Padme grinned as Artoo scooted back through the crowd toward her and the now sleeping Anakin. The droid had now been a faithful companion for ten years-- as faithful as any of her handmaidens and as valiant a protector in its own way as Obi Wan or Qui-Gon had been. It had been Artoo who managed to raise the shields, allowing the ship carrying her and the Jedi to escape the Trade Federation blockade. It had also been the droid who was responsible--indirectly--for her introduction to Obi Wan.

Her smile softened at that thought, at the weight of the comlink hidden her pocket. Remember Tatooine, he had told her. Once she would have taken it for simple reassurance, a promise that he would do all he could to help her, just as he had on the desert world so long ago. Now though, it seemed laden with hidden meaning--things he couldn't say, that she wasn't sure she wanted him to say but wasn't sure she didn't. The friendship he had extended to her had been exactly what she needed, and she had always believed that the same was true for him, especially later, when his Master died defending all of them from a Sith Lord. It still seemed strange to think that he had been in love with her even then, that his warmth and support had been motivated by more than innocent, platonic enjoyment of their conversations. He had never given a hint that he cared so deeply, that even part of him wanted a romantic relationship. Suddenly everything that had happened to them, every touch, every conversation, took on a whole new light. She tried again to tell herself that she didn't want it, didn't want him. Her work was too important, and he was a Jedi Knight--a Jedi Master. Yet she had to force herself to breathe when she thought of their eyes meeting today, of his gentleness as he folded her fingers around the comlink and the way her own hand still tingled at the memory of their skin touching.

"No, no!" cried Anakin beside her, shaking her from her thoughts. "Mom, no!"

She hurriedly turned, frowning in concern as she saw the young Jedi sweating and thrashing about.

"Anakin?" she shook him a bit, trying to rouse him from the nightmare.

"No, Mom!" he cried, pulling away from her, his feet now kicking out as well, as if he were running from something.

"Anakin!" she tried again, giving him a harder shake.

"What?" he looked around in confusion, then stared up at her.

"You seemed to be having a nightmare," she told him quietly.

He continued to stare, and she felt her throat tighten inexplicably as her own recent dream came back to her. Forcing the images from her mind, she turned to Artoo and took a bowl of mush and some bread. "Are you hungry?"

"Yeah," he nodded, sitting up and running a hand through his unkempt hair. "Thanks.

"We went into hyperspace a while ago," she explained.

"How long was I asleep?" he asked worriedly.

"You had a good nap," she smiled, trying to keep the conversation light.

He gave her a long look, his expression shifting and becoming suggestive again in a way that made her want to shrink away. "I look forward to seeing Naboo again. "I've thought about it every day since I left. It's by far the most beautiful place I've ever seen."

She tore her eyes away, trying to calm her racing heart. It's Ani. Just Ani. He'd never hurt anyone. It was a dream, that's all, she told herself. Even as she thought the words, though, she couldn't shake the ominous sense that it had been more. His gaze was penetrating and full of a passion she knew well that a Jedi should never feel.

Any Jedi. Even Obi Wan. Padme drew in a ragged breath, her hand slipping unconsciously into her pocket to feel the comforting weight of the comlink there. "It may not be as you remember it. Time changes perception," she said to Anakin, trying to force her thoughts away from his Master.

"Sometimes it does," he agreed, and she looked toward him again and realized that he was still staring. "Sometimes for the better."

"It must be difficult having sworn your life to the Jedi," she said rather pointedly. "Not being able to visit the places you like. Or do the things you like."

"Or be with the people I love?" he continued the line of conversation unabashedly, challenging her to redirect him now.

Padme, however, knew more than one way to get her point across. "Are you allowed to love? I thought it was forbidden for a Jedi." As she spoke the words, she felt her heart constrict and her fingers tightened automatically on the comlink in her pocket as her thoughts returned to the Jedi who had given it to her, whose heart she feared for even more than Anakin's.

"Attachment is forbidden," Anakin said, reciting a well learned lesson. "Possession is forbidden. Compassion, which I would define as unconditional love, is central to a Jedi's life, so you might say we're encouraged to love."

Padme regarded him solemnly. "You have changed so much," she remarked, wondering a bit sadly how the innocent boy she knew had grown into this unnervingly stubborn and determined young man. He couldn't be serious. He had to know better than to think the teachings of the Jedi could be twisted to mean what he wanted them to in this instance. His tone was light, which indicated that, on some level, he was playing with words for the sake of debate--but beneath that she still knew that he wanted more. He wanted her.

-----

"I'm not afraid to die. I've been dying a little bit each day since you came back into my life," Padme said somewhere close by. He couldn't see her, only hear the words. He frowned in confusion.

"What are you talking about?" the voice wasn't his. Familiar, but distorted by the swirling haze of color and shadow around him.

"I love you…I can't control it... and now I don't care. I truly, deeply love you..." Words he felt he'd waited half his life to hear. Obi Wan raised a hand to shield his eyes, pushing his way forward through the riotous rainbow that blinded him, fighting to reach her before she made what he knew in his deepest soul would be a mistake that destroyed her.

Finally, he reached them. The strange landscape through which he'd come melted and coalesced into a place he recognized as being in the Naboo Lake Country, though how he knew that he wasn't sure. Padme and Anakin stood with their backs to him, she in a shimmering white gown.

"Anakin!" he warned sharply. "You will be expelled from the Jedi Order!"

Obi Wan jerked awake, barking his knee on the table at which he'd been sitting. He grit his teeth and hissed in pain, looking around in confusion. It was several moments before he really registered where he was--the Archives. He'd dozed off in the Archives, he told himself, shaking his head to clear it of the dream images.

