CHAPTER XIII

A Time for All Seasons

The temple bells of Theed sang death in their full metallic voices.

The victims of the plagues would never return to their native planet. On the moon, cremation tanks incinerated heap upon heap of human, Gungan and non-sentient alike. Crude matter turned to ashes long after their souls had returned to the Force. It was the ones they had left behind on Naboo that needed their moment of closure.

Rows upon rows of empty human coffins were carried down the streets, loved ones following with flowers and prayers. The Gungans carried their own empty caskets of hollow death into the bowels of the sea. On the twelfth night, a choir of two hundred maidens would raise their voices to chant the Last Passage service. And with that would end the exodus of death before the celebration of life.

The Queen had declared a holiday. A celebration of the victory that had eventually taken place and had saved the lives of the inhabitants of Naboo. The ceremony would take place at Theed and the Jedi heroes would be honored. It was not unlike the celebration that had taken place eleven years ago during Queen Amidala's reign. Only then, the Naboo had truly believed the victory had ended the battle. Then the battle and the invasions had been the illusions, alien to their way of life. Now, in the middle of a galactic conflict that had touched their peaceful, loving world, it was the victory and the temporary reign of peace that was the illusion.

"Although the Chancellor will be arriving in a convoy along with Representatives from several worlds, a few Senators will be travelling separately. The contingents from Alderaan and Cartao are expected to arrive a day before the Ceremony itself. I trust you will be around to receive them?"

"Yes, Your Highness."

The Naboo throne room was awash in golden morning sunlight, every surface bright and sparkling. All but one of the Queen's Council of advisors had been dismissed. Now Jamilla and her handmaidens regarded the former Monarch of Naboo with identically indecipherable expressions.

"Senator Amidala, when you returned from quarantine and begged that I discharge you from attending the Ceremony, I was happy to grant your request because I am also of the opinion that you should spend more time with your family before returning to Coruscant. However, that does not exempt you from discharging your duties as Naboo's advisor in inter-galactic diplomacy."

"I--- beg your pardon, Your Majesty."

"Apology not accepted, Senator. I demand you tell me your objections to this Ceremony."

"Permission to speak frankly, Your Majesty?"

"Permission granted."

"I think that recent events have given our world a lot to be thankful for; and by all means, we should honor the … J-Jedi heroes who averted this calamity. However, a Ceremony of this magnitude and flamboyance downplays the disaster that did happen on Ohma D'un." Padmé Amidala paused, and her hereto crisp voice softened. "With all due respect, your Majesty, this is not the time for Naboo to celebrate."

Never had the Queen appreciated the paper-white blankness of her traditional face-powder as she did at this moment.

"Senator Amidala, are you aware that as we speak, aid from all over the Republic is being flown into Ohma D'un to contribute towards the restoration of the colonies?"

"I am aware of this, Your Majesty."

"Thanks to the fact that this is the home world of the Supreme Chancellor and thanks to your own accomplishments, Senator Amidala, Naboo has been blessed with an abundance of well-wishers. All eyes are on our world, Senator Amidala. This Ceremony is not just to honor our heroes. It is not even just to thank our friends. Most importantly, we Celebrate in order to let our enemies know that their efforts were in vain. They may have struck us but they have not broken us." The Queen's voice became even more expressionless. "'In unconventional times, unconventional methods should be the first, not the last resort. '"

Amidala did not have the benefit of the royal mask. Her flinch was visible.

"Yes, I recognize my own words," she said softly, "from my official statement explaining my actions at Ohma D'un."

"So perhaps you can understand, Senator, that in my own way, I am defending Naboo's image from those who seek to harm her."

Jamilla's words were still colorless, devoid of emotion but Amidala had been Queen too. She could not fail to read the import of those words.

Quietly she said, "When you put it that way, I cannot but see the merit of your decision. However may I remind your Majesty that you did insist on my counsel?"

"Yes and I thank you for that, Senator Amidala." Jamilla inclined her head in a subtle gesture, and as one her handmaidens slipped from their posts to stand beside her.

It was a dismissal.

Senator Amidala rose as well. There was a slight frown on her face as she slipped her hands into her skirts, preparing to bow. Then she did something unexpected – she paused.

The handmaidens tensed. For anyone other than a member of the Royal Family, the breach of protocol would've been unthinkable.

Queen Jamilla's lips tightened. "Is there something else, Senator ?"

"Your Majesty," Amidala said in a tone that managed at once to be both contrite and dignified, "I apologize yet again for having disobeyed your directive at Ohma D'un. But I truly believe that I was acting in the best interest of Naboo." "You have presented your apologies already, Senator Amidala. To all indications if you had not been present, this would have been an even greater disaster. How can I hold that against you?"

It was a rhetorical question and all present were aware of it. The Queen had admitted that the apology had been received. The Queen had not admitted that the apology had been accepted.

