good an opinion of politicians as you," she said, relinquishing the spoon to her newest friend and chopping some of the purple tuber. "I think he regards me as the happy exception."
"Mmm," Melarina said, her eyes flickering over Padmé's face.
"What?" Padmé asked, unnerved by the sharp assessing look from one so young.
"Oh … nothing," Melarina replied. "Don't worry about it."
Right, Padmé mused scornfully but knew better than to press Melarina. If she were anything like her older brother, the Kenobi stubbornness would simply kick in and she'd get nowhere.