CHAPTER 13

Ten weeks later:

Obi-Wan stepped off the transport, shaking the hand of Commander Cody, one of the higher-ranked clone troopers. "Thank you for everything," he said.

"You're welcome, sir," Cody responded. Then he smiled. "Don't look now, sir, but a beyond beautiful woman is staring at us."

Obi-Wan chuckled. Clones they might be, but Cody certainly had his own personality. Perhaps because he was one of the first and the cloning process hadn't quite been refined. He was an excellent soldier, with Fett's sharp reflexes and instincts but with a discipline lacking in the now deceased bounty hunter. "She's looking at me," he replied crushingly. "That's Padmé," he added. "Would you like to meet her?"

Cody – although exhausted from the weeks of terrifying battle punctuated by moments of excruciating boredom – snapped into military readiness. "Yes, sir," he nearly barked.

Obi-Wan signed. "Relax, soldier; before you sprain your spine," he said. "You're not on duty now."

"Yes, sir," Cody replied, relaxing only marginally.

Padmé came over to them and chuckled. "Obi … have you been a beast to this poor man?" she asked, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing tightly.

Obi-Wan grimaced at her. "I'm a very fair and caring commanding officer," he told her loftily. "Commander …?"

"Very fair and caring," Cody intoned dutifully, his brown eyes dancing beneath his mop of dark hair.

Obi-Wan turned the grimace on his second in command. "Oh, be gone," he said. "I'm sure Rana will be glad to see you again."

Cody smiled at that – he'd met the young woman a month earlier and seemed quite smitten with her. So much for clones having no personality … "Thank you, sir," he said. "I'll pass on your regards," he added. Then he nodded to Padmé. "Senator," he offered politely and then was gone.

"A man of few words," Padmé opined, her arms still around Obi-Wan's waist.

"Indeed, but he's a good man and a good officer," Obi-Wan replied. He cupped her beautiful face with his hands and brought her lips up to meet his in a sweet kiss. "I've missed you," he said.

"Me too," Padmé replied softly. She leaned backward in his embrace and examined him. "You look exhausted," she added. "How bad was it?"

"Bad," Obi-Wan confirmed. They weren't even three months into this war, and the loss of life was already staggering. So many had died – so many at his hands. He knew that the cause was just, but every time he closed his eyes he could hear their screams as they died. Each and every one of them.

"Well, we have a couple of days before you have to report back to the Council and the Chancellor," Padmé said. "Let's go back to my place and you can unwind properly there." She smiled up at him. "I've been learning a wonderful massage that should unknot those muscles of yours."

She squeezed where his neck and shoulder joined and Obi-Wan flinched, taken by surprise. He heaved a sigh, already feeling peace come over him in the presence of the woman he loved. "That sounds good," he said.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Several hours later:

Feeling much better for the time spent with Padmé – and that massage had been very good too – Obi-Wan left 500 Republica and headed into town. A cup of Kila's delicious caf and one of Dex's monstrous bantha burgers were calling out to him and he hailed a passing swoop transport.

"Coco Town," he said as he boarded.

"Not goin' there," the pilot grumbled. "Get the next one – due in ten minutes."

"Let 'im on, for kriff's sake!" one of the passengers squeaked. "He's got a lightsaber, poodoo-brain!"

Obi-Wan saw no need to intimidate the pilot, who was merely doing her job. "Ten minutes?" he said. "I'll wait then. Thank you." And he got off the transport and stepped backward into someone. "Oh, Force, I'm sorry!" He turned and met the striking violet eyes and mass of curly hair of Dex's waitress, Kila.

"Well, we meet again, Master Kenobi," the younger woman said, sounding amused. "How have you been?"

"Are you all right?" Obi-Wan asked, sidestepping her question. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Kila snorted. "Please," she said. "I'm hardly a delicate little flower – you probably got the worst of the impact."