Amidala nodded, her face tight with resignation. She bowed low before her Queen and solemnly exited the Throne Room.

The Queen watched her Senator go with pensive eyes.

Ferus Olin rounded a corner on his way towards the Observatory and was immediately apprehended by a monitor-droid. He winced at the sting of the hypodermic but otherwise, patiently allowed the droid to retrieve a sample of his blood. The droids were stationed all over the work and camp sites, regularly taking blood samples from the sentients and monitoring for signs of the toxins re-manifesting. It was an unnecessary precaution as the threat was completely contained; but Ferus was beginning to appreciate that no further risks would be taken so close to the Supreme Chancellor's home world.

An attack on the Chancellor's home world was an attack on the heart of the Republic itself. Twenty four hours after the Jedi Padawans had contained the bio-threat, and mere moments after the probe droids had confirmed that Ohma D'un was safe for entry to sentients, the restoration teams and equipment dispatched from Coruscant had set up base – ironically – in the same drilling tower in the mining colony that the Separatists had used as a site of their operations.

Nothing could have prepared the group of military officers, scientists and engineers for the first sight of the post-apocalyptic world. The most seasoned military officers flinched at the sight and two youths had had to turn back at once. There was very little physical damage to the landscape – most of the damage caused by unmanned equipment left running unchecked was restricted to the mining areas of Otoh Nass. The residential zones of the colonies with the trademark bubble architecture stood virtually untouched, brilliant and beautiful against the surrounding swampland.

But the very beauty of this was a macabre backdrop to the corpses dotted across the landscape.

The first task had been to bury the dead.

Later, the other restoration work began. The colony was teeming with activity as the analysts quickly took stock of the extent of the damage while the engineers began their preparations to rebuild. Apparently, no expense was to be spared. Equipment and materials were being flown in from far and wide. Most were donated by the affluent worlds of the Inner Rim who were either moved by the tragedy or moved to curry favor with the Chancellor or both.

During their discussions over the holo-comms, Master Siri had expressed her concern over Ferus's injury and her caution that he be on his guard against holo-reporters and other opportunists who might want to take advantage of the Jedi apprentices. Ferus had been amazed at just how much access the Holonet was demanding – and being given. The appeal was obvious – the double combination of the high-profile location and the presence of The Hero Without Fear himself was certainly any holo-reporter's dream come true. Ferus snorted. Skywalker hadn't been very kind to the few holo-reporters that had dared to approach him. So they had resorted to settling for 'lesser' Jedi like Ferus and Barriss. Ferus was no Skywalker – he refused to adopt the other man's bad behavior – but the Holo-reporters were a nuisance and he avoided them as much as he could while he focused on his work.

And work, did the Jedi have. They had only spent two days on the medical shuttle that was part of the restoration team; Ferus had got treatment for his broken knee while Skywalker got his cybernetic arm repaired. Then they were back on the moon. Automatically the highest-ranking Republic Military officers present, the young Jedi were in charge of all operations involved in the investigation of the disaster. And it went without saying that as guardians of peace and justice in the Republic, the young Jedi were obliged to do their best to support the restoration activities.

Ferus handed over custody of the Sullustan prisoners to the Royal Naboo Guard. He provided them with access to the Separatists' databank and joined in the analysis of the wealth of data that they found there. They discovered – and quickly relayed to Coruscant – reports of similar bio-chemical experiments and plans of potential attacks. From the feedback Master Siri provided, close to ninety percent of the intel had proved both valid and crucial.

Barriss Offee spearheaded the ecological restoration work, determining the best methods of restoring the decimated fauna and flora. She was being kept busy, working round the clock with biological and geological experts and Ferus rarely saw her except in the early hours of the day. But whenever he did, he noted the confident, competent way in which she worked, the respect with which she was treated. It made his heart soar with pride.

"All vitals normal," beeped out the monitor-droid, breaking into his thoughts. Its automatic analysis completed, the droid whisked away on its repulsor skates.

Ferus rubbed his elbow gingerly, wincing at the sting as he commenced his walk to the Observatory or, more specifically, to Skywalker.

He located the other Jedi easily enough. Skywalker stood some meters apart from the blue-uniformed engineers assembled around a crane-lifter. He was leaning against a pillar, and successfully giving an impression of utter detachment from the work he was supposed to be involved in.

The engineers were apparently working out the best method of positioning the brand new observation tower that was lying in its temporary support in the marshes. At first the plan had been to refurbish the old one, but three techs had lost their lives in the attempt and they had quickly discovered that the structure was a veritable hive of booby traps. And it had not been the only one. Quickly, reports had been made of others, strategically located in the colonies. None of these traps had the capability of widespread destruction as the bio-toxin but they had proved brutal enough to the few scientists who had been victims: an auto-destruct data file that had taken off a Gungan's nose; a sensor-activated mini-bomb that had left a Naboo crippled. Apparently the Separatist minds that had engineered this attack hadn't been content with destroying all life on Naboo and its moon; they also intended to ensure that neither would ever be able to recover from the disaster.

