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Chapter Twenty-One

"And the Winner Is…"

There was a particular time each day when time seemed to slow to a crawl. It was the point between mid meal and dinner that the company of friends often found themselves in search of meaningful conversation or something interesting to do.

So far, the task of finding suitable entertainment had fallen upon Dormé. Previously, she had forced everyone to watch each excessively sentimental holovid she owned. Even though Padmé was usually a fan of romantic dramas, she'd had her fill.

Even sabacc had become tedious.

Already this afternoon, numerous comedic tales had been exchanged, as well as stories of intrigue and danger uncovered in a variety of missions across the galaxy. Padmé almost envied the Jedi. It seemed they led such thrilling lives, while she spent most of her time in committees. What she did was important, but it wasn't what she would call exciting.

Their newest pastime apparently involved silent staring. That is, until Dormé popped up from her seat at the table and announced they were playing a game.

"Pantomime!" she suggested, volunteering to be the first.

For a few seconds, Padmé wasn't sure it was such a good idea, but then recalled some rather fond memories of playing the game with her family when she was young. She agreed, although somewhat reluctantly.

"What's that?" Anakin asked, which she thought was sad. But then she figured Jedi didn't have many opportunities to participate in parlor games, did they? Not while they were out saving the galaxy, anyway.

"It's easy," Dormé explained. "I'll pick a topic and then act it out without speaking. And you try to guess what it is."

"Sounds simple enough," Obi-Wan replied, which brought a wide grin to her assistant's face and immediate concern to Padmé's.

"Okay, let me think. I've got it," Dormé revealed, bouncing up and down excitedly. "It's an activity. Two words. Ready?"

Both men agreed they were prepared, while Padmé tried to get Dormé's attention, to offer a warning glance, worry settling firmly on her brow. Her assistant, however, refused to make eye contact.

This was not going to end well.

The young woman then proceeded to make a series of movements with her hands, arms, and mouth.

Anakin guessed randomly and repeatedly, while Obi-Wan pondered quietly, his fingers thoughtfully scrubbing his beard. Padmé didn't utter a word or move a muscle.

"You're swimming! No? Something's wrong with your back. Back pain? What is that called, Master? Scoliosis?"

Dormé aimed two fingers at him and frowned.

"Oh yeah," the young man recalled. "Just two words."

Once again Dormé thrashed about in the air, until finally lying down on the floor, her knees bent and drawn.

"I got it!" Anakin shouted. "Giving birth!"

Padmé looked toward the ceiling in exasperation as Dormé jumped up from the floor, making the motion to indicate a wrong answer, but urging him to keep guessing; telling him without words that he was close to being correct. She then began desperate, provocative movements with her hips, which seemed only to confuse everyone but the Senator.

"Game over!" Padmé declared abruptly, before rising and grabbing hold of her assistant's arm. "May I have a word with you?" she seethed between clenched teeth.

"Ow!" The young woman complained as the Senator's grip tightened while they marched down the hall into Dormé's suite.

"Just what was that?" Padmé demanded once they had some privacy.

"Uh, isn't that the point of the game?"

Unbelievable! "Are you trying to intentionally embarrass me?"

Dormé huffed in denial. "Of course not! I was merely trying to offer my assistance, which is my job, by the way. I thought maybe I could shed some light on a subject a particular Jedi we know seems to be having difficulty with..."

"I see," the Senator fumed, her hands firmly on her hips. "No more! Do you hear me? For the last time, leave it alone!"

Padmé retreated back to her company with her aid in hot pursuit.

"Does that mean the game is finished?"

Without answering her, Padmé entered the dining area, where she found Obi-Wan on his feet. He smiled kindly, revealing a good deal of tolerance - something she was certainly lacking these days.

"It was...fun." he lied in good taste. "If you don't mind, I'm feeling rather tired. I think I'll lie down."

"Of course," Padmé told him, offering him an apologetic smile before he turned and entered her suite, the door sliding shut behind him.

"I got it!" Anakin declared. "Dewback riding!"

It was still a few hours before dinner, and Padmé had covered one of her sofas with datapads. There were some committee reports she needed to review, as well as a few documents to sign. Her other sofa directly opposite her was covered with the sprawled bodies, which were doing their best to make up for lost time.

Unable to stomach the sickly-sweet conversation Anakin and Dormé were presently having, Padmé excused herself to go and check on Obi-Wan. She was surprised to find him still sleeping, lying in the middle of her bed. After freshening up a little, Padmé debated her options. Ultimately, she decided a nap didn't sound like such a bad idea, and joined him, careful not to disturb his slumber.

Seemingly successful in her stealth attempts, she lie quietly on her back, her eyes becoming gritty. She was just about to close them, when a hand suddenly reached out across her ribcage and literally drug her over to his side.

Like a tusk-cat soaking up the sun, Obi-Wan curled up against her. She wouldn't have been that surprised if he'd started purring.

And she was now wide awake, wondering if she should wake him as well. She could turn her head just enough to see his face, and noticed he was smiling. Was he dreaming? If so, what was he dreaming about? She studied his face, familiar with the look of deep sleep, though couldn't detect it.