Obi-Wan looked at her. She was plump and pretty, with her fair skin, round hips and full breasts. She probably was carrying excess weight, but was hardly as enormous as she seemed to think. He thought it best however to change the subject – a discussion of body perception did not appeal to him. "I'm just heading to Dex's – I was wanting a cup of your caf."

"Sorry," Kila replied, hugging her basket to her. "I'm off for the next two days – Dex booted me out and told me to go and enjoy myself." She smiled fondly. "He's such a big softy."

Big softy. Not a description Obi-Wan would ever have thought would describe Dexter Jettster. "Oh," he said. "Well, I don't want to intrude on your time off," he added.

"You're not intruding," Kila said. "Come back to the diner with me and I'll make you some caf – it looks like you need it."

Obi-Wan pushed his hand through his hair, wondering how Padmé would feel about him spending time with an attractive woman. He wasn't attracted in the least to Kila and he knew that Padmé trusted him, but still …

Kila went red. "I'm not trying to flirt with you," she said. "It just looks like you need someone to talk to – someone not affected by this war you're fighting – and I've always been a good listener."

Obi-Wan felt instantly remorseful when he saw Kila's scarlet cheeks and wide strained eyes. Something in her past had made her afraid of men, yet she was making an effort to reach out to him. "In that case, I accept – thank you," he said. "There should be a swoop due in a few minutes."

The blush cleared from Kila's face and she smiled. "Not so fast, Jedi – you have to earn your caf!" She handed him the large basket she'd been carrying. "Time for you to play eeopie."

"I'm at your command, milady," he said, taking the empty basket and wondering just what an eeopie was – presumably some kind of beast of burden.

"Obnoxious male," Kila said to the air with a roll of her eyes.

And Obi-Wan smiled. "Thank you."

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Several hours later:

"Hey, Obi-Wan; welcome back!" Dex yelled above the chatter of the waitresses and the diner's patrons. "You on leave?" he added, approaching them and patting Kila's shoulder in a fatherly fashion.

"Yes; but only for a couple of weeks," Obi-Wan replied, aware of the patron's stares of curiosity at him and Kila … and her fierce blush. "I met Kila in town and she gave in to my pleas for her caf."

The giant spacer laughed. "Good on ya, Sweetness – you got another one hooked!" Then he scowled. "I thought I told ya to get outta here for the day, though?"

The young woman shrugged, her blush lightening only slightly. "I did everything I needed to do and it's a bit hard to get away from here when I only live a couple of floors above."

"Uh," Dex grunted. "Okay; you can stay, but you're gonna sit in that booth and let someone wait on you for a change."

Kila smiled – a dazzling smile that crinkled her eyes and dimpled her cheeks. "If you think I'm going to say no to that, you're dafter than I already thought," she declared. Then she squealed when Dex's hand impacted sharply on her rear end. "Horrible creature," she grumbled, sitting down hurriedly in a booth. "I'd sit down if I were you, Master Kenobi," she advised. "Dex is kriffing quick with those big slabs of nerf steak he calls hands."

Obi-Wan chuckled and agreed, heaving seen the Besalisk's fists in actions more than once, and then took his own seat opposite Kila. For someone so shy and timid, she certainly had no problems standing up to the oft-fearsome Dex. She'd evidently touched a kernel of tenderness inside of him that no-one had ever been known to reach.

"Dex; do you still have some of the caf I made up this morning?" the young woman asked, pushing one of her curls behind her ear. Then she fiddled with her neckline in a gesture that Obi-Wan would soon come to associate with nervousness or shyness.

"For you, Sweetness; yeah," the big Besalisk said then put a meaty hand on Kila's shoulder as she got up, pushing her back down onto the seat. "It's your day off, woman. You ain't waitin' on no-one – and especially not some male."

"Some male?" Kila echoed. "This is a Jedi, don't you know?" she teased, effecting a snooty accent and putting her nose up in the air.

"Oh, please; no special treatment for me," Obi-Wan chimed in. "I prefer to mix with the ordinary folk." He drooped his eyelid in a lazy wink at Dex.