However, the Separatists had not counted on Skywalker.

After their stay in the medical shuttle, Skywalker hadn't seemed particularly interested in interrogating the Sullustan prisoners; or analyzing military intel or planning the restoration strategies. He had showed a glancing interest in the engineering aspects of the construction; but most of the time, he just remained in the Jedi's quarters and fiddled with his mechanical arm. If that were all he did, Ferus would have had no complaints. However, that was not the case. Skywalker's manners – never the best at most times – had turned insufferable after the disarming of the chemical weapon. He snapped at everyone who dared approach him, replying even the most harmless of inquiries with rudeness bordering on malice. The militia, scientists and civil servants had all felt his wrath and had learnt quickly to stay well away from him. The most tenacious of holo-reporters dared not approach him. Ferus could not be certain, but he suspected that even the monitor droids avoided Skywalker.

The only person who was spared was Barriss Offee. Which was a good thing because while Ferus could take anything Skywalker threw at him – and he threw a lot – he would have resorted to violence if the man ever spoke a wrong word to Barriss.

However after that first explosion at the tower, Skywalker seemed to come back to sanity. Apparently, amongst his many talents, Skywalker had a penchant for disabling booby traps. So far, he had discovered and disabled the network of mines buried into the walkways connecting the colonies; disarmed the bombs drilled into the structural trusses of the smaller drilling towers; to mention a few. If anyone was keeping count – and apparently the holoreporters were – Skywalker had saved over a dozen workers from grievous bodily injury, perhaps even death.

If these accomplishments were improving Skywalker's mood, Ferus was yet to see. Skywalker was still as intractable and unapproachable as ever. Because of his unnatural talent, all the teams had no choice but to work with him and they approached him with their hearts in their hands; afraid of both his unpredictable cruelty and the reckless way that he carried out his work. In typical Skywalker fashion, he chose the most unconventional method of doing this – springing them. To say this had caused a few narrow shaves would be a gross exaggeration.

Even now, Ferus noticed that though the Observatory engineers were supposed to be working along with Skywalker, they clustered together a good distance from him and a few kept throwing him wary glances from the corner of their eyes.

Bracing himself, Ferus walked up to the other Jedi.

Skywalker was watching the work with an undecipherable look on his face; he seemed impervious to both the glances sent his way and the man approaching him.

Ferus wondered what he was thinking. Probably of the next nasty thing to say.

"Skywalker."

Skywalker looked up. On closer inspection, the expression on his face was one of relative calm – almost peaceful.

Ferus was immediately on his guard.

"Olin," Skywalker said, politely enough. He inclined his head. "It's remarkable, isn't it?"

Ferus sighed, anticipating a joke at his expense. "What is?"

Skywalker waved his hand, encompassing the work in front of them, or the entire moon, and did not explain further.

After a few moments of pointless waiting, Ferus said, "I want to ask you something."

"Obviously."

"Have you remembered where you first saw that device?" He was referring to the walkway mines and the single explosive that Skywalker had recovered for the analysts. Ferus had been shown the device, and noted that it had no insignia or unique markings and was probably some generic black-market product. He would have thought nothing more of it if not for the fact that one of the analysts mentioned that Skywalker claimed he recognized the device. It was so uncharacteristic of Skywalker to even volunteer information that Ferus had had to pursue it.

"Actually, Olin, I haven't even given it a single thought since I found it."

Patience. "I think you should, Skywalker. It might be important."

"Yes, I get the reports, too. The Old Folks are all agog with your brilliant detective work. What a clever little canine you've turned out to be. But don't expect me to go digging along with you."

Ferus gritted his teeth and tried to hold on to his temper. He failed.

"Look, Skywalker," he snarled, clenching his fists so that he didn't strike the infuriating man. "I don't know what your problem is but-"

"All right, you guys?"

As if on cue, a clear voice piped up from behind them.

Ferus's heart plummeted to his stomach. Biting back a sigh, he turned around to see the slim figure weaving towards them. Of course, she will appear just when I raise my voice , he thought, frustrated. He suddenly realized that the busy work site had fallen silent. All eyes were on them.

Hot blood flooded his face.

Anakin smirked openly and took a step back, ostentatiously taking himself out the picture.

"We're fine. I was just asking Skywalker…" Ferus struggled with the pretence at normalcy. "Forget it," he grunted. He caught the eye of a staring Naboo female and glared until she turned back to work. At once, the other workers suddenly became very busy.