In fact, there was a good chance he was actually awake, which made absolutely no sense. If he was aware of what he was doing, he wouldn't be holding her this way! In fact, each morning when he had awakened in a similar position, he had wasted no time in vacating it; in leaving her arms empty, and her heart wanting.

No. He had to be sleeping.

"Making love," his voice unexpectedly rumbled.

"Pardon?" Padmé could barely find hers.

"That was the pantomime Dormé was acting out, wasn't it?"

A flush radiated to her face. "I thought you weren't playing the game," she pointed out.

"I left because I could tell you were embarrassed. I thought it would be best. I tried to stay awake to see if you would join me for a nap, but I didn't last long."

"I'm sorry," she replied sweetly. "I got busy with work and lost track of time. When I came to check on you, you were asleep, weren't you?"

"I was," Obi-Wan paused, his brows furrowing. "Your presence though…is disturbing."

What did that mean?

"I didn't mean to wake you. I got onto the bed as gently as I could," she explained, only to receive a chuckle and quick embrace in response.

"That's not the type of disturbance I was talking about," he tried to explain.

Padmé drew back, growing more confused. "I've heard Jedi talk about disturbances in the Force. Is that what you mean?"

This time, apparently her naivety earned a caress, which Obi-Wan applied slowly down the side of her face.

"If disturbances in the Force were only as lovely as you."

Hold on.

"What are you trying to say?" Something told Padmé not to let this moment pass by. She may never have another one.

"I'm not sure I'm ready to discuss it."

Oh no, he didn't just say that! She had just about had it and was not going to let him evade this discussion!

"We've just spent the two weeks in each other's arms, you've just complimented me, and now you're going to tell me you don't want to talk about it? That doesn't seem fair."

"You're right," he frowned, rising from the bed, once more escaping the predicament they had created. He didn't leave the room, however, but set up a pattern of pacing across her floor; walking from the foot of her bed, to the corner near the bank of windows and back again.

"I've tried my best," he uttered, seemingly to himself, before spinning to face her. "You have no idea how difficult this has been for me."

"I know," Padmé interrupted. "I can't apologize enough for what Dormé did to you."

"That's not what I'm talking about." Obi-Wan appeared to be struggling, and Padmé wanted to help ease his obvious suffering, but she didn't know what to do!

"Every morning, I wake up to see your beautiful face, to feel your body against mine, and it's not enough! I've thought about it, meditated on it, and thought it would be, but it's not. I want you, Padmé. You have no idea how badly I want you."

She was stunned, frantically searching for the right response. To put into words the tender feelings which had been growing day by day. Somehow, finding the strength to stand, she met him by the bedside, though he purposefully kept her at arm's length.

"Obi-Wan," she spoke reverently, his reaction evident in the way he clenched his jaw. She had to make this clear and let him know how serious she was. Padmé reached out with both hands and cradled his face. Perhaps her touch would ease the tension she saw there, although it seemed to do just the opposite.

"You can have me."

Her words didn't exactly illicit the response she had hoped for. Instead, Obi-Wan began shaking his head.

"Don't say that," he groaned, removing her hands, though not releasing them. "Not unless you mean it. You don't know how deep my feelings go, or what I'm asking of you."

Was he talking about love? She hadn't yet defined her feelings for Obi-Wan using that particular term, but presented it as a possibility, and discovered it suited her just fine. "I think I do," Padmé admitted gaining courage with each passing second, the acknowledgment bringing tears to her eyes. "And I think I love you too."

Some of the tension was eased she noticed, though his brow was still furrowed with concern.

"Are you sure? Do you know what that means? To love a Jedi? Of what that entails? It could mean days, weeks, months apart! I never wanted to put you through that kind of life. I just want you to be happy. You deserve to be happy! You deserve so much more than what I can offer you."

Always thinking of others first!. His self-sacrifice was tearing her apart!

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that?"

Once again, Obi-Wan shook his head in refusal, but Padmé stopped him this time, stepping forward to press herself against him.

"Listen to me," she spoke into his chest. "If you take the possibility of us away from me, if you deny me the amazing life I believe we can share, you will cause me more pain than you could possibly imagine."

At the end of difficult negotiations, sometimes the only resolution was a show of commitment. Oftentimes, all it took was a signature or a handshake. Padmé would seal this particular bargain the best way she knew how. She tiptoed up and kissed him. Hesitantly at first. Just a light brush of her lips against his, to assure him of her devotion.

The unexpected contact, however, seemed to completely undo him, and he grabbed her almost roughly, drawing her fully up against him, growling as he kissed her the way she had secretly fantasized he would. Obi-Wan demanded and Padmé willingly offered, mewing in complete surrender as he ravaged her mouth. She was only vaguely aware of the strong arms which encompassed her, the embrace which kept her from blissfully floating away.

Breathless and weak, though yearning for more, Padmé held tightly onto his tunic when he released her. Surely, she would've fallen down if she hadn't.

"Promise me one thing," Obi-Wan asked as he dropped tender pecks onto her forehead and nose.

"Anything," she vowed.

"Don't tell Dormé"

"Gods, no!" Padmé agreed, laughing softly. "She'd never let us hear the end of it!"