Kila sighed and then giggled – a delightfully free sound from the timid woman. "I'd never realized Jedi Masters were brats," she commented.

"Padmé called me a brat, too," Obi-Wan told her with a small grin. "And I'd just found my first gray hair that morning."

"Is that your wife?" Kila asked interestedly.

"No," Obi-Wan replied.

"But you'd like her to be."

Force; the woman was blunt. But she was right, Obi-Wan admitted to himself. However, it was far too soon in their fledgling relationship for talk of bonding. Padmé simply wasn't ready for marriage, and he had no intention of pushing her.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Padmé exited the Senatorial sessions, disgusted with the shouting matches that had become the norm for a Senate session these days. Although she had no Separatist leanings herself, she was beginning to understand the frustration that the genuine Separatists felt.

She rubbed at her temples with her fingertips and debated the merits of a glass of moonwine. But she had no-one with whom to share it. Melarina was currently on Bespin being 'entertained' by Kayden Calrissian, and Padmé really didn't have any close female friends on Coruscant.

Good grief; this is pathetic, she mused silently as she made her way down the corridors, the shouts of her fellow Senators echoing in her wake. After several minutes she stepped into a lift – ah, sweet silence – and she rode swiftly down to the street level. She smiled at Dormé, who was waiting with her swoop, and got in. "Don't ask," she grumbled.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Dormé replied with a small grin. Padmé's attendants had all been chosen because of their small build and at least superficial resemblance to Padmé. Dormé also seemed to have Padmé's ready wit and Padmé would have liked to have her as a friend. However, Dormé was very conscious of their differences in station, and was a firm believer in keeping the 'proper' distance between them. She started the engine and lifted off smoothly. "Back to 500 Republica, milady?"

"Yes, please," Padmé said with a sigh, wishing she was back on Naboo. Even with the ongoing threat of the assassin, she'd enjoyed much of that time, strengthening her friendship with Obi-Wan and letting the love develop. Even though she hadn't realized that at the time.

Getting out of the swoop mere minutes later, she shook her head at how obtuse she had been – it had been so obvious to everyone else. Mali and Rélan had seen it, so had Sola, her mother and father, and Melarina. Even Master Jinn had simply smiled knowingly when she and Obi-Wan had told him six weeks ago that they had decided to pursue a relationship.

Speaking of whom … "Good afternoon, Master Jinn," she said to the big Jedi as he walked out of a nearby diner.

"Good afternoon, Senator," he replied politely. He also looked tired, and Padmé wondered if he'd seen direct combat too. It wasn't common for members of the Council to serve on the frontlines but, then again, Qui-Gon Jinn wasn't your typical Jedi. If there even was such a thing as a 'typical Jedi'. "I hope everything is all right."

Padmé frowned. "The Senate session was a … lively one today," she said.

A rarely seen imp of mischief made its way into the older man's eyes. "Is that Senatorial language for 'loud and chaotic'?"

Padmé laughed. "Impudent creature," she chastised mildly. "You're right, though." She sighed heavily. "Oh well, I'll keep battling on – I want my voice to be heard."

"Well, good," Qui-Gon said. "In these dark times, we need all the good people we can get," he added. He bowed slightly to her. "Anyway; I won't keep you any further. I've invited Obi-Wan to dinner tonight, though – would you like to join us?"

Padmé wondered if there would be a fourth – Obi-Wan had filled her in on his former Master's success with the female populace. He had never been short of company should he want it. "That sounds good," she said, realizing that she'd like to get to know the big enigmatic Knight a little better. He was Obi-Wan's friend and the closest thing he would ever have to a father since his own father was no longer alive. "Can I bring anything?"

The mischievous grin deepened. "Store bought?" he asked.

Beast. "Has Obi-Wan been telling tales?" she complained, resisting the urge to stick her tongue out at him. She was a Senator and he a Jedi Master – face-pulling seemed rather undignified behavior around a man of his years and stature.