From the corner of his eye, he could see Barriss staring at him with a raised eyebrow. Ferus flushed harder. He also noticed that Skywalker was not bothering to hide the malicious smirk on his face.

Thankfully, whatever she thought of his behavior, Barriss chose to keep it to herself. "Ferus, Colonel Panaka's been trying to get you on COMMs. I guess you switched it off because of the work going on here."

"Yes, I did. What does he need?"

"The Sullustans Nian Mib and Dudb Nin are about to be handed over to Coruscant Intelligence and the Royal Guard want to have another go at them to make sure that they haven't missed anything crucial. I tried helping but they always seem to be more co-operative with you…"

"I'm right on it," Ferus said. Anything to get away from Skywalker. He took a few steps when he realized that Barriss was not following. "Barriss?"

Her gaze was fixed on Skywalker; she gave Ferus a faint wave. "In a moment."

Ferus frowned.

Skywalker gave him a pitying look. "Run along now, Olin," he drawled. "Don't fall over your little crush."

Ferus stomped all the way to the garrison.

As it turned out, the Sullustans did have one more bit of information that some Mind Tricking coerced from them. They had confessed during their first interrogation that the Separatist that recruited them was Geonosian. This time around, they admitted that the intergalactic account that had paid their wages originated from Kashyyyk.

It would have meant little to Ferus – it would not be the first time that a Separatist sympathizer was discovered in a Loyalist world – but for the grim look on Panaka's face when he heard the confession.

"You know something about this?" Ferus asked.

"Yes," the Naboo Captain said gravely, and then almost in a half-whisper, he added, "the Senator will not be pleased."

The Viceroy of Alderaan had departed Coruscant for Naboo on his own transport, separate from the Republic cruiser that carried the Chancellor's contingent. Thus he arrived on-world well before the ill-turn of the global climate that threatened to delay the Chancellor and his company. Queen Jamilla had received him warmly and in good time, he got the requested invitation to meet with his colleague, Senator Amidala.

The aide that led Bail Organa to Padmé Amidala could have been her sister. He was sure he must have seen her a few times in Coruscant. It was always hard to distinguish the handmaidens with their heavy cowls and deliberately cultivated air of invisibility , for want of a better word. Perhaps on their own world, they were more liberated. This one had her hood down and her long dark hair floated on her back as she walked ahead of him. She moved as gracefully as her mistress; and while he had waited for an audience with Padmé, she had kept him company with conversation that was as charming and amusing as any he had ever had with his colleague. It had almost been enough to make him forget his misgivings about seeing Padmé Amidala. There really was something extraordinary about the women of Naboo.

"Senator Organa here to see you, milady," the handmaiden announced to the small figure seated behind the desk.

Padmé looked up. She didn't smile but her eyes softened in a way that dispelled all of Bail's fears. "Thank you, Dané," she said as she stepped forward, hands outstretched before her.

Bail caught them and looked down at her, feeling a wash of relief washing over him at her warm welcome. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the handmaiden make a discreet retreat.

"I am so so-"

"My most sin-"

They started speaking at the same time then stopped. Then laughed with embarrassment.

"You go first," Bail said graciously.

She pressed his fingers warmly. "Forgive me, my friend for my unspeakable behaviour to you on Coruscant. You didn't deserve it. You have always been one of the few people I can count on. My taking my frustration out on you was completely unforgivable."

He returned the pressure, feeling a lump forming in his throat and it was a while before he could speak, "It is you who should forgive me for not having done enough. In my efforts to protect you, I only ended up insulting you. I have never meant to hurt you, Padmé."

"I know," she said softly. "I know."

He was suddenly acutely aware of her hands soft and warm in his own and gently, her face so close to his that he could see the individual dots that made up the distinctive mole below her cheek. An aura of sadness seemed to enfold her.

"My sympathies to you and your people for the tragedy you suffered on Ohma D'Un," Bail said deeply.

"Thank you."

"If there's anything Alderaan can do, anything at all…"

"I know. Thank you, Bail. Any news from the Senate?"

She was being deliberately professional, recovering from the sudden show of emotion and he had to respect that.

"Farr's still quite passionate about invading Mon Calamari but the argument's losing steam in the Senate." She smiled at that. Bail didn't deem it wise to inform her that this was probably because of the recent activities on her world's moon. He went on to tell her about other recent conflicts and debates, and the role the Senate had been playing in the battles that had been occurring simultaneously with Ohma D'un. A rather diminishing role, he admitted as tactfully as he could. With each conflict, more and more powers had been voted to Palpatine.

He expected her to react at the news that the Chancellor was becoming increasingly stronger in her absence. Instead, her eyes were dark with something else. "More conflicts, you say?"

"Yes," Bail admitted. He had stopped his pacing. "The Separatists launched campaigns almost simultaneously in Pengalon IV, Tarhassen, Qiilura … There have been rumoured sightings of a droid General-"

"A droid General?"