Padme's voice still lingered in his ears, tearful and apologetic. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to deceive you…

The Master closed his eyes, opening himself further to the cleansing flow of the Force. Not every dream is a vision, he reminded himself, emptying his mind of agitation and worry. Padme was on Naboo. He would not serve her by allowing himself to be distracted with needless anxieties. He held himself still, allowing his mind to slip into a light trance, and remained there until he felt peace and balance return to him.

As he opened his eyes again, he felt his gaze suddenly pulled toward the bust of Count Dooku. Frowning, he rose and walked over to it. He had learned long ago to trust the leading of the Force--not to question but simply to wait and observe, watching patiently for the reason behind that leading to make itself apparent. That had been how he'd found himself watching Padme, in her guise as a handmaiden, clean Artoo Detoo ten years ago. Logic would have dictated that he return immediately to his Master. Despite the complexity their relationship had added to his life, he had never regretted following his instinct. Of course, he thought with an ironic smile, he had never hoped she would return his feelings, either.

Then he sighed, realizing where his thoughts had drifted again. What was it he had told Anakin? Be mindful of your thoughts. They betray you. Perhaps he would do better to take his own advice. Why was he having so much difficulty focusing now? It wasn't as if his feelings for Padme were any different now than they had been for the last ten years. Was it only because it seemed that hers had begun to change? Why did that matter? It did nothing to alter the reality of their lives. He was a Jedi. She was a member of the Galactic Senate.

Choose, you must, Yoda had said. He had mulled the statement over for some time, but he still felt no closer to any decision. The Jedi Order was his family; he believed deeply in its commitment to serving peace and justice--to serving the will of the Force. Qui-Gon Jinn had taught him that commitment, and even if they had sometimes disagreed as to how it should be carried out, Obi Wan had respected his Master. He had come to see that, at times it could be necessary to take a stand that would put him at odds with his fellow Jedi--even with the Council itself. That principle was an important one, one that it had taken Qui-Gon's death to make Obi Wan truly come to understand. It was an axiom that his teacher had learned from the man whose image Obi Wan was studying now.

By all accounts, Dooku had been a man of deep convictions. He had championed his causes with an intensity perhaps even surpassing Qui-Gon's. Obi Wan found this admirable, but he also recognized that the Count had allowed his political views to become more important to him than the commitment he had made to the Jedi Order. Even Qui-Gon had understood that change could not be affected by severing relationships.

"He has a powerful face, doesn't he?" asked a quiet voice behind him.

Obi Wan turned to see Madame Jocasta Nu, the Jedi Archivist, and nodded in agreement. "I never understood why he quit. Only twenty have ever left the Order," he remarked.

"The Lost Twenty," the Archivist sighed deeply. "And Count Dooku was the most recent and the most painful. No one likes to talk about it. His leaving was a great loss to the Order."

"What happened?" asked Obi Wan curiously.

"Well, one might say he was a bit out of step with the decisions of the Council. Much like your old Master, Qui-Gon," she replied with a touch of affection.

"Really?" Obi Wan knew that much, but he hoped there was more the Archivist could tell him.

"Oh, yes, they were alike in many ways. Very individual thinkers. Idealists. He was always striving to become a more powerful Jedi. He wanted to be the best. With a lightsaber, in the old style of fencing, he had no match. His knowledge of the Force was... unique. In the end, I think he left because he lost faith in the Republic. He believed that politics were corrupt..."

She paused there, turning away from the bust to give Obi Wan a look that seemed to say that Dooku might not be quite so incorrect. He accepted it silently, waiting calmly for her to continue.

"And he felt that the Jedi betrayed themselves by serving the politicians," she said finally. "He always had very high expectations of government. He disappeared for nine or ten years, then just showed up recently as the head of the Separatist movement."

Obi Wan considered as he turned back to the bust. He knew that other Jedi had felt as Dooku apparently did. Qui-Gon had been one of them, and there were times when Obi Wan himself shared that opinion. Yet was it reason enough to break ties with the Order? Were his feelings for Padme? Yet, what other choice did he have?

"I'm still not sure I understand," he said thoughtfully.

"None of us do," agreed Jocasta Nu. Then she gave the younger Jedi a warm look, and he thought again that this woman understood many things she didn't say. "Was there something else on your mind, Master Kenobi? I'm sure you haven't broken off your investigation to come and talk to me about Count Dooku. What's brought you to the Archives?"

Obi Wan took the hint. "I'm trying to find a planet system called Kamino. It doesn't seem to show up on any of the archive charts."

"Kamino? It's not a system I'm familiar with. Let me see," she instructed. Obi Wan led her back to the terminal where he'd been working, and she bent over it to enter a few commands with quick and practiced hands. "Are you sure you have the right coordinates?"

"According to my information, it should be in this quadrant somewhere," said Obi-Wan "Just south of the Rishi Maze."

"But what are the exact coordinates?" she persisted after another series of commands that produced no result.

"I only know the quadrant," Obi-Wan admitted.

"No coordinates? It sounds like the sort of directions you'd get from a street tout--some old miner or furbog trader," she remarked distastefully, straightening to look at him.

"All three, actually," grinned the Master..

"Are you sure it exists?"

"Absolutely."

After running a gravitational scan, though, the Archivist could still find no trace of the system. She came to the conclusion that Obi Wan's information had been faulty, and he knew better than to argue the point. The Archives were her territory. He would have to find another avenue to those after Padme, and he would have to do so quickly. In the end, he decided that he would require another's advice and downloaded what information he had into a hologlobe. Before he left the Archives, though, he gave a last, long, thoughtful look at Count Dooku.

There is no try, Obi Wan. Only do. Or do not. Choose, you must.