And now Qui-Gon wore an innocent boyish look that a 70-year-old male really shouldn't have been able to manage. "Of course not!" he denied lightly then smiled. "I shouldn't tease you – I'm sorry," he added.

"No; you're not," Padmé said. "But I'll bring along something store bought for tonight – although whether you deserve anything after that crack remains to be seen."

Qui-Gon laughed and Padmé gave in and returned the laugh. She'd never heard him laugh before but she liked it. "Well, if I carry out the proper penitence, can I be assured of something spicy?"

"Hmmm." Padmé put her finger to her lips as if debating as Obi-Wan came over to them. "Obi?"

"Master; are you tormenting the woman I love?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Well, in your absence, who else can I torment?" Qui-Gon offered with another smile. He nodded at a passing Jedi. "Master Reeol; may I have a word?"

The white-crowned human nodded his head. "Of course, Qui-Gon," he said. "Walk with me."

Qui-Gon dipped his head to Padmé. "Seven o'clock tonight? See you then."

And he made good his escape. He had always been a survivor, Padmé knew, knowing when to attack and when to retreat. "Horrible male," she muttered then wrapped her arms round Obi-Wan's waist and kissed him soundly, tasting caf and something sweet. The man truly was a bottomless pit – they'd only eaten that morning. And not a light meal, either. "Now what have you been eating?" she exclaimed, partly in despair and partly in amusement. It was a wonder he wasn't the size of a bantha.

"Mandalorian Sweetcake," Obi-Wan replied with a small grin. "I headed over to Dex's for a bantha burger but was persuaded to have some Sweetcake as well."

"Oh yes; I'm sure you took a lot of persuasion." Padmé rolled her eyes. "Was the lovely Kila dancing attendance on you today, your Jedi Knightness?" she teased.

Only the fact that they were still outside saved her from punishment – she merely received a dry stare in return. "Brat," he replied. "You know I'm not interested in Kila that way, but I think she could become a good friend."

"Well, that's good," Padmé said. "It'll do you good to have friends other than 'tiny little smart-mouthed Senators' and horrible Jedi Masters."

Obi-Wan smiled at that and slipped his arm around her shoulders as they headed into the massive residence of 500 Republica. "Have you heard from Melarina?"

"She got to Bespin with no problem," Padmé replied. "Javen's having the time of his life with Lando and the other children, and Melarina's having the time of her life with Kayden." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

And Obi-Wan went properly pink. "Evil little woman," he pronounced.

"Thank you," Padmé replied, putting her arm about his waist and pinching his side, causing him to start. After the horrible afternoon she'd spent in the Senate, this teasing and laughter were just what she needed.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

That evening:

Qui-Gon looked up from his food preparations with a mild despair when the doorbell chimed. He was quite a good cook in many respects, but pastries and sweets had always been beyond him. Yet another batch of Sweetcake had gone straight into the trash compactor, and he gave up. Obi-Wan would have to find some other way of indulging his notorious sweet tooth.

He turned the soup onto simmer and made his way to the door, flinging it open. "Come in, Obi-Wan, Senator," he said.

"Padmé, please," the young Nubian woman said. "After the way you were teasing me this afternoon, I think you can call me by my name, Master Jinn."

"In that case, I'm Qui-Gon," Qui-Gon replied, a little uncertain how to act around a woman he was entertaining but not pursuing. It had been a long time since he'd sought such a friendship with a female. His relationships had either been formal – such as his relationship with Adi Gallia – or purely sexual. Yet he wanted to know better the woman that had won his former Padawan's heart.

"What burned?" Obi-Wan asked, sniffing the air curiously – the scrubbers were only just catching up to the fact that several pans of cake had been burned in the last two hours.

"Dessert," Qui-Gon admitted reluctantly, well aware of the justice of that after his teasing of Padmé earlier.

He was therefore completely unsurprised when the young woman began laughing helplessly, handing over a bottle of something called kula berry juice. "Serves you right," she taunted.

"I'm sorry; I don't indulge in alcohol," Qui-Gon said.