Bail shrugged. "Like I said rumours. No-one has survived to confirm them," he added ominously. "To say the Jedi are stretched thin would be an understatement. It's almost impossible to imagine us fighting this war without the Clone Army."

Her mouth thinned. "We shouldn't be fighting at all, Bail."

Bail didn't answer directly. He didn't want to say what he had been thinking for a long time – that her campaign for peace and reconciliation might just be too little, too late. "Some might say we've passed the point of no return," he said cautiously.

She cocked her head to one side, those intelligent eyes seeing through his words to his unspoken thoughts. "You think I'm wasting my time on this, don't you, Bail?"

He started, then he threw up his hands helplessly. "I admire your work greatly, you know I do."

"You just feel my efforts will be better directed elsewhere. I understand that. I also understand that the more helpless a situation appears to be, the more imperative it is for something to be done about it."

"Perhaps something is already being done. The Jedi, the Army – if the War could be made to end quickly-"

But she was shaking her head. "Bail, I was there on Ohma D'un. I saw the bodies of the dead." Her eyes closed briefly. They opened with steely resolve. "What difference does it make to the dead, the orphans and the homeless, whether the mad destruction is wrought under the name of the tyrannical Separatists or the holy democracy of the Republic?"

Bail looked away, unable to hold that fiery gaze. He had known Amidala for a long time now. He admired her greatly. He was also extremely concerned for her, and not just for the personal risks she took.

The prevailing political situation had paired the two Senators with identical ideals together. Clearly the leaders of the Loyalist Committee, Bail and Padmé had worked closely together and he had been privy to witness Amidala's idealism and efficiency first hand. He knew what many in the Senate said behind her back – that in exchanging the Naboo Monarchy to become a Galactic Representative, Amidala, in her usual disposition to perfection, had become the consummate politician.

But Bail knew very differently. He knew that behind her unerringly analytic logic and cold manipulation laid a burning flame of idealism and dedication to service. She was a true leader in every sense – strong, unafraid of hard choices and ready to sacrifice everything for the sake of the people that she served.

Bail feared that Padmé Amidala was too idealistic, too dedicated, too ready to sacrifice herself for her people. But he knew her well enough to realize that such an opinion would only fall on deaf ears. So instead, he did the only thing he could do.

"You have my support, Padmé," he said solemnly. His voice was grave even to himself - the strong voice he reserved for direct audience with the masses of Alderaan. "I will not let you down."

The flames died in her eyes, leaving only warmth.

Bail bowed low. "I have no escort and would be honoured if you would accompany me to the reception and then the Ceremony." He raised an eyebrow rakishly.

Padmé actually laughed. "Thank you, Bail. As much as I am loathe to, I will have to turn down your invitation – in a manner of speaking. But I am sure my handmaiden will be delighted if you accompany her."

"Your hand-" Then he understood. "She'll be a decoy. You won't be attending the ceremony."

She shook her head, her smile vanishing slowly. "No, I'm afraid not." There was something in her voice that told him not to ask further.

Feeling a little disappointed at her news, he bowed again. "Let me know when I should make myself available then."

Her smile blossomed again, glorious in its melancholy. "Thank you, Bail for everything. Not the least for informing me in time of the attack on my world's moon." She came to him and took his arm. Another handmaiden was waiting for him in the outer room. So gracefully that he barely noticed, Padmé transferred her charge to the other woman.

He bowed for the last time to Padmé before she disappeared behind the doors, wearing that disquieting melancholy around her like a shroud.

It was much later that her last words of gratitude sunk into his head. She had thanked him for informing her about the attack on Ohma D'un.

The first time Bail had heard about the matter was after Amidala had left Coruscant for the moon.

According to Colonel Panaka, the Kasyyyk connection could only mean one thing: the Kalmec.

The one-time group of activists, turned terrorists, turned mercenaries for hire to the Separatists had had a run-in with Senator Amidala a few months ago during her now-famous negotiation on the Wookiee world. Perhaps the connection with the attack on Amidala's world was a coincidence – but the Colonel didn't think so and neither Ferus.

It was late in the day by the time he had overseen the dispatch of the Sullustans and the first shift of workers were retiring to the campsites. Ferus joined them, nodding in greeting to some familiar faces, conscious of the deferential distance they gave the Jedi as he moved towards his quarters. Despite their protests that they didn't want to be treated any different, the Padawans had been provided with their own quarters in the campsite – a well furnished set of private rooms, complete with personal consoles.

A good-sized common room was lined with separate doors leading to their individual rooms. Right now, the common room was empty and he could sense that Barriss and Skywalker had not returned. Ferus entered his own chamber, and quickly created a link to Coruscant. As usual, Master Siri received his message and concurred with his suspicions. As usual, she had had instructions for him. The first was welcome – a firm timeline on when their work on Naboo would be deemed complete and when they could return to the Temple. The second was…

"A recognition ceremony?!"

Master Siri looked unnecessarily delighted by his reaction.

"Master Yoda insists. Consider it your most important assignment yet: giving a good face to the Jedi Order."

"Isn't that Skywalker's job?" Ferus grumbled.

"Then perhaps this might help the two of you get along better. It's high time you settle your differences, don't you think? You are not Younglings anymore."

"Master, I don't think-"

"Then don't. Make me proud, Padawan."

The connection ended abruptly leaving Ferus blinking into the empty space in front of him for long seconds, nebulous thoughts racing through his mind.

A recognition ceremony of all things? On the heels of a holocaust? In the middle of an Inter-galactic Civil War? Of all the indulgent, insensitive, ostentatious ideas to come out of the Executive Arm of government? And Yoda insisted on their attending…

Ferus clamped down on the disloyal thought at once. If Yoda wanted the three Padawans to attend, then it was right for them to attend the ceremony. It was preposterous to think otherwise.

Still the thought of being the one to relay the message to Barriss and Skywalker did not fill him with joy. He went to lie on his cot, wincing as his knee throbbed at the shift in gravity. It happened occasionally when he moved his body after a period of inertia. At least that was one reason to look forward to the Ceremony – the Padawans were to return to Coruscant the day after it was over. There he would have a few days to exercise, meditate, and tune his body back to its previous perfection. Now more than ever, he appreciated Yoda's advice. It was not to practice duels but to peaceful days in the Temple that he looked forward to: talking to his Master, spending time with Barriss, giving Skywalker a wide berth.

Unwillingly, his thoughts went back a few days, to the conversation he had had with Skywalker at the base of the Observation tower; and what he had carelessly revealed to Skywalker concerning his feelings for Barriss.

Or rather what Skywalker had foolishly presumed. He, Ferus did not have feelings for Barriss. Or at least, the feeling he had for her were no more than he would have for a fellow Jedi, a respected colleague. Nothing more.

(Do you really still believe that?)

Of course I do , he said, wincing again – at his knee, nothing else. There were no emotions churning within him, restless and confused. So what if he deeply wished Siri was coming to Naboo? It would be nice to speak to his Master face to face. There was only so much that could be relayed via holo-proj where communications could be viewed by any Jedi with the proper access. It would be nice to speak to anyone older and wiser who knew him enough to … advise him on certain matters. Siri had said that Obi-Wan Kenobi was coming to Naboo but as close as Master Siri was to Master Kenobi, Ferus would not dare to come to the older Jedi with this problem. As for Shaak Ti, Ferus was too much in awe of the Jedi Master to even think of approaching of her.

Unwillingly, Ferus admitted to himself that he really didn't have too look very far for confidants. A COMM and a short walk away was Barriss Offee – the wisest, most compassionate Jedi of Ferus's own age, and someone who had always been willing in the past to listen to his thoughts. The only problem was that – Barriss was the problem.

Ferus sighed deeply, gazing up at trusses in the ceiling. The last thing he wanted was to inflict her with a narration of his highly unlikely, most possibly imagined, and definitely unwanted feelings.

(Imagined?)

The whole idea was madness. Sheer utter madness. He had better take it off his mind completely. Meditate or something. That was what he needed to do: discipline his mind and his thoughts.

What if your feelings aren't unwanted to her? An errant little voice whispered in his head. He tried to drive it off but it was quite insistent. He had suppressed it for too long. Won't you want to find out?

Ferus sprang off the bed, ignoring the pain in his knee, and was out of the room before rationality departed him. The night shift had started and there was work being done somewhere in the colonies. Work that would keep these treacherous thoughts from his mind.

He was half-way across the common room when he almost walked into Skywalker and Barriss's auras.

"…worry about you, Anakin." Barriss's voice, soft and caring.

Ferus's feet ground to a complete halt.

From his senses, the others were not far, a few feet behind Skywalker's closed door. Instinctively, Ferus's shields rose up, masking his presence.

"You shouldn't," Skywalker said shortly. "I have Master Obi-Wan for that. I don't need you on my back as well."

There was a sudden awkward silence during which Ferus had to clamp down on the equally sudden urge to run into the room and punch Skywalker in the face. Instead he settled for inching closer to the door. His ears perked up, fine-tuning his hearing with the Force.

"Barriss, I'm-" Skywalker began. At least he had the decency to sound contrite.

"'Tis OK, Anakin," she said softly, her own voice subdued. There was a small pause and when she spoke again, it was with a lightly teasing tone. "Besides, we both know that you need a lot of looking after. Obi-Wan alone shouldn't have to cope with you."