"It's non-alcoholic, M … Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan told him. "I drank a lot of it while I was on Naboo and you know I rarely drink alcohol. It's perfectly fine."

"Fine?" Padmé banged him in the side with her elbow, causing him to yelp. "Damned with faint praise, Kenobi. Kula berry juice is one of the best drinks in the Republic. And it comes from one of the best planets in the Republic."

Obi-Wan pulled a face at her. "And you're not in the least bit biased."

Padmé returned the face. "Of course not," she denied loftily then turned to Qui-Gon and mouthed 'Yes I am', causing him to chuckle as he examined the bottle of juice.

"Shall I open it now?" he asked, intrigued by the layers of purple and red of the juice – almost like the geology charts he'd been forced to study as a youngling.

"Let it chill for around half an hour," Padmé advised. "It's better that way."

Obi-Wan took the bottle from Qui-Gon's hands and replaced it with a box filled with various sweet trifles. "I asked a friend of mine to make some sweets to bring for tonight."

"You cajoled," Padmé added.

"And she was very amenable after I explained that you didn't have much of a sweet tooth and so probably wouldn't have anything," Obi-Wan continued.

"After he begged and pleaded and made big eyes," Padmé put in.

"Pipe down over there," Obi-Wan commanded over Qui-Gon's snort of laughter. He never would have thought that the pair would be so entertaining. Obi-Wan had always been serious beyond his years, but it seemed that Padmé was bringing him out of his shell; helping him to discover his sense of fun.

Padmé rolled her eyes. "He wheedled," she said to the air. "It seems he's charmed some poor unsuspecting waitress at Dex's into cooking for him and making him caf."

"I was not talking to you, your Senatorial Shortness," Obi-Wan proclaimed, effecting a haughty sneer.

"Oh … well, pardon me, your Jedi Knightness. May this humble peon speak?" Padmé laughed, rolling her eyes again.

"No."

"Am I going to have to send you two to bed without supper?" Qui-Gon asked, and then regretted it when Padmé blew a kiss at Obi-Wan before waggling her eyebrows at Qui-Gon. He blushed, realizing how his perfectly innocent comment had been skewed, but turned to the stove and busied himself with the soup to hide his reaction. "Enough," he exclaimed. "I'd like to declare a moratorium on your argument – if it's even worthy of the word 'argument'. Let's change the subject."

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"Agreed," Obi-Wan said. "The cooling unit is to your left, Padmé," he added.

"Thank you," Padmé replied sweetly and overly politely, heading for the cooling unit to deposit the bottle of juice. Then she went over to the stove and got up on tiptoes, trying to see over Qui-Gon's shoulder. "It smells good," she offered by way of an apology for her laughing at his dessert failure.

Qui-Gon turned and she scuttled backward slightly. He was so … big that he just filled the small room. "Thank you," he said with a warm smile. "It's Chandril winter broth – I have some bread rolls keeping warm in the oven."

"Sounds good too," Padmé replied, her nose twitching as the rich smells made themselves known to her. And it was perfect for the cold spell that had crept in. Coruscant was climate controlled, so the cold spell wasn't unexpected, but Padmé had never enjoyed cold gray days like this one.

Qui-Gon handed her a small spoon. "Would you like to try some?"

"Mmm, yes, please," Padmé said. She was beginning to really like the older Jedi – not simply as Obi-Wan's mentor but as someone that could be a friend to her. She scooped up a spoonful of the broth, blew on it and then took a cautious sip. "Oh, very good," she opined, quickly taking another spoonful before Qui-Gon could stop her.

"Where are your manners, Miss Naberrie?" Obi-Wan chided, sounding shocked but his eyes were twinkling. "You can't be that hungry, surely?"

"Oh, so says the bottomless pit of Coruscant!" Padmé responded indignantly then gave in with a giggle when Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon began to laugh.

"Give it up, my friend," Qui-Gon advised, clapping Obi-Wan's shoulder. "The Senator knows you far too well by now."