Skywalker was silent. His shields were low for a change and Ferus could sense guilty anger on top of all the other Skywalker emotions.

"Anakin, I'm here for you. If you want to talk… about you and…" She trailed off uncertainly.

The most ominous silence Ferus had never heard seemed to fill the spaces.

"Anakin-" Barriss's voice was beseeching.

"Me and whom?" Skywalker's was cold.

"Do I have to say it out loud? Fine. You and the Senator. Not that it's the best-kept secret in the galaxy."

Wasn't it? Ferus wondered. He certainly hadn't known, although he had had strong suspicions.

Barriss was still speaking. "But Anakin, you told me, remember? Months ago. In the garden, after you and Ferus-"

Skywalker snorted and the tension dissipated. On his part, Ferus winced; the memory of the one and only time he had lost his temper and engaged in crude violence was not an endearing one.

But apparently, Skywalker didn't feel that way. "After I thumped Ferus, you mean."

Ferus bristled. That was certainly not how he remembered it!

"Don't change the topic, Anakin. You're hurting. You've been hurting for a long time." She hesitated. Ferus could hear it in her voice. He had a strong feeling that she was holding something back. But whatever it was, she seemed to decide not to say.

There was the sound of someone moving abruptly.

"What does it matter?" Skywalker's bitter voice came from farther away.

"It matters to me. I want to help you. Please. Talk to me. What you've been through… What you're feeling…" Her voice trailed off. Clearly words failed her to describe the conflicting mess of emotional garbage Skywalker always seemed to carry with him. "You need to let it out. You need to let it go. Can't you see that you can't keep it in no matter how you try? You've started hurting people…"

"Don't you think I've tried? Do you think I want this?" He wasn't shouting. He didn't have to. His voice echoed in the Force with a passionate outcry that would have deafened Ferus if he hadn't been shielded. He felt a rush of concern for Barriss.

There was silence and then she said in a hushed voice, "You can't do it alone, Anakin."

"What if I can't do it at all?"

She sighed deeply. It was a sigh that meant hesitation, yet courage, a firm decision, an offering of friendship, of devotion. There was the sound of movement. She was walking towards Skywalker, probably putting her hand on his shoulder right about now.

"I don't know, Anakin," she answered finally. "But I think that if you don't try, it just might kill you."

Skywalker snorted. "And that's a bad thing, why?"

"Anakin!"

Ferus had heard enough. He slinked away from the door and returned the way he came. He lay on his cot and stared unseeingly at the trusses on the ceiling.

Skywalker. It had always been about Skywalker. Ferus was a fool to not have noticed it before now. But he had been – no, not too blind – he wouldn't hide from the truth, unlike some other people. He had been too hopeful to see.

Barriss was capable of those feelings. She just didn't feel them for Ferus.

Dané was only supposed to escort Senator Organa to his quarters and pass on the Senator's excuses to Queen Jamilla's handmaidens. The combined errand should have taken the younger handmaiden mere minutes. But after over half an hour of waiting for her counterpart, Dormé threw in the towel and started putting on Senator Amidala's elaborate costume herself. An early fitting wasn't absolutely necessary but the Ceremony was a high profile one and the Senator could not afford for the façade to be anything less than flawless.

It was a heavy affair with layers of skirts, frills and veils and it was certainly not meant to be put on by the wearer. Still, Dormé had had long years of experience dressing others so the job was merely difficult, not impossible.

Standing in a rectangle of mirrors helped. She was almost through with the bodice, and was watching her hands lace up the complicated ribbons at her back when she realized in the nick of time that when she finished knotting, her hands would be trapped in the gown. She took in a deep, long, much-needed breath, then started unknotting the laces. As she started again from the beginning, she tried to make up her mind whom to curse right now – Dané or Padmé.

It was easy to forgive Dané. She was new to all this. The Ceremony had fascinated her and despite all discretion, Dormé had caught the younger girl literally bouncing with excitement over all the changes made in the Palace to host the occasion. She was practically blameless.

As for Padmé…

No, not Padmé, Dormé mentally corrected herself. Senator Amidala. Padmé had been Dormé's friend. The Senator was a – well, Dormé was too refined to say even in her mind what she thought the Senator was. Nevertheless, she had come close enough to it a few days back while she, Dané and Captain Typho waited in the ship that orbited the moon. That was the moment when they had realized that Padmé sneaked off to the bacteria-infected moon. The Senator's three bodyguards had had a council of war immediately.

"Can we go after her?" Dané had asked reasonably.

"How dare she?" Dormé had exclaimed.

Captain Typho had sighed with the air of a man used to dealing with strong and difficult women. "There's an embargo against landing on the moon. We could defy it but if we do and the Queen finds out, Senator Amidala will be in serious trouble. The best we can do is hope for her to return to us safely and discreetly. Dormé, calm yourself."

"Calm myself?" Dormé all but snarled.

Remembering now, Dormé did snarl as she re-did the complicated laces.

Dané had laid a comforting hand on Dormé's arm and the other shied away at once. "I can take the aloofness, the rudeness, the oh-I-am-suffering-and-everyone-else-should-too attitude from her. But I can't take this. What's the good of anything if she doesn't let me protect her? What's the point if I can't do my job?"

The shock on Dané's and Typho's faces would have almost been comical in their resemblance. Dormé had stormed out of the meeting then. If she had stayed any longer, their shock would have turned to horror. Amidala's most senior handmaiden had burst into tears almost before she entered her chambers.

Dormé did up the bodice again and started putting on the balloon skirts.

The Jedi had saved Amidala in the end. Not just any Jedi – Anakin Skywalker. That probably explained why the Senator would not be attending the Ceremony.

Dormé thought about what she felt about that and decided she did not care. She had had a little petty satisfaction from knowing that Queen Jamilla still discovered Amidala's presence on the moon and had given the Senator a talking to on her return – but it was a satisfaction that shamed Dormé.

She didn't want to feel like this; she didn't want to be angry and resentful and disloyal towards her mistress. But there was only so much a person could take.

She yanked on the gloves viciously.

"Careful," said a soft voice behind her and a hand grabbed her arm. "You shouldn't be doing that alone."

Dormé gave the mirror an irritated glance. "Well, it's about time you showed-" she began and then stopped.

Padmé carefully slipped a glove onto her handmaiden's arm; her quick fingers started fixing up the buttons.

Dormé just stared at her mistress' bowed head in shock.

Padmé did both sleeves while Dormé stood like a frozen marionette. "Is that everything?"

Dormé cleared her throat, regaining her poise. "There's the veil. I can manage that-"

"It's not like I never did up a veil before," Padmé said softly, firmly pushing Dormé into the chair. Dormé looked up at her mistress' face, grave and concentrated as Padmé worked Dormé's long hair into the elaborate coiffure that would support the headpiece. "We used to do this for each other long before Dané joined us, remember?"

"It wasn't for very long," Dormé retorted. "Just a few weeks. Before then, Cordé and Verse were there to help."

Padmé's hands stilled in Dormé's hair for a moment, and Dormé waited almost eagerly for the sharp, caustic remark. The moment passed and Padmé pinned up the hair. She lifted the veil and placed it on her handmaiden's head, carefully folding it back away from her face.

When in public, it would fall down, adding an air of mystery to the 'Senator' and preventing those that knew her too well from recognizing the decoy.

"There," Padmé said softly. "Perfect."

Dormé looked at their faces in the mirror. They shared similar features. Complete strangers would take them as sisters.

Once they had been as close as sisters. What had happened between them? How had so much changed in such little time?

"What will you do, my lady, while the Ceremony takes place?" She asked impulsively.

"Visit my family. Captain Typho will escort me. It's all being arranged."

Dormé's face fell. "You didn't inform me , my lady."

Something that seemed contriteness seemed to flit across Padmé's features. It was hard to tell. It had been so long since Dormé had seen it there. "You were busy enough with being decoy. He would have informed you later."

"Like on Ohma D'un?" Dormé said sharply. Padmé flinched and Dormé felt emboldened. "What exactly do I do for you, my lady?"

Padmé gasped. Then she grabbed Dormé on the shoulders, spun the handmaiden around on her stool so that they were glaring into each other's faces.

"How can you say that? You are my friend, my bodyguard, my protection, my advisor-"

"Friend? Advisor ?" Dormé snorted. She felt relieved, speaking her mind to her mistress like this. It had been too long. "When was the last time you sought my advice? Reacted to my opinion with anything more than contempt."

Padmé's eyes were flashing. Dormé's matched them, glare for glare. It suddenly occurred to her that there was little Padmé could do that would hurt her, Dormé, more than Padmé already had. It was a very liberating feeling.

It was Padmé that broke the stare first. "Dormé-" She stopped. Her mouth opened and moved, although nothing came out. Then she started again, "Dormé. I am sorry."

If the words hadn't floored the handmaiden completely, the contriteness in Padmé's eyes when she turned back to Dormé would have.

"I do value you. My unforgivable behaviour – it's just that. Unforgivable. I pray you find it in your heart to look past that."

Dormé was silent. She wasn't ready to forgive. Padmé had hurt her. What was friendship without respect? She hadn't received any from Padmé in a long time.

With a sigh, Padmé let go of Dormé's shoulders and turned to go.

"If you do value my opinion, then go to this Ceremony instead of me."

Padmé froze at the door.

"I can't."

It was torn out from her.

Dormé heard her leave, without looking up. She was fighting back her own tears.